NATIVES***


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[Illustration: THE SOLOMON ISLANDS

London: Swan Sonnenschein & C^o.]


THE SOLOMON ISLANDS AND THEIR NATIVES.

by

H. B. GUPPY, M.B., F.G.S.

Late Surgeon, R.N.







[Illustration]

London:
Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co.,
Paternoster Square,
1887.

S. Cowan & Co. Strathmore Printing Works, Perth.




PREFACE.


WHEN, in the beginning of 1881, H.M.S. “Lark” was being prepared for her
commission as a surveying ship in the Western Pacific, I was selected by
Sir John Watt Reid, the Medical Director-General of the Navy, to be
appointed as Surgeon. For this selection I was also in some measure
indebted to the late Sir Frederick Evans, then Hydrographer, who was
desirous that a person possessing tastes for natural history should be
chosen. I subsequently received some instructions from Dr. Günther,
Keeper of Zoology in the British Museum, to whom I may take this
opportunity of expressing my sincere thanks for the encouragement he
gave to me during the commission. Unfortunately there were no public
funds from which I could be assisted; and, as a matter of fact, I may
state that all expenses had to come out of my pay as a naval surgeon. At
the close of the commission I received, mainly through the influence of
Dr. Günther, a promise of a grant of £150 from the Royal Society of
London for the exploration of the interior of the large island of
Guadalcanar; but a very serious illness prevented me from carrying out
my intention, and thus an expedition, which I had looked forward to as a
fitting completion of my work in these islands, was never undertaken.
However, my disappointment was in some measure diminished on my arrival
in England, after being invalided, by the important results arising from
the examination by Dr. John Murray, Director of the Challenger
Commission, of that portion of my geological collection which threw
light on the formation of coral reefs, and which exhibited the deep-sea
deposits of the Challenger Expedition as rocks composing islands in the
Solomon Group. To Dr. Murray I am indebted for much kindness in many
ways, and I gladly take this opportunity of expressing my sincerest
thanks.

In this volume I have chiefly confined myself to my observations on the
anthropology, natural history, botany, and meteorology of the group,
having originally reserved my account of the geology and of the coral
reefs, together with my special descriptions of the islands, for another
volume, which I hoped to publish shortly, if my first undertaking proved
a success. My reasons for thus acting were to be found in a lack of
funds and in the necessity of not overlading my first venture, which,
like a ship carrying a heavy though perhaps a valuable cargo, might
founder within sight of the port of departure. This difficulty has been
met by a generous arrangement of my publishers, in consequence of which
both volumes will be brought out together. All my notes relating to
these islands are there embodied, with the exception of my coral reef
observations, which have been recently published by the Royal Society of
Edinburgh in their Proceedings (1885-1886). However, to make this volume
more complete, I have added a short introductory chapter containing a
general description of the islands.

It is necessary that I should here briefly allude to the circumstances
under which my observations and collections were made. Had I been
previously aware of the difficulties and discomforts that would attend
me, I should have hesitated to have performed more than a tithe of what
I finally accomplished “per varios casus per tot discrimina rerum.”
Inexperienced and deprived of any official support or recognition of
other than my professional duties, I was only urged on by the
consciousness of the importance of the work I had voluntarily
undertaken. At length my health began to give way, and it was with mixed
feelings of satisfaction and apprehension that I returned to the islands
for the third and last year. One cause of continual worry lay in the
fact that for two-thirds of the time spent in this region, I had only my
cabin for the disposal of my collections, the size of the ship (a
schooner of about 150 tons), and the arrangements made before leaving
England, not permitting of any other plan.

Under these circumstances I received the greatest assistance from
Lieut.-Commander C. F. Oldham, who, notwithstanding that he had received
no instructions concerning myself, smoothed the way for me and gave me
the opportunities I desired, often, it should be added, at the expense
of much anxiety to himself. To the officers, Lieut. C. F. de M. Malan,
Lieut. T. H. Heming, and Lieut. A. Leeper, I am lastingly indebted, not
only for their constant aid, but also for the sympathy they evinced
towards myself and my pursuits. From the petty-officers and crew I
received much voluntary help, and I was often indebted to the services
of Mr. Samuel Redman and Mr. Albert Rowe. My right-hand man was Mr.
William Isabell who had been sent to the ship as Leading-Stoker to take
charge of the condenser. Without his aid in the packing away of my
collections and his cheerful readiness to assist me in every way
throughout the commission, I should have broken down long before I did.
To his careful attendance during my illness I owe my life.

With reference to the different sections of this work, I should remark
that the anthropological notes are for the most part now published for
the first time. The translation of Gallego’s Journal and the historical
sketch of the re-discovery of the group will, I hope, have a general as
well as a special interest. In my natural history notes it will be seen
that I am greatly indebted to the papers on my collections of shells and
reptiles by Mr. Edgar Smith and Mr. G. A. Boulenger. For the
identification of the greater part of my botanical collection, I am
indebted to the courtesy of the officials at Kew and particularly to
that of Prof. Oliver. I take this opportunity of acknowledging the kind
assistance I received at Melbourne from Baron Ferd. von Mueller. My
inexperience in botanical collecting considerably diminished the value
of my collections, which have further suffered from the fact that I have
been unable after repeated application to learn anything of a collection
of ferns that I presented to the British Museum. During the commission I
profited greatly by Lieut. Malan’s previous experiences of the Pacific
Islands. To Lieut. Leeper I am greatly indebted, as shown in the
chapters on the vocabulary of Bougainville Straits and on the
meteorology of the group. The enumeration of the many disinterested
services I have received would carry me far beyond the limits of a
preface. Of all of them I shall retain a lasting remembrance.

    HENRY BROUGHAM GUPPY.

    17 Woodlane, Falmouth.




INTRODUCTION.


THE Solomon Islands cover an area 600 miles in length. They include
seven or eight large mountainous islands attaining an extreme height, as
in the case of Guadalcanar and Bougainville, of from 8,000 to 10,000
feet, and possessing a length varying from 70 to 100 miles, and a
breadth varying between 20 and 30 miles. In addition, there are a great
number of smaller islands which range in size from those 15 to 20 miles
in length to the tiny coral island only half a mile across. The islands
fall naturally into two divisions, those mainly or entirely of volcanic
formations and those mainly or entirely of recent calcareous formations.

In the first division, St. Christoval may be taken as a type of the
large mountainous islands possessing massive profiles, such as
Guadalcanar, Malaita, Isabel, etc. St. Christoval, which rises to a
height of 4,100 feet above the sea, is composed in the mass of much
altered and sometimes highly crystalline volcanic rocks (such as, in
their order of frequency, dolerites, diabases, diorites, gabbros,
serpentines, and saussuritic felspar-rock) which, as I learn from Mr. T.
Davies, have been both formed and altered at considerable depths and
indicate great geological age and extensive denudation. Recent
calcareous rocks, such as will be subsequently referred to in the
description of the second division of islands, flank the lower slopes at
the sea-border up to an elevation of 500 feet. Fragments of similar
diorites, dolerites, and other dense basic rocks, all much altered and
often schistose, have been transported by trees to the coral islets off
the coasts of Guadalcanar and afford evidence of the geological
structure of that island. Serpentines were obtained by Dr. Hombron in
1838[1] from St. George’s Island, which is “ipso facto” a portion of
Isabel. Bougainville and New Georgia are largely of more recent origin,
as is indicated by their numerous symmetrical volcanic cones. However,
the geological evidence at present at our disposal points generally to
the great antiquity of the larger islands. The significance of this fact
will be subsequently referred to. There can be little doubt that some of
the mountainous islands will be found to yield in quantity the ores of
tin and copper. A resident trader, Captain John Macdonald, has
discovered arsenical pyrites and stream tin at the head of the Keibeck
River in the interior of St. Christoval. A sample of stream tin from the
south-east part of Bougainville was given to me by the Shortland chief.
Copper will not improbably be found in association with the serpentine
rocks of these islands.

    [1] “Voyage au Pole Sud et dans L’Océanie,” (D’Urville). Géologie:
    part ii., p. 211.

The smaller islands of volcanic formation group themselves into two
classes:

(1.) Those which, like Fauro and some of the Florida Islands, are
composed partly of modern rocks, such as hornblende and augite-andesites
with their tuffs and agglomerates, and partly of ancient and often
highly crystalline rocks such as, as I am informed by Prof. Judd and Mr.
T. Davies, quartz-diorites, quartz-porphyries, altered dacites and
dolerites, serpentines, saussuritic felspar-rock, etc.

(2.) Those that are composed entirely or in the main of recently erupted
rocks, islands which preserve the volcanic profile, possess craters, and
sometimes exhibit signs of latent activity. Eddystone Island, which I
examined, is probably typical of the majority of the islands of this
class, such as Savo, Murray Island, and many others. It is composed of
andesitic lavas of the augite type, is pierced by many fumaroles, and
has a crater in the solfatara stage. Savo, though quiescent in the
present day, has been in eruption within the memory of living men, and
was in a state of activity in 1567 when the Spaniards discovered the
group. Fumaroles and sulphur-deposits occur in Vella-la-vella. It may,
however, be generally stated that the volcanic forces in these regions
are in a quiescent condition at the present day, there being only one
vent in active eruption, viz., Mount Bagana in the interior of
Bougainville. Many small islands with volcanic profiles show no evidence
of a latent activity. Amongst them I may mention those of Bougainville
Strait, which are composed of andesitic lavas of the hornblende type.

I now pass to those islands which are composed mainly or entirely of
recent calcareous formations.[2] Excluding the innumerable islets that
have been formed on the coral reefs at the present sea-level, we come
first to those small islands and islets less than 100 feet in height,
such as the Three Sisters and Stirling Island, which are composed
entirely of coral limestone. In the next place there are islands of
larger size and greater height, such as Ugi, which are composed in bulk
of partially consolidated bedded deposits containing numerous
foraminifera, and possessing the characters of the muds which were found
by the “Challenger” Expedition to be at present forming around oceanic
volcanic islands in depths probably of from 150 to 500 fathoms. Coral
limestones encrust the lower slopes of these islands and do not attain a
greater thickness than 150 feet. The next type is to be found in
Treasury Island which has a similar structure to that of Ugi, but
possesses in its centre an ancient volcanic peak that was once submerged
and is now covered over by these recent deposits. Then, there are
islands, such as the principal island of the Shortlands, in which the
volcanic mass has become an eccentric nucleus, from which line after
line of barrier-reef has been advanced based on the soft deposits. These
soft deposits contain amongst other organic remains, the shells of
pteropods and the tests of foraminifera in great abundance. In such
islands I did not find that the coral limestone had a thickness of as
much as 100 feet. In this island the upraised reefs are based upon hard
foraminiferal limestones. Lastly, we have the upraised atoll of Santa
Anna which within the small compass of a height of 470 feet displays the
several stages of its growth; first, the originally submerged volcanic
peak; then, the investing soft deposit resembling in character a
deep-sea clay and considered to have been formed in considerable depths,
probably from 1500 to 2000 fathoms; and over all, the ring of coral
limestone that cannot far exceed 150 feet in thickness. The islands
formed mainly of the soft foraminiferous deposits have long level
summits free from peaks. Judging from their profiles, the islands of
Ulaua and Ronongo will be found to possess the structure of Ugi and
Treasury. The western end of Choiseul has a very significant profile,
and I have little doubt from my examination of the lower slopes that
this extremity of the island is mainly composed of the recent soft
deposits.

    [2] _Vide_ my paper on this subject (Trans. Roy. Soc. Edin.: vol.
    xxxii., p. 545), and my work on the geology of this group.

I now proceed to refer very shortly to the coral reefs[3] of these
islands. The three principal classes are to be found in this region;
but of these, the fringing and barrier-reefs are more commonly
distributed, whilst the atolls are comparatively few in number and of
small size. A line of barrier-reefs, probably not much under 60 miles in
length and bearing innumerable islets on its surface, fronts the east
coasts of the islands of New Georgia at a distance of from one to three
miles from the shore. Extensive reefs of the same class, having a broad
deep-water channel inside them, lie off the large island of Isabel and
off the south-coast of Choiseul. Barrier-reefs, of smaller extent, also
skirt the west end of Guadalcanar and the southern end of Bougainville.
I have referred particularly to these reefs because at the time that Mr.
Darwin wrote his work on “Coral Reefs,” fringing-reefs were alone
believed to exist in these islands.

    [3] _Vide_ my paper on this subject. (Proc. Roy. Soc., Edin.,
    1885-86.)

The larger islands of the Solomon Group are often separated from each
other by depths of several hundred fathoms. St. Christoval, for
instance, is separated from the neighbouring islands of Guadalcanar and
Malaita by straits in which casts of 200 fathoms fail to reach the
bottom. On the other hand, the same 100 fathom line includes both
Bougainville and Choiseul. Judging, however, from the soundings obtained
by Lieut.-Commander Oldham between the islands lying off the north coast
of St. Christoval, it would appear probable that depths of 400 fathoms
commonly occur between the islands of the Solomon Group. Although the
soundings hitherto made in this portion of the Western Pacific go to
show that this archipelago, together with New Ireland and New Britain,
are included within the same 1,000 fathom line, which extends as a loop
from the adjacent borders of New Guinea, we can scarcely urge this fact
as evidence of a former land connection, seeing that one of the most
interesting features in the geological history of this region is that of
the enormous elevation which these islands have experienced in recent
and probably sub-recent times. Independently of the character of the
deposits discovered by me in the Solomon Islands, I arrived at the
conclusion that there had been a recent upheaval of at least 1,500 feet.
The characters of some of the deposits, as examined by Dr. Murray in the
light of the “Challenger” soundings, however, afford indications of an
upheaval of a far more extensive nature. I am informed, in fact, by Mr.
H. B. Brady, that the foraminifera of some of the Treasury Island rocks
indicate depths of probably from 1500 to 2000 fathoms. Geologists may
look forward with the greatest interest to the results of the
examination by Mr. Brady of the foraminiferous deposits of the Western
Pacific. One of the most important results will be to establish the
great elevation which has occurred in this region during Post-Tertiary
times. We are therefore justified in regarding the island groups of the
Western Pacific as having always retained their insular condition,
situated, as they are, in a region of upheaval, and separated, as they
are, from each other and from the Australian continent by depths of from
1,000 to 2,400 fathoms. I have already pointed out that the volcanic
rocks of the large islands of the Solomon Group are geologically
ancient. Their elevation and the great subaerial denudation which they
have experienced afford indications of the insular condition having been
preserved from remote ages. It is this prolonged isolation that explains
the occurrence of the peculiar forms of the amphibia which I discovered
in Bougainville Straits, and that accounts for many of the peculiarities
of the fauna of this archipelago.

Having thus briefly considered the leading geological and hydrological
features of this group, I pass on to consider these islands in the point
of view of an intending settler. They are for the most part clothed with
dense forest and rank undergrowth, and it is only here and there, as in
the western portion of Guadalcanar and in limited localities in St.
Christoval, that the forest gives place to long grass and ferns, a
change often corresponding with the passage from a clayey and calcareous
to a dry porous and volcanic soil. As a rule, the calcareous districts
of a large island possess a rich red argillaceous soil, often 5 or 6
feet in thickness, and in such localities the streams are large and
numerous. In the districts of volcanic formation the soil is dry,
friable, and porous, whilst the streams are few in number and of no
great size. In the principal island of the Shortlands the difference in
the character of the soil between the volcanic north-west part and the
remaining calcareous portion is well exhibited. In the smaller islands
the soil varies in character according to the formation, those of
volcanic origin being singularly destitute of streams.

In chapter XVII. I have dwelt with some detail on the climate. The
healthiest portion of the group would, as I think, be found in the
eastern islands, and the healthiest part of each island would be that
which is exposed to the blast of the south-east trade during a large
portion of the year. The excessive annual rainfall, the humid
atmosphere, together with the enervating season of the north-west
monsoon, are amongst the chief evils of the climate. Malarious districts
can be readily avoided by shunning the low-lying damp districts on the
lee sides of islands. Dysentery is rare on account of the general purity
of the water. But, if we believe native testimony, which I have found
most reliable and which in this instance agrees with my own, the streams
draining calcareous regions are least liable to suspicion. Should an
intending settler ask me whether the climate is suitable for the
European, I would reply that with proper precautions as to his habits
and the selection of a site, the white-man can here preserve his health
as well as in most other tropical islands in these latitudes.

I will conclude this introduction with some remarks on the vexed
question of making annexations and forming protectorates in the Western
Pacific. From the eagerness of our Australian colonies to control them
and of France and Germany to possess them, the presumption arises that
the islands in this region are worth holding. Yet, how surprising have
been the changes within the last four years! When in 1882 I was in the
Solomon Islands, British influence was recognised as paramount in New
Guinea and throughout the Western Pacific. At the present time the
British flag has been almost squeezed out of the Western Pacific. In
April of this year (1886), the British and German Governments came to an
arrangement by which the northern side of New Guinea together with New
Britain, New Ireland, and the adjacent western half of the Solomon Group
passed under the protection, or in other words into the practical
possession, of Germany; whilst Great Britain by this arrangement was to
consider the remaining islands of the Western Pacific and the south
coast of New Guinea as her sphere of action. It is only in New Guinea
that Great Britain has exercised her right. Amongst the remaining
islands of the Western Pacific she has little scope either for acquiring
territory or for establishing a protectorate. France possesses New
Caledonia and in a geographical sense she can claim not only the Loyalty
Islands but the New Hebrides Group. There only remains then for Great
Britain the Santa Cruz Islands and the adjacent eastern half of the
Solomon Group, in which, if she chooses, she can exercise her rights
without dispute.

England’s wisest policy in the Western Pacific is to recognise the
existing condition of things, and to deal with France as generously as
she has dealt with Germany. Stifling my own patriotic regrets, I cannot
but think that the presence of Germany in these regions will be fraught
with great advantage to the world of science. When we recall our
spasmodic efforts to explore New Guinea and the comparatively small
results obtained, when we remember to how great an extent such attempts
have been supported by private enterprise and how little they have been
due to government or even to semi-official aid, we have reason to be
glad that the exploration of these regions will be conducted with that
thoroughness which can only be obtained when, as in the case of Germany,
geographical enterprises become the business of the State.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.

  INTRODUCTORY.

  A Traveller’s Difficulties--Islands of which Science has no
  ken--Bush-Walking a Tedious Process--Ascent of Stream-Courses--Heavy
  Annual Rainfall--Native Companions--Mysterious Influence of the Fragrant
  Weed--Odd-looking Party of Geologists--A Night on the Summit of
  Treasury Island--Experiences in a Rob Roy Canoe--Narrow Escape from
  Drowning--Nature of the Work performed by the Officers of Survey--An
  Apparent Injustice                                            pp. 1-12


  CHAPTER II.

  GOVERNMENT--HEAD-HUNTING--SLAVERY--CANNIBALISM.

  Hereditary Chieftainship--St. Christoval--Coast Tribes and Bush
  Tribes--Their unceasing Hostility--Head-Hunting and Head-Money--
  Greater Power of the Chiefs of Bougainville Straits--Gorai, the
  Shortland Chief--How the Treasury Islanders became our Friends--Fauro
  and its Chief--Choiseul Bay--In the calmest Seas there are occasional
  Storms--A Tragedy, in several Acts--Hostilities between Alu and
  Treasury--_Væ Feminis!_--Tambu Ban--Slavery, an easy Servitude if
  it were not for one grave Contingency--A Purveyor of Human Flesh--
  Cannibalism--A _Béa_--Fattening for the Market          pp. 13-40


  CHAPTER III.

  THE FEMALE SEX--POLYGAMY--MODES OF BURIAL, &c.

  Position of the Female Sex--Infanticide--The Women are the Cultivators
  --A Plea for Polygamy--Marital Establishments--Kaika, the principal
  Wife of the Shortland Chief--Her Death--The Obsequies--Modes of Burial
  --Superstitious Beliefs--Sorcerers--Method of Recording Time--The
  Pleiades                                                     pp. 41-56


  CHAPTER IV.

  DWELLINGS--TAMBU-HOUSES--WEAPONS--TOOLS.

  Villages--Houses--Pile-Dwellings--Mat-Making--Domestic Utensils--
  Pottery Manufacture--Modes of Producing Fire--Torches--Tambu-Houses--
  Deification of the Shark--Weapons--Polished Stone Implements--Ancient
  Worked Flints--Whence did they come?--Who were the Artificers?
                                                               pp. 57-80


  CHAPTER V.

  CULTIVATION--FOOD, &C.

  Cultivation--Sago Palm--Diet essentially Vegetarian--Common Vegetables
  and Fruits--Modes of Cooking--Articles of Animal Food--Modes of
  Cooking--Tobacco Smoking--Betel Chewing                      pp. 81-97


  CHAPTER VI.

  THE PHYSICAL CHARACTERS AND RACE-AFFINITIES OF THESE ISLANDERS.

  Race Affinities--Migrations of the Pacific Islanders--Evidence derived
  from the Native Names of Littoral Trees--A Typical Solomon Islander--
  Variations in the Type--Physical Measurements--Height--Weight--Limbs--
  Skull--Features--Hair--Colour of Skin--Powers of Vision--Colour-sense
  --Gestures and Expressions of the Emotions--Disposition--The
  Estimation of Dumont D’Urville--My Own                      pp. 98-129


  CHAPTER VII.

  DRESS--TATTOOING--SONGS, &C.

  Dress--Personal Ornaments--Fondness for Decorating Themselves with
  Flowers--Tattooing--Head Coverings--Ornamentation--Songs--Musical
  Instruments--Dances--Boys’ Games                           pp. 130-145


  CHAPTER VIII.

  CANOES--FISHING--HUNTING.

  Canoes--Paddles and Paddling--Fishing--Kite
  Fishing--Fish-Spear--Nets--Hooks--Snares--Dynamite--Pig
  Hunting--Wild Dogs--Opossums--Path-Finding                 pp. 146-162


  CHAPTER IX.

  PREVALENT DISEASES.

  Medicine-Men--Indifference to the Sick--Great Recuperative Powers
  after Severe Injuries--The Hot-Stone Treatment--Nostalgic Melancholy--
  Ulcers--Solomon Island or Tokelau Ringworm--Very Widely-spread and
  very Prevalent in the Western Pacific--Has spread Eastward from the
  Indian Archipelago--Pustular Eruptive Disease of Children--Epidemics
  of Influenza and Mumps--Elephantiasis--Congenital Deformities--
  Venereal Diseases--Susceptibility to Small Falls of Temperature--
  Mental Diseases rare                                       pp. 163-179


  CHAPTER X.

  A VOCABULARY OF BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS.

  Vocabulary of Bougainville Straits--Divisions of the Solomon Island
  Languages--Affinities of the Vocabulary--Important Clues afforded by
  the Comparison of the Native Names of Common Littoral Trees in the
  Indian Archipelago and in the Pacific Islands--Other similar
  comparisons--Imitative Words                               pp. 180-191


  CHAPTER XI.

  THE JOURNAL OF GALLEGO.

  Prefatory Remarks--The Journal--Prologue--Voyage from Peru--Its Length
  --Crew disheartened--Isle of Jesus--Candelaria Shoals--Arrival at
  Estrella Harbour--Exploring Cruise of the Brigantine--Florida,
  Sesarga, Guadalcanar--Ships proceed to Guadalcanar--Second Cruise of
  the Brigantine--Malaita, Ulaua, Ugi, St. Christoval--Massacre of the
  Spaniards at Puerto de la Cruz--Ships proceed to St. Christoval--
  Capture of a Town--Third Cruise of the Brigantine--Conflict at Santa
  Anna--The Islands aroused--Council of the Captains and Pilots--Decide
  to return to Peru--Heading Northward--Reflections on the Discoveries
  and on the Conduct of the Spaniards--In the vicinity of the Gilbert
  Group--San Bartolomeo identified with the Musquillo Islands--San
  Francisco I. identified with Wake’s I.--Perilous Voyage--Ships
  separated--Storms and Squalls--Provisions failing--The Gambler’s
  Ration--Sickness--Despair--“We resolved to Trust that God Would Send
  us Aid”--“He provided for us in His Great Mercy”--Old California--The
  Ships meet at Santiago--Mexican Coast--A strange Scotch People--
  Peru                                                       pp. 192-245


  CHAPTER XII.

  THE STORY OF A LOST ARCHIPELAGO.

  A Pious Fraud--Drake’s appearance in the South Sea--Jealousy of the
  Spaniards--“It being considered better, as things were then, to let
  these Islands remain unknown”--“Omne ignotum pro magnifico” Mendana’s
  Expedition to form a Colony in St. Christoval--An unsolved Mystery of
  the Sea--A Colony formed at Santa Cruz--Mutiny and Disaster--
  Abandonment--Unsuccessful Attempt to find the Solomon Islands--“All
  her sails set, and All her People Dead and Rotten”--Quiros leads
  another Expedition from Peru to reach these Islands--They elude his
  Search--Jealous Attitude of the Spaniards towards other Nations--
  Suppression and Destruction of Journals and Documents--Confusion of
  Geographers--The Existence of the Solomon Islands treated as a Romance
  --Fabulous Accounts--After Two Centuries--Carteret--Bougainville--
  Surville--Maurelle--Shortland--French and English Geographers--
  Dentrecasteaux--Jacobs--D’Urville--Boyd--Denham--Melanesian
  Mission                                                    pp. 246-271

  GEOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX.

  Gallego and Figueroa compared--Isle of Jesus--Candelaria Shoals--
  Gallego’s Latitudes--Isle of Ramos--Islands between Cape Prieto and
  Guadalcanar--Islands of San Bartolomeo and San Francisco--List of
  Islands obtained by Quiros at Taumaco--Eddystone Rock, &c. pp. 272-279


  CHAPTER XIII.

  BOTANICAL NOTES IN BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS.

  Knowledge of Plants possessed by these Islanders--Ascent of a
  Stream-Course--Interior of the Forest--Up to the Summit of Faro
  Island--Littoral Vegetation---How a Coral Island is stocked with
  Trees--List of Plants--Flotation of Fruits--Weeds and
  Rubbish-Plants--Tuber regium                               pp. 280-307


  CHAPTER XIV.

  REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS.

  Unexpected Discoveries--List of Reptiles--Crocodiles--Lizards--Snakes
  --Batrachians--A New Family--A region of great promise to future
  collectors                                                 pp. 308-318


  CHAPTER XV.

  GENERAL NATURAL HISTORY NOTES.

  Robber-Crab--Nut-cracking-Gizzard of the Nicobar Pigeon--Megapods--
  Edible Birds’ Nest--Scorpions--Millipedes--Hermit-Crabs--Scypho-Medusæ
  --Legends of Anthropoid Apes--New Cetacean                 pp. 319-335


  CHAPTER XVI.

  LAND AND FRESHWATER SHELLS.

  Several New Species--Variation of Species--Bulimi--Neritinæ--Mode of
  Dispersal--Suggestion as to the Origin of Tree-Nerites--The capability
  of Neritinæ to adapt themselves to different climates--List of my
  Collection of Shells--Description of New Species--Littorina
  scabra                                                     pp. 336-351


  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE CLIMATE OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDS.

  Rainfall--The Black Squall--Rain Records of Ugi and Santa Anna--Ship
  Record--Annual Rainfall of the Coasts and Higher Regions--Barometric
  Pressure--Temperature--Humidity--Sun-burns--Winds--Table of
  Meteorological Observations--Wind Record--The Effects of the Climate
  on the Weight of the Body                                  pp. 352-370


  INDEX                                                              371




THE SOLOMON ISLANDS.




CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY.


THOSE who have never been tempted “to seek strange truths in
undiscovered lands,” will perhaps find it difficult to appreciate the
disappointments, inconveniences, and petty difficulties which beset the
traveller, however favourably circumstanced he may be. Patience and
perseverance enable him finally to disregard these lesser hindrances and
to devote his undisturbed attention to the principal objects he has in
view: and thus, when writing at some future time the narrative of his
experiences, he gives but little prominence to matters which affected
very materially at the moment both his personal comfort and his chances
of success.

Amongst the Solomon Islands the student of nature may be compared to a
man who, having found a mine of great wealth, is only allowed to carry
away just so much of the precious ore as he can bear about his person.
For there can be no region of the world where he experiences more
tantalisation. Day after day he skirts the shores of islands of which
science has no “ken.” Month after month, he may scan, as I have done,
lofty mountain-masses never yet explored, whose peaks rise through the
clouds to heights of from 7,000 to 10,000 feet above the sea. He may
discern on the mountain-slopes the columns of blue smoke which mark the
abodes of men who have never beheld the white man. But he cannot land
except accompanied by a strong party; and he has therefore to be content
usually with viewing such scenes from the deck of his vessel.
Fortunately, however, there are some parts of the Solomon Group where
the hostility of the natives has been to a great extent overcome by the
influence of the missionaries and of the traders; but the interiors of
the larger islands are almost without exception inhabited by fierce and
treacherous tribes who forbid all approach.

In this chapter I have endeavoured to give some idea of my experiences
during my rambles in different islands of the group. When geologising in
these islands, one labours under the very serious disadvantage of being
unable to get any view or form any idea of the surroundings, on account
of the dense forest-growth clothing both the slopes and summits of the
hills, which is often impassable except by the rude native tracks that
are completely hemmed in by trees on either side. Bush walking, where
there is no native track, is a very tedious process and requires the
constant use of the compass. In districts of coral limestone, such
traverses are equally trying to the soles of one’s boots and to the
measure of one’s temper. After being provokingly entangled in a thicket
for some minutes, the persevering traveller walks briskly along through
a comparatively clear space, when a creeper suddenly trips up his feet
and over he goes to the ground. Picking himself up, he no sooner starts
again when he finds his face in the middle of a strong web which some
huge-bodied spider has been laboriously constructing. However, clearing
away the web from his features, he struggles along until coming to the
fallen trunk of some giant of the forest which obstructs his path, he
with all confidence plants his foot firmly on it and sinks knee-deep
into rotten wood. With resignation he lifts his foot out of the mess and
proceeds on his way, when he feels an uncomfortable sensation inside his
helmet, in which, on leisurely removing it from his head, he finds his
old friend the spider, with body as big as a filbert, quite at its ease.
Shaking it out in a hurry, he hastens along with his composure of mind
somewhat ruffled. Going down a steep slope, he clasps a stout-looking
areca palm to prevent himself falling, when down comes the rotten palm,
and the long-suffering traveller finds himself once more on the ground.
To these inconveniences must be added the peculiarly oppressive heat of
a tropical forest, the continual perspiration in which the skin is
bathed, and the frequent difficulty of getting water. There are
therefore many drawbacks to the enjoyment of such excursions undertaken
without an aim. But let there be some object to be gained, and it is
astonishing how small a success amply repays the naturalist for all the
toil. As an example of the tedious nature of bush walking in these
regions, I may state that crossing the small island of Santa Anna from
south to north--a distance of 2½ miles--occupied on one occasion five
hours. For nearly the whole distance my path lay either through a dense
forest-growth which had never been cleared since this little island
first rose as a coral-atoll above the waves, or amongst tangled
undergrowth which often succeeded effectually in barring the way. Rarely
could I obtain a glimpse of my surroundings, and in consequence it was
on my pocket-compass that I entirely depended. Coral-rock honeycombed
into sharp tearing edges covered the slopes, my way lying between the
large masses of this rock that lay about in strange confusion, the
smaller blocks swaying about under my weight as if eager to rid
themselves of their unusual burden. At one place the coral-limestone
over a space of about a hundred yards was perforated like a sieve by
numerous holes two to three feet across and five to ten feet deep: but
now and then a deep fissure appeared at the bottom of one of these
cavities--leading Heaven knows where--in all probability the
swallow-hole of some stream that once became engulphed in the solid
rock. The spreading roots of trees, together with ferns and shrubs,
often nearly concealed these man-traps from my view; and I found it
necessary to clear the way for every step, a very tedious process at the
close of a tiresome day’s excursion.

In many places that I visited, the ascent of the stream-courses afforded
the only opportunity of learning anything of the geological structure on
account of the thick forest and the depth of the soil on the
hill-slopes. Only at times are the sun’s rays able to penetrate the
dusky ravines through which the streams flow, being usually intercepted
by the matted foliage overhead. Even in the hottest day, such a walk is
pleasantly cool, since the necessity of wading waist-deep and sometimes
of swimming is not unfrequent in the deeper parts of the stream.
However, I found on more than one occasion, after having been wading for
several hours along one of the streams in the cool damp air of the
ravine, that I experienced a sudden sensation of chilliness accompanied
by lassitude and nausea, the thermometer at the time registering 80° in
the shade. Probably the depressing effects of the gloom and damp air of
the ravine, and the wading for several hours under these conditions, may
explain these symptoms.

I should have before referred to another very frequent inconvenience
which, in more senses than one, dampened the ardour with which I set out
on many of my excursions amongst these islands. The annual rainfall in
these regions is probably about five times as much as the average annual
rainfall in England. The showers themselves are usually very heavy, and
often rain falls at the rate of an inch in the hour, which means a
thorough wetting in less than a minute. When in the eastern part of the
group, I rarely used to return on board without having had half-an-inch,
or an inch, of rain distributed over my person. Such wettings, however,
do but little harm as long as a flannel suit is worn, since the weather
generally clears up after each shower and the powerful rays of the sun
dry the clothes in a very few minutes without there being the necessity
of stopping to take them off.

In spite of the numerous drawbacks, my excursions never lost their
interest. Although accustomed to traverse districts which have been
upheaved in recent times to elevations of several hundred feet above the
sea, the finding of an ancient coral-reef high up a densely-wooded
hill-slope, or the picking up of sand and recent sea shells in the
interior of an island now supporting a luxuriant vegetation, always
excited the same feelings of wonder and interest that I experienced on
first landing on one of the recently upheaved islands of the Solomon
Group. My thirst, fatigue, and bruises, were forgotten, as whilst
contemplating my surroundings over a pipe I attempted to picture to
myself the stages in the history of the island on which I was standing,
and reflected on the unwritten past of the natives sitting smoking on
the ground around me.

I was rarely unaccompanied in my excursions, since with the prospect of
getting tobacco and pipes at the close of the day, natives were always
found eager to accompany me. Frequently the boys and lads of the village
were only too glad to assist me in carrying my bags. The young imps were
always full of fun and frolic, making themselves useful in all kinds of
ways, and enlivening the time by their singing, laughing, and continual
chattering. Many were the speculations made concerning the nature of my
pursuits, and many were the questions to which I had to give some reply.
Gorai, the chief of the Shortland Islands, was very desirous to know
what I made with the rocks I collected; but I found it somewhat
difficult to give him an explanation which he could understand. On one
occasion I was the cause of much amusement and perplexity to the natives
of the village of Sinasoro in Bougainville Straits. Hitherto I had been
known to them chiefly on account of my rock-breaking propensities, but
during that particular visit I was making a collection of plants. The
chief men of the village received me very civilly, made me sit down, and
began at once to speculate on the nature of my new pursuit, the
botanical line being a new object for wonder with them. “Patu, he
finish?” (_patu_ meaning stone) was the question put to me by more than
one of their number; and on my telling them that I was going to turn my
attention to “bulu-bulu”--their general name for plants they have no
name for--I had to explain to further inquirers that a particular fern,
named “sinimi” in the native tongue (a species of _Gleichenia_), which
flourished on the higher slopes of their island, was one of the objects
of my excursion.

My usual plan on arriving at a village, which I had never visited
before, was to distribute a little tobacco amongst the curious throng
that pressed around, and then to light my pipe and look pleasant whilst
my guides were endeavouring to explain the character of my pursuits. A
white man without tobacco in these islands is worse off than a man
without any money in his purse in London: for very little is given for
nothing by these natives, and the acceptance of a gift binds you to give
an equivalent in return. I remember once when landing on the beach of a
village where the natives seemed a little uncertain as to what kind of
reception they should give me, what a rapid transformation was produced
by the gift of a little tobacco to the chief. Where there had been
scowls and sullen looks a few moments before, smiles and laughter now
prevailed. The chief led me into his house, introduced me to his
principal wife, and in another minute I was dangling his little son of
about two years old upon my knee. This pleasing transformation had been
effected by the expenditure of a halfpennyworth of tobacco; and I could
not resist framing at the time the following doggrel rhyme, the excuse
for which must be the occasion that gave rise to it.

    Shade of Exeter Hall! emerge from thy pall,
    Learn the token of union ’twixt white man and black:
    Not a brisk cannonade, nor the attractions of trade,
    But the mysterious influence of the fragrant _tambak_.[4]

    [4] This is the manner of pronouncing “tobacco” amongst these
    islanders. In the Malay Archipelago it is pronounced “tambaku.”
    (“Crawfurd’s Malay Grammar and Dictionary.”)

Although I was rarely absent from the ship more than a couple of days at
a time, my excursions had occasionally, as regards the number of my
attendants, somewhat of an imposing appearance. Being anxious to visit a
district named Komalia, on the north-west side of Alu, the principal of
the Shortland Islands, that being the locality from which the natives
obtained their slabs of a hard, crystalline diorite, upon which they
used to sharpen their knives and axes, Gorai, the chief, volunteered to
take me there. Accordingly, he appeared alongside the ship the next
morning in a large war-canoe, fifty feet long, and manned by eighteen
paddle-men. We started, twenty-four all told, including Gorai, three of
his sons, and myself. The chief and I sat beside each other, on the
second bow thwart, the post, I believe, which is usually occupied by a
chief. Leaving the Onua anchorage shortly before ten A.M., we proceeded
easily along at about three miles an hour, coasting the north side of
Alu and passing numerous islets on the way. The day was fine but very
hot, and there was no protection from the glare of the sun on the water.
About half-past one, we reached the north-west point of Alu, where we
put into a small cove to get water. Here we saw the tracks of a
crocodile on the sand; and on proceeding on our way we saw another on
the beach, which, however, soon dived into the sea. Shortly after this,
two-thirds of the crew of the canoe jumped overboard after a small
turtle, which managed to evade them. The men in the water disturbed
another crocodile, which rushed boldly through the line of swimmers,
and, diving under our canoe, soon disappeared. Three dugongs came up to
the surface close to us; and the old chief fired a shot with his snider
at one of them, but without much apparent effect. About half-past two,
we reached our destination, and we at once proceeded in search of the
volcanic rocks, which we soon succeeded in finding. There was not the
slightest reason to question on what errand we were employed, and I
doubt if there was ever a more odd-looking party of geologists. The old
chief, distinguished from the rest of his men by a shirt, his only
article of apparel, led the way; and I followed with about a dozen of
his natives. Taking the cue from me, the whole party immediately began
breaking up the rocks, and I was in a very short time supplied with an
abundance of material to select from. Courtesy, however, compelled me to
take all the chief brought to me, which was somewhat inconvenient since
the old man displayed much energy in using my geological hammer. On
returning to the beach where the canoe had been drawn up, we found that
some of the natives had captured a wild boar by the aid of their dogs
and spears. The animal was already disembowelled and was being
quartered. Whilst we were preparing our evening meal, some of the men
made temporary couches for the chief, his three sons, and myself, these
couches being merely a layer of poles resting at their ends on two logs
and raised about six inches above the ground, the materials being
quickly obtained in the adjoining wood. As night fell, we lay down on
our couches and smoked, whilst the natives, who had lit about
half-a-dozen fires, were waiting for their roast pig, the quarters of
which had been placed on a large pile of burning logs, built up in
layers to a height of three feet, with three poles placed like a tripod
over the pile to draw the fire up. When it was quite dark, the numerous
fires lit up the wood around, whilst the natives made the place resound
with their singing and laughter. Over our pipes, Gorai and I had some
conversation on his ideas of a future state, which he summed up
concisely in the phrase “go ground.” In the middle of the night heavy
rain came on; and since there was no shelter, I had simply to lie still
and let it come down. My companions, however, used their pandanus mats
to cover themselves from head to foot, and did not appear to be, in the
slightest degree, inconvenienced by the wet.

On another occasion, I spent a night on the summit of Treasury Island,
in the company of four natives, one of whom, named Erosini, knew a
little English. Leaving the anchorage in the early morning, a three
hours’ tramp brought us to the large stream named Tella-tella, on the
north-east side of the island. Another four hours were occupied in
wading up the stream, when we commenced to ascend the hill-slopes,
arriving at the summit late in the afternoon. From here we could see, at
a distance of about sixty miles, the lofty peaks of Bougainville, and
midway between us lay the white beaches of the Shortland Islands. As it
was getting dusk, we began to look around for what Erosini had described
to me as a house where we might pass the night. It turned out, however,
to be a very dilapidated “lean-to,” which had been temporarily occupied
by a native who had come up to look after his sago palms a year or more
before. My men immediately set to work to make it habitable for the
night, and then they began to prepare their evening meal, consisting of
a two-pound tin of beef, three opossums, and a large fresh-water eel
which had been captured during the day. With the night-fall, the
concert of frogs, lizards, and insects began. One could readily
distinguish amongst the notes of the various contributors in the evening
chorus, the “kooroo” of the lizard, and the “appa-appa” of the frog,
sounds from which the native names for these creatures are derived,
viz., “kurru-rupu” and “appa-appa.” Numerous fire-flies lit up the
recesses of the forest, as if to disclose the hiding-places of the
performers in the general discord, but to no purpose; and soon, rather
fatigued by our day’s exertions, we fell asleep. So little had my
companions been used to wander over their island, that I found three out
of the four had never been in that locality before.

Not unfrequently, after having carefully chosen my guides, I have found
it necessary to lead instead of to follow; but as a rule my men have
been very willing to trust to the directions of the compass, which I
have found absolutely necessary in crossing the smaller islands with no
track to guide the course. Some of my pleasantest memories are
associated with my traverses across these smaller islands. After forcing
my way during some hours through a tangled forest, irritated by the
numerous obstructions in my course and sweltering under the oppressive
heat, I have suddenly emerged from the trees on the weather coast of the
island, where the invigorating blast of the trade in a few moments
restores the equilibrium of mind and body as one drinks in the healthful
breeze. After such an experience, I have found myself with my native
companions standing on the brink of a bold line of coral-limestone cliff
with the surf breaking below us, which even in the calmest weather sends
up one continued roar, whilst away to seaward, across the blue expanse
of water, extended the horizon unbroken by any distant land. On the edge
of the cliff the pandanus and the cycad competed with each other for the
possession of the seaward margin of the island. The scene was peculiarly
Pacific; and as we sat alone on the brink of the cliffs enjoying a smoke
and contemplating the scene spread out below us, I fancied even the
minds of my natives shared with me that feeling of awe with which one
views the grander of nature’s forces in actual operation. . . . .
Equally pleasant are my recollections of numerous tramps during fine
weather along the sandy beaches on the windward coasts of coral islands.
On such occasions the sea itself seemed to revel in the glory of the
day. Wave after wave, white-tipped with foam and reflecting the
brightest of the sun’s rays, pursued each other merrily over the surface
of its unfathomable blue. Against the edge of the reef broke the surf
unceasingly, sending its whitened spray high into the air, and joining
its hoarse bass with the hum of insect life from the neighbouring wood.

During the greater portion of our sojourn in the Solomon Islands, I had
a small Rob Roy canoe made for me by Mr. Oliver, boat-builder of
Auckland, N.Z. It was built of kauri pine, and measured 8½ feet in
length and 3 feet in beam, being intended to combine compactness with
stability. This little craft turned out a great success and was
extremely handy, as I could haul it up on the beach with ease, and its
stowage capability was something surprising. Numerous and varied were my
experiences in this small canoe, but the most enjoyable were those when
in the loveliest of weather I paddled gently along from one coral islet
to another, admiring the variety in form and colour of the groves of
coral over which my little craft smoothly glided. At other times in the
sleepy hours of the afternoon I would tie up my canoe to the overhanging
branch of a tree, and would land to enjoy a cocoa-nut, a pipe, and
perhaps a nap. When lazy, I would get a tow from my native companions in
their larger canoe; and in this manner I was towed for more than a mile
up one of the large streams that empty into Choiseul Bay. I used to
penetrate into all kinds of solitary inlets, now disturbing the siesta
of some unsuspecting crocodile as I paddled through the dismal tract of
the mangrove swamp, or surprising a turtle in the shallow water of the
lagoons inside the coral-reefs. In the deeper water I have passed
through a shoal of clumsy porpoises, some of which I could have touched
with my paddle; whilst occasionally some huge shark, twice the length of
my canoe, would come almost within reach, and then, after satisfying its
curiosity, dive down into the depths again. Now and then my little craft
would be borne on the shoulders of natives to some inland lakelet which
I was anxious to explore. In its lightness I found this great advantage,
that I could sometimes considerably shorten my journey by what I may
describe as terrestrial navigation. On more than one occasion I have
crossed the weather edge of a coral-reef, watching for my chance between
the breakers, and keeping warily clear of the numerous coral nobs, any
one of which would have upset the canoe and its contents; but these are
experiments which I should not care to repeat. I was only twice upset,
and on both occasions my canoe displayed two other serviceable
qualities, shipping but little water and losing none of its contents
although bottom upwards. One of these upsets was rather ludicrous. I
was crossing Alu harbour in tow of a large native canoe, setting out on
a two days’ excursion with all my stores on board, when my scientific
zeal induced me to lean over to pick up a piece of floating pumice. At
that moment the large canoe gave a sudden tug and I found myself in the
water with my canoe bottom upwards beside me. The men in the other canoe
turned her over on her keel, and I got in over the bow, finding very
little water inside, but quite sufficient to soak our store of biscuit.
However, nothing was lost, although my watch stopped half-an-hour
afterwards and refused duty during the rest of the season, and my
aneroid was never of any use again, both these articles having been
carried in my belt.

On the weather coasts of cliff-girt islands exposed to the continuous
trade-swell, much caution is needed in skirting the shore, as every ten
minutes or more a huge roller suddenly rushes in, exposing rocks covered
usually by three or four fathoms of water, and rising up the face of the
cliffs to a height twice as high as the usual level reached by the
breakers. From my foolhardy disregard of this circumstance, I very
nearly lost my life in July, 1884, on the weather coast of Stirling
Island. Having stood for some moments on the edge of the cliff admiring
the magnificent breakers that broke at the foot, there having been a
strong south-easterly gale during the two preceding days, I commenced to
clamber down the face of the cliff to reach a ledge that rose about
twenty feet above the usual level of the breakers. Whilst I was pausing
in the descent to examine the numerous embedded corals in the
cliff-face, a huge wave rose over the ledge, swept up the face of the
cliff over my head, and carried me off as if I had been a feather. I
thought my last moments had come, knowing that if swept off the ledge
into the breakers below, I should be dashed by the next roller against
the base of the cliff. As I was being carried off, I clutched a
projecting point of coral-rock with all my energy, and in a few moments
the wave had left me lying flat on my face on the ledge within two yards
of its brink. The next roller was fortunately of much smaller size, and
in less than a minute I had clambered up the face of the cliff again to
a position of safety, pretty well bruised and scratched about the arms
and legs, but otherwise none the worse. My compass and other things had
fallen out of the pouches in my belt, showing that I had described a
somersault during the immersion. Whilst waiting to dry my clothes in
the sun, I noticed that another ten minutes elapsed before a breaker of
similar size rolled in.

I will conclude this chapter with some observations on the nature of the
work performed by the officers of the survey. The usual experiences of a
nautical surveyor, when detached from his ship for periods varying from
a few days to a fortnight or more, are little known outside the circle
of those more immediately interested in the work of the Hydrographic
Department of the Admiralty. They would afford, as I have often thought,
materials for an interesting volume, the perusal of which would give the
general reader some idea of what nautical surveying really is. It is a
work often hazardous and tedious to those engaged in the boats, and
frequently full of anxiety for the commander who has to direct the
survey.

The work in the Solomon Islands had its peculiar, and none the less
trying, features. To be detached in a boat for a week off a coast, on
which it was not considered prudent to land, except on particular points
selected for the establishment of theodolite-stations, was a not
uncommon experience with the surveying parties. The alternation of heavy
rain and scorching heat served to vary the experience, but not to
increase the comfort of those employed from sunrise to sunset in mapping
the intricacies of an unsurveyed coast; and the kindheartedness of the
surveying officer was often sorely tried, when, after a tedious day’s
work under these conditions, he had to tell off his men to keep a
look-out for canoes, and a sharp eye on the land, to see that the boat
did not drag. There were, of course, other occasions when the detached
parties were engaged in surveying islands, the natives of which were
friendly disposed; and then, if the weather favoured them, the week’s
absence from the ship partook almost of the nature of a pleasant picnic.
In the Solomon Islands, however, a considerable experience of the
inhabitants of an island is required before a boat can be sent away with
the certain assurance that its occupants will meet with no mishap. The
unfortunate massacre of Lieutenant Bower of H.M.S. “Sandfly,” and of
most of his boat’s crew in 1880, whilst employed in the survey of the
Florida Islands in this group, is but an example of the uncertainty that
there always will be in dealing with these races. Although similar
disasters have been recently almost of monthly occurrence in these
islands, during our intercourse of 21 months with the natives we did not
fire a single shot in anger, and in our turn we never witnessed a spear
hurled or an arrow discharged except in sport.

The navigation of a sailing ship, such as H.M.S. “Lark,” whilst engaged
in the survey of a passage dotted with unknown, sunken coral-reefs, and
skirted by islands inhabited by a race of savages who have obtained a
notorious reputation on account of the ferocity they display to the
white man, cannot but tax to the uttermost the capacity and nerve of the
officer in command. I can recall more than one anxious moment, and
probably there were others known only to those concerned in the
navigation of the ship, when on our suddenly getting soundings in the
middle of the night in a place where we expected to find “a hundred
fathoms and no bottom,” I set about putting my journals together in
order not to lose what I had been at so much pains to obtain. Towards
the completion of the survey, however, it was ascertained by Lieutenant
Oldham that the ship might have sailed without danger over any of the
isolated reefs which were not indicated at the surface by either a
sand-key or an islet; but this was a character of the reefs that was
only ascertained by a process more pleasing to talk about than to
undergo.

Before quitting this subject, I should refer to an apparent injustice
which exists in the apportioning of no extra pay to the men employed in
detached boat-work in the surveying service. With the exception of an
issue of clothing, gratis, the boats’ crews receive little or nothing in
the form of a reward. I am strongly inclined to believe that the
recognition, even in a slight degree, of the arduous character of their
work, which is of quite an exceptional character as compared with the
routine-employment on board the ordinary man-of-war, would do much
towards increasing the interest usually displayed by the men employed in
such a service.




CHAPTER II.

GOVERNMENT--HEAD-HUNTING--SLAVERY--CANNIBALISM.


THE following anthropological notes are the result of my own personal
observation and research, and are necessarily of a somewhat fragmentary
character. I had no intention when I first visited these islands of
making any special observations on the habits and manners of their
inhabitants. When, however, I saw the apparent want of interest
displayed by those who had it in their power to enrich the world with
their accumulated experiences, I determined to jot down in my diary the
things which came in my way during my intercourse with the natives. I
cannot of course lay claim to the accuracy and more intimate knowledge
such as missionaries and traders resident in the group must possess; and
it is to be deplored that such valuable sources of materials for a
comprehensive work on the anthropology of this region should be allowed
to lie fallow. My lengthened intercourse with the natives of certain
parts of the group removed to some extent the disadvantages under which
the traveller must always labour when not actually resident among them.
My field of observation, however, was limited to but a small area of the
whole region: and the greater part has yet to be explored and described.

       *       *       *       *       *

Commencing my remarks by referring to the system of government usually
adopted in these islands, it should be observed that the form of
hereditary chieftainship, which prevails throughout the Pacific, here
predominates. Every island that supports a number of natives may possess
as many distinct chiefs--each claiming independence of the others--as
there are villages in the island; and this statement holds equally good
whether applied to a large island like St. Christoval or to those of
small size as Santa Anna and Ugi. Yet there is not unfrequently to be
met a chief who, by the power of his wealth or by the number of his
fighting men, assumes a degree of suzerainty over the less powerful
chiefs in his vicinity. Thus, the influence of Gorai, the Shortland
chief, is not only dominant over the islands of Bougainville Straits,
but extends to the adjacent coast of the large islands of Bougainville
and Choiseul, and reaches even to Bouka, more than a hundred miles away.
The small island of Simbo or Eddystone, the Narovo of the natives, is
under the sway of a powerful chief who resides, together with nearly all
his fighting men, on an islet bordering its south-east side. His
influence extends to the neighbouring larger islands, and is probably as
despotic as that of any of the numerous chiefs with whom I was brought
into contact. I might mention other instances in this group where a
comparatively small island becomes the political centre of a large
district. Similar instances are familiar amongst the other Pacific
archipelagos, and notably in the case of Bau in Fiji; and they may all
be attributed to the fact that the coast-tribes are of more robust
physique and of more enterprising character than the inhabitants of the
interior of the larger island, or “bush men” as they are often termed.

The large island of St. Christoval is divided amongst numerous tribes
between which there are constant feuds, each tribe having its own chief.
A wide distinction exists between the inhabitants of the interior and
those of the coast; and an unceasing hostility prevails between the one
and the other. The distinction often extends to language, a circumstance
which points to a long continuation of these feuds; and from it we may
infer that the isolation has continued during a considerable period. The
bush-tribes find their best protection on the summits of the high hills
and on the crests of the mountain-ridges which traverse the interior of
the island. I passed one night in the bush-village of Lawa, which is
situated on a hill-top about 1,400 feet above the sea near the north
coast of St. Christoval. As I was in a locality where probably no white
man had been before, the novelty of my situation kept me awake the
greater part of the night; and very early the next morning I rose up
from my mat in the tambu-house to view, undisturbed, the interior region
of the island. It was a gloomy morning. Thin lines of mist were still
encircling the loftier summits or lingering in the valleys below. Here
and there on the crest of some distant hill a cluster of cocoa-nut palms
marked the home of a bush-tribe effectually isolated by deep intervening
valleys from the neighbouring tribes. I gazed upon a region which had
for ages worn the same aspect, inhabited by the same savage races, the
signs of whose existence played such an insignificant part in the
panorama laid out before me. Standing alone on this hill-top, I
reflected on the deeds of barbarity which these silent mountains must
have witnessed “in the days of other years,” deeds which are only too
frequent in our own day when the hand of every tribe is against its
neighbour, and when the butchery of some unsuspecting hamlet too often
supplies the captors with the materials for the cannibal feast.

By the unusual success of their treachery and cunning--the two weapons
most essential to savage warfare in St. Christoval as well as in the
other islands--some chiefs have acquired a predominance over the
neighbouring villages, and their name inspires terror throughout the
island. Amongst them, I may mention Taki, the chief of the large village
of Wano on the north coast of this island. He has obtained the double
reputation of being a friend to the white man and of being the most
accomplished head-hunter in St. Christoval; and, as may be readily
imagined, the efforts of the Melanesian Mission, by whom a station has
been for many years established in this village,[5] have been greatly
retarded by the indifference of this powerful chief. The resident
teacher in the village was his own son, who had been selected by Bishop
Selwyn and had undergone the usual training of teachers in Norfolk
Island. I regret to write that he greatly lapsed during our stay in the
group, that he appears to have accompanied his father on a head-hunting
foray, and that he finally met with an untimely fate, being so severely
wounded by a shark when fishing on the reef that he died a few hours
afterwards. Taki, although not a Christian convert, was fond of
displaying his connection with the Mission. He showed me a certificate
which he received from Bishop Patteson in July, 1866; and in fact he is
always ready to do the honours of his village to the white man. Of his
head-hunting propensities, Captain Macdonald, an American trader
resident in Santa Anna, told us the following tale: Not long before the
arrival of H.M.S. “Lark” in the Solomon Islands, he was sailing along
the St. Christoval coast, when he met Taki in his war-canoe proceeding
on one of these expeditions. He endeavoured to place hindrances in the
chief’s way by telling him that he had native-traders living at the
different places on the coast where he intended to land. But it was to
no purpose. Taki saw the ruse, and taking it in good part remarked to
Captain Macdonald that he had apparently a large number of natives
trading for him. Waiting patiently until some unfortunate bushmen
ventured down on the reefs to fish, the Wano chief surprised them,
slaughtered many and carried the living and the dead in triumph to his
village. When Mr. Brenchley visited this village in H.M.S. “Curacoa” in
1865, he saw evidence of a head-hunting foray, in which probably Taki
had taken part in his youthful days. The skulls of 25 bushmen were
observed hanging up under the roof of the tambu-house, all showing the
marks of the tomahawk.[6] In our time, this chief conducted his forays
less openly, and I saw no evidence of his work in the tambu-houses of
his village.

    [5] The Rev. J. Atkin was resident at Wano in 1871, shortly before
    he met his death with Bishop Patteson in Santa Cruz.

    [6] “Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curacoa’” (p. 267); by J. L. Brenchley, M.A.

The practice of head-hunting, above referred to, prevails over a large
extent of the Solomon Group. The chiefs of New Georgia or Rubiana extend
their raids to Isabel, Florida, and Guadalcanar; and thus perform
voyages over a hundred miles in length. Within the radius of these raids
no native can be said to enjoy the security of his own existence for a
single day. In the villages of Rubiana may be seen heaps of skulls
testifying to the success of previous expeditions. Captain Cheyne, when
visiting Simbo or Eddystone Island in 1844, found that the natives had
just returned from a successful expedition, bringing with them 93 heads
of men, women, and children. In these expeditions, he says, they
sometimes reached as far as Murray Island which lies about 135 miles to
the eastward.[7] Their reputation, however, had extended yet further,
since D’Urville, who visited Thousand Ships Bay in 1838, tells us that
the Isabel natives knew the land of Simbo and pointed to the west to
indicate its direction.[8] The Rev. Dr. Codrington, in referring to
these head-hunting raids,[9] remarks that the people of the south-west
part of Isabel have suffered very much from attacks made on them year
after year by the inhabitants of the further coast of the same island
and of neighbouring islands, the object of these attacks being to obtain
heads, either for the honour of a dead or living chief or for the
inauguration of new canoes. He observes that a new war canoe is not
invested with due _mana_, _i.e._, supernatural power, until some man
has been killed by those on board her; and any unfortunate voyagers are
hunted down for the purpose on the first trip or afterwards. The Rubiana
natives are said to have introduced head-hunting and human sacrifices
into the neighbouring islands. They carry off not only heads but living
prisoners, whom they are believed to keep, till on the death of a chief,
or launching of a canoe, or some great sacrifice, their lives are taken.

    [7] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean” (p. 66),
    by Andrew Cheyne, London, 1852.

    [8] “Voyage au Pole Sud,” Paris, 1843; tom. v., p. 31.

    [9] Journal of Anthropological Institute, vol. x., p. 261.

White men have sometimes been the victims of these head-hunting
expeditions. As is well known, Lieutenant Bower, of H.M.S. “Sandfly,”
met his death, together with the greater number of his boat’s crew, on
the islet of Mandoleana, in 1880, at the hands of a similar expedition
undertaken by the Florida natives. Kalikona, the most influential chief
of the Florida Islands, was freed from implication in this tragedy
mainly through the efforts of Bishop Selwyn, to whose influence the
subsequent surrender of the five natives concerned in the raid was
chiefly due. More often than not, these head-hunting forays are
unconnected with cannibalism, the mere possession of skulls being the
principal object of the expedition. In some islands, there is a rude
idea of justice perceptible in this practice. It is the custom in the
eastern islands of the group to place out head-money for the head of any
man who may have rendered himself obnoxious to any particular village.
The money--a considerable amount of native shell-money--may be offered
by the friends of a murdered man for the head of the murderer. Months,
sometimes years, may elapse before the deed is accomplished and the
money paid. The task is generally undertaken by a professional
head-hunter, such as we met in the person of Mai, the second chief of
the village of Sapuna, in the island of Santa Anna. To make a thorough
examination of the home and surroundings of his victim, and to insinuate
himself into that intimacy which friendship alone can give him, are
necessary initiatory steps which only the cunning head-hunter can know
how to carry to a successful issue. Time is of no moment. The means
employed are slow, but the end is none the less secure; and when the
opportunity arrives, it is the friend of months, if not of years, who
gives the fatal blow.

In the above description of the head-hunter, I have had before my mind
some of the reminiscences of Captain Macdonald, to whom I have before
alluded. By his judicious treatment of the natives in the eastern
islands, he has acquired a powerful influence for good amongst them;
and it is to his past discretion that many a white man, myself among the
number, has owed his safety when landing on St. Christoval.

When this island was being surveyed by the officers of H.M.S. “Lark,” in
1882, we learned that there was head-money out for a white man’s head in
a district on the north side and nearly opposite Ugi. It appeared that
about a year before a fatal accident had occurred on board a
trading-vessel through a revolver going off unexpectedly and killing a
native belonging to the district. It was the current opinion of resident
traders that sooner or later the required head would be obtained. As
characteristic of a trader’s experience in these islands, I may add that
on one occasion when visiting Mr. Bateman, a trader residing then on the
north coast of Ugi, I was told by him that about a month before a
friendly Malaita chief had arrived in a large canoe at Ugi with the
information that head-money had been offered by another Malaita chief
for the head of a white man. The chief who brought the news advised Mr.
Bateman to remove his residence to the interior of the island; and the
natives in his vicinity were very solicitous that the warning should be
heeded.

I learned from Mr. Stephens, who has resided on Ugi for several years,
that on one occasion when he was resident on Guadalcanar, on returning
from an excursion up the bed of one of the streams, a message was
received from the chief of a village in the interior warning him not to
make any more similar excursions or he would take his life. The chief of
the village, under whose protection Mr. Stephens was residing, took up
the matter as an insult to himself; and sent a reply to the effect that
if the neighbouring chief wished to remain on terms of amity with him,
he should at once send a head in atonement for the threats directed
against the white man. A day or two afterwards, Mr. Stephens saw the
head, which had been duly sent.

The little island of Santa Anna, although but 2½ miles in length,
supports two principal villages, Otagara and Sapuna, which are as often
as not at war with each other, although only separated by the breadth of
the island. Such was the state of affairs during one of our visits to
Port Mary in this island; and the fact that the natives of the two
villages were connected by inter-marriages did not act as a deterrent in
the matter. Through the restless spirit of Mai, the head-hunter before
referred to, some old grievance had been dug up, the murder, I believe,
some years before of the brother of Mai by the Otagara natives. The
outcome of it was that in the middle of the night all the fighting men
of Sapuna assembled at the tambu-house of Mai, and started off along the
coast to pounce upon their fellow islanders on the other side. The
utmost that could have happened would have been the slaughter of some
unsuspecting man or woman on the skirts of the village: but, as it
chanced, a thunderstorm with heavy rain overtook the party when near
their destination; and this dampened their courage to such a degree that
they returned to their own village with the excuse that the rain, by
running down their faces, would have hindered them in throwing their
spears and avoiding those of their opponents. On the following day, Mai
led a party of Sapuna men to make another attack, and on returning in
the afternoon from one of my excursions into the interior of the island,
I learned that the party had returned triumphant, having killed one of
their neighbour’s large pigs, an act which is regarded as a “casus
belli” in native politics.

In the person of Mai, we have a typical example of a Solomon Island
head-hunter. The cunning and ferocity which marked his dealings, were
sufficiently indicated in his countenance and his mien. He had
established for himself the position of war-chief in his village of
Sapuna, the reigning chief being of a more peaceable disposition. During
one of our visits to this island we found that this war-chief had been
very recently displaying his heroism in the most approved native
fashion. He had led a war-party across to Fanarite on the opposite coast
of St. Christoval, to avenge the death of a fugitive from a labour
vessel who, having escaped at Santa Anna, subsequently found his way to
Fanarite where he was killed. The excuse, although somewhat circuitous,
was quite sufficient for Mai, who in his disinterestedness thought more
of this chance of gaining new laurels than of the untimely end of the
native whose death he was so eager to avenge. Having reached the part of
the coast where this man had been killed, the war-party lay in ambush
and slaughtered a chief and two women as they were returning from their
yam patches; whilst they severely wounded another woman who escaped into
the bush with a spear through her back. Having dipped their weapons in
the gore of their victims, Mai and his party returned to Santa Anna. I
was sorry to learn that a native, named Pukka-pukka who had served in
the “Lark” as an interpreter during the previous year, had taken an
active part in this expedition. It appeared that the chief had aimed at
him, but his musket missed fire, when Pukka-pukka shot him through the
back with his snider. The scene of the tragedy was familiar to me, as I
had landed there the year before. Pukka-pukka, who is a sensible young
man and of by no means a bloodthirsty disposition, did not like my
taking him to task for the part he took in this raid; and he protested
more than once in a somewhat injured tone that his people did not fight
without good cause. In his case, I felt confident that he was not
tempted by the mere love of bloodshedding, the truth being that through
the able tutorship of Mai, all old feuds are kept alive in the minds of
the young men of the village, who, in their desire to distinguish
themselves, come to regard such grievances as fair grounds for war. We
soon learned that the Fanarite natives would seize the first opportunity
to retaliate; and that head-money to a large amount had been offered for
the head of a native of Santa Anna, and particularly for the head of
Pukka-pukka.

The chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits possess far greater
power over their peoples than that which is wielded by most of the
chiefs we encountered at the St. Christoval end of the group. At Santa
Anna and at Ugi, the position of the chief is almost an empty honour;
and some man of spirit, though not of principle, such as Mai in the
former island and Rora at Ugi, usurps by his fighting prowess a large
share of the power. On the St. Christoval coast I met several such
chiefs, who possess no influence beyond their own district, and often
very little in that. Occasionally, as I have before observed, a chief is
found who, like Taki at Wano, exercises a powerful influence over the
less pretentious chiefs of neighbouring islands and districts. Some of
the Guadalcanar chiefs are very powerful; but with them I had no
personal intercourse; and I prefer to confine my remarks to those
portions of the group with which I became acquainted. Returning, then,
to the chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits, I may enumerate
them in their order of importance--Gorai in the Shortland Islands, Mule
at Treasury, Kurra-kurra and Tomimas in Faro or Fauro, and Krepas at
Choiseul Bay. There is constant communication between the natives of
these islands, more particularly between those of Treasury, the
Shortlands, and Faro, the distances between the islands varying between
15 and 25 miles. Intermarriages are frequent between the natives of
these islands. They all speak the same language; and not uncommonly a
man shifts his home from one island to another. The chiefs are all
connected either by blood-relationship or by marriage, and together form
as powerful an alliance as might be found in the whole group. Visits of
condolence are exchanged in times of bereavement between the chiefs; and
presents are conveyed from one to another. On one occasion we carried a
present of sago from Mule to Gorai; and I have on more than one occasion
during our passages between these islands been made the bearer of a
message from chief to chief.

[Illustration: 1

2

1. GORAI, HIS PRINCIPAL WIFE, AND HIS SON FERGUSON.

2. FOUR OF THE WIVES OF MULE.

(_To face page 21._)]

Gorai, the well-known Alu chief, Alu being the name of his principal
island, exercises a kind of suzerainty over the neighbouring chiefs. But
his reputation and influence extend far beyond the islands directly or
indirectly under his rule. From Treasury northward and eastward,
throughout the Shortlands, across the straits to Choiseul Bay, through
Faro, and along the coast of Bougainville, extending even to Bouka, his
influence is predominant. Masters of vessels, recruiting labour on the
coast of Bougainville, have a sufficient guarantee for the good
behaviour of the natives of the places they visit, if they have been
fortunate enough to secure the presence on board of one of the sons of
Gorai. This chief has been the trusted friend of the white man for many
years. On our first visit to Alu we were therefore prepared to think
favourably of him. We found him on the beach, surrounded by a
considerable number of his people. Shaking hands with us, he told us in
his imperfect English that he was a friend of the white man. Rather
beyond middle age, and somewhat shorter than the average native, he has
an honest, good-humoured expression of countenance, which at once
prepossessed us in his favour. Whilst seated in the dingy interior of
one of his houses, surrounded by several of his wives, Gorai related to
us the story--well known to all acquainted with the Solomon Group--of
his reprisal a few years before on the natives of Nouma-nouma, a village
on the east coast of Bougainville, for the murder of Captain Ferguson of
the trading steamer “Ripple.” The master of the “Ripple” was an old
friend of Gorai, and traded extensively with him. On hearing the news,
the chief mustered his men and despatched them in canoes, under the
command of his eldest son, to the scene of the massacre, about a hundred
miles away. The natives of the offending village were surprised, and
about twenty of them were killed, including men, women, and
children--“all same man-of-war,” as Gorai too truthfully observed. One
of the chief’s sons has received the name of the unfortunate master of
the “Ripple;” and I may here refer to the good name which Captain
Ferguson has left behind him, not only amongst the natives of the
Solomon Islands, but also amongst his fellow-traders in those seas. The
inhabitants of the Shortland Islands, Gorai’s immediate rule, live in
great awe of their chief; and the number of natives who gathered round
us when we first met the chief showed us by their manner that in the
friendship of the chief the white man possessed the goodwill of his
subjects. We were unable to see very much of the mode of exercising his
power; but I suspect that Gorai, like other chiefs, places but little
value on the lives of his people. Punishment is summarily dealt by the
spear or the tomahawk; and I learned from natives of the adjoining
islands that the offence may be of a very trivial nature.

On one occasion, Gorai took me in his war-canoe on a geological
excursion to the north-west side of Alu. During our return, the sun set
when we were about twelve miles from the ship, and left us to pursue our
way in the darkness. Seated alongside the chief on the second bow thwart
of the canoe, I could not help reflecting how many times he must have
occupied the same seat in his war-canoes when engaged in those
expeditions which have made his influence dominant on this part of the
group. On our way we skirted the beach of an islet on which were
squatting a party of Alu natives who had gone there to fish. Although we
passed a few yards from these men, not a word of recognition was
exchanged. The sight of a large war-canoe with Gorai and a white man in
the bow passing them in the dusk of evening must have been a novel one
to them, yet neither they nor our men exchanged a word. There they sat
squatting motionless on the beach, and we passed them in silence. Gorai
subsequently explained to me that the reason of this was that the men
were “too much fright,” or rather awed, by the presence of their chief.

The chief of the Shortland Islands has two or more elderly men who act
as his ministers. Many years ago he was living at Treasury, of which
island he was chief; but being unwilling to take part in the hostility
displayed by the Treasury natives towards the white men, he left the
island under the chieftainship of Mule, the present chief, who still
remained in some degree under the rule of Gorai. The Alu chief takes a
pleasure in asserting that he is “all same white man,” at the same time
deprecating the inferior position of his race with the remark, “White
man, he savez too much. Poor black man! He no savez nothing.”

I now come to Mule, the Treasury chief, who numbers amongst his wives a
sister of Gorai, Bita by name; whilst the Alu chief has returned the
compliment by making Mule’s sister, Kai-ka, the principal amongst his
hundred wives. Mule, also known as Mule-kopa, has rather the appearance
and build of a chief of one of the more eastern Pacific groups. He has a
sedate expression of countenance, a prominent chin, and strongly marked
coarse features. A large bushy head of hair adds to the dignity of his
appearance; and his powerful limbs, depth of chest, breadth of
shoulders, and greater height distinguish him pre-eminently from his
people. His rule is as despotic in Treasury as that of Gorai in the
Shortlands; and he maintains his sway rather by the fear he inspires
than by possessing any feeling of respect on the part of his subjects.
On more than one occasion I have heard the natives use threatening
language towards their chief, when he had made some arbitrary exercise
of his power. He had a habit of sending away to the bush any native who
from his superior knowledge of English seemed to be supplanting him in
the intercourse with the ships that visited the harbour. Even his
right-hand man, who prided himself on his name of Billy, experienced his
wrath on one occasion in this manner. Like other chiefs, Mule is
grasping and covetous, shortcomings which are rather those of the race
than of the individual. Although of the chiefs of Bougainville Straits I
liked him the least, the contrast was rather due to the exceptionally
good estimate we had formed of his fellow chiefs. The visits of H.M.S.
“Lark” to this island have been the means of removing the very bad
reputation which the natives had deservedly possessed: and I would
especially invite the attention of my readers to the history of this
change in the attitude of these natives towards the white man.

Captain C. H. Simpson, who visited this island in H.M.S. “Blanche” in
1872, described its people in his report to the Admiralty,[10] as being
“the most treacherous and blood-thirsty of any known savages;” and the
officers employed in making a sketch of the harbour had ample evidence
of their ferocity. About seven years before, the natives had cut out a
barque and had murdered her crew of 33 men. Previously they had captured
several boats of whalers visiting the islands, and had massacred the
crews. The Treasury natives were always very reticent to us when we
tried to learn something more of the fate of the barque; but we learned
little except that she was American, and was named “Superior.” The
captain, whose name the natives pronounced “Hoody,” was carried away
into the interior of the island and killed, and the scene of his murder
was once pointed out to Lieutenant Oldham when crossing the island. As
Captain Simpson charges the natives with cannibalism, there can be
little doubt of the ultimate fate of the crew of the American barque. In
the interval between the occurrence of this event and the arrival of the
“Blanche,” no vessel had anchored in the harbour, the ships always
heaving-to off the north coast, where the natives resided when Captain
Simpson visited the island. Treasury retained its bad reputation up to
the date of our visit; and but few traders had much knowledge of the
place, as they generally gave the island a wide berth. We met but one
man who spoke well of these natives, and he was Captain Walsch of the
trading schooner “Venture.” All others gave them the worst of
characters: and led me to believe that my acquaintance with Treasury
would not extend beyond the deck of H.M.S. “Lark.” When Lieutenant
Oldham first visited this island in May, 1882, he had every reason to
place but little confidence in the natives; and in truth we all thought
that the appearance and behaviour of the natives justified the
treacherous reputation which they had obtained. Only two days were spent
there, but no landing was effected: the chief made no response to the
invitations to visit the ship; and we left the harbour without much
feeling of regret. In June of the following year we again visited this
island; and if the same procedure had been followed we should have been
a very long time in gaining the confidence of the natives. Lieutenant
Oldham, however, paid an official visit to the chief, accompanied by
Lieutenant Malan and myself. Mule and one of his sons returned the visit
within a couple of hours. Presents were exchanged; and the foundation of
mutual confidence was thus laid. The result may be briefly stated. In a
few days I was rambling all over the island, usually accompanied by a
lively gathering of men and boys. An intimacy was established with the
natives, which lasted until we bade farewell to the group in the
following year; and the return of the “Lark” from her cruises was always
a cause of rejoicing amongst the natives. The men of the ship were known
by name to most of the people of the island: whilst Mr. Isabell, our
leading-stoker, made a deep impression upon them by his readiness to
employ his mechanical skill for their various wants, so much so that
Mule offered, if he would remain, to make him a chief with the usual
perquisite as to the number of his wives. For my own part, I reaped the
full benefit of our amicable relations with the natives; and for the
proof of this statement I must refer the reader to the remarks on my
intercourse with them, and to my observations on the geology, botany,
and other characteristics of the island.

    [10] “Hydrographic Notices, Pacific Ocean,” 1856 to 1873 (p. 106).

Coming now to the chiefs of Faro or Fauro Island, I must mention more
particularly Kurra-kurra the chief of Toma, and Tomimas the chief of
Sinasoro, Toma and Sinasoro being the two principal villages of the
island. Kurra-kurra is, I believe, a half-brother of Gorai. He has not,
however, the same dignity of manner, and has resigned most of his power
into the hands of his son Gorishwa, a fine strapping young man. Both
father and son are friends of the white man. Tomimas, the Sinasoro
chief, also related to Gorai, is somewhat taciturn even with his own
people, but a chief to be thoroughly trusted. On one occasion whilst
assisting Lieutenant Heming and myself in demolishing our dinners in a
tambu-house at his village, Tomimas broke a long silence by informing us
through a native interpreter that the men of Sinasoro were very good
people, that they did not kill white men, and that their chief was like
Gorai. It is needless to write that we appreciated the good intention,
though hardly the elegance of the chief’s solitary remark. In the
following year, when I was returning from a botanical excursion to the
peak of Faro, I received an invitation from Tomimas to visit him on the
side of the harbour opposite to the village. The chief, who awaited me
on the beach, received me cordially, telling me through one of the
natives, who could speak a little English, that he had collected for me
the fruits and leaves of the “anumi”--a tree of the genus
_Cerbera_--which he had heard I had been anxious to find. The kindly
manner of the old chief attracted me towards him, and I sat down, as he
wished me, by his side on the log of a tree, having first presented him
with a large knife which greatly pleased him. Close by, stood his four
wives, to whom he introduced me, pointing out to me the mother of his
eldest son Kopana, an intelligent young man of about twenty-two. A bunch
of ripe bananas was laid beside me, of which I was bidden to partake.
This was followed in a short time by a savoury vegetable broth, which
the chief brought with his own hands in a cooking-pot. It was especially
prepared for me on their learning that I had found the plant (an aroid,
_Schizmatoglottis_) in my excursions. There was the spirit of true
politeness displayed in the manner of the chief and his wives, as they
endeavoured to show that in the exercise of their simple hospitality
they were receiving, instead of conferring, an honour. I felt that I was
in the presence of good breeding, although sitting attired in a dirty
flannel suit in the midst of a number of almost naked savages. My own
party of Sinasoro natives, who had been fasting for many hours, politely
asked me to partake of their meal which the generosity of the chief had
prepared, before they thought of touching it themselves. I of course
complied with their request by tasting a cooked banana, when, this piece
of etiquette having been duly observed, they attacked the victuals
without ceremony.

Such was my pleasing experience of this Faro chief. During the survey of
this island, the natives showed every disposition to be friendly towards
us. In my numerous excursions I always met with civility, and frequently
with unexpected acts of kindness; and I soon became known to them by the
name given to me by the Treasury natives, “Rōkus” or “Dōkus.”

The principal chief of the district, immediately north of Choiseul Bay,
is named “Krepas.” Several years before he had been living at Faro,
which he left on account of the death of all his wives. When we first
visited Choiseul Bay in September, 1883, we found the natives very coy
in approaching us, on account of the reprisal of H.M.S. “Emerald,” two
years before, on the people of the neighbouring village of Kangopassa
for the cutting out of the trading-vessel “Zephyr,” and the murder of a
portion of her crew. After two days, however, Lieutenant Oldham
succeeded in removing their suspicions, and the chief came on board.
Subsequently Krepas and his son, Kiliusi, accompanied me in a canoe
during my ascent of one of the rivers that empty themselves into this
bay. I found the chief and his son very useful guides, and was
prepossessed in their favour. On our return to Treasury, I was surprised
to learn from Billy, Mule’s prime minister, as we termed him, that
Krepas was a practised cannibal, and would not think much of killing a
white man. Billy was deeply impressed by the circumstance of my having
shared my lunch with the chief of Choiseul Bay, about two miles up one
of the rivers. It was in this bay that the French navigator,
Bougainville, intended to anchor his ships in 1768, being opposed by the
hostility of the natives. The boats, which had been sent in to find an
anchorage, were attacked by 150 men in ten canoes, who were only routed
after the second discharge of fire-arms. Two canoes were captured, in
one of which was found the jaw of a man half-broiled. The number of
shoals, and the irregularity of the currents prevented the ships coming
up to the anchorage before night fell; and Bougainville, abandoning his
design, continued his course through the Straits.[11] The description
which the French navigator gave of these natives in 1768, applies
equally well to those of the present day. When H.M.S. “Lark” revisited
Choiseul Bay in October, 1884, not a single native was seen; so that it
would behove future visitors to be very cautious in their dealings with
these natives. Whilst off the coast north of this bay, a fishing-party
of half-a-dozen men came off to the ship from the village of Kandelai;
but they showed great suspicion of us. They would not come alongside for
some time; and when a present of calico was flung to them at the end of
a line, they were divided amongst themselves whether to come and take
it, some paddling one way and some another. At length they took the
present and came alongside, but did not stay long, and soon paddled
towards the shore, their suspicions by no means allayed. What had
happened to cause this change of attitude, we could not learn.
Evidently, the good impression which we had left behind us a year
before, had borne no fruit. Probably, some inconsiderate action on the
part of the crew of a trading-vessel had undone our work.

    [11] “Voyage autour du Monde,” 2nd edit. augm. vol. II., Paris,
    1772.

The professional head-hunter of the eastern islands of the group does
not appear to be represented amongst the islands of Bougainville
Straits. Raids are occasionally made on the villages of the adjoining
Bougainville coast, but more, I believe, for the purpose of procuring
slaves, than from the mere desire of fighting. There is, however,
frequent friendly communication between the natives of the islands of
the Straits and those of certain Bougainville villages, the former
usually exchanging articles of trade for spears and tortoise-shell, and
acting as middle-men in the traffic with the white men. It is however
singular that the natives of the Straits trade with different villages
on the Bougainville coast; and that, although on usually such friendly
terms with each other, they are often on terms of hostility with the
particular Bougainville village with which their neighbours trade. Thus,
Mule, the Treasury chief, trades with the people of the village of
Suwai, over which his brother Kopana is chief. Gorai, the Alu chief, on
the other hand, is at war with the natives of Suwai, but maintains
friendly communication with Daku, the chief of the village of Takura,
and with Magasa the chief of the harbour of Tonali. Whilst spending a
night at Sinasoro with Lieutenant Heming and his party, I with the rest
had to share the tambu-house with a party of ten natives from Takura.
They had come across for pigs and taro. The natives of the adjoining
coast of Bougainville, possessing a different language, are not able to
make themselves understood by the people of the Straits except by
interpreters. I have seen one of these natives just as little able to
make himself understood by the natives of Faro, as if he had been
suddenly removed to some very distant country instead of only 30 miles
away.

I have previously referred to the close friendship which usually
prevails between the inhabitants of the islands of Bougainville Straits,
linked together as they are by inter-marriages and by the possession of
a common language. But in the calmest seas there are occasional storms;
and I will proceed to relate an extraordinary chain of events which came
more or less under our observation whilst in this portion of the group.
Shortly before our return to Treasury in April, 1884, there had been a
terrible domestic tragedy, which at one time threatened to embroil all
the chiefs of the Straits in actual war. It appeared that Kopana, the
eldest son of Gorai had, in a fit of temporary madness, shot one of his
wives dead with his rifle, the unfortunate woman being a daughter of
Mule, the Treasury chief. On hearing the news, Mule at once crossed over
to Alu to exact vengeance on Kopana; but Gorai would not permit him to
harm his son; and it was arranged between the two chiefs that Mule
should be allowed to shoot one of the other wives of Kopana, as the
price of blood. Early one morning the Treasury chief, armed with his
snider rifle, took his way in a canoe up a passage I had often traversed
in my Rob Roy, and surprising his selected victim at work in a taro
patch, he shot her dead. At the same time he wounded her male attendant,
an elderly native named Malakolo, the bullet passing through the left
shoulder-joint from behind. When I saw this man six or seven weeks
afterwards, he was fast recovering from the injury, although with a
useless limb. Kopana, who is a headstrong son and beyond his father’s
control, naturally resented this act of Mule, and appears to have
meditated a descent on Treasury. Collecting his followers and the
remainder of his wives, he disappeared on what was given out as a
tortoise-shell expedition. We found the Treasury people in a great
dread of the daily arrival of Kopana; and I had some difficulty in
getting natives to accompany me in my excursions about the island. They
did not care to leave the vicinity of the village; and I found many of
the bush-paths familiar to me in the previous year partly overgrown.
Apparently through a sense of shame, Mule and his natives avoided
telling us anything about the act of retaliation; they were, however,
loud in their endeavours to cast aspersions on Kopana. On our arrival at
Alu, we learned the truth from Gorai to whom Mule had sent a native, who
took a passage with us, asking him not to be too communicative in case
we made inquiries. As it happened, however, the Treasury native was kept
on board, and Lieutenant Oldham, on landing, learned the part Mule had
played. Kopana was apparently quite conscious of his own responsibility
in the matter, as he had left a present with Gorai to be given to the
captain of any man-of-war who should come to punish him. Thus closed the
first scene of this tragedy.

Whilst we lay at anchor off Gorai’s village, it was evident that there
was trouble brewing. The natives accompanying me in my geological
excursions carried arms contrary to their usual practice. On the same
day the two principal villages were found deserted; and Gorai shifted
his residence to another islet. Rumours became rife that the Treasury
and Shortland natives had met with bloodshed; but the men we questioned
made so many wilful misstatements that it was impossible to learn what
had really happened. At length the truth came out. Being in Gorai’s
house one morning, I was told by the chief that his son had been
attacked five days before by the Treasury natives on the islet of
Tuluba, off the west coast of Alu, that Kopana’s canoe had returned
without his master, bringing a man and a woman badly wounded, and that
he shortly expected the return of two large war-canoes which he had sent
to the scene of the encounter. These two canoes returned whilst I was
talking to the chief on the beach, bringing a few more survivors but
without Kopana. The old chief then took it for granted that his eldest
son was dead, and in telling me so showed no emotion whatever. In the
evening, however, we learned, to our astonishment, that Kopana had
returned, having not been engaged in the fray. It seemed that at the
time of the encounter he was on a neighbouring islet. After some
difficulty, I was able to get an account of the affair.

Two Treasury war-canoes, it appears, attempted to land at Tuluba Islet
one evening, where the crews were going to encamp for the night.
Ostensibly the Treasury men were on their way to Bougainville to buy
spears; but since they were led by Olega, the brother of Mule and the
fighting-chief of the island, it is probable that they were intending a
descent on Alu from this islet of Tuluba. When the Treasury men
discovered Kopana’s party were already there, the fighting at once
began. During the conflict, for which the Alu natives were ill-prepared,
seeing that they were largely composed of Kopana’s wives, one of the
Treasury canoes was dashed to pieces on a reef and all the occupants
were thrown into the water. In this unequal contest, the Alu natives had
a man and a woman killed and a man and a woman wounded, both the women
being wives of Kopana. In addition four other of Kopana’s wives were
captured by the Treasury men, who returned to their own island in the
remaining canoe with a loss of four men wounded, of whom one
subsequently died.

The unfortunate wives of Kopana had indeed borne the brunt from the very
beginning. Within two months, three of them had suffered violent death,
one of them was wounded apparently beyond recovery, and four had been
carried off prisoners to Treasury. The singular feature of this breach
between the Treasury and Alu natives, was that the animosity of the
former was directed against Gorai’s eldest son and not against the old
chief, his father, who did not think it incumbent on him to interfere
except for the purpose of pacifying the two parties.

I visited the two wounded brought back to Alu. Five days had already
elapsed since the fight, and I found the wounds of both in a horrible
condition. The wife of Kopana had a severe tomahawk wound of the thigh
just above the knee, smashing the bone and implicating the joint. The
man had a rifle-bullet wound through the fleshy part of the thigh and a
pistol-bullet wound in the opposite groin. Nothing had been done in
either case, and after the lapse of five days in a tropical climate, the
condition of the wounds could be scarcely described. I was allowed to do
but little, and considered recovery in either case most improbable.
Both, however, recovered to my great astonishment. I found afterwards,
on visiting the wounded at Treasury, that one man had been shot through
the elbow-joint by one of his own party.

The subsequent events in connection with this outbreak of hostilities
in the Straits may be soon related. Although there was now open war
between Alu and Treasury, it assumed a passive character, each side
awaiting or expecting an attack from the other. Gorai was much concerned
at this turn of events, seeing that, as he told me, he thought he had
come to an amicable arrangement with Mule when he allowed him to take
the life of one of his son’s wives. The canoe-houses at Alu were usually
filled during the day by a number of natives, all carrying their
tomahawks and debating on the topic of the day. In the midst of them I
once found Gorai talking in his quiet way to an attentive circle of
armed natives. In the meanwhile the Treasury natives held a feast in
celebration of their success; and the four wives of Kopana were
distributed about the village, but they experienced no ill treatment. In
a few weeks the animosity displayed between the peoples of the two
islands began to cool down; and it soon became evident that the war was
one only in name. At length peace was once more restored. In the
beginning of October a number of Treasury natives came over to the west
coast of Alu where Gorai was then residing, bringing with them Mule’s
principal wife, Bita, the sister of the Alu chief, together with a large
present of bananas, taro, and other vegetables; and lastly, what was the
most significant act of all, they brought with them the four wives of
Kopana who had been captured on the islet of Tuluba. Gorai told me that
amity was now perfectly restored, and that he was going to exchange
visits with the Treasury chief to confirm the compact. Fortunately for
the happiness of the natives of Bougainville Straits, war rarely
disturbs the peaceful atmosphere in which they live.

I cannot doubt that, in the lives of the natives of these straits, we
have the brighter side of the existence of the Solomon Islander; and
this result may, I think, be attributed in the main to the influence of
Gorai, the Alu chief, who in his intercourse with white men, not always
the best fitted to represent their colour, as I need scarcely remark,
has learned some lessons in his own crude way which he could hardly have
learned under any other conditions. Natives of the islands of the
Straits can count with some confidence on the tenure of their lives, but
this is simply due to the influence of the name of the Alu chief. And
yet, however secure the surroundings of a native may be, he will never
be entirely off his guard. Suspicion is a quality inherent in his mind,
and it shows itself in most of the actions of his life. Even of those
natives, who, in the capacity of interpreters, lived on board the ship
for weeks together, one was always keeping watch over his comrades
during the long hours of the night whenever we were at any anchorage
away from their own island; and I have been told by the officers in
charge of the detached surveying parties, that even after a hard day’s
work in the boat, they have found their natives keeping a self-imposed
watch during the night.

I pass on now to the subject of the power of the “tambu,” or “taboo” as
it is more usually termed. The tambu ban constitutes the real authority
of a petty chief in times of peace. In the eastern islands, the tambu
sign is often two sticks crossed and placed in the ground. In such a
manner, the St. Christoval native secures his patch of ground from
intrusion. In the islands of Bougainville Straits, posts six to eight
feet in height, rudely carved in the form of the head and face, are
erected facing sea-ward on the beach of a village to keep off enemies
and sickness. Similar posts are erected on the skirts of a plantation of
cocoa-nut palms to warn off intruders. On one occasion, whilst ascending
the higher part of a stream in Treasury, my natives unexpectedly came
upon the faint footprint of a bushman; and my sheath-knife was at once
borrowed by the chief’s eldest son, who happened to be one of the party,
to cut out a face in the soft rock as a tambu mark for the bushman, or
in other words to preserve the stream. I have only touched on the
exercise of the right of tambu in its narrowest sense. Scattered about
in the pages of this work will be found numerous allusions to customs
which would be comprised under this head in its widest meaning: for the
power of the tambu is but the power of a code which usually prohibits
and rarely commands; and in enumerating its restrictions and defining
its limits, one would be in reality describing a negative system of
public and private etiquette. It is worthy of note, that the term
“tambu” is not included in the vocabulary of the language of the natives
of Bougainville Straits, its equivalent being “olatu.”

It may be here apposite to make some observations on the slavery which
is practised in connection with the bush-tribes of these islands. As
already remarked, a wide distinction usually prevails in the Solomon
Group between the inhabitants of the coast and those of the interior;
and although this distinction is most evident in the case of the larger
islands, it also prevails, but to a less degree, in those of smaller
size. It is a noteworthy fact that the bushmen are always looked down
upon by their brethren of the coast. “Man-bush” is with the latter a
term of reproach, implying stupidity and crass ignorance. I have
frequently heard this epithet applied to natives who handled their
canoes in an awkward manner or who stumbled in their walk whilst
accompanying me in my excursions. On one occasion, when trying to obtain
stone axes from the natives of Alu, I was referred with a smile to the
bushmen of the neighbouring island of Bougainville, who still employ
these tools. In the larger islands the bush-tribes and the coast natives
wage an unceasing warfare, in which the latter are usually the
aggressors and the victors--the bushmen captured during these raids
either affording materials for the cannibal feast or being detained in
servitude by their captors. But there prevails in the group a recognized
system of slave-traffic, in which a human being becomes a marketable
commodity--the equivalent being represented in goods either of native or
of foreign manufacture. This custom which came under the notice of the
officers of Surville’s expedition, during their visit to Port Praslin in
Isabel, in 1769,[12] obtains under the same conditions at the present
time. These natives were in the habit of making voyages of ten and
twelve days’ duration with the object of exchanging men for “fine cloths
covered with designs,” articles which were manufactured by a race of
people much fairer than their own, who were in all probability the
inhabitants of Ontong Java.

    [12] “Discoveries to the south-east of New Guinea,” by M. Fleurieu,
    p. 143, Eng. edit.

The servitude to which the victims of this traffic are doomed is not
usually an arduous one. But there is one grave contingency attached to
his thraldom which must be always before the mind of the captive,
however lightly his chains of service may lie upon him. When a head is
required to satisfy the offended honour of a neighbouring chief, or when
a life has to be sacrificed on the completion of a tambu-house or at the
launching of a new war-canoe, the victim chosen is usually the man who
is not a free-born native of the village. He may have been bought as a
child and have lived amongst them from his boyhood up, a slave only in
name, and enjoying all the rights of his fellow natives. But no feelings
of compassion can save him from his doom; and the only consideration
which he receives at the hands of those with whom he may have lived on
terms of equality for many years is to be found in the circumstance that
he gets no warning of his fate.

There are in Treasury several men and women who, originally bought as
slaves from the people of Bouka and Bougainville, now enjoy apparently
the same privileges and freedom of action as their fellow islanders. It
is sometimes not a matter of much difficulty to single out the slaves
amongst a crowd of natives. On one occasion I engaged a canoe of Faro
men to take me to a distant part of their island: and very soon after we
started I became aware from the cowed and sullen condition of one of the
crew that he was a slave. On inquiry I learned that this man had been
captured when a boy in the island of Bougainville, and I was informed
that if he was to return to his native place--a bush village named
Kiata--he would undoubtedly be killed. Although in fact a slave, I
concluded from the bearing of the other men towards him that his bondage
was not a very hard one; and he evidently appeared to enjoy most of the
rights of a native of the common class. Sukai, however, for such was his
name, had to make himself generally useful in the course of the day; and
when at the close of the excursion we were seated inside the house of a
man who provided us with a meal of boiled taro, sweet potatoes, and
bananas, he was served with his repast on the beach outside.

Mule, the Treasury chief, had adopted a little Bougainville bush-boy,
named Sapeku, who was purchased when very young from his friends. In
1883 he was six or seven years old, and was the constant companion of
the sons of the chief. He was a fat chubby little urchin, with woolly
hair, and was known on board under the name of “Tubby.” His wild
excitable disposition full of suspicion showed to great contrast with
the calmer and more confident demeanour of his companions. He was,
however, a general favourite with us, although I should add he did not
possess half the pluck of his associates. Mule also possessed, at the
time of our visit, a young girl, twelve or thirteen years old, who had
been not long before purchased from the Bougainville natives.

I have previously referred to the existence of bushmen on some of the
smaller islands. In the interior of Treasury there are a few hamlets
containing each two or three families of bushmen, who live quite apart
from the other natives of the island. On more than one occasion I
experienced the hospitality of these bush families, who in matters of
dress are even less observant than the harbour natives. They are
probably the remnants of the original bushmen who occupied this island.
Over our pipes, I used frequently to converse with the natives on the
subject of the past history of their island; and I gleaned from them
that the enterprising race at present dominant in the Bougainville
Straits came originally from the islands immediately to the eastward,
using Treasury as a stepping-stone to the Shortlands and Faro, and
ousting or exterminating the bushmen they found in the possession of
these islands.

I will turn for a moment to the subject of slavery in the eastern
islands of the group. In Ugi it is the practice of infanticide which has
given rise to a slave-commerce regularly conducted with the natives of
the interior of St. Christoval. Three-fourths of the men of this island
were originally bought as youths to supply the place of the natural
offspring killed in infancy. But such natives when they attain manhood
virtually acquire their independence, and their original purchaser has
but little control over them. On page 42, I have made further reference
to this subject.

Connected in the manner above shown with the subject of slavery is the
practice of cannibalism. The completion of a new tambu-house is
frequently celebrated among the St. Christoval natives by a cannibal
feast. Residents in that part of the group tell me that if the victim is
not procured in a raid amongst the neighbouring tribes of the interior,
some man is usually selected from those men in the village who were
originally purchased by the chief. The doomed man is not enlightened as
to the fate which awaits him, and may, perhaps, have been engaged in the
erection of the very building at the completion of which his life is
forfeited. The late Mr. Louis Nixon,[13] one of those traders whose name
should not be forgotten amongst the pioneers who, in working for
themselves, have worked indirectly for the good of their successors in
the Solomon Group, once recounted to me a tragical incident of this kind
on the island of Guadalcanar, of which he was an unwilling spectator.
Whilst looking out of the window of his house one afternoon, he observed
a native walk up to another standing close to the window and engage him
in conversation. A man then stole up unperceived, and raising his heavy
club above his head, struck the intended victim lifeless to the ground.
Knowing too well the nature and purpose of the deed, Mr. Nixon turned
away quite sickened by the sight.

    [13] Mr. Nixon died at Santa Anna in the end of 1882.

The natives of the small island of Santa Anna enjoy the reputation of
being abstainers from human flesh: but, inasmuch, as Mai the war-chief
has acquired a considerable fortune, in a native’s point of view, by
following the profitable calling of purveyor of human flesh to the
man-eaters of the adjacent coasts of St. Christoval--a trade in which he
is ably assisted by those who accompany him on his foraging
expeditions--we can hardly preserve this nice distinction between the
parts taken by the contractor and his customers in this extraordinary
traffic. I learned from Captain Macdonald that in their abstinence from
human flesh, the Santa Anna natives are not actuated by any dislike of
anthropophagy in itself; but that the custom has fallen into abeyance
since the chief laid the tambu-ban on human flesh several years ago, on
account of a severe epidemic of sickness having followed a cannibal
feast. On one occasion through the instrumentality of this resident,
Lieutenant Oldham had the satisfaction of rescuing two St. Christoval
natives whom Mai was carefully keeping in anticipation of the wants of
the man-eaters of Cape Surville. As the result of an interview held with
this chief, the two prisoners were sent on board the “Lark;” but Mai
gave them up with a very bad grace, protesting that he was being robbed
of his own property. It is difficult to speculate on the reflections of
the victim as he lives on from day to day in constant expectation of his
fate. I am told that there is a faint gleam of tender feeling shown in
the case of a man who, by long residence in the village, has almost come
to be looked upon as one of themselves. He is allowed to remain in
ignorance of the dreaded moment until the last: and, perhaps, he may be
standing on the beach assisting in the launching of the very canoe in
which he is destined to take his final journey, when suddenly he is laid
hold of, and in a few moments more he is being ferried across to the
man-eaters of the opposite coast. All persons whom I have met that have
had a lengthened experience of the St. Christoval natives confirm these
cannibal practices. They may sometimes be observed with all the horrible
preliminaries which have been described in the cases of other Pacific
groups; whilst, on the other hand, it may be the habit to purchase and
partake of human flesh as an extra dainty in the daily fare.

Captain Redlich, master of the schooner “Franz,” who visited Makira on
the south side of St. Christoval in 1872, states that he found a dead
body in a war-canoe dressed and cooked whole. He was informed by Mr.
Perry, a resident, that he had seen as many as twenty bodies lying on
the beach dressed and cooked.[14] In 1865, Mr. Brenchley noticed at
Wano, on the north coast of this island, the skulls of twenty-five
bushmen hanging up under the roof of the tambu-house, all of which
showed the effects of the tomahawk and all had been eaten.[15] At the
present time it is not an easy matter for any person not resident in the
group to obtain ocular evidence of cannibalism, since the natives have
become aware of the white man’s aversion to the custom. I have, however,
frequently seen the arm and leg bones of the victim consumed at the
opening of a new tambu-house, as they are usually hung up over the
entrance or in some other part of the building. The natives, however,
are generally reluctant to talk much about these matters; and I believe
the residents, in such matters, prefer to trust more to the testimony of
their own eyes than to the statements of the natives.

    [14] Journal of the Royal Geographical Society for 1874 (vol. 44),
    p. 31.

    [15] “Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curaçoa,’” by J. L. Brenchley.

I have previously referred to the death of the son of Taki the Wano
chief, who was attacked by a shark whilst fishing on the St. Christoval
reefs. When we arrived at Ugi in April, 1883, shortly after this event,
we learned that his death would probably lead to a further sacrifice of
life, and that a human victim from some neighbouring hill-tribe would be
required to remove the tambu-ban, or in other words to propitiate the
shark-god. At the completion of the time of mourning, a gathering of the
tribes of the district known as a _béa_ was to be held at Wano; and I
obtained from Mr. Stephens of Ugi the following particulars of this
singular custom. From a raised staging some fifteen feet in height, each
of the warriors of any renown addresses in turn the assembled people.
The gathering is composed not only of his own tribesmen but also of
parties of fighting men from all the neighbouring villages, each party
standing aloof from the others. The orator, declaiming on the valour of
his own people and on his individual prowess, soon works himself into a
condition of excitement, and should any tribe be there represented with
whom there may have been some recent cause of ill-feeling, it is
probably made the object of the taunts of the speaker. The assembled
natives, who are all armed, soon participate in the excitement. The
people of the village support their champion, and openly display their
ill will against those at whom the diatribes of the orator have been
directed. The suspected strangers return the taunts; and the feeling of
irritation reaches its acme when a threatening gesture or the throwing
of a spear sets ablaze the suppressed passions. Every man darts into the
bush and the village is empty in a moment. A desultory contest then
ensues in which the people of the village, who have generally the best
of it, pursue their visitors to the outskirts of their district; and
from henceforth a long period of hostility begins.

Such is not an uncommon sequence of a _béa_, and I am told that the
natives of the district, in which such a gathering is to be held, look
forward to it with considerable apprehension. A human body is usually
procured for these occasions; and the payment of the persons who
procured it is made from contributions collected at the _béa_. Each
leading chief endeavours to surpass his rival in the sum he gives; and
flinging his string of shell money down from the stage on which he
stands, he looks contemptuously at his rival’s party. The body is
apportioned out after the gathering is over; and if no contention has
arisen, all assembled partake of the feast. Taki told Mr. Stephens that
in order to obtain a body for his son’s _béa_, he would have to start on
another man-hunting expedition. A _béa_ was also soon to be held in Ugi
by Rora, the fighting chief of the village of Ete-ete, on behalf of his
brother who had died about two years before. Cannibalism is however
dying out in Ugi; and in this case a pig was to supply the place of a
human body.

Whilst the ship was anchored at Sulagina Bay on the north coast of St.
Christoval, I visited the village of that name and saw the chief who is
named Toro. He received me civilly and shook hands. Outside the front of
his house five skulls were hanging which belonged to some unfortunate
bushmen who had fallen at his hands. On inquiring of a native who spoke
a little English, I ascertained that their bodies had been
“kaied-kaied,” _i.e._, eaten, although it was with a little hesitation
that he admitted the fact. Numerous spears were thrust in among the pole
overhead which supported the roof, one or two of them being broken at
the point with some suspicious-looking dried-up substance still
adherent. The same native explained to me, in a matter-of-fact way, that
the points had broken off in the bellies of the victims.

Cannibalism is rarely if ever practised at the present day in the
islands of Bougainville Straits. The people of the western extremity of
Choiseul Island in the vicinity of Choiseul Bay are reputed by the
Treasury Islanders to be still cannibals. During our stay in this bay we
had no opportunity of satisfying ourselves in this matter. Bougainville,
however, who visited this bay in 1768, records, as I have previously
observed, that a human jaw, half-broiled, was found in one of the canoes
which had been deserted by the natives after the repulse of their
attack upon the French boats.[16] The Shortland natives accredit the
Bougainville people who live around the active volcano of Bagana with
the regular practice of cannibalism; and there can be little doubt that
this custom is extensively practised amongst the scarcely known
bush-tribes in the interior of this large island. Of the natives of New
Georgia or Rubiana, Captain Cheyne avers that human flesh forms their
chief article of diet; they were in his opinion, when he visited this
part of the group in 1844, the most treacherous and bloodthirsty race in
the Western Pacific.[17] These natives have of late years come more
under the direct influence of the traders and probably would merit now a
better name.

    [16] “Voyage autour du Monde”; 2nd edit, augment; vol. ii., Paris,
    1772.

    [17] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean.” by A.
    Cheyne (London, 1852).

I will close this chapter with a short account, to some extent
recapitulative, of the history of three natives of St. Christoval after
they were recruited by the boats of the Fiji labour-vessel “Redcoat” in
1882. It will serve to illustrate some points already alluded to.
Amongst the occupants of a tambu-house in which I slept on one occasion
in the village of Lawa, in the interior of St. Christoval, were five men
who were intending to offer themselves as recruits to the
government-agent of the “Redcoat.” Three of these men, one of whom was
the chief’s son, came under my observation again not many weeks after
they had been received on board the labour-vessel. They escaped from the
ship at Santa Anna, and seizing a canoe reached the adjoining coast of
St. Christoval. Here they were pursued by Mai, in his capacity of
purveyor of human flesh to the Cape Surville natives. Two of them were
captured; but the third, who was the chief’s son, had died at the hands
of a local chief, who, wishing to remove the tambu-ban arising from the
recent death of his wife, had effected his object by spearing his guest.
Mai returned to Santa Anna with his two captives, and immediately became
imbued with the idea that he had been insulted by the chief who, in
successfully removing the tambu-ban from the shade of his departed
spouse, had deprived him of one of his victims. Then the raid was
carried out, which I have already described, as having resulted in the
slaughter of three women and the chief of Fanarite. Mai now devoted his
attention to preparing his two prisoners for the market on the opposite
coast, and was thus employed when H.M.S. “Lark” arrived at Port Mary and
rescued the prisoners When these two natives were brought on board, I
at once recognised my tambu-house companions in the village of Lawa; and
I learned to my regret that the chief’s son, who had been killed, was
the sprightly young native who had on one occasion carried my geological
bag. It is but just to remark that under Mai’s care the condition of the
two prisoners had considerably improved since I last saw them. However,
their troubles were not all over. They were landed at Ugi; but the older
of the two, on hearing that his life would be probably required by the
people of his own village to atone for the death of the chief’s son,
preferred to remain at Ugi. A report reached me in the following year,
whether true or not I was unable to ascertain, that he had been killed
on returning to his village.




CHAPTER III.

THE FEMALE SEX--POLYGAMY--MODES OF BURIAL, ETC.


THE position of the female sex amongst the natives of the eastern
islands of the Solomon Group would appear to differ but little from the
position which it holds amongst races in a similar savage state. The
women are without doubt the drudges of the men, and pitiable examples of
this often came under my observation. On one occasion, when I was
returning to the coast from an excursion into the interior of St.
Christoval, I was accompanied by some half-a-dozen natives of both sexes
who were bringing down yams to sell to the traders on the beach. The men
were content with carrying their tomahawks; whilst the women followed up
with heavy loads of yams on their heads. When a feast is in preparation,
it is the work of the women to bring in the yams and taro from the
“patches,” which may be one or two miles away. In my excursions, I
frequently used to see at work in their “patches” these poor creatures,
whom drudgery had prematurely deprived of all their comeliness.

Women are excluded from the tambu-house. They are not permitted to
remain in the presence of a chief at his meal; and even the wife after
preparing her husband’s meal leaves her lord alone, returning to partake
of what remains after he has finished his repast. In the island of Santa
Catalina we found that we had temporarily received the rank of chief
when a bevy of young girls, who had been following us all the morning,
walked solemnly away as we began our lunch; but no sooner had we lit our
pipes than back came the little troop with smiling faces. In Ugi, a man
will never, if he can help it, pass under a tree that has fallen across
the path, for the reason that a woman may have stepped over it before
him. On one occasion, in the village of Sapuna, in Santa Anna, I saw a
man, whilst lighting his pipe, throw the piece of smouldering wood
contemptuously on the ground, when a woman, in order to light her own
pipe, stretched out her hand to take it from him.

The custom of infanticide throws a shade over not a few of these
islands. During my frequent walks over the island of Ugi, where one may
pass through a village without seeing a single child in arms, I often
experienced a feeling of relief in leaving behind such a village where
the prattle of children is but rarely heard. In Ugi, infanticide is the
prevailing custom. When a man needs assistance in his declining years,
his props are not his own sons but youths obtained by purchase from the
St. Christoval natives, who, as they attain to manhood, acquire a
virtual independence, passing almost beyond the control of their
original owner. It is from this cause that but a small proportion of the
Ugi natives have been born on the island, three-fourths of them having
been brought as youths to supply the place of offspring killed in
infancy. Yet some bright experiences, brighter, perhaps, in the
contrast, recur to my mind. In the small island of Orika (Santa
Catalina) the visitor will be followed about by a little train of
children, of both sexes, with smiling, intelligent faces, and clad only
in the garb which nature gave them. Whilst having an evening pipe in
front of the house of Haununo, the young chief, Mr. W. Macdonald and I
were surrounded by a varied throng of the natives of the village, both
old and young. Numerous young children, from babes in arms to those
three or four years old, formed no inconsiderable proportion of the
number around us. Bright-looking lads, eight or nine years of age, stood
smoking their pipes as gravely as Haununo himself; and even the smallest
babe in its father’s arms caught hold of his pipe and began to suck
instinctively. The chief’s son, a little shapeless mass of flesh, a few
months old, was handed about from man to man with as much care as if he
had been composed of something brittle. It would have taken many
shiploads of “trade,” as Mr. Macdonald remarked to me, to have purchased
the hopeful heir of the chief of Orika.

But to return to the subject of the position held by the women. When
away with a recruiting party from the labour-ship “Redcoat,” on the St.
Christoval coast, I was present at the parting on the beach of six
natives, who had elected to proceed to Fiji to work for a term of three
years on the plantations. But little regret was observable in the faces
of those whose friends were leaving them. Son parted with father, and
brother with brother with apparently as little concern as if they were
merely parting for the hour. The mother or sister played no part in
this scene, a characteristic negative feature of the social life of
these natives. However, amongst the six natives was an elderly woman who
was following her husband to Fiji; and her departure was evidently
keenly felt by a small knot of female companions on the beach. One poor
creature stood at the edge of the water, looking wistfully towards the
boat as it was being pulled away, and crying more after the manner of a
fretful child. It was the bond of a true affection that knit together
the heart of these poor women. In this episode I saw, to employ those
beautiful lines of Milton,

                        “The sable cloud
    Turn forth her silver lining on the night.”

In it was evinced the only sign of the tenderer feelings which was
displayed in the whole of that day’s proceedings.

It is necessary for me to touch lightly on a subject, which, although
less pleasing, is none the less essential to the short sketch which I
have presented to my readers of the domestic relations of the natives in
the eastern islands. Female chastity is a virtue that would sound
strangely in the ear of the native. Amongst their many customs which
when narrated strike with such a discordant note on the ears of the
European reader, the inhabitants of St. Christoval and the adjacent
islands have a usage which sufficiently enlightens us as to the
unrestrained character of their code of morality. For two or three years
after a girl has become eligible for marriage, she distributes her
favours amongst all the young men of the village. Should she be
unwilling to accept the addresses of anyone, it is but necessary for her
admirer to make her parents some present. Fathers offer their daughters
to the white man in the hope of a remunerative return; and the white
men, sometimes less scrupulous in their advances, provoke the hostility
of the natives, and not unfrequently a lamentable massacre results.
Conjugal fidelity is usually preserved in the limits of the same
community; but the men of Santa Anna, when they exchange their wives for
those of the men of the adjoining St. Christoval coast, see in such a
transaction no loosening of the marriage-tie, and restore their wives to
their original position on their return to their homes.

In considering the domestic relations of the inhabitants of Bougainville
Straits, we enter upon a more agreeable topic. The white man on first
visiting these islands is struck with the shyness of the women as
compared with those of St. Christoval and its adjacent islands. The
unmarried girls are rarely seen; whilst, on the other hand, in Santa
Anna and Santa Catalina there appears to be no restriction placed on
their movements. The following incident in the island of Faro will serve
to illustrate this shyness. Whilst following a path in the interior of
the island, unattended by any companion, I suddenly surprised a woman
sitting on a log with a child in her lap. She bolted away into the wood
leaving the child, a little boy three or four years of age, on the
ground in the middle of the path. The little urchin at once set up a
terrific yell; but a present of a gilt necklace softened the tone of his
distress, although it did not remove his fears. However, I passed along
and soon had the satisfaction of hearing the mother returning to her
child.

This fear of the white man is soon dispelled by kindly treatment. When I
first visited Treasury Island my entrance into the village was the
signal for every woman to rush into her house, and I could only catch a
glimpse of their retreating figures. This shyness soon wore away during
the lengthened visits of the “Lark;” and in a short time when I walked
through the village I was surrounded by a troop of young boys shouting
out my name of “Dokus” or “Rokasy” at the top of their voices. This was
the signal for all who were indoors to turn out to greet me. The old
people would hobble out to the door; and the married women with their
babes in their arms would walk up to me calling me by name and holding
up their little ones for me to see, as if only too proud to show me the
confidence the visit of the “Lark” had inspired.

The females in these islands of the Straits perform most of the work in
the “patches” or plantations. Towards the evening, they may usually be
seen returning in their canoes from the more distant “patches” bringing
home a goodly quantity of taro, bananas, and other vegetables. There is
generally a man in the stern who steers with a paddle; whilst the crew
of eight or ten women, sitting in pairs, paddle briskly along with their
light paddles.

The powerful chiefs of the islands of Bougainville Straits usually
possess a large number of wives of whom only the few that retain their
youth and comeliness enjoy much of the society of their lord. The
majority, having been supplanted in the esteem of their common husband,
have sunk into a condition of drudgery, finding their employment and
their livelihood in toiling for the master whose affections they once
possessed. I learned from Gorai, the Shortland chief, who has between
eighty and a hundred wives, that the main objection he has against
missionaries settling on his islands is, that they would insist on his
giving up nearly all his wives, thereby depriving him of those by whose
labour his plantations are cultivated and his household supplied with
food. A great chief, he remarked, required a large staff of workers to
cultivate his extensive lands; or, in other words, numerous women to
work in his plantations and to bring the produce home. Such a plea for
polygamy is in this condition of society somewhat plausible. The
domestic establishment of such a chief may be compared in its internal
economy to a social community of bees. The head of the society is, in
this case, a male who, whilst living on the fat produce of his lands and
increasing his species, performs no active office for the good of the
community. The workers consist of his numerous cast-off wives, who
having been supplanted in their lord’s affections as their personal
attractions diminished in the course of years, have at length subsided
into the position of drudges to procure food for the king and his
progeny.

Mule’s marital establishment is on a smaller scale than that of the more
powerful Shortland chief. This Treasury chief possesses between
twenty-five and thirty wives, and has numerous young sons who were my
frequent companions during my excursions in this island. In both
establishments there is a favourite wife who exercises some authority
over the others, and is known among white men as the queen. The
principal wives are generally distinguished from the others by a more
dignified deportment, a slim graceful figure, and more delicate
features. The coarser features, bigger limbs, and more ungainly persons
of many of the wives at once mark the women of more common origin. The
chief secures the fidelity of his wives by the summary punishment of
death, suspicion being tantamount to proof, and an unwary action being
held presumptive of guilt. Many of their wives are obtained by purchase
from the Bougainville natives; whilst others represent the tribute owed
by some of the smaller chiefs.

The majority of the Treasury men have two wives who are usually widely
separated by age. They are originally obtained by making a handsome
present to the parents. Each wife in working on her husband’s land has
her own patch allotted to her to which she confines her labours. My
association with the natives of Treasury gave me some insight into their
social life, in which, I should add, the women occupy a somewhat better
position than in the islands we visited to the eastward. Men have
introduced me to their wives with an air of politeness which supplied an
index of the social status of their helpmates: and to show that the
position of authority may be reversed--although from the absence of
clothing one cannot employ the expressive phrase applied to those women
who rule their husbands in more civilized lands--I may here observe that
on one occasion an able-bodied man complained to me that his wife
chastised him on the previous night.

I had one very pleasing experience of the domestic establishment of the
Treasury chief. Having informed Mule that I was desirous to witness the
manufacture of the cooking-pots employed by the natives, he despatched
four of his wives into the interior of the island to get the clay; and
in due time I was summoned to his house where I found myself in the
midst of a dozen of his wives who were already hard at work, for the
women are the potters here as in other parts of “savagedom.” Mule’s
wives received me with much politeness, and made me sit down on a mat to
watch the proceedings, being evidently much pleased with the idea of
exhibiting their skill. For about five minutes there was but little work
done as my curiosity led me to look more closely into the different
steps of the process, a proceeding which caused much hilarity and
elicited frequent exclamations of “tion drakono,” often preceded by
“Dokus,” which implied that the doctor was a very good man. At last,
after I had smiled on them to the best of my ability, and had gained
their further approbation by taking on my knee a little well-scrubbed
urchin that could hardly toddle, who in the most matter-of-fact manner
made a vigorous onslaught on my chin and then went tooth-and-nail at my
shirt-cuff, all in the best of humour and seemingly in an absent-minded
kind of fashion as though its little mind was already occupied by far
weightier matters--after all this, the more serious part of the
entertainment became fairly under way. At its conclusion, I gave the
principal wife a quantity of beads and a number of jews-harps to be
distributed among her companions.

The marital establishment of Tomimas, one of the principal Faro chiefs,
is small as compared with those of Gorai and Mule. He has only four
wives who are named respectively, Domari, Duia, Bose, and Omakau, the
first being the mother of the chief’s eldest son, Kopana, an intelligent
young man about twenty-two years of age.

In connection with the names of the women of Bougainville Straits, I
should observe that there was always some reluctance on the part of the
men to give me such names; and that when they did so, they usually
uttered them in a low tone as though it was not the proper thing to
speak of the women by name to others. This is especially noticeable when
a man of the common class is asked the name of one of the chief’s wives.
On more than one occasion, when referring by name to the chief’s
principal wife in the course of a conversation with a native, I learned
from the look of surprise, which the mention of the name elicited, that
I had, unwittingly, been guilty of a breach of etiquette.

During the surveying season of 1883, which we passed among the islands
of Bougainville Straits, we were witnesses of the mourning ceremonials
that were observed in connection with the death of Kaika, the principal
wife of the Shortland chief, or the queen as Gorai was pleased to call
her. It was in the beginning of July that I first made the acquaintance
of Kaika, Gorai having asked me to visit her as she was suffering from
some indisposition. A month passed away before I again saw my royal
patient, and on this occasion the chief accompanied me to his house.
Here I found Kaika quite recovered from her illness, a result which she
attributed to some medicine which I had given her. She was reclining in
a broken down easy-chair, the gift of a trader, engaged in working an
armlet of beads, and clad only in the usual “sulu” or
waist-handkerchief. In age Kaika was probably between 25 and 30, her
general appearance being that of a woman superior in caste to most of
her fellow-wives. For a native, her features were good and regular, her
figure slim but well proportioned, her carriage graceful. Her clean skin
and bushy head of hair, dyed a magenta hue by the use of red ochreous
earth, added to the general effect of her appearance.

Whilst sitting down beside Gorai and his spouse, the latter showed me
her little boy who was nearly blind. I was much struck with the
tenderness displayed in the manner of both the parents towards their
little son, who, seated on his mother’s lap, placed his hand in that of
his father, when he was directed to raise his eyes towards the light for
my inspection.

The work of the ship took us away from Alu; and when we returned after
an absence of five weeks, we learned that Kaika was dying. Landing on
the ensuing day to see if I could be of any service, I was told that
Kaika was dead; and as I stepped out of my Rob Roy, I received a message
from Gorai to come and visit him. I found the old chief seated on the
ground in front of his house, looking very dismal. Near by, there were
nine or ten of his wives all well past the prime of life, withered and
haggish, with heads shaven and faces plastered with lime as a token of
mourning. They were squatting on the ground, and were engaged in droning
out a dismal chant, reminding me of a group of witches. Accompanying
Gorai into his house, I found there a numerous gathering of his wives
all with their faces plastered with lime; their dead-white features,
peering strangely at us through the gloom of the building, gave the
whole scene quite an uncanny look. The old chief appeared to feel the
loss of his favourite wife and broke down more than once when talking to
me of her. He told me that the end came when we dropped our anchor in
the bay, and he excused himself on account of his grief from coming off
to the ship--“too much cry,” as he remarked of himself to me. When I was
leaving him, he asked me on the arrival of the ship at Treasury to
inform Mule of his loss, Kaika being the sister of the Treasury chief,
and to request that his own sister, Bita, who was Mule’s principal wife,
should come and visit him. Returning to my canoe I passed some of
Gorai’s head-men who had plastered their foreheads and a part of their
cheeks with lime, an observance, however, which was not followed by
either the chief or his sons.

The next morning most of the men of the village were engaged in fishing
on the reef to obtain material for a great funeral feast that was to be
held in the afternoon. When I landed with Lieutenant Leeper in the
latter part of the day, we found ourselves on the beach in the midst of
about a hundred men carrying their tomahawks, and assembled together on
the occasion of the queen’s demise. On entering the chief’s grounds,
which are tabooed to all the men of the village except those on the
staff of the chief, we came upon about eighty women performing a funeral
dance. Some of them were Gorai’s wives; whilst others were the principal
women of the neighbouring villages. With their faces white with lime
they formed a large circle, in the centre of which were four posts
placed erect in the ground, each about ten feet high, charred on one
side and rudely carved in imitation of the human head, two of them
painted red and two white. Enclosed in the ring and grouped around the
posts were six women bearing in their hands the personal belongings of
the deceased, such as her basket, cushion, &c. To the slow and measured
time of the beats of a wooden drum, a hollowed log struck by a man
outside the circle, the dancers of the ring adapted their movements,
which consisted merely in raising the feet in turns and gently stamping
on the ground. The central group of women danced around the posts,
partly skipping, partly hopping, each woman holding up before her the
article she bore, and regulating her steps to the beats of the drum. Now
and then the man at the drum quickened his time, and the movements of
the women of the ring became more spirited; whilst the central group of
dancers skipped more actively around, the foremost woman sprinkling at
each bound handfuls of lime over the dancers of the ring. As the weather
was rainy, many of the women--all of whom wore a “sulu” reaching down to
the knees--had their shoulders covered by their mats of pandanus leaves.
This dance was repeated on the following day but with a smaller number
of dancers. I was anxious to ascertain the manner in which the body had
been disposed; but beyond the fact that interment had taken place in the
ground some distance away, I could learn but little. It is, however,
very probable that the body was first burned between the charred posts,
around which the dance was performed, which would have served as
supports for the funeral pyre. Further reference to this custom will be
found on page 51.

In making inquiries as to the obsequies paid to the dead queen, I was
much struck with the reluctance of the natives to refer to the event.
They mentioned the name of the deceased in a low subdued tone as if it
were wrong to utter the names of the dead. This mysterious dread which
is associated with the mention of the names of the dead is found, as Dr.
Tylor points out in his “Early History of Mankind” (3rd edit., p. 143),
amongst many races of men. The example of the Australian native who
_refuses_ to utter them may be here cited as an extreme instance of this
superstition.

Three days after the death of Kaika, all the men of Alu, with the
exception of the chief and his sons, cut off their hair close to the
scalp as a symbol of mourning for the deceased, an observance which
produced a surprising change in the appearance of men whom I had been
familiar with as the owners of luxuriant bushy periwigs. A similar
custom of either shaving the scalp or of cutting the hair close
prevailed in other islands of the group which we visited, as at Simbo
and Ugi. In the latter island the shaving is restricted to the posterior
half of the scalp. With this digression I will continue my account of
the mourning ceremonials observed at the death of Kaika.

The news of the death of the principal wife of the Alu chief was soon
carried to the other islands of Bougainville Straits. Visits of
condolence were paid to Gorai by Tomimas and Kurra-kurra, the two Faro
chiefs; and parties of the women of Faro went to display in person their
sympathy with the Alu chief on the occasion of his bereavement. We were
the first to convey the news to Treasury; and as Mule stepped on deck
shortly after the ship had come to an anchor in Blanche Harbour, I
informed him of his sister’s death and of Gorai’s request that his own
sister Bita should go and visit him at Alu. The news of Kaika’s death
was received by her brother with much composure. Several weeks passed
away before Bita could accomplish the long canoe voyage to her brother’s
island, as it is only practicable for a canoe in settled weather. There
was a sudden demand for pairs of scissors in Treasury when the news of
the death of Gorai’s wife became generally known. Mule, his sons, and
several of the men of the island showed their regard for the deceased by
neatly trimming their bushy periwigs, not cropping their hair close as
in the case of the Alu natives; and in accordance with custom the wives
of the chief plastered their faces with lime.

A week after our arrival at Treasury feasts were prepared as offerings
to the Evil Spirit--the _nito paitena_ of the natives--to appease the
wrath of that deity. For to his anger, as I was informed by an
intelligent native named Erosini, the death of Kaika was attributed.
Whilst walking through the village one evening, I came upon the
“remains” of one of these feasts. The essence of the viands had
doubtless been extracted by this direful spirit, inasmuch as I learned
on the authority of Erosini that the “devilo,” as he termed him, had
already satiated his appetite; but to the eyes of ordinary mortals like
myself, the dishes had not been touched. However, it was not long before
numerous natives were helping themselves freely to the roasted opossums,
boiled fish, taro, bananas, etc., which formed the feast. Although
pressed to join in the banquet, I did not take to the idea of eating a
vicarious meal for his infernal majesty; and I resisted the persuasion
of one of my would-be hosts who, having scooped up with his hands a
mixture of mashed taro and cocoa-nut scrapings, licked his fingers well
and remarked it was very good “kai-kai.” On the following day an old
rudely carved tambu-post that had been erected on the beach was used as
a target, at which, from a distance of about fifteen paces, the natives
fired their muskets and discharged their arrows. This proceeding, so
we learned, was to intimidate the “devilo” in case the feasts of the
previous day had not propitiated him.

[Illustration: MEMORIAL OF A TREASURY CHIEF.

(_To face page 51._)]

The mode of burial employed by the natives of the islands of
Bougainville Straits varies according to the position of the deceased.
The bodies of the chiefs and of any members of their families are
usually burned; and the ashes are deposited together with the skull and
sometimes the thigh-bones in a cairn on some sacred islet, or are placed
in charge of the reigning chief. The natives were always reticent on
this subject, a circumstance which prevented my ascertaining how the
skull and thigh-bones were preserved from the flames. In the village of
Treasury there are some memorials of departed chiefs, one of which is
shown in the accompanying engraving. The one in best condition is that
of the late chief, whose skull and thigh-bones were deposited on one of
the islets in the harbour. They evidently mark the site of the funeral
pyres. A wooden frame of the dimensions of a large coffin is placed on
the ground and contains some young plants and the club of the deceased
chief. Four posts charred on their inner sides and decorated on their
outer sides with patterns in red, white, and black, are placed one at
each corner of the frame. They are rudely carved at the top in the form
of a face, and in all respects resemble those around which the funeral
dance was performed at Alu, as described on page 49. A sprouting
cocoa-nut is placed at one end of the frame, and a club is placed erect
in the ground at the other end.

In the vicinity of Gorai’s house, I noticed three small enclosures,
apparently graves, two of them round and one oblong, and all fenced in
by a paling of sticks. Lying on the ground within each enclosure were
such articles as strings of trade-beads, clay-pipes, betel-nuts long
since dried up, and dishes of palm leaves such as the natives use for
serving up their food. A communicative old man informed me that a few
months before a woman and a girl belonging to the chief’s household had
died, and that their bodies had been first burned between four posts and
the ashes had been placed in the oblong enclosure. They bore, so he told
me, the pretty names of Événu and Siali. On my asking the reason of
placing articles such as beads and betel-nuts on the grave, he told me
that in addition cocoa-nuts and other food had been placed there
previously in accordance with the native custom, which the old man
endeavoured to explain by pointing his fingers towards the skies. I
should here mention that on the spot, where the body of Kaika had been
burned some months before, there was placed a wooden framework in the
form of a long box, the materials being obtained from a ship’s fittings.
Inside it were placed some beads and coloured calico.

The custom of depositing skulls in cairns on the points of islands,
which is prevalent in the eastern portion of the Solomon Group, is not
generally practised amongst the islands of Bougainville Straits: and I
rarely came upon them in my excursions. However, on an islet in Choiseul
Bay, I found two cairns, one of which was tenanted only by hermit-crabs
with their cast-off shells, and the other contained two skulls that had
apparently lain for years in their resting-place to which they were
attached by the tendrils of creeping plants. On the summit of Oima, I
came upon a heap of stones under which was supposed to be the remains of
a Bougainville native killed in a fight, but I failed to find any of his
bones after examining the heap.

The sea is generally chosen as the last resting-place for the natives
below the rank of chief in the islands of Bougainville Straits.
Lieutenant Malan, whilst engaged in sounding at the entrance of the Alu
anchorage, passed two large canoes in one of which were being conveyed,
for burial in deep water, the remains of a woman who had died during the
previous night. The relatives of the deceased accompanied the corpse,
but took no share in the paddling, being employed in wailing and
bemoaning their loss after the conventional manner of the Chinese. A
peculiar style of paddling was adopted by the funeral party; each man,
pausing after every stroke, partially arrested the motion of the canoe
by a backwater movement of his paddle.

In Simbo or Eddystone Island, the bodies of the dead are sometimes
placed amongst the large masses of rock which lie at the base of Middle
Hill on the west coast of the island. My attention was first attracted
to this custom by the stench that came from this spot as I passed it in
a canoe. Some human bones were observed on the reef which lies off the
anchorage. In the eastern islands the dead are often buried at sea. In
Ugi and in Florida the skulls are sometimes preserved in a cairn of
stones built on the edge of a sea cliff, or at the extremity of a point,
or in some remote islet. A dwarf cocoa-nut, which attains a height of
from eight to twelve feet, frequently marks the grave of the chief in
the island of Ugi. In one of the villages of this island I was shown the
shrine of a chief, a small house in which suspended from the roof in a
basket were the skulls of the chief and his wife concealed from view by
a screen of palm leaves. Some articles of food, including a portion of
an opossum, together with a large wooden bowl, were hung up before the
screen.

The burial place for men in the village of Sapuna in Santa Anna is an
oblong enclosure in the midst of the village which measures 24 by 18
feet, and is surrounded by a low wall of fragments of coral limestone.
In this space all the bodies are buried at a depth of five or six feet;
and after some time the skulls are exhumed and placed inside the wooden
figure of a shark about three feet in length, which is deposited in the
tambu-house. One of these wooden fish, which lay on the surface of the
burial ground at the time of my visit, had recently been removed from
the tambu-house on account of its being rotten through age, and the
skull was to be re-interred. The body of a chief is placed at once in
the tambu-house in a wooden shark of sufficient size. Women are buried
in another ground, and the wooden sharks containing their skulls are
deposited in a small house by the side of the tambu-house.

Into the subject of the superstitions and religious beliefs which are
held by the natives of the Solomon Islands I shall barely enter, as only
those who have become familiar with the natives by long residence among
them, and who have acquired an intimate knowledge of their language, can
hope to avoid the numerous pitfalls into which the unwary observer is so
likely to fall. I would, therefore, refer the reader for information on
this subject to a paper by the Rev. R. H. Codrington, entitled
“Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” which was published in
the Journal of the Anthropological Institute (vol. x., p. 261). Through
Lieutenant Malan’s knowledge of the Fijian tongue, a language understood
by the men who had served their term on the Fiji plantations, I learned
that the natives of Treasury and the Shortlands believe in a Good Spirit
(_nito drekona_) who lives in a pleasant land whither all men who have
lived good lives go after death, and that all the bad men are
transported to the crater of Bagana, the burning volcano of
Bougainville, which is the home of the Evil Spirit (_nito paitena_) and
his companion spirits. That the natives of the Shortlands really believe
in some future state is shown in the following singular superstition
which came under my notice at Alu. I was returning one night in Gorai’s
war canoe from one of my excursions, when I noticed that the chief and
his men were looking towards the coral island of Balalai which lies a
few miles distant from the anchorage. They told me they were looking for
a bright light which was sometimes to be seen shining at night in this
island in the winter months of the year. This light they believed to be
the spirit of Captain Ferguson of the “Ripple,” who had been killed some
years before by the natives of Nouma-nouma on the Bougainville coast. I
suggested that it might be the watch-fire of a party of the Faro natives
who had gone there to fish, or to hunt turtle; but my suggestion was
pooh-poohed. Balalai was evidently a haunted island in the minds of my
companions, and I desisted from making any further remarks which would
be likely to disabuse them of this idea. Often and often when we were
anchored within sight of this island I remembered the story, but never
saw the light.

The natives of Ugi believe that the souls of the dead pass into
fireflies: and should one of these insects enter a house, those inside
quickly leave it. The spirits of the dead in human shape are believed to
frequent certain islets in Treasury Harbour, where they are occasionally
seen by the women. Certain spirits, who are usually accredited with the
power of sending sickness or other calamities, are said to take up their
abodes in particular districts. Such a spirit haunts the picturesque
glen of Tetabau on the northern slope of the summit of Treasury, if we
may accept the statement of one of the islanders; and any native who is
bold enough to enter this glen will, according to the general belief,
provoke the anger of its invisible occupant. The party of natives who
accompanied me to the summit of Tarawei Hill in the island of Faro
refused to go further than the brink of the hill, because, as they said,
there dwelt on the top some evil spirits who would send sickness and
death on any intruder. I had therefore to walk along the crest of the
hill alone. The echoes which the shouts of my men awakened as we
descended the steep slopes to the west were, as I was told, but the
voices of the spirits who haunted the summit of the hill.

In the island of Ugi the superstition of “ill-wishing” is very
prevalent. When a man cuts off his hair, as in mourning, he buries it
unobserved so that it may not fall into the hands of any one who may by
sorcery bring sickness or some other calamity upon him; and he adopts
the same precaution with reference to the husks of betel-nuts and
similar refuse. Whilst I was obtaining some samples of hair from the
natives of this island, I was told that if in the immediate future any
sickness should befall those who had parted with their hair, they would
assign the cause to me; yet, native-like, they allowed me to take a
sample with their free consent, for it is their custom never to refuse
to each other anything that is asked. The professions of the sorcerer
and medicine-man are usually combined in the same individual. These men
in the Shortlands have a great reputation in the minds of the natives,
being accredited by them with a knowledge almost universal; and the
precincts of their dwellings are tabooed even to the chief. One of them
named Kikila, a sinister-looking individual with but one eye, had
obtained much repute in the practice of his profession. When on one
occasion Lieutenant Oldham complained to the chief that some of the
calico had been removed by the natives from the surveying-marks, the
services of Kikila were employed to bring about the death of the unknown
culprit. The sorcerer was not himself aware who the man was; but we were
told that for one of so much repute this was quite unnecessary. We never
learned the result of his incantation; but in all probability they
effected their purpose soon enough by working on the fears of the
unfortunate offender. How it was to be done we could not satisfactorily
ascertain; but there was no doubt as to the efficacy of the means
employed in the minds of the natives.

Amongst the powers of the sorcerers are those of influencing the
weather. But such powers are not confined to men of this class alone. In
Ugi, different natives are accredited with being able to bring wind and
rain; and I knew one man who had earned for himself a considerable
reputation as a “wind-prophet.” These powers are claimed by Mule, the
Treasury chief, amongst his other prerogatives.

As far as I could ascertain, these natives keep no record, even in the
memory, of the lapse of years. Nor are they acquainted with their own
age. More than once when trying to obtain the date of particular events,
I received the wildest replies. The safest method to employ in making
such inquiries is to get the native to refer a recent event to some
epoch in his own life, or in the case of earlier occurrences to
associate them with his boyhood, manhood, or marriage. When he asserts
that a certain event occurred whilst his father was a child, he is
probably to be trusted; but when he goes back to the time of his
grandfather, no further reliance can be placed on his statements, except
as implying an indefinite number of years. I have observed elsewhere
(page 76) that a grandfather is deemed a personage of such a high
antiquity that these islanders, when referring to past events, seldom
care to go beyond.

The only method of reckoning that came under my notice was in the
instance of a Treasury native, who, whilst serving as interpreter on
board the “Lark,” kept a register of the time he was away from his
island by tying a knot daily on a cord and marking Sunday by a piece of
paper, the knots being about an inch apart. I learned from a Faro man
that this is the method of recording days which is commonly employed by
the inhabitants of Bougainville Straits, the “moons” or months being
alone distinguished by a piece of native tobacco tied in the knot. Such
a practice, however, would appear to be followed only during the
temporary absences from their islands, as when they are away on canoe
expeditions. A native, captured in 1769 by Surville, whilst at Port
Praslin, in Isabel, kept count of the days of absence from his country
by tying knots in a “lacet.”[18] It is scarcely necessary for me to
point out that in the “knotted cord” of the Solomon Islanders we have
the elementary form of the “quipu” of the Incas.

    [18] From an extract of this voyage given in “Voyage de Marion.”
    Paris, 1783: p. 274, _circâ_.

Amongst the constellations, the Pleiades and Orion’s Belt seem to be
those which are most familiar to the natives of Bougainville Straits.
The former, which they speak of as possessing six stars, they name
“Vuhu;” the latter, “Matatala.” They have also names for a few other
stars. As in the case of many other savage races, the Pleiades is a
constellation of great significance with the inhabitants of these
straits. The Treasury Islanders hold a great feast towards the end of
October, to celebrate, as far as I could learn, the approaching
appearance of this constellation above the eastern horizon soon after
sunset. Probably, as in many of the Pacific Islands, this event marks
the beginning of their year. I learned from Mr. Stephens that, in Ugi,
where of all the constellations the Pleiades alone receives a name, the
natives are guided by it in selecting the times for planting and taking
up their yams.

[Illustration: VILLAGE OF SUENNA IN UGI.

(_To face page 57._)]




CHAPTER IV.

DWELLINGS--TAMBU-HOUSES--WEAPONS--TOOLS.


THE villages in the eastern islands of the group vary much in size. They
usually contain between 25 and 40 houses, and between one and two
hundred inhabitants. There are however some much larger, as in the case
of Wano on the north coast of St. Christoval, which probably does not
possess a population much under five hundred. In the larger villages the
houses are generally built in double rows with a common thoroughfare
between; and the tambu-house occupies usually a central position. In the
village of Suenna, as shown in the engraving, which is one of the
largest villages in Ugi, the houses are built around a large open space
free of buildings. The usual dimensions of the dwelling-houses are as
follows: length 25 to 30 feet, breadth 15 to 20 feet, height 8 to 10
feet. The gable-roof, which is made of a framework of bamboos thatched
with the leaves of pandanus trees, or of cocoa-nut or areca palms, is
supported on a central row of posts. The sides are low and made of the
same materials as the roof. The only entrance is by an oblong aperture
in the front of the building, which is removed 2½ to 3 feet above the
ground, so that one has literally to dive into the interior, which from
the absence of any other openings, is kept very dark. Such are the
dimensions and mode of structure of an ordinary dwelling-house in the
eastern islands. The chiefs, however, have larger buildings, which in
some instances, as in those of the more powerful chiefs, rival in size
and in style the tambu-houses themselves. Many houses have a staging in
front, which is on a level with the lower edge of the aperture that
serves as the entrance. On this staging, protected by the projecting
roof the inmates are wont to sit and lie about during the day; and the
men occasionally pass the night there. In the houses of the chiefs and
principal men, there are generally spaces partitioned off for sleeping
and containing a raised stage for the mats; but in the dwelling-house
of an ordinary man no such partitions usually occur. Single men sleep on
the ground on a mat, which may be nothing more than the leaves of two
branches of the cocoa-nut palm rudely plaited together. Each man lays
his mat by the side of a little smouldering wood-fire, which he
endeavours to keep up during the night, and for this purpose he gets up
at all hours to fan it into a flame.

There is but little attempt made to please the eye in the way of
external or internal decoration in the ordinary dwelling-house of a
native in the eastern islands. Rows of the lower jaws of pigs with the
skeletons of fishes and the dried skins of the flying-fox are to be seen
suspended from the roof over the entrance; whilst the spears, clubs, and
fishing implements are either thrust between the bamboos of the roof or
slung in a bundle over the entrance. Of furniture there is but little
except the large cooking-bowls, the mats, and a circle of cooking-stones
forming a rude hearth in the centre of the floor. I have seen in
temporary sheds or “lean-tos,” erected by fishing parties on the
southern island of the “Three Sisters,” fire-places formed of a circle
two to three feet across of medium-sized _Tridacna_ shells, the enclosed
space being strewn with small stones.

The houses of the chiefs usually display more decoration. Amongst others
I recall to my mind the brightly-coloured front of the residence of
Haununo, the intelligent young chief of Santa Catalina. I am not aware
how long a native house will last. The white residents, however, tell me
that houses built for their own use, which are more substantial than the
ordinary native dwellings, will stand some five or six years; and that,
notwithstanding the heavy rainfall of this region, the thatch remains
admirably waterproof.

I now come to the description of the houses in the islands of
Bougainville Straits. In the villages of Treasury and the Shortlands,
the houses are arranged in a long straggling row; and although close to
the beach they are for the most part concealed by the trees from the
view of those on board the ships in the anchorage. In the materials
used, in their style, and in their general size, these houses resemble
those of St. Christoval and the adjacent smaller islands. A thatch made
of the leaves of the sago-palm or of the pandanus, covers the gable-roof
and the framework of the walls. The usual dimensions of a dwelling-house
are: length 25 to 30 feet, breadth 12 to 15 feet, height 10 to 12 feet.
Since there are no means of admitting light except by the door, the
interiors are very dark, insomuch that on entering one of these houses
from the bright sunlight the eyes require some time before they can see
at all. In the out-lying hamlets in the interior of these islands, the
houses are often smaller and more rudely constructed; and the owner
supplies the place of a door by placing a couple of large plantain
leaves or a branch of a cocoa-nut palm before the entrance. Many of
these small hamlets are only occupied during the planting season.

There is a far greater difference in size between the dwellings of the
chiefs and those of the ordinary natives than exists in the eastern
islands of the group, a distinction which might have been expected on
account of the greater power of the chiefs of Bougainville Straits.
Gorai, the powerful Shortland chief, has appropriated to himself more
than an acre of ground on which stand the several buildings required for
the accommodation of his numerous wives, children, and dependents. Its
precincts are tabooed to the ordinary native; but the old chief is
always ready to extend to the white man a privilege which he denies to
his own people. His own residence when we first met him, had no great
pretensions in size or appearance, measuring 40 by 20 feet in length and
breadth, and possessing a very dingy interior from the absence of any
opening except the entrance to admit light. There was, however, a larger
and better constructed building situated near his own for the
accommodation of his female establishment. It measured 60 by 30 by 20
feet in length, breadth, and height; and was subsequently appropriated
by the chief for his own use.

The residence of Mule, the Treasury chief, was one of the largest native
edifices that I saw in the Solomon Group. It is a gable-roofed building,
measuring about 80 feet in length, 50 feet in breadth, and 25 to 30 feet
in height. The front of the house, which is at one of the ends of the
building, has a singular appearance from the central part or body of the
building, being advanced several feet beyond the sides, a style which is
imitated in some of the smaller houses of the village. Its interior is
very imperfectly lighted by small apertures in the walls. I should here
refer to the large and neatly built house of the powerful chief of
Simbo, who, contrary to the usual practice, prefers light to darkness in
his residence.

[Illustration: PILE-DWELLINGS IN FAURO ISLAND.

(_To face page 60._)]

In the two principal villages of Faro or Fauro which are named Toma and
Sinasoro, a number of the houses are built on piles and raised from 5 to
8 feet above the ground, as shown in the accompanying plate. But this
custom is by no means universal in the same village, and depends, as far
as I could learn, on the personal fancy of the owner. Both these
villages are situated on low level tracts bordering the sea; but their
sites are free from moist and swampy ground, to the existence of which
one might have attributed this practice. The houses built on the ground
are about 30 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 12 or 13 feet high; whilst
those raised on piles are considerably smaller, measuring 22 by 15 feet
in length and breadth, the building itself being supported on a
framework of stout poles lashed on the tops of the piles by broad
stripes of rattan. These pile-dwellings are reached by rudely
constructed steps made after the style of our own ladders. The roofs of
the houses in these villages have a higher pitch than I have observed in
houses of the other islands of the Straits. Their eaves project
considerably beyond the walls, and the roof is often prolonged at the
front end of the building forming a kind of portico. A neat thatch of
the leaves of the sago palm covers the sides and roof of each building.

After remarking that the houses in the Florida Islands are often
similarly built on piles not only at the coast, but also on the
hill-slopes some distance from the sea, I pass on to briefly refer to
the purpose of these pile-dwellings on land. It seemed to me probable
that in previous years, when the natives of Faro were not on such
friendly terms with their neighbours, the houses were built on piles for
purposes of defence against a surprise; and that when comparative peace
and order reigned, some persons preferred the more commodious house on a
ground site to the smaller and less convenient building on piles.
Various explanations have been advanced with reference to this custom of
building pile-dwellings on dry land, some of which I will enumerate. It
is held by some that this custom is but the survival of “the once
purposeful habit of building them in the water.” The exclusion of pigs
and goats and the protection against wild animals have been suggested as
probable objects of this practice; whilst by others it is urged that the
purpose of these pile-dwellings is to obviate the effects of excessive
rain and to guard against damp exhalations from a tropical soil.
Whatever may be the cause or causes of this custom, it is one which is
widely spread, being found in New Guinea, in the Philippines, amongst
the tribes on the north-eastern frontier of India, and in Guiana.[19]

    [19] Those of my readers who desire further information on this
    subject should refer to the works of Tylor, Mosely, etc., and to
    “Nature” for the last few years.

With regard to the internal arrangements of the houses in this part of
the Solomon Group, but little remains to be said. In many houses a
portion of a space is partitioned off for sleeping purposes, usually one
of the corners; in others, again, the interior is divided into two
halves by a cross-partition. More attention is here paid to the comfort
of repose than in the eastern islands. In the place of the single mat
laid on the ground, they have low couches, raised a foot to eighteen
inches above the floor, on which they lay their mats; whilst a round
cylinder of wood serves them as a pillow. These couches, which the
natives can improvise in the bush in a few minutes, are usually nothing
more than a layer of stout poles, such as the slender trunks of the
areca palms, resting at their ends on two logs.

Mat-making is one of the occupations of the women of the Straits, the
material employed being the thick leaves of a species of _Pandanus_
which is known by the natives as the _pota_. The leaves are first
deprived of their thin polished epidermis by being rubbed over with the
leaves of a plant, named _sansuti_, which have a rough surface giving a
sensation like that caused by fine emery paper when passed over the
skin. The pandanus leaves are then dried in the sun, when they become
whitened and leathery, and are then sewn together into mats. These mats
are not only used to lie upon, but are also worn by the women over their
shoulders as a protection in wet weather. They are especially useful, as
I have myself found, when sleeping out in the open in wet weather. They
are sufficiently long to cover the whole length of a native; and when he
is sleeping out in the bush, he lies down on his couch formed, as above
described, from the slender trunks of areca palms ready at his hand, and
covering himself completely with his mat, he may sleep through a deluge
of rain without being touched by the wet. The mat has a crease along the
middle of its length, so that when placed over the body it resembles a
“tente d’abri;” and the rain runs off as from the roof of a house. To
intending travellers in these islands, I strongly recommend this form of
couch. A native mat and a blanket are all he requires to carry. Almost
anywhere in the bush he can find the areca palms, the slender trunks of
which, when placed as a layer of poles on two logs, will serve him as an
excellent couch.

With regard to the domestic utensils in use amongst the natives of
Bougainville Straits, I should observe that cocoa-nut shells pierced by
a hole of about the size of a florin, are employed as drinking-vessels.
The outer surface of the shell is usually coated over with a kind of red
cement formed of a mixture of red ochreous earth and the resinous
material, obtained from the fruit of the “tita” (_Parinarium laurinum_),
which is employed for caulking the seams of the canoes. The exterior of
these vessels is frequently ornamented by double chevron-lines of native
shell-beads. Sometimes a tube of bamboo is fitted into the orifice of
the vessel to form a neck, the whole being plastered over with the red
cement and looking like some antique earthen jar. Both of these kinds of
drinking-vessels are shown in the accompanying plate. Drinking water is
always kept at hand in a house in a number of these cocoa-nut shells
which, being hung up overhead, keep the water pleasantly cool, a plug of
leaves being used as a stopper. The native, in drinking, never puts the
vessel to his mouth, but throwing his head well back, he holds the
vessel a few inches above his lips and allows the water to run into his
mouth. The milk of the cocoa-nut is drunk in the same manner. The scoops
or scrapers used in eating the white kernels of the cocoa-nuts are
generally either of bone or of pearl-shell. Sometimes for this purpose a
large _Cardium_ shell is lashed to a handle, a small hole being made in
the shell for this purpose. . . . . Wooden hooks of clumsy size, though
showing some skill in their design and workmanship, are employed as
hanging-pegs in the houses.

[Illustration: 1

2

1. MODEL CANOE MADE BY A ST. CHRISTOVAL NATIVE.

2. PAN-PIPES. COCOANUT DRINKING VESSELS. COOKING-POT WITH CUSHION AND
TROWEL. FAN.

(All these Articles are from Treasury Island.)

(_To face page 63._)]

The cooking-vessels in use in the islands of Bougainville Straits are
circular pots of a rough clay ware, usually measuring about nine inches
in depth and breadth, but sometimes more than double this size.
Cleansing these vessels out between the meals is deemed an unnecessary
refinement. These cooking-pots, one of which is shown in the
accompanying plate, are made by the women in the following manner: A
handful of the clay, which is dark-reddish in colour and would make a
good brick-clay, is first worked together in the hands into a plastic
lump; and this is fashioned rudely into a kind of saucer to form the
bottom of the vessel by basting the mass against a flat smooth pebble,
three or four inches across, held in the left hand, with a kind of
wooden trowel or beater held in the right hand. (One of these wooden
trowels is figured in the plate.) Whilst one woman is thus engaged, a
couple of her companions are occupied in flattening out, by means of a
flat-sided stick, strips of the clay six to twelve inches in length and
an inch in breadth, their length increasing as the making of the vessel
progresses. One of these strips is then placed around the upper edge of
the saucer; and the potter welds or batters it into position, employing
the same tools in a similar manner, the pebble being held inside. The
cooking vessel is thus built up strip by strip; and to enable the worker
to give symmetry to the upper part of the pot, a fillet of broad grass
is tied around as a guide. An even edge is given to the lip by drawing
along the rim a fibre from the cocoa-nut husk, and the interior and neck
are finished off by the fingers well moistened. Whilst being made, the
cooking-pot is rested on a ring-cushion of palm leaves, as shown in the
same engraving. The time occupied in making one of the ordinary sized
pots is about three-quarters of an hour. Thus made, they are kept in the
shade for three or four days to become firm; and they are finally
hardened by being placed in a wood-fire. No glaze appears to be used,
and the vessels themselves show no signs of its employment. Their outer
surfaces are indistinctly marked by odd-looking patterns in relief,
reminding one somewhat of hieroglyphics, which are produced by the same
patterns cut into one of the surfaces of the wooden beater (as shown in
the engraving) for the purpose of giving the tool a better hold on the
clay. Some cooking-pots, as in the case of the one illustrated, are
ornamented with a chevron-line in relief below the neck and partly
surrounding the vessel.[20] This ware compares but poorly with the
finish and variety of design displayed by the glazed pottery of Fiji.
The Fijian women, however, employ similar tools and accessories, namely,
a flat mallet, a small round flat stone, and a ring-like cushion of palm
leaves; but they do not appear from the accounts given of the process by
Commodore Wilkes,[21] Messrs. Williams and Calvert,[22] and Miss Gordon
Cumming,[23] to fashion the clay in the first place into strips. I may
here refer the reader to the illustration, given by Commodore Wilkes in
his narrative (vol. iii. p. 348), of pottery-making in Fiji, as it
exactly suits my description of pottery-making in these islands of
Bougainville Straits.

    [20] Specimens of the pots, the implements, the clay, and the other
    accessories, have been placed in the Ethnographical Collection of
    the British Museum.

    [21] “Narrative of the U.S. Explor. Exped.:” vol. iii., p. 348.

    [22] “Fiji and the Fijians:” 3rd edit., 1870, p. 60.

    [23] “A Lady’s Cruise in a French Man-of-War:” London, 1882, p. 247.

It will be interesting, perhaps, to briefly notice some of the
gradations in the art of pottery manufacture amongst the savage races in
this quarter of the globe. A very simple method, as recorded by Captain
Forrest[24] more than a century ago, was employed by the women of Dory
Harbour, New Guinea. They formed “pieces of clay into earthen pots; with
a pebble in one hand to put into it, whilst they held in the other hand,
also a pebble, with which they knocked, to enlarge and smooth it.” The
natives of the Andaman Islands[25] advance another step in the process.
We learn from Mr. Man that the only implements employed are, an _Arca_
shell, a short pointed stick, and a board. The clay is rolled out into
strips with the hand. One of these strips is twisted to form the
cup-like base; and the pot is then built up strip by strip. The method
employed by the natives of Bougainville Straits in the Solomon Group,
may be considered to be an improvement on the plan adopted by the
Andaman Islanders. As already described, they also fashion the clay into
strips and build up the vessel in a similar manner, but in the
employment of a special implement as the wooden beater, in the use of
the ring-cushion, and probably in the more artistic details of the
process, they make a nearer approach than do the Andaman Islanders to
the pottery-making of the Fijians. Then we come in the ascending scale
to the method employed by the women of the Motu tribe around Port
Moresby, New Guinea. By the Rev. Dr. W. Turner,[26] we are informed that
they use a round smooth stone and a wooden beater but no cushion, the
vessel being made without the aid of strips of clay into two pieces, the
body and the mouth, which are moulded together. This method, as employed
by the Motu women, may not be superior to that followed amongst the
women of Bougainville Straits; but inasmuch as the former manufacture
three kinds of vessels, one for holding water, another for cooking, and
a third to be used as a plate, whilst the latter confine their art to
the cooking-pot, I have assigned the first place to the former.[27]
From the work of the Motu women to the pottery of the Fijians, and
between the different processes employed, there is a considerable
advance in the art of pottery manufacture, as already described in the
case of Fiji. There, a glaze is for the first time employed; whilst in
their finish, their comparative elegance of design, in their
multiplicity of pattern, and in the various purposes for which they are
employed from the cooking-pot up to the ornamental jar, these Fijian
vessels are greatly superior to all I have referred to, whether the work
of a woman of Port Dory, of an Andaman Islander, of a woman of
Bougainville Straits, or of a woman of the Motu tribe in New Guinea.[28]

    [24] “A Voyage to New Guinea and the Moluccas,” by Captain T.
    Forrest: London, 1779, p. 96.

    [25] Journal of the Anthropological Institute: vol. xii., p. 69.

    [26] Ibid: vol. vii., p. 470.

    [27] In the Ethnological Collection of the British Museum there are
    specimens from this quarter of New Guinea of the wooden beaters
    employed in the pottery making. They are highly carved and much more
    finished than those of Bougainville Straits, being labelled “blocks”
    in the collection, as if their chief use was for imprinting patterns
    on the clay. It seems to me, however, that their principal purpose
    is as beaters, the simply cut patterns of the beater of Bougainville
    Straits, which serve to give the tool a better hold on the clay,
    being elaborated in the case of the New Guinea beater into
    ornamental patterns which have the same purpose.

    [28] Two kinds of earthen pots from the Admiralty Islands are
    figured in the official narrative of the cruise of the “Challenger”
    (figs. 242 and 243). They differ in shape from those of Bougainville
    Straits and are probably made in a different manner.

The Polynesian plan of producing fire, which is known as the
“stick-and-groove” method, was that which was occasionally employed by
my native guides during my excursions in St. Christoval and in the
island of Simbo. At the risk of being charged with undue prolixity, I
will briefly describe it as I saw it performed. A dry piece of wood is
first taken, and one side of it is sliced so as to form a flat surface.
A small bit of the same wood is then pointed at one end and worked
briskly along a groove which it soon forms in the flat surface. The
friction in some three or four minutes produces smoke; and finally a
fine powder, which has been collecting in a small heap at the end of the
groove, begins to smoulder. After being carefully nursed by the breath
of the operator, the tiny flame is transferred to a piece of touch-wood,
and the object is attained. In most native houses in districts not often
visited by the trader, pieces of the wood used for this purpose are left
lying about on the floor. Wax matches, however, form an important item
in the large quantities of trade-articles which pass into the hands of
the natives of some of the islands; and in such islands any other method
of producing fire is not generally employed. In most cases, when I had
omitted to take matches with me in my excursions, my natives, although
very desirous of getting a light for their pipes, were too lazy to
obtain it by making use of the more laborious method of the
“stick-and-groove.” When making their own journeys in the bush, they
carry along with them a piece of smouldering wood, a precaution which I
used to encourage them to adopt when accompanying me, in order to save
myself being pestered every few minutes for a light for their pipes.

Burning-glasses are in common use amongst the natives of some of the
islands, as at Simbo. The reason of their being not always favourite
articles of trade in other islands, I was at a loss to understand. The
numerous fumaroles varying in temperature between 160° and 200° Fahr.
which pierce the hill-sides of the volcanic island of Simbo, are
employed by the natives for the purposes of cooking, as I have elsewhere
observed (p. 86).

Fans serve the double purpose of nursing a fire and of cooling the
person. Those in use in Treasury are made of the extremities of two
branches of the cocoa-nut palm, the midribs forming the handle, whilst
the long “pinnæ” are neatly plaited together to form the fan. One of
these fans is figured in the pottery engraving. Although more coarsely
made, they are of a pattern similar to the fans of Fiji and Samoa. The
shape appears to have originated from the nature of the materials
employed; and I suspect that in Fiji and Samoa, where different
materials are used, the original shape which depended on the plaiting of
the cocoa-nut leaves has been retained, whilst the material itself has
been discarded.

The natives of Bougainville Straits burn torches during their fishing
excursions at night and during festivals. For this purpose they use
resins obtained from the “anoga,”[29] probably a species of _Canarium_,
and the “katari,” a species of _Calophyllum_, two tall trees which rank
among the giants of the forest in this region. The resin of the “anoga”
should be more properly described as a resinous balsam. It is white, is
easily pulverised, and has a powerful odour, as if of camphor and
sandal-wood combined. It concretes in mass inside the bark and in tears
on the outer surface of the tree, and is usually obtained by climbing up
and knocking it off the bark; but sometimes the tree is ringed at a
height of four feet from the ground, a process which drains it of its
resin but causes its death. The torch of this material is simply
prepared by wrapping up compactly the powdered resin in a palm-leaf,
which although outside answers the purpose of a wick. . . . The “katari”
resin, which is less frequently used, is a dark-coloured material that
burns with a tarry and somewhat fragrant odour. Other resins and gums
are yielded by the trees, one of which somewhat resembles the “kauri”
gum of New Zealand, and occurs in a similar situation beneath the soil;
but I was unable to find the tree.

    [29] From Surville’s description of his visit to Port Praslin in
    Isabel in 1769, it would appear that the natives burned torches made
    of this resin. (“Voyage de Marion.” Paris, 1783; p. 274.)

In the tambu-houses of St. Christoval and the adjoining islands we have
a style of building on which all the mechanical skill of which the
natives are possessed has been brought to bear. These sacred buildings
have many and varied uses. Women are forbidden to enter their walls; and
in some coast villages, as at Sapuna in the island of Santa Anna, where
the tambu-house overlooks the beach, women are not even permitted to
cross the beach in front. The tambu-houses of the coast villages are
employed chiefly for keeping the war-canoes, each chief being allowed,
as an honourable mark of his position, the privilege of there placing
his own war-canoe;[30] but in the inland villages, these buildings are
of course no longer employed for this purpose. Another use to which
these buildings may be put is described on page 53, in connection with
the tambu-house of Sapuna in Santa Anna, in which are deposited,
enclosed in the wooden figure of a shark, the skulls of ordinary men and
the entire bodies of the chiefs.

    [30] Mr. C. F. Wood, in his “Yachting in the South Seas” (London,
    1875), gives, as the frontispiece of his book, an autotype
    photograph of the tambu-house of Makira in St. Christoval, in which
    the war-canoes are well shown.

The front of the tambu-house in his native village is, for the Solomon
Islander, a common place of resort, more especially towards the close of
the afternoon. There he meets his fellows and listens to the news of his
own little world; and it is to this spot that any native who may be a
stranger to the village first directs his steps, and on arriving states
his errand or particular business. In my numerous excursions, when
thirsty or tired, I always used to follow the native custom in this
matter, being always treated hospitably and never with any rudeness. The
interior of these buildings is free to any man to lie down in and sleep.
On one occasion, when passing a night in an island village of St.
Christoval, I slept in the tambu-house, the only white man amongst a
dozen natives. Bloodshed, I believe, rarely occurs in these buildings;
and they are for this reason viewed somewhat in the light of a
sanctuary.

The completion of a new tambu-house is always an occasion of a festival
in a village. The festival is often accompanied by the sacrifice of a
human life; and the leg and arm bones of the victim may be sometimes
seen suspended to the roof overhead. In the tambu-house of the village
of Makia, on the east coast of Ugi, I observed hanging from the roof the
two temporal bones, the right femur, and the left humerus of the victim
who had been killed and eaten at the opening of the building; and
similarly suspended in the tambu-house of the hill-village of Lawa on
the north side of St. Christoval, in which I passed the night, I noticed
over my head as I lay on my mat the left femur, tibia, and fibula, and
the left humerus of the unfortunate man who had been killed and eaten on
the completion of the building twelve months before. At these feasts
there is a great slaughter of pigs that have been confined for some
previous time in an enclosure of strong wooden stakes, which may be
allowed to remain long after the occasion for its use has passed away.
After the feast, the lower jaws of all the pigs consumed are hung in
rows from the roof of the building. In one tambu-house I remember
counting as many as sixty jaws thus strung up.

The style of building and the size and relative dimensions of the
tambu-houses are very similar in all the coast-villages of the eastern
islands, a correspondence which may be explained from the necessity of
the structure being long enough to hold the large war-canoes. As a type
of these buildings, I will describe somewhat in detail the tambu-house
of the large village of Wano, on the north coast of St. Christoval. Its
length is about 60 feet and its breadth between 20 and 25 feet. The
gable roof is supported by five rows of posts, the height of the central
row being some 14 or 15 feet from the ground; whilst on account of its
high pitch the two outer lateral rows of posts are only 3 or 4 feet
high. The principal weight of the roof is borne by the central and two
next rows, each of which supports a long, bulky ridge-pole. The two
outer lateral rows of posts are much smaller and support much lighter
ridge-poles. In each row there are four posts, two in the middle and one
at each gable-end. These posts, more particularly those of the central
row, are grotesquely carved, and evidently by no unskilled hand, the
lower part representing the body of a shark with its head upwards and
mouth agape, supporting in various postures a rude imitation of the
human figure which formed the upper part of the post. In one instance, a
man was represented seated on the upper lip or snout of the shark, with
his legs dangling in its mouth, and wearing a hat on his head, the crown
of which supported the ridge-pole. In another case the man was inverted;
and whilst the soles of his feet supported the ridge-pole, his head and
chest were resting in the mouth of the shark.[31] Long after the
tambu-house has disappeared, the carved posts remain in their position
and form a not uncommon feature in a village scene as shown in the
engraving of a village in Ugi. . . . The roof of the Wano tambu-house is
formed of a framework of bamboo poles covered with palm-leaf thatch, the
poles being of equal size, whether serving as rafters or cross-battens,
the latter affording attachment for the thatch. The same materials
are used in the sides of the building. . . . . With reference to
tambu-houses generally in this part of the group, I should remark that
they are open at both ends, with usually a staging at the front end
raised about four feet from the ground, which may be aptly termed “the
village lounge.”

    [31] Mr. Brenchley, who visited Wano, or Wanga as he names it, in
    1865, refers briefly in his “Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curacoa’” to these
    carved posts (p. 267).

The tambu-house of the interesting little island of Santa Catalina or
Orika--the Yoriki of the Admiralty chart--is worthy of a few special
remarks. Its dimensions are similar to those of like buildings in this
part of the group, the length being between 60 and 70 feet. Placed in
front of each of its ends are three circles of large wooden posts driven
into the earth, each circle of posts being 4 or 5 feet in height and
enclosing a space of ground a few feet across, into which are thrown
cocoa-nuts and other articles of food to appease the hunger of the
presiding deity or devil-god. The ridge-poles and posts are painted with
numerous grotesque representations in outline of war-canoes and
fishing-parties, of natives in full fighting equipment, of sharks, and
of the devil-god himself, with a long, lank body and a tail besides. On
a ridge-pole there was drawn in paint the outline of some waggon or
other vehicle with the horses in the shafts: whether this was a
reminiscence of some native who had been to the colonies, or was merely
a copy from a picture, I did not learn. Some of the representations on
the ridge-poles were of an obscene character. The central row of posts
were defaced by chipping, which I was informed was a token of mourning
for the late chief of the island, who had died not many months before.
Mr. C. F. Wood met with a similar custom in 1873 in the case of a native
of a village at the west end of St. Christoval, who on the death of his
son broke and damaged the carved figures of birds and fish in his
house.[32] I am inclined to think that this house was a sacred building
of some kind. . . . . Mr. William Macdonald, through whose kindness I
had the opportunity of visiting this island, pointed out to me that two
or three of the posts of the building had been carved into the figures
of women, an innovation in the interior of a tambu-house which I
observed in no other building of this kind.

    [32] “A Yachting Cruise in the South Seas:” London, 1875 (p. 133).

The tambu-house of the village of Sapuna in Santa Anna, which is shown
in the accompanying plate, is higher, broader, and more massive in
structure than the other buildings which I have visited in the adjacent
islands. As in other tambu-houses, the forms of the shark and of the
human figure are given to parts of the posts; and in the hollow cavities
of wooden representations of the shark on the sides of the interior of
the building are enclosed the entire bodies of departed chiefs and the
skulls of ordinary men. The carved central post, which is seen in the
accompanying engraving, affords a superior specimen of native
workmanship. It was originally brought, as I was informed by one of the
natives of Santa Anna, from Guadalcanar. The walls of this building are
made more rain-proof by long slabs, measuring 36 by 6 by 2 inches, which
are cut out from the dense matted growth of fibres and rootlets that
invests the base of the bole of the cocoa-nut palm.

The principal tambu-house in the village of Ete-ete, on the west side of
Ugi, is between 60 and 70 feet in length, from 25 to 30 feet broad, and
11 or 12 feet in height. Here also the sculptured posts represent the
body of a shark with its head uppermost and supporting in the gape of
its mouth the figure of a man, on whose head rests the ridge-pole of the
roof. The front of the building is decorated with red and black bands,
some straight, some wavy, and others of the chevron pattern. Mr.
Brenchley in his account of the “Cruise of the ‘_Curacoa_’” gives a
sketch of this tambu-house, which he visited in 1865 (p. 258). Forming
the frontispiece of his work is a chromo-lithograph showing the two
sides of an ornamental tie-beam from the roof of a “public hall” at Ugi,
which he presented to the Maidstone Museum. It represents on one side
sharks, bonitos, and sea-birds supposed to be frigate-birds, and on the
other side four canoes with sharks attacking the crew of one of them,
which is bottom upwards.

[Illustration: TAMBU-HOUSE IN THE ISLAND OF SANTA ANNA.

(Preparations for a Feast.)

(_To face page 70._)]

The deification of the shark appears to arise from the superstitious
dread which this fish inspires. Its good-will may be obtained by leaving
offerings of food on the rocks before undertaking a long journey in a
canoe. The natives of the neighbouring island of Ulaua, or Ulawa,
propitiate the shark with offerings of their own shell-money and of
porpoise teeth, which they prize even more than money; and, if a sacred
shark has attempted to seize a man who has been able to finally escape
from its jaws, they are so much afraid that they will throw him back
into the sea to be devoured.[33] We learn from Mr. Ellis[34] and from
Messrs. Tyerman and Bennet,[35] that in the Society Islands sharks were
deified, that temples were erected for their worship in which the
fisherman propitiated the favour of the shark-god, and that almost every
family had its particular shark as its tutelary deity to which it bowed
and made oblations.

    [33] “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” by the Rev. R.
    H. Codrington, M.A. “Journal of the Anthropological Institute.” Vol.
    x.

    [34] “Polynesian Researches:” London, 1853. Vol. i., pp. 167, 329.

    [35] “Voyages and Travels of the Rev. D. Tyerman and George Bennet,
    Esq.:” London, 1831. Vol. i., p. 247.

At Alu and Treasury in Bougainville Straits, the tambu-house, which is
such a prominent feature in the villages of the eastern islands, is
represented by a mere open canoe-shed, for the most part destitute of
ornament, and apparently held in but little veneration. Rows of the
lower jaws of pigs, which are strung up inside the buildings, signify,
as in the eastward islands, the number of animals slaughtered for the
feast that was held to celebrate the completion of the canoe-shed. In
the island of Faro, the canoe-houses are only temporary sheds built over
the large war-canoes, and can have no sacred character in the mind of
the native, the tambu-houses in the two principal villages of Toma and
Sinasoro having no connection with the war-canoes. The tambu-house of
the village of Toma is a neat-looking building about 18 feet high, 45
feet long, and 25 feet broad. It is open at the ends and partly open at
the sides, and is built of much the same materials as the
dwelling-houses. The roof, which is neatly thatched with the leaves of
the sago-palm, is supported on stout ridge-poles by a central and two
lateral rows of posts. There is no carving and but little decoration
about the building; and from the circumstance of its being sometimes
converted into a temporary drying-house for copra, we may draw some
inference as to the degree of sanctity in which such a building is held.

       *       *       *       *       *

The weapons in common use in these islands are spears, clubs, bows and
arrows, and tomahawks. An indication of the disposition of the natives
may be usually obtained by observing whether arms are habitually
carried. In islands where the men go unarmed, the white man, from the
absence of intertribal conflicts, has an additional guarantee for his
own safety. On the other hand, amongst natives who never leave the
vicinity of their villages without a spear or a club, he will require to
be very cautious in all that concerns his safety.

The spears are usually 8 to 9 feet in length, with no foreshaft, and are
made of a hard palm wood. Those of the natives of Bougainville Straits
are very formidable weapons. They are armed with long points or barbs of
bone, some of them 4 or 5 inches in length, and they are coloured white
and red, are curiously carved, and are ornamented with bands of the same
plaited material of which the armlets are made. The barbs and bands are
imitated in the colouring of the head of the spear. These spears are
made by the natives of Bougainville, and are exchanged with the people
of the Straits for European articles of trade. I have seen them in the
hands of the men of Simbo. In St. Christoval and the adjacent islands at
the other end of the group, the spears are of dark wood, with carved
heads and blunt wooden points and are uncoloured. As compared with those
of Bougainville Straits, they are not very formidable weapons. They are
only armed with blunt barbs cut out of the wood, which are rather more
ornamental than useful.

In throwing a spear, the men of Bougainville Straits, whilst poising the
weapon, extend the left arm in the direction of the object and often
point the forefinger as well. None of the contrivances for assisting the
flight of the spear, such as the throwing-stick or the amentum, were
employed by the natives of the islands we visited. These weapons are
used both as hand-weapons and as missiles. The natives of St. Christoval
spear their victims through the abdomen, and as a mark of their prowess
they often allow the gore to dry on the point of the weapon. A man in
this island usually keeps his spears slung in a bundle under the
projecting eaves of the roof in front of the entrance to his house.

Bows and arrows are much more commonly employed by the natives of
Bougainville Straits than by the St. Christoval natives. The bows are
stoutly made, and are from 6 to 7 feet in length. The string is of a
strong cord. The arrows used in the first-mentioned locality are usually
4½ to 4¾ feet in length. They have a long reed shaft, with a pointed
foreshaft of a hard heavy palm wood inserted into the end, and measuring
about one-fourth the length of the arrow Although most of the arrows
have simple pointed foreshafts, destitute of barbs, a few terminate in
arrow-heads carved out of the hard wood. A kind of dart, much shorter
than the arrow and armed with points of bone, is also used. About nine
out of every ten arrows are notched for the bowstring. Feathers are not
used; but the hinder shaft of each arrow is decorated with etchings as
if in imitation of plumes. These arrows are essentially Melanesian in
character, and much resemble those in the British Museum Collection from
New Guinea and the New Hebrides.[36] At short distances of 25 or 30
yards, the natives make good shooting with the bow and arrow; but on
account of the length of the arrow it is not to be depended on at
greater ranges. For shooting fish and pigeons, the natives of these
Straits sometimes employ small arrows fashioned out of the large leaf of
a kind of reed. The midrib serves as the shaft, and a narrow strip of
the blade of the leaf, which is left attached on each side of the shaft,
serves the purpose of the plume. The end is pointed and hardened by
fire. Such arrows are easily made, and are not generally sought for
after they have been shot away.[37] On one occasion I observed a boy of
Alu shooting a pigeon with an arrow terminating in fine points like a
miniature fish-spear.

    [36] To those who have never had their interest specially engaged in
    the subject of savage weapons, the above detailed description of
    these arrows may seem unnecessary; but, as Colonel Lane Fox
    originally pointed out, it is in the absence or presence of the
    feather and notch, in the length and formation of the shaft and its
    point, and in other characters, that the arrows of different races
    are distinguished from each other. Thus, in many parts of New
    Guinea, in Melanesia generally, and throughout the Pacific, the
    arrows are destitute of feathers; while those from Europe and Asia
    are always feathered. (_Vide_ “Catalogue of the original Lane Fox
    Collection,” pp. 87-95; also, paper on “Primitive Warfare.” “Journ.
    Unit. Ser. Inst.,” 1867-68, for a general treatment of the subject.)
    Prof. Morse has shown that in the different methods of releasing the
    arrow from the bow, important race-distinctions are to be found. An
    abstract of his interesting paper is given in “Nature,” Nov. 4th,
    1886.

    [37] Mr. Mosely in his “Notes by a Naturalist,” p. 381, describes
    and figures very similar arrows which are used by the Ke Islanders
    for the same purposes.

Poisoned spears and arrows are rarely employed by the natives of the
Solomon Group. They did not come under our observation in any of the
islands that we visited. In the island of Savo, however, the natives are
said to poison their spears and arrows by thrusting them into a
decomposing corpse, where they are allowed to remain for some days.

The clubs vary in form in different parts of the group. In St.
Christoval, they have flat recurved blades cut out of the flange-like
buttresses of a tree having very hard wood which bears a polish like
that of mahogany. In other islands, as in those of Florida, they have
flattened oval blades like that of a paddle. Other clubs again, like
those of Guadalcanar, are more cylindrical, and have their ends but
slightly enlarged; they are often ornamented with the so-called “dyed
grass.” No weapons of the character of maces came under my observation.
Most clubs are pointed at the butt-end to enable them to be stuck
upright in the ground. These weapons are rarely seen in the hands of the
natives of Bougainville Straits, if I may except an ornamental club
which is carried at the dances.[38] The St. Christoval club is also a
defensive weapon. Its flat recurved blade is used to turn aside a spear
or an arrow just as the bat is employed to slip a cricket-ball. Some
have considered that these weapons are merely paddles. I never saw them
put to this use, and I should add that they are most unsuited for such a
purpose, being very heavy and sinking in water. I have frequently met
natives, when away from the coast, carrying them on their shoulder; and
I often learned from them of the true character of the weapon. Traders,
who had been years in this part of the group, spoke of them to me as
war-clubs. Together with their spears, the St. Christoval natives carry
them during their hostile incursions against the bushmen. A singular W
pattern that occurs on the flat blades of these St. Christoval clubs was
for a long time a puzzle to me. However a very probable explanation of
its origin has been given by Major-General Pitt-Rivers.[39] It is one
which goes to show that these curved flat-bladed clubs originated as
paddles, and that in proportion as they came to be employed also for
purposes of defence, their form and material were in time changed, until
their original use was either lost or forgotten. In the early forms of
this paddle-club, the swell of the blade suggested the shape of the body
of a fish; and the profile of a fish’s head with the jaws agape was
added to complete the resemblance. In course of time the blade lost its
fish-like form, but the outline of the snout with jaws agape was still
retained as an ornament. In this manner the W pattern of the present
clubs originated. The steps in the production of this pattern may be
illustrated in a series of clubs from those with most marked fish-like
form to those where the profile of the fish’s snout in the form of a W
alone remains; and this again by the omission of the mouth is often
replaced by a triangular nob.

    [38] These ornamental clubs exactly resemble, both in form and
    decoration, some clubs from New Ireland in the British Museum.

    [39] “Nature,” July 14th, 1881. I differ from the writer in
    considering these articles as clubs, not paddles.

[Illustration:

   1. Fish-Spear.
   2. Spears from Bougainville Straits.
   3. St. Christoval Spears.
   4. Head of a Florida Club.
   5. St. Christoval Clubs.
   6. Dance-Club of Treasury.
   7. Canoe-Ornament, placed on the prow.
   8. Hanging-Hook (Treasury I.).
   9. Fish-Float.
  10. Canoe-God, lashed to the stem.

(_To face page 74._)]

Tomahawks and muskets, which have been introduced by the trader, are
frequently possessed by natives of the coast. The owner of the tomahawk
fits it with a long straight handle which he often decorates with inlaid
pearl-shell. It is a formidable weapon in the hands of a native, and it
is one which he usually employs very effectively, whether against his
fellow islanders or against the white man. The muskets are often of
little use on account of the lack of percussion caps and powder.

The defensive arm carried by these islanders is usually a narrow shield
measuring 3 feet in length by 9 or 10 inches in breadth. With the
exception apparently of St. Christoval, these shields are to be observed
amongst the natives of most of the larger islands of the group. They
appear usually to be made of a layer of light reeds or canes lashed
together by rattan. In some islands, as in Florida and in Guadalcanar,
they are worked over with fine wicker-work, and are ornamented with
beads in the case of a chief. In other islands, as in Isabel and
Choiseul, they are often more rudely constructed and have no
wicker-work. In the two last islands they are rectangular in form. In
Florida and Guadalcanar they are more oval and are slightly contracted
in the middle. Mr. Brenchley figures one of the Florida shields in his
“Cruise of H.M.S. ‘Curacoa,’” (p. 281); whilst a sketch of a shield of
the Port Praslin (Isabel) natives is to be found in the narrative of
Surville’s visit to this group.[40] The Port Praslin shield is deeply
notched at one end. I did not observe these shields amongst the
inhabitants of St. Christoval and the adjacent islands, a circumstance
which may be explained by the fact that spears, and not bows and arrows,
are the offensive weapons usually carried by these islanders. Yet we
learn that three centuries ago it was with their bows and arrows that
the St. Christoval natives usually assailed the Spaniards (_vide_ pages
228, 231.) It should be remembered that the flat-bladed curved clubs of
these natives also serve the purpose of a defensive weapon.

    [40] Fleurieu’s “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769.”

The tactics employed in war are those which treachery and cunning
suggest. Very rarely, I believe, does a fair, open fight occur. In their
sham fights, one of which we witnessed on the beach at Santa Anna, two
parties confront each other in open and irregular order and hurl their
spears with all the excitement of a real contest. Every man keeps
constantly on the move as in dancing a jig, in order to be able to more
easily avoid the missiles hurled at him. The boys of Treasury sometimes
amuse themselves with a game of the same character, when they use as
their weapons the stalk and bulb of the large taro. I was on one
occasion much surprised at their skill in aiming apparently at one boy
and hitting the one next to him.

The polished stone implements of their fathers have been to a large
extent discarded by the natives of the coasts; but the natives of the
interiors of the large islands, such as Bougainville, who may have been
rarely, if ever, in communication with the trader, are said to be still
in a large degree dependent on their stone axes and adzes. On account of
the extensive introduction of trade axes, adzes, and knives, it was
often difficult to obtain the polished stone implements from the people
of a coast village, and natives were wont to express their surprise at
my wanting such inefficient and old-fashioned tools. My inquiries as to
when these stone implements were used usually received some such reply
as the following: “Father, belong father, belong me, he all same”--the
purport of which was that they were in use a long time ago, the native’s
grandfather being deemed a person of so high antiquity, that in
referring to past events he seldom cares to go beyond. These stone axes
and adzes are generally made of the hard volcanic rocks of this region.
A few are fashioned out of the thick portion of the shell of _Tridacna
gigas_.

The upper surface of a large mushroom-coral (_Fungidæ_), serves as an
effective rasp for scraping canoes; and the large shell of a _Cyrena_
and the sharper edge of a boar’s tusk are similarly used for scraping
spears and bows, which are ultimately rubbed smooth with powdered
pumice.

The “bow-drill,” armed with a steel point, was employed by Mule, the
Treasury chief, in piercing the holes for the rattan-like thongs in the
planks of his canoes. This was the only “bow-drill” that came under my
notice, and I could not tempt its owner to part with it. In the British
Museum Collection, however, there are two smaller tools of this kind
from other islands of the group. Without describing it, I may remark
that a similar “bow-drill” is figured in Commodore Wilkes’ account of
the Bowditch Islanders,[41] by Dr. G. Turner[42] in his account of the
Samoans, and by Signor D’Albertis in his book on New Guinea.[43] The
history of the “bow-drill,” as we learn from Dr. Tylor,[44] is an
interesting one. It originated with the “fire-drill,” which is simply a
pointed piece of wood that is twirled between the hands. This was then
made more efficacious by winding a cord around it, when it became a
“cord-drill.” By substituting for the cord a bow with a loose string, a
still more useful tool was obtained: and from this simple form of
“bow-drill” the Pacific islanders have obtained the improved boring-tool
they now employ.

    [41] “Narr. U. S. Expl. Exped.,” vol. v., p. 17.

    [42] “Nineteen years in Polynesia,” p. 273.

    [43] Vol. ii., p. 378.

    [44] “Early History of Mankind:” pp. 237-246.

I should here allude to the round stones, rather larger than a
cricket-ball, which are employed as “cooking-stones” and for cracking
the hard kanary-nuts. They are to be seen in the majority of the
dwellings in the eastern islands; and they often mark the sites of old
villages and the temporary homes of fishing-parties.

The grinding slabs and blocks of rock, which were used for rubbing down
the stone axes, are still to be seen in the coast villages, their
surfaces being sometimes worn into a hollow. At present these blocks are
used for grinding down the shell bead-money and for sharpening the iron
tools. I have sometimes come upon them marking the position of an old
village, the site of which had been long concealed by the growth of
trees and scrub. In some islands where it is not possible to obtain
stones of a sufficient hardness, these blocks have been transported from
considerable distances. A large block of a crystalline trap-rock, more
than a third of a ton in weight, which now lies on the reef-flat in the
vicinity of the village of Vanatoga on the east side of Santa Anna, was
originally brought down from the summit of the island to be used as a
grinding block. Slabs of a quartz-diorite, which is found in the
north-west part of Alu, and which is much valued for its hardness, have
been transported in canoes to Treasury Island more than twenty miles
away and to the other islands of the Straits. From their size, they
would weigh usually five or six hundredweight.

Amongst the interesting discoveries which I have made in the Solomon
Group, I should refer to that of the occurrence of worked flints, which
are commonly found in the soil when it is disturbed for purposes of
cultivation, and are frequently exposed after heavy rains. My attention
was first directed to this matter on noticing a specimen of flint in the
possession of Mr. Howard at Ugi, and I soon obtained a number of
specimens from this island, and from the adjacent large island of St.
Christoval. The majority of them were of common flint, but fragments of
chalcedony and cornelian were frequent, and a jasper also occurred. The
largest specimen, which was nearly 4 lbs. in weight, clearly showed
traces of artificial working, and, as I am informed by Professor
Liversidge, was evidently a large, stone axe or tomahawk. Of the rest,
some were cores, others were flakes, resembling in their form, and often
in their white colour, the flakes of the post-tertiary gravels; whilst
one specimen possessed the shape of an arrow-head. Some of these flints
presented the appearance of having been re-fashioned after lying disused
for ages. In such specimens, there were two sets of facets or fractured
surfaces, the one whitened by weathering or exposure, the other
displaying the natural colour of recently broken flint. All were, in
fact, of the palæolithic type. The specimens, that I obtained in the
islands of Treasury and Alu in Bougainville Straits, were usually of
chalcedonic flint, and possessed the form of hammer-stones, scrapers,
etc. Worked flints will probably be found in most of the islands of the
Solomon Group, except, perhaps, in those of purely volcanic formation
(_vide_ page 80). They are said to occur in Santa Anna, and I had a
specimen given to me from Ulaua.

There are two interesting circumstances in connection with these flints
to which I should allude. In the first place, the inhabitants of these
islands are ignorant of their nature and their source. I was gravely
informed by the natives of Treasury Island, that the flints which they
brought me from the disturbed soil of their plantations had tumbled from
the sky, a superstition which reminds one of a similar belief prevalent
in some rural districts of our own country as to the origin of the
polished stone implements or celts. In a similar way the men of the
Shortland Islands explained to me the occurrence beneath the soil of
lumps of gum, which, like the masses of the _kauri_ gum of New Zealand,
mark the original position of the trees from which they were derived.

Concerning these flint implements, we may fitly ask: Who were the race
of men that formed and used them? How long a period has elapsed since
these men inhabited this region? Whence did they come? Where are their
descendants to be sought? Are they to be found amongst the present
inhabitants of this group, who, having discarded the rude flint
implements for polished stone tools of volcanic rock, regard, with
ignorant contempt, the handiwork of their ancestors? To these queries we
may with some confidence reply that the original inhabitants of these
islands belonged to the once widely spread Negrito race, of which we
find the remnants in our own day in the aborigines of the Andaman and
Philippine Islands, and that their characters, both physical and
linguistic, have been fused with those of other races which have reached
the Solomon Islands both from the Malay Archipelago to the west, and
from the islands of Micronesia and Polynesia to the east. The present
natives of this group may, in truth, be considered as the result of the
fusion of the Negrito aborigines with the Malayan, Micronesian, and
Polynesian intruders.

The second interesting point with reference to these ancient flint
implements is concerned with their original source. Professor
Liversidge, in drawing attention to my specimens, which he exhibited at
a meeting of the Royal Society of New South Wales in December, 1883,
remarked that this discovery of flints in these regions afforded a very
strong proof of the probable presence of true chalk of cretaceous age in
the South Sea Islands, and he alluded to a soft white limestone
undistinguishable from chalk, which had been previously brought from New
Ireland by Mr. Brown, the Wesleyan missionary.[45] Chalk-rocks came
under my observation in the Solomon Islands; but in no case was I able
to find embedded flints (_vide_ Trans. Roy. Soc. Edin., Vol. 32, Part
3). I think it, however, highly probable that when the interior of one
of the large islands such as Guadalcanar has been explored, older chalk
formations containing flints will be discovered. The island of Ulaua,
which I was unable to visit, would probably afford some clue as to the
source of these flints. Although in all likelihood this island possesses
the general geological structure of the neighbouring island of Ugi,
which is described on page vii. yet it possesses one peculiar feature.
Mr. Brenchley,[46] when landing on the beach of this island of Ulaua in
1865, picked up a great many pieces of flint scattered about among the
broken-up coral, and he wondered where they came from. Captain
Macdonald, a resident trader in this part of the group, informed me that
flints are abundant on the beaches of this island, together with
fragments of a white chalk-like rock.[47]

    [45] “Journal of the Royal Society of New South Wales:” vol. xvii.,
    p. 223; _vide_ also “Geolog. Mag.” Dec., 1877. Mr. H. B. Brady is at
    present engaged in working out the Foraminifera of this New Ireland
    rock. Its age, though still _sub judice_, is probably comparatively
    recent.

    [46] “Cruise of the ‘Curacoa,’” p. 255.

    [47] Should any of my readers in the Western Pacific have the
    opportunity of visiting the island of Ulaua, it would be well worth
    their while to pay careful attention to the mode of occurrence of
    these flints. I am of the opinion that imbedded flints will be found
    in the _recent_ rocks of this island.

In the island of Faro, which is entirely of volcanic formation, flints
are not known to the natives, and it would be interesting to ascertain
whether they are similarly absent from other islands of the same
character. When in search of the source of these flints, I was more than
once led off on a false scent. It was on one such occasion, when
accompanying Gorai, the Shortland chief, on an excursion in his
war-canoe to the north-west part of the island of Alu, that I
experienced a great disappointment. Learning from the chief that he
could direct me to the place where the flints (“kilifela”) were found, I
was in great hope of at last finding them imbedded. The locality,
however, proved to be of volcanic formation, and a pit or cave in which
the flints were to be found, successfully eluded our efforts to discover
it. I would, however, recommend future visitors to endeavour to find
this pit which lies a little way in from the beach and close to the
north-west point of Alu. Its examination might throw some fresh light on
the aborigines of these regions.

The occurrence of flints on the south-east coast of New Guinea has
been recorded by Mr. Stone.[48] He tells us that the small island
of Tatana at the head of Port Moresby is “strewn with pieces of a
cornelian-coloured flint, called by the natives _vesika_, and used for
boring holes through shell, bone, or other hard substances.” In 1767,
Captain Carteret found spears and arrows pointed with flint in use
amongst the natives of the Santa Cruz Group and of Gower Island, one of
the Solomon Islands.[49] M. Surville, when anchored in Port Praslin in
the Solomon Group in 1769, observed that the natives employed “a sort of
flint” as knives and razors and for obtaining fire.[50] In my own
intercourse with these islanders I did not find flints in use among
them; but it is very probable that in some islands the ancient flint
implements are occasionally employed for cutting purposes.[51]

    [48] “A few months in New Guinea,” by O. C. Stone. London, 1880, p.
    72.

    [49] Hawkesworth’s “Voyages”: vol. i., pp, 296, 297.

    [50] Fleurieu’s “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769,” etc:
    p. 144.

    [51] In Raffles’ “History of Java” (1830; vol i., pp. 25, 33) it is
    stated that common flints, hornstone, chalcedony, jasper, cornelian,
    etc., are frequently found in the beds of the streams of this
    island. If not already inquired into, further information should be
    sought concerning the shape and the source of these flints.




CHAPTER V.

CULTIVATION--FOOD, ETC.


THE inhabitants of the islands of Bougainville Straits display far more
interest in the cultivation of the soil than do those of St. Christoval
and its adjacent islands. Whether this circumstance may be attributed to
the greater powers wielded by the chiefs of these islands, and to the
consequent tranquillity which their peoples enjoy, or whether it is due
to the comparatively isolated position of these islands of the Straits
which has secured to their inhabitants a freedom from the attacks of
neighbouring tribes, I can scarcely distinguish. It is, however,
probable that the explanation of the extensive cultivated tracts with
the consequent abundance of food in the one region, and of the meagre
patches of cultivation with the resulting dearth of food in the other,
lies more in the surroundings than in the individual character of the
natives.

In the island of Treasury acres and acres of taro and banana plantations
lie in the immediate vicinity of the village; and I passed through
similarly cultivated tracts in the east and west districts of the
island. The wide and level region, which constitutes the margin of the
island, is covered with a deep productive soil. Cultivation is not
confined, however, to the more level districts. Large cultivated patches
lie on the hill-slopes behind the village; and in other places fire and
the axe are constantly employed in the preliminary work of clearing the
hill-side. The islands of the Shortlands exhibit a corresponding degree
of industry on the part of their inhabitants. When crossing the eastern
part of the island of Morgusaia, I traversed for nearly a mile one
continuous tract of cultivation. In the midst of the taro and banana
plantations stood groves of the stately sago palm and clumps of the
betel-nut palm. An occasional bread-fruit tree towered over all; and now
and then a lime tree was pointed out by my guides. This extensive tract
belonged to the chief. Some of the cultivated patches in the Shortlands
are marked out by lines of poles laid flat on the ground into long,
narrow divisions, about twenty feet in width, each wife of the owner of
the patch confining her labours to her own division.

On the east side of the island of Fauro, the interval between the
villages of Toma and Sinasoro is to a great extent under cultivation,
and is occupied chiefly by banana and taro plantations. Similar
indications of the prosperity of the inhabitants are displayed in the
number of cocoa-nut palms and bread-fruit trees, with here and there a
grove of sago palms, which occupy the low tract of land on which the
village of Toma stands. In the planting season natives of the Straits
spend weeks in their distant plantations in the interior of their
islands; and in the instance of Fauro Island, many of them possess other
plantations in the small outlying uninhabited islands which they visit
in parties at the regular periods.

In the islands of Bougainville Straits, the banana, taro, and the sweet
potato are the vegetables which are grown in greatest quantity. The yam
does not appear to be such a favourite article of food as in the eastern
islands. I observed in Treasury that the natives protect the short stems
of the large taro against the depredations of the large frugivorous bats
(_Pteropidæ_) by lashing them round with sticks.

Here, as in the eastern islands, the following method of climbing the
cocoa-nut palm and other trees prevailed. A lashing or thong around the
ankles supports much of the weight of the body, and serves as a fulcrum
for each effort of the climber towards the top. When the cocoa-nut palm
is rather inclined to one side, I have seen a native adopt the mode of
the West Indian negro, and walking up the trunk on all fours, after the
style of monkeys. . . . . It is a singular circumstance, as residents in
the group inform me, that natives never seem to be struck by a falling
cocoa-nut, notwithstanding that they must be frequently exposed to
injury from this cause. I have often, when sitting amongst a group of
natives in a village under the shade of the cocoa-nut trees, been warned
by those around me that the nuts might fall on us. On two occasions I
have had heavy cocoa-nuts fall to the ground within reach of my arm,
which, if they had struck my head with the momentum imparted by a drop
of some fifty feet, would undoubtedly have stunned me.

I may here refer to the sago palm, which is grown in far greater numbers
in the islands of Bougainville Straits than in St. Christoval and its
vicinity. It furnishes not only the vegetable-ivory nut of these islands
and the sago, which is an important item in the native dietary, but its
leaves supply the thatch for the roofs and sides of the houses. Although
belonging to the same genus, _Sagus_, it is evidently distinct in
species from the sago palm of Fiji (_Sagus vitiensis_), which, according
to Mr. Home, grows on the low-lying swampy land, and attains a height of
about 35 feet.[52] In the Solomon Islands, the height of full-grown sago
palms varies between 60 and 70 feet; whilst the situations in which they
are usually found, lie on the hill-slopes and in the drier districts of
the islands. In the islands of Fauro and Treasury groves of sago palms
occur both on the lower slopes and in the higher districts. They occur
on the summit of Treasury at a height of a thousand feet above the sea;
and I observed a few at Fauro at a height of 1400 feet. I found them in
the middle of the breadth of St. Christoval, between Wano and Makira.
. . . . The sago palm in these islands is the finest specimen of the
_Palmaceæ_. I often used to admire its heavy bole terminating above in
its handsome crown of massive branches.[53]

    [52] “A Year in Fiji,” by John Horne, F.L.S. London, 1881, p. 68.

    [53] Although this palm, when full grown, has the appearance of
    great age and durability, it does not live for more than 20 years,
    when it flowers, bears, and dies.

In the extraction and preparation of the sago, the natives of
Bougainville Straits employ the following method. After the palm has
been felled and all the pith removed, either by scooping it out or
splitting the trunk, the pith is then torn up into small pieces and
placed in a trough extemporised from the broad sheathing base of one of
the branches of the felled tree. The trough is then tilted up and is
kept filled with water, which running away at the lower end passes
through a kind of strainer, made of a fold of the vegetable matting that
invests the bases of the branches of the cocoa-nut tree, and is then
received in another trough of similar material. The fibrous portion of
the pith is thus left behind, and the sago is deposited as a sediment in
the lower trough. When this trough is full of sago, the superfluous
water is poured off, and the whole is placed over a fire so as to get
rid of the remaining moisture. This method of sago-washing is similar to
that which is employed in the islands of the Malay Archipelago. The sago
is now fit for consumption, and is wrapped up in the leaves in the form
of cylindrical packages 1½ to 2 feet in length. For the convenience of
the water-supply, sago-washing is carried out usually on the side of a
stream. The refuse is afterwards allowed to decay on the banks, and the
water of the stream is contaminated for a long time after, whilst the
air in the vicinity is impregnated with the unpleasant sour odour of the
decaying debris.

The diet of these islanders is essentially a vegetable one, and most of
the common articles of food have already been referred to. Yams, sweet
potatoes, two kinds of taro,[54] cocoa-nuts, plantains, and sugar-cane
form the staple substances of their diet. In St. Christoval and the
adjacent islands the yam is more extensively cultivated; whilst in the
islands of Bougainville Straits the taro and the sago-palm are more
usually grown and the yam is less preferred. The bread-fruit appears to
be but an occasional article of food; and it was only now and then, as
in the vicinity of the village of Toma in Fauro Island, that I observed
the tree in any numbers. In Bougainville Straits there appears to be but
one variety of the bread-fruit tree (_Artocarpus incisa_) which ripens
in August. Its leaves are deeply lobed (_pinnatisect_) and have an even
surface; and the fruit are stalked, seedless, rough, and of a somewhat
oval shape. In Santa Anna there is another variety of the _Artocarpus
incisa_, the fruit of which has seeds and ripens in October. In the
plantations of Treasury Island I came upon a tree which is apparently a
variety of the Jack-fruit tree (_Artocarpus integrifolia_); it is known
to the natives as the “tafati,” whilst the bread-fruit tree is known in
this part of the group as the “balia.” Two cucurbitaceous fruits are
commonly grown in the islands of Bougainville Straits. One is a large
pumpkin, and the other is an oval “pepo,” about six inches long, known
to the natives as the “kusiwura;” it is a variety of _Cucumis melo_, and
is a very good substitute for the ordinary cucumber. Amongst other
vegetables grown in the cultivated patches of this region are two
varieties of a species of _Solanum_, probably _repandum_, which are
known to the natives as “kobureki” and “kirkami;” and a second species
of yam, _Dioscorea sativa_ (“alapa”).[55]

    [54] The small taro, which also grows wild on the sides of the
    streams and is called “koko” in Bougainville Straits, is apparently
    _Colocasia esculenta_. The large taro, which grows to a height of 7
    or 8 feet, and is known as the “kalafai,” may be the same as the
    “via kana” of Fiji (_Cyrtosperma edulis_). I cannot, however, speak
    with any authority on this subject, as I collected no specimens.

    [55] Traders occasionally introduce foreign vegetables. Gorai, the
    Shortland chief, grows a little maize in one of his plantations.

Amongst the fruit-trees grown by the natives of Bougainville Straits in
their plantations are the Papaw-tree (_Carica Papaya_): a species of
Lime which the Alu chief grows in his extensive cultivated patches; a
Mango, probably _Mangifera indica_ (“faise”); the “borolong,” a species
of _Barringtonia_ (probably _B. edulis_) which, when in flower, is at
once known by its handsome pendent yellow spikes 2½ feet in length; the
kernel of the fruit is eaten, but it is not equal in flavour to the
similar kernels of the “saori” (_Terminalia catappa_) and the “ka-i”
(_Canarium_ sp.); the “sioko,” is apparently another species of
_Barringtonia_, the fruit of which ripens in May; the “usi,” a tall tree
60 or 70 feet high (not determined), the fruits of which are juicy,
seedless, and have a pleasant flavour; the leaves have an acid taste and
are eaten by the natives.

Such are the principal fruits and vegetables cultivated by the natives
of this part of the group; but before proceeding to the methods of
cooking and of serving them up, I should refer to the white kernels of
the “ka-i,” a species of _Canarium_, which form one of the staple
articles of vegetable food throughout the Solomon Group. My specimens
sent to Kew were only sufficient for generic identification. It is,
however, probable that this tree is identical with, or closely allied
to, _Canarium commune_, which is the familiar “kanarie” of the Malay
Archipelago, and the “kengar” of the Maclay-Coast, New Guinea.[56] This
tree is mainly indebted to the fruit pigeon for its wide dispersal. The
fruit is of a dark purple colour, oval in shape, and 2 to 2½ inches in
length. Its fleshy covering, which is also eaten by the natives, invests
a triangular stony nut inclosing the white kernel which sometimes rivals
the almond in delicacy of flavour. It requires a little practice to
crack the nut readily. For this purpose the natives employ a rounded
stone of the size of a cricket ball, the nut being placed in a little
hollow on the surface of a flat stone. The fruit-pigeons are very fond
of the fleshy covering of this fruit; and it is their disgorgement of
the hard nuts which collect at the foot of the trees, that often saves
the native the necessity of climbing up and picking the fruit for
himself. This nut, which is familiarly known in this group as the
Solomon Island Almond, and in the Malay Archipelago as the Kanary Nut,
is in fact an article of considerable importance in the dietary of the
inhabitants of these regions, and it is often stored up in large
quantities. In order to keep them, the natives of Treasury Island hang
the nuts up in leaf-packages from the branches of the cocoa-nut palms.
The Spanish discoverers of the Solomon Islands under Mendana, seized
and carried off to their ships the stores of these almonds, as they
called them, which they found in the houses of the unfortunate natives.
According to Miklouho-Maclay, the inhabitants of the Maclay Coast of New
Guinea store up the nuts of the _Canarium commune_ between May and
July.[57] Labillardière, writing at the end of last century, tells us
that the natives of Amboina lay in a large stock of the kernels of the
_Canarium_ for their voyages.[58]

    [56] “Proceedings, Linnean Society, N.S.W.” Vol. x., p. 349.

    [57] “Proc. Lin. Soc. N.S.W.,” Vol. x., p. 349.

    [58] “Account of a Voyage in Search of La Pérouse.” London. 1800
    (Vol. i., p. 377).

With reference to the mode of cooking employed, I should remark that it
varies in different parts of the group. In St. Christoval and the
adjacent islands very palatable cakes are produced by mashing together
the taro, cocoa-nut, plantain, and kanary-nut. Portions of the paste are
placed between leaves in a pit in the ground in the midst of hot ashes
and heated cooking-stones, and the whole is covered over with earth and
left undisturbed for some time. The vegetables may be also cooked entire
in this manner. Stone-boiling is also employed in this part of the group
in cooking vegetables and fish. A large wooden bowl, about two feet long
and containing water, is filled with yams, breadfruit, and other
vegetables. Red hot cooking-stones of the size of the two fists are then
taken out of the fire and dropped into the bowl until the water begins
to boil. The top is then covered over with several layers of large
leaves which are weighed down by stones placed on them. The heat is thus
retained in the bowl, and after an hour the leaves are removed when the
contents are found to be daintily cooked.[59] In volcanic islands, such
as Simbo, the natives utilise the steam-holes or fumaroles for cooking
their food. Whilst I was examining a solfatara in this island, I found
that I had unconsciously trespassed within the precincts of a public
cooking-place; and in order to silence the clamour of the native women,
I had to distribute necklaces to all.

    [59] This method of cooking, aptly termed “stone-boiling” by Dr.
    Tylor (“Early History of Mankind:” 3rd edit., p. 263), which is
    often employed by savage races unacquainted with the art of pottery,
    is represented in our own day by the old-fashioned tea-urn. As late
    as 1600, the wild Irish are said to have warmed their milk with a
    stone first cast into the fire. (“Tylor’s Primitive Culture:” vol.
    i., p. 40.)

In the islands of Bougainville Straits, where the art of pottery is
known, the vegetables are usually boiled in the cooking-pots which are
not cleaned out after use. The leaves of the small taro are thus cooked
and make an excellent substitute for spinach. The plantains are boiled
in their skins, and are to the European palate when thus cooked most
insipid. The sago, which is a common article of food in this part of the
group, is not sufficiently dried during its preparation and it soon
turns sour; but this is no objection with the native who devours it with
the same eagerness whether it is rancid or sweet. It is usually only
half-cooked in a little packet of leaves; but when required for keeping,
it is well baked, and in the form of cakes is a favourite food with
children. The Solomon Islander, however, has not the forethought of the
inhabitants of the Malay Archipelago in laying by a store of sago for
future use. When a sago palm is felled, there is usually no lack of
friends to assist the owner in consuming the sago. The native of
Bougainville Straits serves up the cooked vegetables in trays made of
plaited palm leaves or of the sheathing base of the branch of the “kisu”
palm. A pleasantly flavoured dish is made of mashed taro,[60] covered
with cocoa-nut scrapings; and in such mixed dishes the kanary-nut
(“ka-i”) often occurs.

    [60] The taro and other vegetables are often pounded in a mortar
    made from the hollowed trunk of a small tree and pointed at its
    lower end so that it can be implanted in the ground.

Although the native of Bougainville Straits to a great extent subsists
on the produce of his plantations, there are a great number of edible
wild fruits and vegetables which he also employs as food, and which in
times of scarcity would supply him with ample sustenance. I have already
referred to the kanary-nut, the fruit of the _Canarium_, as forming a
staple article in his diet. The nuts of the “saori” (_Terminalia
catappa_) have a small edible kernel which has an almond-like flavour
and is much appreciated by the natives. It is the “country almond” of
India and, as Mr. Horne tells us, it is extensively eaten in Fiji where
the tree is known as the Fijian almond tree.[61] In Tanna in the New
Hebrides, as we learn from Mr. Forster, it is also eaten.[62] The fruit
of the common littoral tree _Ochrosia parviflora_ (“pokosola”) contains
an edible flat kernel. The three common littoral species of _Pandanus_
also furnish sustenance in times of dearth; the seeds of the drupes of
the “sararang” and the “pota” contain small edible kernels, and the
pulpy base of the “darashi” is also eaten. The pulpy kernels of the
fruit of _Nipa fruticans_ are occasionally eaten as in the Malay
Archipelago; but the natives of Bougainville Straits do not seem to be
acquainted with the alcoholic liquor which this palm yields to the
inhabitants of the Philippines. The fruit of the “aligesi”
(_Aleurites ?_), a stout climber common in the woods of Treasury, has a
pleasantly flavoured kernel like that of the kanary-nut; and on one
occasion my party and I lunched on these kernels; the outer pulp of the
fruit has a dry scented but by no means unpleasant flavour. The kernels
of the fruit of a stout tree that grows on the verge of the
mangrove-swamps in Fauro Island, and which is probably _Sapium indicum_,
are said to be edible by the natives; my natives and I partook of them
on one occasion when one man became very sick for some time, and I
afterwards found that it was an euphorbiaceous tree, a circumstance
which explained his illness; I should therefore doubt the edibility of
these nuts. This tree is known by the same native name (“aligesi”) as
the preceding, which apparently belongs to the same order. The white
kernels of the “kunuka,” a species of _Gnetum_, are cooked and eaten by
the inhabitants of Fauro; this tree grows to a height of sixty feet and
has a cylindrical prominently ringed trunk.

    [61] “A Year in Fiji.” London, 1881: (p. 88).

    [62] “Observations made during a Voyage round the World.” London,
    1778.

The growing tops of several species of palms are much appreciated by the
natives of Bougainville Straits; and on several occasions I have largely
made my lunch off them. They are usually eaten uncooked. The top of the
common _Caryota_ palm (“eala”) is often preferred. Mr. Marsden[63] and
Mr. Crawfurd[64] inform us that in the Malay Archipelago the growing top
of the same or of an allied species of _Caryota_ (_C. urens_) is a
favourite article of food. It is there known as the true “mountain
cabbage,” and Mr. Marsden tells us that in Sumatra it is preferred to
the cocoa-nut. Amongst other palms which in Bougainville Straits supply
in their growing tops the so-called cabbage are the “momo,” a species of
_Areca_, the “sensisi,” a species of _Cyrtostachys_, and the “kisu.”

    [63] “History of Sumatra.” London, 1811: p. 89.

    [64] “History of the Indian Archipelago.” Edinburgh, 1820: vol. i.,
    p. 447.

I have already referred to the fact that the small taro grows wild in
the ravines and on the banks of the streams in this region. A very
savoury vegetable soup is made from the leaves and unopened spathe of a
small arum that grows wild on the banks of the streams in Fauro Island.
It is a species of _Schizmatoglottis_ and is known to the natives as the
“kuraka.” I should here allude to a wild yam which I found during one of
my excursions in this island. The mountain-plantain, which grows on the
sides of the valleys, and in moist, sheltered situations as high as a
thousand feet above the sea, furnishes in its small seeded fruits, when
cooked, an occasional substitute for those of the cultivated plantain;
it grows to a height of 35 feet, and on account of its striking
appearance it often forms a conspicuous feature in the vegetation at the
heads of the valleys. It is known as the “kallula.”

Amongst the wild fruits which are eaten by the natives in this part of
the group, are those of two trees named the “natu” and the “finoa.” As
my specimens were insufficient for the determination at Kew of the
characters of these trees, I may add that the “natu” grows to a height
of a hundred feet, its fruit being of the size of a small melon and
having a pleasant flavour. The “finoa” grows to a height of fifty feet;
it is occasionally found in the plantations.

The natives of the Shortland Islands informed me that the neighbouring
people of Rubiana were accustomed to eat the fruits of the common
littoral tree _Morinda citrifolia_ (“urati”), but that they did not
themselves eat it. The shoots of a tree named “poporoko,” which belongs
probably to the _Olacineæ_, are eaten by the inhabitants of Fauro, who
also consider as edible the tiara-like cones (?) of the _Gnetum Gnemon_
(“meriwa”).

The fronds of ferns are in some species edible; amongst them, I may
particularly refer to the “quaheli” (unfortunately not identified),
which is eaten by the natives of Treasury Island. Fungi, which are
generally known in this part of the group as “magu,” are often cooked
and eaten; but through inadvertence I am now unable to refer
particularly to the edible species. A delicacy with the natives of
Treasury is an alga, a species of _Caulerpa_, which grows in the
sheltered waters just below the low-tide level at the western end of the
harbour. They eat it with keen relish, when freshly picked from the
rocks, holding it over the mouth and munching at it just as if it were a
bunch of grapes, which it somewhat resembles in appearance. There is
another non-edible species of _Caulerpa_ which grows in the broken water
on the weather or outer side of the reef-flats.[65]

    [65] I am indebted to Mr. Moore of Sydney, for the identification of
    the genus.

_Tacca pinnatifida_ (“mamago”), commonly known as the South Sea or
Tahiti Arrowroot, is often seen on the coral islets in Bougainville
Straits. The natives, though acquainted with the nutritious qualities of
the plant, make little if any use of it. Mr. Horne,[66] writing of it in
Fiji, says that the arrowroot obtained from the roots of this and
another species of _Tacca_ (_T. sativa_) is even more nutritive than the
ordinary arrowroot which is obtained from a very different plant
(_Maranta arundinacea_). This leads me to remark on the singular fact
that the inhabitants of one Pacific group are often unacquainted with,
or make but little use of, sources of vegetable food which in other
groups afford a staple diet. Whilst the Fijians and the Society
Islanders make use of the arrowroot obtained from _Tacca pinnatifida_,
the inhabitants of the Radack Archipelago, as Chamisso informs us,[67]
seldom use it, although the plant is very frequent on the islands; and I
have already remarked that the natives of Bougainville Straits make
little if any use of the same plant. The Fijians were unacquainted with
the nutritious qualities of their sago palm (_Sagus vitiensis_) until
Mr. Pritchard and Dr. Seemann extracted the sago.[68] On the other hand
we have seen that the natives of Bougainville Straits largely consume
the sago of their palm which belongs to another species of _Sagus_
growing not in the swamps as in Fiji, but in more elevated and drier
situations. In the instance of _Cycas circinalis_, one of the common
littoral trees in the Pacific, we find considerable variation in the
knowledge possessed by the inhabitants of different regions of its value
as a source of food. Its growing top produces a cabbage which, as we
learn from Mr. Marsden, is much esteemed by the people of Sumatra.[69]
Its fruits, when their noxious qualities have been removed by maceration
or by cooking, are largely consumed in seasons of scarcity by the
inhabitants of the Moluccas, New Ireland,[70] south-east part of New
Guinea, and North Queensland.[71] Its central pith yields an inferior
kind of sago to the inhabitants of some of the islands of the Eastern
Archipelago; and a gummy exudation resembling tragacanth, which is
yielded by this tree, has probably a medicinal value. The natives of
Bougainville Straits are not acquainted with the sago-producing
character of this tree nor with the fact that its fruits are edible;
they, however, prepare an application for the ulcers from which they
often suffer by macerating the fruits in question. Mr. Horne observes
that the Fijians do not make use of the _Cycas circinalis_ as a
sago-yielding plant:[72] we learn, however, from Dr. Seemann, that its
sago is reserved for the use of the chiefs.[73]. . . . . I may here
refer to the fact that the Treasury Islanders, although acquainted with
the common _Caryota_ palm (“eala”) as yielding a kind of sago, do not
often avail themselves of it.

    [66] “A Year in Fiji,” p. 104.

    [67] “A Voyage of Discovery into the South Sea,” by Otto von
    Kotzebue: London, 1821: vol. III., pp. 150, 154.

    [68] “A Mission to Viti,” by Dr. Berthold Seemann; p. 291.

    [69] “History of Sumatra,” p. 89.

    [70] Labillardière’s “Voyage in search of La Pérouse:” London, 1800:
    vol. I., p. 254.

    [71] “Work and Adventure in New Guinea,” by Messrs. Chalmers and
    Gill; p. 310.

    [72] Horne’s “Fiji,” p. 104.

    [73] Seemann’s “Viti,” p. 289.

Fish,[74] opossums (_Cuscus_), and pigs supply the natives of
Bougainville Straits with the more nitrogenous elements of food. But as
with vegetable so with animal food, the term “kai-kai”[75] is a very
comprehensive one with the Solomon Islander. Shellfish furnish
occasional sustenance. Amongst them I may mention _Tridacna gigas_, and
species of _Hippopus_, _Cardium_, _Turbo_, and of many other marine
genera. The _Cyrenæ_, that lie sunk in the black mud of the mangrove
swamps, are much esteemed: and those natives who have their homes in
these gloomy and unwholesome regions employ as food _Pyrazus palustris_
which thrives in little clusters on the mud, and in the puddles around
the mangrove roots. The Unios and the freshwater Nerites are also eaten.
The flesh of the large monitor-lizard, _Varanus indicus_, is much
prized. The crocodile is not rejected; and, as the following anecdote
will show, the past misdeeds of all its tribe are heaped upon it, whilst
the victors at the same time satisfy their sense of hunger, and glut
their feelings of revenge. . . . . The freshwater lake of Wailava in
Santa Anna is frequented by crocodiles which occasionally attack natives
fishing on the banks. At the end of 1882, one of these animals was shot
by Mr. Charles Sproul, an American resident. The news of its death
caused great rejoicing amongst the people of the village; and Mr.
Sproul, who was looked upon as a great hero, received presents of yams
as an acknowledgment of his prowess. After he had skinned it, he gave
the carcase to the village, and a feast was held. One old man, who had
been nearly carried off by a crocodile at the lake a few years before
and had had his leg broken, was positive that this was the identical
animal, and he was so delighted at its death, that, as Mr. Sproul told
me, there was nothing he would not have done for him. The old man
claimed as his share the portion of the head attached to the carcase,
and bones and all were eaten with that additional relish which the
sensation of feasting on his enemy would naturally produce.

    [74] I came upon some bushmen from the interior of Bougainville,
    who, although they were staying some time at a village on the coast
    of Fauro, would not eat fish; and I learned from the Fauro natives
    that the Bougainville bushmen abstained from fish, even when they
    were able to get it.

    [75] “Kai-kai” is a term for “food”: but, like “tambu,” it has been
    introduced by traders.

The Solomon Islanders are very fond of fatty food. They have been
observed to drink the liquid fat of pigs with the same gusto with which
a white man would quaff an iced drink on a hot day. They much appreciate
the fat in the abdomen of the Cocoa-nut Crab (_Birgus latro_); and,
without much regard for the feelings of the crab, they may throw it
alive on the hot cinders of a fire in order to cook its fat.

A depraved taste for decaying flesh would appear not to be peculiar to
the upper classes of civilized nations. Mr. Stephens of Ugi tells me
that he has known natives of Ontong-Java, which lies off the Solomon
Group, to allow the carcase of a pig to remain buried in the ground
until it was rotten, when they dug up their treasure and enjoyed their
feast under cover of the night as though conscious of the depravity of
the act. It was the strong odour which penetrated his dwelling that
attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens to their proceedings.

The methods of cooking animal food may be here referred to. In the
eastern islands of the group, it may be boiled in a wooden bowl by means
of hot-stones as described on page 86. In Bougainville Straits, when a
fishing-party returns towards nightfall with their capture of fish, they
erect on posts a large framework or grating of sticks, which is raised
about three feet from the ground. On this the fish is placed, a large
fire is kindled beneath, and, by a combined process of scorching and
smoking, the fish is cooked. As the portion of the grating on which the
fish lies is usually almost burned away, the framework is made some ten
feet in length by five feet in breadth, and the next fish to be cooked
is placed on a fresh part of it. On a framework of this size a
considerable number of fish may be thus cooked. Fish such as eels are
cut up into pieces, and each piece after being compactly wrapped around
with leaves is kept on the wood-fire for about half an hour. When an
opossum is to be cooked, it is first placed for a short time on the fire
in order to singe the hair off. It is then cut open, and the viscera are
removed: of these, the intestines are subsequently cleaned and eaten.
The body is then placed, without any further process, on top of the
fire; and there it remains until, after being well scorched as well as
roasted, it is considered to be cooked: when thus prepared, the flesh
is juicy and tender, but has a strong flavour. Pigs are first quartered,
and then placed on a pile of logs built up in layers to a height of
about three feet, over which three poles are placed like a tripod about
six feet in height, in order to draw the fire up. When thus roasted, the
flesh of the wild pig is very good eating, and may be thought by some
white men to be superior in flavour to the flesh of our farm-bred pigs.

There are usually two meals in the day (viz., at its commencement and at
its close) in the case of those who are working in the cultivated
patches; whilst those who remain in the village may indulge in a mid-day
repast. Often during my excursions I have been glad to take advantage of
the simple hospitality of the natives; and I have found a light meal of
boiled bananas or of partly cooked sago, when taken in the middle of the
day, a convenient, though not a palatable, form of nourishment for a
hard day’s work in these islands.

I was once present at a feast in the village of Sapuna in Santa Anna.
Each man’s contribution was added to the general store. Heaped up in
large black wooden bowls, such as are in common use in St. Christoval
and the adjacent islands, the materials for the feast were first placed
in front of the tambu-house, and then carried to the house of the chief,
where they were distributed. For several days before, the women had been
engaged in bringing in the yams and other vegetables from the “patches”
in the interior of the island, whilst their indolent spouses had been
lounging about with empty pipes in the village. The feast was held at
night, and was accompanied by much shouting. The natives gave vent to
the exuberance of their spirits, and mingled the most demoniacal yells
with their peals of laughter. The feast may be fitly described as a
“gorge.” When it was concluded at an early morning hour, silence came
over the village, and everyone retired to their homes, where they
remained in a torpid condition during the rest of the day; and, in fact,
for some days afterwards the men were incapacitated for active labour.

I should have previously referred to a kind of wild honey (“manofi”),
the work of a bee about the size of the ordinary housefly, which is much
esteemed by the natives of Bougainville Straits. It is more fluid than
our own honey, and has a scented flavour. It is drunk off like water by
these natives. The honeycomb is merely a collection of bags of brown wax
of the size of a walnut and aggregated together in an irregular mass,
which is often found in a hollow in the lower part of the trunk of a
tree. The inhabitants of this region have apparently no acquaintance
with the uses of wax, and thus differ from the Andaman Islanders, who
employ it for caulking the leaks in their canoes and for waxing their
bowstrings.[76]

    [76] Journ. Anthrop. Inst., vol. VII., p. 463.

The Solomon Islanders are inordinarily fond of tobacco-smoking, a habit
which prevails with both sexes and almost at all ages. Tobacco has in
fact established itself as the principal currency between the trader and
the native; and without it a white man would be as destitute in these
islands as the beggar is in more civilized lands. In a village the
visitor will sometimes be followed by a knot of little urchins five or
six years of age who have slipped down from their mothers’ backs to
pester him for tobacco; and I have seen a child in its mother’s arms
allowed to take the pipe from its parent’s lips and puff away with
apparent enjoyment. Should there be a scarcity of tobacco in a village
when a ship arrives, the trader may drive a cheap bargain, and the
curiosity-seeker may readily purchase anything he desires. We were able
on such occasions to obtain, for a piece of tobacco of the size of the
thumb-nail, articles, such as fish-hooks, which required for their
manufacture days of tedious labour. In the waste-ground of villages a
few tobacco plants are often grown. This is very frequently the case in
the villages of the islands of Bougainville Straits, where native-grown
tobacco is often preferred to the trade-tobacco. This home-grown tobacco
is there known as “brubush.” The leaves are never cut up for smoking,
but are usually rolled roughly into twists; and when the native is going
to smoke, he stuffs two or three large pieces into his pipe. Claypipes
obtained from the traders are always used. These islanders very rarely
make wood pipes for themselves, although they must often see them in the
mouths of white men. I never met with a native who, having broken or
lost his clay pipe, had the energy to manufacture a pipe of wood. There
is, however, such a specimen of native work in the British Museum
collection. I could not ascertain any information relative to the
introduction of tobacco-smoking. It was, however, probably introduced
from the West independently of the influence of the trader. The natives
of the Maclay Coast and of the South Coast of New Guinea allege that the
habit was unknown two generations ago, and that the seeds of the plant,
with the knowledge of tobacco-smoking, have been introduced from the
West. In the Louisiade Archipelago and in South-East New Guinea, tobacco
was unknown until the last few years.[77]

    [77] Miklouho-Maclay in Proc. Lin. Soc., N. S. W., vol. X., p. 352.

Crawfurd makes some interesting remarks on the introduction of tobacco
into the Malay Archipelago, whence, as I have shown above, the plant has
been evidently introduced into the Western Pacific. The Java annals
affirm that tobacco was introduced in 1601; and, as supporting this
statement, Crawfurd observes that the plant is not mentioned by European
travellers in this region before the beginning of the 17th century.
(Malay Grammar and Dictionary, vol. I., p. 191.)

The practice of chewing the betel-nut is prevalent through the group,
and is accompanied by the usual accessories, the lime and the
betel-pepper (_Piper Betel_). In St. Christoval and the neighbouring
small islands, the lime is carried in bamboo boxes, which are decorated
with patterns scratched on their surface. In the islands of Bougainville
Straits, gourds are employed for this purpose, the stoppers of which are
ingeniously made of narrow bands of the leaf of the sago palm wound
round and round in the form of a disc and bound together at the margin
by fine strips of the vascular tissue of the “sinimi” fern (_Gleichenia_
sp.). Plain wooden sticks, like a Chinese chop-stick, are used for
conveying the lime to the mouth; but frequently the stick is dispensed
with, when the fingers are used or the betel-nut is dipped into the
lime.

The Piper Betel, which is known in Bougainville Straits as the “kolu,”
is grown in the plantations, where it is trailed around the stems of
bananas and the trunks of trees. In these straits, as on the Maclay
Coast of New Guinea,[78] the female spike, or so-called fruit, is more
usually chewed with the betel-nut. Around St. Christoval the leaves are
generally preferred.

    [78] Miklouho-Maclay: Proc. Lin. Soc., N. S. W., vol. X., p. 350.

The betel palm, the “olega” of the natives, which is apparently
identical with, or closely allied to, _Areca catechu_, the common
betel-nut tree, is grown in clumps and groves in the vicinity of
villages. The fruits of other species of _Areca_, which grow wild, are
occasionally used as substitutes for the ordinary betel-nut; in
Bougainville Straits the fruits of the “niga-solu,” “niga-torulo,” and
“poamau” are thus employed, those of the “poamau” being appropriated by
the women.

Betel-chewing is practised by both sexes. It has a marked stimulant
effect; but the natives allege that no harm results from its constant
use. The betel-pepper gives the betel-juice the “bite” of a glass of
grog; by the natives it is considered to remove the taint of the
breath. The betel-juice is the active agent in the production of the red
colour which stains the saliva and the mouth of the betel-chewer. I
satisfied myself that the saliva was not necessary for producing this
colour, which may be readily obtained by mixing the betel-nut and lime
in rain water.

When away on an occasion with a party of natives, I once was tempted by
curiosity to chew a betel-nut which I afterwards swallowed in order to
experience its full effect. Very shortly afterwards my head began to
feel heavy, and I had an inclination to lie down, whilst my sight was
sensibly dimmed. These effects passed away in about twenty minutes. In
my cabin I tried the effect on my circulation of merely chewing a single
nut. Five minutes afterwards I found my pulse had increased in force and
in frequency from 62 to 92 beats per minute. There was a sensation of
fulness in the head and temples, but no perceptible effect on the
vision. The pulse retained this frequency for another five minutes; but
it did not resume its previous rate until more than half-an-hour had
elapsed since the beginning of the experiment. Subsequently I tried the
effect of chewing two betel-nuts. The first increased the pulse by
twenty beats per minute, and gave rise to restlessness and a feeling of
fulness in the head. The second sustained, but did not increase the
frequency of the pulse. On account of nausea I chewed the second nut
with difficulty. No effect was produced on locomotion by these two nuts;
but my sight was sensibly dimmed. On turning-in for the night soon
afterwards, I experienced during the first hour rather vivid dreams
characterised by rapid shifting of the scene and change in the “dramatis
personæ.” Some of the crew who, at my desire, tried the effect of
chewing a single nut, informed me that it affected them much the same as
a glass of spirit would. The natives themselves are usually content with
chewing one nut at a time, two nuts, as they told me, produced
unpleasant symptoms, and a bad head.

The betel-nut, in truth, possesses far greater stimulating properties
than I had previously suspected. A single nut had much the same effect
on me as a glass of sherry would have had. I believe that the extent of
its intoxicating qualities is not generally known.

I may here remark that I did not come upon the custom of kava-drinking
in these islands. According to the Rev. Mr. Lawes, the kava plant
(_Piper methysticum_) grows wild in the forests of the South-Coast of
New Guinea, but its use is unknown. It may similarly be found in the
Solomon Islands. On the Maclay Coast, as we are informed by
Miklouho-Maclay, the custom of kava-drinking has been introduced not
very long ago.[79]

    [79] Proc. Lin. Soc., N.S.W., vol. X., pp. 350, 351.




CHAPTER VI.

THE PHYSICAL CHARACTERS AND RACE-AFFINITIES OF THESE ISLANDERS.[80]

    [80] My observations on the physical characters of these islanders
    were embodied in a paper read before the Anthropological Institute
    in July, 1885. They were to be published in the Journal of that
    society.


I WILL in the first place briefly refer to the position assigned to
these islanders in the classification of the different races of man.
Professor Flower, in a recent address,[81] divided the different
varieties of the human species into three principal divisions, the
Ethiopian, the Mongolian, and the Caucasian, a system of classification
which, although often advanced and as often disputed, has now been
preferred to other more complicated methods of classifying the different
varieties of man. Around or between these three types all existing
varieties can be ranged.

    [81] The President’s Anniversary Address to the Anthropological
    Institute, Jan. 27th, 1885.

The Solomon Island natives are usually referred to the Melanesian group
of the Ethiopian division, a group which includes the Papuans of New
Guinea and the majority of the inhabitants of the islands of the Western
Pacific; but my observations on the physical characters of these natives
have shown that the type of a Solomon Island native varies considerably
in different parts of the group, in some islands approaching the pure
Papuan, in others possessing Polynesian affinities, and in others
showing traces of the Malay. The _prevailing characters_, however, are
distinctly Melanesian or Papuan. The Melanesians, who, according to
Professor Flower, are chiefly distinguished from the African negroes by
the well developed _glabella_ and supra-orbital ridges in the male,
greatly excel the true African negroes, the Hottentots and Bushmen, and
the Negritos of the Andaman and Philippine Islands, who are included in
the Ethiopian division, in all that affects their social condition. In
their usuages, their rites, their dwellings, their agriculture, their
canoes, and in many other respects, the Melanesian or Papuan peoples
display a far greater intellectual capacity than we find exhibited by
the other members of the Ethiopian division.

I cannot here enter at length into the question of the peopling of the
various groups of islands in the Pacific. It is a question on which
conclusions drawn from the linguistic and physical characters of the
inhabitants of these islands do not always agree. Professor Keane[82]
holds that the three principal divisions of the varieties of man are
represented in this region; the _Caucasian_ in the Polynesians
inhabiting the islands of the south-central Pacific (Marquesas, Samoa,
Tonga, &c.); the _Mongolian_ in the Micronesians of the islands of the
north-central Pacific (Gilbert, Marshall, Caroline, Ladrone Islands);
and the _Ethiopian_, or as he terms it the Dark Type, in the Papuans of
the Western Pacific (to whom he restricts the name Melanesian), New
Guinea, and the adjacent islands of the Indian Archipelago. It is to the
different mingling of these three principal types, that the widely
varying characters of the peoples dwelling in the several regions of the
Pacific are attributed. According to Professor Keane, the Polynesians of
the south-central Pacific are almost purely Caucasian, without a trace
of Mongolian blood. This view, however, is not supported by Professor
Flower who contends that the combination of the Mongolo-Malayan and
Melanesian characters, in varying proportions and under varying
conditions, would probably account for all the modifications observed
among the inhabitants of the Pacific Islands.

    [82] _Vide_ a series of three papers in vol. XXIII. of “Nature” on
    the Indo-Chinese and Oceanic Races.

The theory advanced by Professor Keane with reference to the peopling of
the Pacific Islands, is one on which some of my observations in the
Solomon Islands, although not directly connected with the subject, have
some bearing. The primitive Negrito race, as now exhibited in the
Andaman Islander, according to this view is the original stock of all
the dark races. From its home in the Indian Archipelago, it extended
westwards to Africa across the now lost continent of Lemuria, and
eastwards “across a continent of which the South Sea Islands are a
remnant--to become slowly differentiated into the present Papuan or
Melanesian peoples of those islands.” Subsequently, the Caucasians of
southern Asia, impelled before the southerly migration of the Mongols
from higher Asia, occupied the islands of the Indian Archipelago and
extended eastwards to their present homes in the south-central Pacific
(Samoa, Tonga, the Marquesas, Society Islands, &c.). The Mongols
following close upon them, finally reached the groups of islands
together known as Micronesia in the north-central Pacific (Ladrone,
Caroline, Marshall, Gilbert Islands, &c.).

The reference to the supposed sunken continents in the Indian and
Pacific Oceans, which served as stepping-stones in these migrations,
merits my attention. From our most recent knowledge of the geological
structure of tropical islands, to which my observations in the Solomon
Islands have in some measure contributed, it may be inferred that there
is but little geological evidence to support the view of the existence
of these submerged continents. The theory of subsidence, on which Mr.
Darwin’s explanations of atolls was based, cannot now be urged in
support of prolonged periods of subsidence in the tropical regions of
the Indian and Pacific Oceans. The groups of atolls, which there occur,
were formed, as shown by recent investigations, around and over oceanic
peaks of volcanic formation, and independently of any movement of
subsidence.[83]

    [83] _Vide_ the writings of Murray, Agassiz, Geikie, and others. In
    my volume of geological observations, to be shortly published, I
    have referred at length to this subject.

With reference to the migration eastwards of the Eastern Polynesians, I
would allude to a piece of evidence which was advanced by Mr. Hale in
support of the view that the island of Bouro in the Malay Archipelago
was the starting-point of the migration. Quiros, the Spanish navigator,
was informed in 1606 by a native captured at Taumaco, near the Santa
Cruz Group, that there was a large country named Pouro in the vicinity
of that region. This _Pouro_, however, was without doubt the
neighbouring island of St. Christoval (one of the Solomon Group) which
retains the native name of _Bauro_ at the present day, and as we learn
from Gallego’s journal,[84] was called by the natives _Paubro_ rather
over three centuries ago. Mr. Hale, however, who of course was not
acquainted with the native name of St. Christoval, endeavours to
identity this Pouro, of which Quiros was informed, with the distant
Bouro of the Indian Archipelago. (_Vide_ note xv. of the Geographical
Appendix). . . . The foregoing remarks have not been offered with any
object of criticising a view on which I am not competent to speak. The
misconception having come under my notice, I considered it my duty to
refer to it.

    [84] _Vide_ page 229 of this work.

In the course of my researches I came upon a circumstance which appears
to point in an unmistakeable manner to the Indian Archipelago as being
the highway by which the Eastern Polynesians have reached the Pacific.
The circumstance, to which I refer, is that it is possible to trace the
native names of some of the common littoral trees, such as the
_Pandanus_, _Barringtonia speciosa_, &c., from the Indian Archipelago
across the central Pacific to the Austral and Society Islands. In
illustration, I will take _Barringtonia speciosa_, referring the reader,
however, for the other trees to page 186 of this work. In the Indian
Archipelago, I find the native names of this tree to be _Boewa boeton_
and _Poetoen_.[85] In the islands of Bougainville Straits in the Solomon
Group, it is known as _Puputu_. In Fiji, it is known as _Vutu_;[86] in
the Tongan Group, as _Futu_;[87] and in the Hervey and Society Islands
as _E-Hoodu_[88] or _Utu_.[89] It is interesting to notice the
modifications which the name of this tree undergoes, as one follows it
eastward from the Indian Archipelago to the centre of the Pacific Ocean,
a distance of between 4,000 and 5,000 miles; and it is equally
instructive to reflect that without the intermediate changes,
intermediate it should be added in a geographical as well as in an
etymological sense, the names at the end of the series would scarcely
seem to be related. The Indian Archipelago would appear to be the home
of this littoral tree, which on account of the buoyancy of its fruits
has not only been spread over Polynesia, but has reached Ceylon and
Madagascar.[90] From its home in the Indian Archipelago, it has
therefore extended to the eastward as far as the central Pacific, and to
the westward nearly across the Indian Ocean. . . . It is obvious that
much information of this kind might be collected which would be of
considerable value to philologists; and even in the case of this single
tree I have only, so to speak, broken the ground. The tedious character
of the research necessary to collect the scanty information I have
obtained on this subject, will be amply compensated for, if my remarks
should prove suggestive to residents in the different islands of the
Indian and Pacific Oceans.

    [85] “De Inlandsche Plantennamen,” by G. J. Filet (_vide_ reference
    on page 186).

    [86] “Year in Fiji,” by J. Horne: p. 70. (1881.)

    [87] “Ten years in South-Central Polynesia,” by the Rev. T. West: p.
    146. (1865.)

    [88] “Observations made during a Voyage round the World,” by J. R.
    Forster. (1778.)

    [89] “Jottings from the Pacific,” by Wyatt Gill: p. 198. (1885.)

    [90] “Report on the Botany of the Challenger,” by W. Botting
    Hemsley: vol. I., part iii., p. 152.

_The physical characters of a typical Solomon
Islander._--Notwithstanding the variety in some of the characters of
these natives, it is not a difficult matter to describe a typical
individual who combines their most prominent and most prevalent
characteristics. Such a man would have a well-proportioned physique, a
good carriage, and well-rounded limbs. His height would be about 5 feet
4 inches; his chest-girth between 34 and 35 inches; and his weight
between 125 and 130 pounds. The colour of his skin would be a deep
brown, corresponding with number 35 of the colour-types of M. Broca;[91]
and he would wear his hair in the style of a bushy periwig in which all
the hairs are entangled independently into a loose frizzled mass. His
face would have a moderate degree of subnasal prognathism, with
projecting brows, deeply sunk orbits, short, straight nose, much
depressed at the root but sometimes arched, lips of moderate thickness
and rather prominent, chin somewhat receding. His hairless face would
have an expression of good humour, which is in accord with the cheerful
temperament of these islanders. The form of his skull would be probably
mesocephalic. The proportion of the length of the span of the extended
arms to the height of the body, taking the latter as 100, would be
represented by the index 106·7. The length of the upper limb would be
exactly one-third the height of the body; and the tip of his middle
finger would reach down to a point about 3⅓ inches above the patella.
The length of the lower limb would be slightly under one-half (49/100)
of the height of the body; and the relations of the lengths of the upper
and lower limbs to each other would be represented by the intermembral
index 68. I was only able to obtain the measurement of six women who
belonged to the small islands of Ugi and Santa Anna, off the St.
Christoval coast. Their average height was 4 feet 10½ inches, which
corresponds with the rule given by Topinard in his “Anthropology,” that
for a race of this stature 7 per cent of the height of the man (5 feet
3½ inches, in this part of the group) must be subtracted to obtain the
true proportional height of the woman. The hair of the women has the
same characters as that of the men. Their figures have not usually that
breadth of hip which the European model would possess. The general
appearance of the younger women is not unattractive, but they soon lose
their good looks after marriage. In Bougainville Straits, it was often
possible to notice amongst the wives of the chiefs two castes of
women of very different appearance, the one with elegant figure and
carriage, slim limbs and more delicately cut features, the other more
clumsily proportioned with stout ungainly limbs and a coarse type of
features.

    [91] The colour-types employed were those given in the
    “Anthropological Notes and Queries,” published by the British
    Association in 1874.

[Illustration: 1

3

2

4

1. WOMEN OF SANTA ANNA.

2. MEN OF UGI WEARING SUNSHADES.

3. MAN OF UGI.

4. MAN OF UGI.

(_To face page 102._)]

I found that two constant variations in the type of the Solomon Island
native are presented by the natives of the islands of Bougainville
Straits (including Choiseul Bay), and the natives of St. Christoval and
its adjoining islands at the opposite end of the group. In the former
region there exists a taller, darker, more robust, and more
brachycephalic race; whilst in the latter locality the average native is
shorter, less vigorous, of a lighter hue, and his skull has a more
dolichocephalic index. From 35 to 40 natives were examined in each
region, and some of the principal distinctions may be thus tabulated:

                     Average      Colour of Skin.      Cephalic Index
                     Height.                          of living subject.

  St. Christoval, 5 ft. 3½ in. Colour-types, 35 & 28         76
  Bougainville
  Straits,        5  „  4¼  „    „      „    35 & 42         80·7

In the districts of Urasi and the Uta Pass on the north coast of
Malaita,[92] there would appear to exist an almost brachycephalic race,
of a lighter hue than is possessed by the natives of Bougainville
Straits. Differences are in fact constant in their localities throughout
the group, the most marked that came under my observation being between
the natives of Bougainville Straits and those of St. Christoval at the
opposite end of the group, as already alluded to. D’Urville, the French
navigator, who visited this group in 1838, contrasts in a similar way
the natives of St. Christoval and Isabel with those of Bougainville. The
former appeared to him small and feeble in comparison with the more
vigorous, sturdier, and much blacker natives of the latter island. He
was particularly struck with the diminutive and wretched appearance of
the natives of Isabel around “Thousand-Ships Bay,” as compared with the
vigorous well-made natives of Bougainville.[93] . . . . . In some
islands of small size, we find the natives markedly different from those
around them. In the small island of Santa Catalina, off the eastern end
of St. Christoval, the natives are distinguished from all others in
this part of the group, by their finer physique, lighter colour, and
greater height. They do not appear to intermarry much with the
surrounding tribes; but they are, strange to relate, in friendly
communication with the natives of some district on the coast of Malaita,
with whom they probably intermarry. On the coasts of Guadalcanar there
would appear to be some of the finest types of the Solomon Islander.
Unfortunately, I had but little opportunity of observing them.

    [92] I was indebted to the Hon. Curzon-Howe, Government Agent of the
    labour schooner “Lavina,” for the opportunity of examining these
    Malaita natives.

    [93] “Voyage au Pole Sud et dans l’Océanie,” (Tome V., p. 105, hist.
    du voyage.)

       *       *       *       *       *

Having briefly referred to some of the general facts resulting from my
observations on the physical characters of these islanders, I now come
to refer to the observations themselves. They were confined for the most
part to the natives of the opposite extremities of the group--at the
eastern extremity to the natives of St. Christoval and of the adjoining
small islands of Ugi, Santa Anna, and Santa Catalina; and towards the
opposite extremity to the natives of the islands of Bougainville
Straits, which include Treasury Island, the Shortland Islands, Faro
Island, together with Choiseul Bay. Observations, although fewer in
number, were also made on the natives of the following intermediate
islands, viz., Malaita, the Florida Islands, and Simbo or Eddystone
Island.

All the measurements, unless otherwise stated, refer to male adults.


STATURE.

        Height in feet and inches.          Number of
                                          Measurements.

  4 feet 11½ inches to 5 feet 0  inches.       2
  5   „   0     „   -- 5   „  1     „          5
  5   „   1     „   -- 5   „  2     „          6
  5   „   2     „   -- 5   „  3     „         13
  5   „   3     „   -- 5   „  4     „         18
  5   „   4     „   -- 5   „  5     „          9
  5   „   5     „   -- 5   „  6     „         10
  5   „   6     „   -- 5   „  7     „          6
  5   „   7     „   -- 5   „  8     „          2
  5   „   8     „   -- 5   „  8½    „          1
                                              --
                                       Total, 72

The foregoing table includes all the measurements of height which I
obtained in the various parts of the group. The range of these 72
measurements is 4 feet 11½ inches to 5 feet 8½ inches. Fifty of these
are gathered together between 5 feet 2 inches and 5 feet 6 inches.
Arranging the whole series in order, I find that the value of the
central number (36th) is 5 feet 4 inches; of the quarter-points, the
value of the 18th is 5 feet 3 inches, and of the 54th, 5 feet 5½ inches;
and the values of the 9th and 63rd in the scale are 5 feet 1¼ inches,
and 5 feet 6 inches respectively. There is a disturbing element in this
series, which is probably the result of combining in the same series the
natives of the Bougainville Straits islands and those of St. Christoval,
the latter being rather shorter, as noticed below. We may, however, take
the value of the median as representing the average height of a native
of the Solomon Islands, viz., 5 feet 4 inches, or 1·625 mètres, which is
somewhat below the medium height of the human race, as stated by
Topinard at 1·65 mètres. It is, however, in a marked degree in excess of
the height which Mayer gives for the Papuans, viz., 1·536 mètres (_vide_
Topinard’s Anthropology).

Deviations of a constant character are found in different parts of the
group, and often in different districts of the same island. The natives
of the islands of Bougainville Straits, for instance, are noticeably
taller than those of St. Christoval at the opposite end of the group,
the averages of about thirty measurements in each region, differing by
from one half to three quarters of an inch. This difference of height in
these two localities is accompanied by other important changes in the
physical characters which will be subsequently referred to.

The range of my measurements may be contrasted with those obtained by
Miklouho-Maclay on the coast of New Guinea (_vide_ “Nature,” Dec. 7th,
1882).

  Papua-Koviay coast,     1·75 to 1·48 mètres.
  Maclay coast,           1·74 to 1·42    „
  Solomon Islands,        1·74 to 1·51    „


CHEST-GIRTH.

    The range of the eighteen measurements given in the subjoined table
    is 31½ to 37 inches: and since half of these are included between 34
    and 35 inches, we may consider these as the limits of the average
    chest-girth of the natives in the portions of the group in which the
    measurements were made, viz., the islands of Bougainville Straits
    and St. Christoval, with its adjoining islands.

   Girth in     Number of      Stature taken
   inches.    Measurements.       as 100.

                                    50...1
  31½ to 32        1             52-53...3
  32  to 33        3             53-54...7
  33  to 34        3             54-55...3
  34  to 35        9             55-56...2
  35  to 36        0             56-57...1
  36  to 37        2             57·2 ...1
                  --                    --
           Total, 18             Total, 18

    Taking the average height (5 feet 4 inches) as 100, the proportion,
    which a chest girth of 34½ inches would bear, would be 53·9. This
    very closely corresponds with the values of the median of the
    accompanying series, which itself agrees with the value of the
    average of the indices. This index of chest-girth may be compared
    with results given by Topinard:

  Englishmen,             54·0
  Negroes,                52·3
  New Zealanders,         51·4
  Solomon Islanders,      53·9


WEIGHT OF BODY.[94]

    [94] Mr. Evered, ships-steward assistant, obtained these weights for
    me.

    Twelve natives of the Shortland Islands were taken promiscuously and
    weighed, the following being the results, stated in pounds:--100,
    103, 116, 117, 120, 120, 123, 130, 148, 148, 150, 154. The mean of
    these numbers is 127; and the average weight would probably vary
    between 125 and 130 pounds, or between 57 and 59 kilogrammes. This
    probable average weight is quite in accordance with the size and
    build of a typical Solomon Island native; and agrees with the
    general rule that the weight in pounds ought to be about twice the
    height in inches; the average height being 64 inches, and the
    average weight 125 to 130 lbs.


LENGTH OF LIMBS.

    The points of measurement employed were:--

    (_a_) _For the upper extremity_: (1) a point half an inch outside,
    and on the level with the apex of the coracoid process of the
    scapula; (2) the centre of the hollow of the elbow on a line drawn
    from the interspace between the head of the radius and the external
    condyle of the humerus (indicated by a dimple when the fore-arm is
    extended) to immediately below the internal condyle; (3) the centre
    of a line joining the apices of the styloid processes of the radius
    and ulna on the front of the wrist.

    (_b_) _For the lower extremity_: (1) a point on the middle of the
    front of the thigh on a level with another point midway between the
    anterior superior spinous process of the ilium and the upper edge of
    the great trochanter; (2) a point on the “ligamentum patellæ” on a
    level with the upper edge of the external tuberosity of the tibia;
    (3) the centre of the front of the ankle on a level with the base of
    the internal malleolus.

    (1) _The intermembral index_, or the ratio between the length of the
    upper and lower limbs, taking the latter as 100. From the table
    subjoined, it will be seen that the range of 26 indices is 64 to
    73. Eleven of these lie between 67 and 68: and since the average of
    my numbers, which is 68, corresponds with the value of the median of
    the series, we will take this index of 68 as representing the
    average ratio of the lengths of the two limbs compared together.

  Intermembral    Number of
    index.      measurements.

      64             1
      65             2
      66             3
      67             6
      68             5
      69             3
      70             1
      71             3
      72             1
      73             1
                    --
             Total, 26

    (2) _The index of the fore-arm and arm_, or the ratio between the
    lengths of the fore-arm and arm, taking the latter as 100. The range
    of 27 indices is 79 to 100. Of these 16 are included between 87 and
    91; and the average of the numbers is 88.

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

     79              1
     80              1
     82              2
     83              2
     84              1
     86              1
     87              6
     88              2
     89              1
     91              7
     95              1
    100              2
                    --
             Total, 27

    (3) _The index of the leg and thigh_, or the ratio between the
    lengths of the leg and thigh, taking the latter as 100. The range of
    27 indices, as shown in the subjoined table, is 68 to 97. Of these,
    two-thirds are included between 74 and 83: and since the value of
    the median, which is 80, corresponds nearly with the average of the
    numbers, we may take it as representing the average proportion which
    the leg bears to the thigh amongst these natives.

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

     68              1
     69              1
     70              1
     72              1
     73              1
     74              2
     75              2
     78              1
     79              1
     80              3
     81              2
     82              2
     83              4
     88              3
     92              1
     97              1
                    --
             Total, 27

    (4) _The index of the arm and thigh_, or the ratio between the
    lengths of the arm and thigh, taking the latter as 100. The range of
    27 indices is 56 to 73. Of these, three-fourths are grouped between
    61 and 69. The average of the figures is 65, and the median of the
    series is 66.

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

     56              1
     57              1
     60              1
     61              2
     62              2
     63              3
     64              2
     65              1
     66              3
     67              4
     69              3
     70              1
     71              1
     73              2
                    --
             Total, 27

    (5) _The proportion of the length of the upper limb to the height of
    the body_, taking the latter as 100.

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

      32             1
   32-33            10
   33-34            10
   34-35             4
   35-36             2
                    --
             Total, 27

    These 27 indices range between 32 and 36: three-fourths of them are
    included between 32 and 34. Since the average of the numbers, which
    is 33·3, nearly corresponds with the value of the median, we may
    take it as representing the proportion which the length of the upper
    limb bears to the height of the body amongst these natives.

    (6) _The proportion of the length of the lower limb to the height of
    the body_, taking the latter as 100. The range of these 27 indices
    is 46·9 to 51·6. Two-thirds of the total number are included between
    48 and 50; and since the average of the numbers, which is 49·1,
    corresponds nearly with the value of the middle index of the series,
    we may take it as representing the proportion that the lower limb
    usually bears to the height of the body amongst these natives.

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

   46·9              1
   47-48             4
   48-49             8
   49-50            10
   50-51             3
   51·6              1
                    --
             Total, 27

    (7) _The span of the outstretched arms._--The following indices--69
    in all--show the ratio of the span of the arms to the height of the
    body, taking the latter as 100:--

  Indices.        Number of
                Measurements.

  100                1
  101-102            4
  102-103            2
  103-104            4
  104-105            5
  105-106            5
  106-107           18
  107-108           11
  108-109            6
  109-110            9
  110-111            3
  112·6              1
                    --
             Total, 69

    The range of these indices is 100 to 112·6; and the indices of
    greatest frequency are those included between 106 and 107. Placing
    all the indices in their order, I find that the value of the central
    of the series is 106·7, and of the quarter-points 105·2 and 108·6
    respectively. Taking 106·7 as representing the average proportion
    which the span of the arms bears to the stature amongst these
    natives, I may compare it with similar results given for other races
    in Topinard’s Anthropology:--

  American soldiers (10,876),      104·3
  Solomon Islanders (69),          106·7
  Negroes (2020),                  108·1

    (8) _Distance of the tip of the middle finger from the upper edge of
    the patella._

    Distance.            Number of
                       Measurements.

       2 inches.            2
  2 to 3   „                6
  3 to 4   „               11 (9 of these at 3½ inches).
  4 to 5   „                2
                           --
                    Total, 21

    From this table it will be seen that amongst 21 natives the tip of
    the finger never approached the patella nearer than two inches, and
    was never farther removed than five inches. The value of greatest
    frequency is 3½ inches, and it may be taken as approximating to the
    average distance. Comparing it with the average stature (64 inches)
    taken as 100, we obtain the index 5·46; but by comparing the
    distance of the middle finger above the patella with the stature as
    100 in each individual measurement, we obtain a more reliable
    average index somewhat smaller than the preceding.

   Indices.         Number.

  3·12-4·00            4
  4·00-5·00            5
  5·00-6·00            9
  6·00-7·00            1
  7·00-7·94            2
                      --
              Total,  21

    In this table the indices range between 3·12 and 7·94: nearly half
    are included between 5·00 and 6·00; the value of the median is 5·24,
    and the average of the numbers is 5·19. Accepting the value of the
    median as our average index for these natives, it may be compared
    with similar results for other races given in Topinard’s
    Anthropology:

  American soldiers (10,876),      7·49
  Negroes (2020),                  4·37
  Solomon Islanders (21),          5·24

       *       *       *       *       *

    I will conclude my remarks on the length of the limbs by giving from
    the preceding “data” the limb measurements of a Solomon Island
    native of average height:

                 Height of body,        64  in. }  Index of height, and
                                                }  length of upper limb,
               { Length of upper limb,  21⅓  „  }  33·3.
               {                                }
               { Length of arm,         11⅓  „   }
  Intermembral {                                 } Index of arm and
               { Length of fore-arm,    10   „   } fore-arm, 88.
  index, 68.   {                                 }
               { Length of lower limb   31⅓  „  }  Index of height, and
               {                                }  length of lower limb,
               {                                }  49.
                 Length of thigh        17⅓  „   } Index of thigh and
                                                 } leg, 80.
                 Length of leg          14   „   }

_The form of the skull as indicated by the relation to each other of
its length and breadth._--A hundred measurements, which I made of the
heads of natives in this group,[95] in order to obtain their
proportional breadth, taking the length as 100, gave indices varying
between 69·2 and 86·2. The whole series, however, displays a tendency to
grouping around different medians, and thus points to the important
inference that we cannot accept one type of the skull as a distinctive
character of the Solomon Islander. As shown in the subjoined table,
which gives the indices corrected to actual skull-measurements by
subtracting two units as proposed by M. Broca, there would appear to be
a marked preponderance of mesocephaly; but from my measurements being
limited both in number and locality, the safest conclusion to draw will
be the most general one, viz., that all types of skulls, brachycephalic,
mesocephalic, and dolichocephalic, are to be found prevailing amongst
the islands of the Solomon Group, the particular type being often
constant in the same locality.[96] If my measurements had been five
times as numerous, and had been spread equally over the group, I might
somewhat narrow my conclusions; and in truth brachycephaly might have
formed a more important factor in the series, if I had measured the
heads of the same number of natives from the north coast of Malaita
which I measured in the districts of St. Christoval and of Bougainville
Straits. In the subjoined table I have accepted all indices below 75 as
dolichocephalic, those between 75 and 80 as mesocephalic, and those
above 80 as brachycephalic.

    [95] The localities were--St. Christoval and the adjoining islands
    of Ugi and Santa Anna, Florida Islands, north coast of Malaita
    (Urasi and Uta Pass), Simbo or Eddystone Island, the islands of
    Bougainville Straits, including the west end of Choiseul.

    [96] This conclusion is in accordance with the extensive
    observations of Miklouho-Maclay in New Guinea and in the Melanesian
    Islands. He found brachycephaly common in the New Hebrides, indices
    of 81, and even of 85, not being rare. The indices of several
    hundred measurements of New Guinea natives varied between 62 and 86.
    This eminent traveller therefore arrived at the conclusion that no
    classification of these natives can rest on the form of the skull.
    (“Nature,” xxvii., pp. 137, 185. Proc. Lin. Soc, N.S.W., vol. VI.,
    p. 171.)

_Cephalic indices which have been reduced to actual skull-measurements
by the subtraction of two units._

  Dolichocephalic indices      29
  Mesocephalic                 52
  Brachycephalic               19
                               --
                              100

I now come to consider more in detail the series of measurements given
below. In this series, which ranges from 69·2 to 86·2, there is a want
of uniformity arising from the fact that the numbers tend to gather
together around three centres, one between the indices 75 and 76,
another between the indices 80 and 81, and the third between the indices
82 and 83. We have thus in this series of a hundred indices, obtained by
measurement of the head of the living subject, evidence of different
prevailing types of skull amongst the natives of the Solomon Group; and
it will be subsequently shown that each locality has usually one
prevailing type.

  Cephalic Indices         Number of
  (Living Subject.)      Measurements.

     69·2 to 70               2
     70   „  71               1
     72   „  73               3
     73   „  74               3
     74   „  75               6
     75   „  76               8
     76   „  77               6
     77   „  78               6
     78   „  79              11
     79   „  80              12
     80   „  81              16
     81   „  82               7
     82   „  83              10
     83   „  84               7
     85   „  86               1
     86   „  86·2             1
                            ---
                    Total,  100

    (1) _St. Christoval and the adjoining islands of Ugi, Santa Anna,
    and Santa Catalina._ As shown in the subjoined table, this series of
    35 indices has a wide range between 69·2 and 86·2. The value of the
    median index of the series is 75·9; and the average of the numbers
    is 76·6. Out of the 35 indices, 11 are included between 74 and 76.
    On the whole, however, I should take 76 as representing the average
    cephalic index in this part of the group, although even here, as
    shown in the series, there is some disturbing element.

  Cephalic Indices.        Number of
                         Measurements.

     69·2 to 70               2
     70   „  71               1
     72   „  73               2
     73   „  74               2
     74   „  75               6
     75   „  76               5
     76   „  77               3
     77   „  78               2
     78   „  79               4
     79   „  80               3
     80   „  81               1
     82   „  83               2
     83   „  84               1
     86   „  86·2             1
                             --
                      Total, 35

    (2.) _The Islands of Bougainville Straits_, which include Treasury
    Island, the Shortland Island, Faro Islands, and the western
    extremity of Choiseul.

    The range of the subjoined forty indices is 75·9 to 85·2. The
    contrast between this and the preceding St. Christoval series, as
    shown in the grouping in the indices, well illustrates the
    prevalence of distinct types in these two regions of the group. The
    indices of greatest frequency are included between 80 and 81: the
    average of the figures is 80·6, and the value of the median index is
    80·7, which may be accepted as the typical index.

  Cephalic Indices.        Number of
                         Measurements.

     75·9 to 76               2
     76   „  77               1
     77   „  78               2
     78   „  79               6
     79   „  80               3
     80   „  81               9
     81   „  82               5
     82   „  83               5
     83   „  84               6
     85   „  85·2             1
                             --
                      Total, 40

    (3.) _The North Coast of Malaita._--Through the kindness of the Hon.
    Curzon-Howe, government-agent of the labour schooner “Lavina,” I was
    enabled to measure ten natives who had been recruited from the
    districts of Urasi and the Uta Pass on the north coast of Malaita.

  Cephalic Indices.        Number of
                         Measurements.

     79·3 to 80               2
     80   „  81               4
     81   „  82               1
     82   „  83               3
                             --
                      Total, 10

    This series, though small, is compact, its range being 79·3 to 83.
    The average of the numbers is 81·2, which I will take as typical of
    these localities.

    (4.) _The Island of Simbo or Eddystone._--From the head-measurements
    of nine natives I obtained the following cephalic indices--72·9,
    73·8, 75·8, 76·6, 77·0, 78·0, 78·7, 79·3, 80·4--the average of which
    just falls short of 77, which however may be taken as an
    approximation of the prevailing index.

    (5.) _The Florida Islands._--Measurements of six natives of Mboli
    Harbour gave the following cephalic indices,. . . . 77·2, 79·3,
    79·3, 80·0, 80·7, 81·4,. . . . the average of the numbers being
    79·6.

I will now proceed to sum up briefly the results of the foregoing
hundred measurements of the head of the living subject. It will first be
necessary to reduce them to the form of measurements of the actual skull
by subtracting two units from the index, as proposed by M. Broca. The
effect of this correction is shown in the following table:

                                           Number of     Living
                                         Measurements.  Subject.  Skull.

  St. Christoval and adjoining islands,       35          76·0     74·0
  The islands of Bougainville Straits,        40          80·7     78·7
  The north coast of Malaita,                 10          81·2     79·2
  The island of Simbo or Eddystone,            9          77·0     75·0
  The Florida Islands,                         6          79·6     77·6

Accepting all indices below 75 as dolichocephalic, those between 75 and
80 as mesocephalic, and those above 80 as brachycephalic, we find
therefore that mesocephaly, as represented by an average index of 78·7,
prevails amongst the natives of the islands of Bougainville Straits;
whilst dolichocephaly, as represented by an average index of 74,
prevails amongst the natives of St. Christoval and its adjoining islands
at the opposite end of the group. On the north coast of Malaita exists a
type of native with an almost brachycephalic index. The foregoing
remarks refer only to the average in each locality. When we apply the
same correction to the table of the hundred measurements as given on
page 112, we find, as stated on a previous page, that 29 are
dolichocephalic, 52 are mesocephalic, and 19 brachycephalic. It would,
therefore, appear from these observations that, whilst brachycephaly is
not uncommon, dolichocephaly is more frequent, and mesocephaly prevails.
Although this result may give an indication of the truth, at present it
would be safer, for reasons given on page 111, to accept the general
conclusion that these three types of skulls prevail in the Solomon
Group.

As confirmatory of the foregoing corrected measurements of the head of
the living subject, I will add the indices of nine skulls procured
amongst the eastern islands of the group.[97]

    [97] I take this opportunity of expressing my indebtedness to my
    messmates Lieut. Leeper and Lieut. Heming, and to my friend Dr.
    Beaumont, staff-surgeon of H.M.S. “Diamond,” for the majority of the
    skulls in this small collection. The officers of the survey, whilst
    away in their boats, had more opportunities than I had of obtaining
    those specimens. As I was usually accompanied by natives, I was
    often unable to take advantage of occasions.

  74·1 } Rua Sura Islets, off north coast of Guadaleaner.
  74·1 }
  74·1   Ugi Island.
  74·5   Port Adam, Malaita.
  75·5 }
  75·9 } Ugi Island.
  80·0 }
  80·0 }
  84·9   Kwahkwahru, Malaita.

    _Measurements of Women._--I was only able to obtain measurements of
    six women, all of them from the small islands of Ugi and Santa Anna,
    off the St. Christoval coast.

                             Span of Arms.   Intermembral    Distance
              Height.       (Stature--100.)     Index.    between middle
                                                            finger and
                                                             patella.

           4 ft.  8  in.           100·8          65           3½ in.
           4  „   9   „            102·1          68           3½  „
           4  „   9¾  „            104·3          68           4   „
           4  „  10   „            104·7          71           --
           5  „   0   „            106·9          -- Average,  3⅔  „
           5  „   3   „            108·3 Average, 68
           ------------            -----
  Average, 4 ft. 10½ in.  Average, 104·5


      Arm and Height    Leg and Height      Cephalic
          Index.           Index.            Index.

           32·5             48·5              71
           33               48·5              75
           33               50                76·8
           33·5             51·5              76·8
           34·5             ----              79·6
           35·5    Average, 49·6              82·1
           ----
  Average, 33·7

Considering the paucity of the observations, the average indices of the
limb-measurements agree closely with those obtained for the men. The
average height of the women would appear from these few measurements to
be that which they ought to possess as compared with the height of the
men. This conclusion is based on the rule given by Topinard in his
“Anthropology” that for a race of this stature 7 per cent. of the man’s
height must be subtracted to obtain the proportional height of the
woman.


_The Features._

The facial angle taken was that between a line dropt from the forehead
to the alveolar border of the upper jaw, and another line drawn from the
external auditory meatus through the central axis of the orbit, the
angle being taken with a goniometer. Amongst eighty natives from
different parts of the group, the angle varied between 87° and 98°.
Seventy-five of the natives had facial angles between 90° and 95°; and
the average of the whole number of angles was 93°. On applying the
method for obtaining the facial angle of Cloquet to two large
photographs of the faces in profile of two typical natives, I find the
angles to be 63° and 67° respectively.

The common characters of the features may be thus described: face rather
angular, with often a beetle-browed aspect from the deeply sunk orbits
and projecting brows; forehead of moderate height and breadth, and
somewhat flattened; middle of face rather prominent on account of the
chin receding; moderate subnasal prognathism as indicated by Cloquet’s
facial angles of 63° and 67°; lips rather thick and often projecting;
nose usually coarse, short, straight, and much depressed at the root,
with broad nostrils and extended alæ; in about one man out of five the
nose is arched in a regular curve, giving a Jewish cast to the face.


_The Hair, Colour of Skin, Powers of Vision, &c._

Amongst the natives of the Solomon Group, there are four common styles
of wearing the hair, which I may term the woolly, the mop-like, the
partially bushy, and the completely bushy: these prevail with both
sexes, the fashion varying in different islands. From frequent
observations of the different modes of wearing the hair, I am of the
opinion that their variety is to be attributed more to individual
caprice than to any difference in the character of the hair. According
to his taste, a man may prefer to wear his hair close and uncombed, when
the short matted curls with small spiral give it a woolly
appearance,[98] somewhat resembling that of the hair of the African
negro. Should he allow his hair to grow, making but little use of his
comb, the hair will hang in narrow ringlets three to eight inches in
length, a mode which is more common amongst the natives of the eastern
islands of the group, and which is best described as the “mop-headed”
style. More often, from a moderate amount of combing, the locks are
loosely entangled, and the hair-mass assumes a somewhat bushy
appearance, the arrangement into locks being still discernible, and the
surface of the hair presenting a tufted aspect.[99] The majority of
natives, however, produce by constant combing a large bushy periwig in
which all the hairs are entangled independently into a loose frizzled
mass, the separate locks being no longer discernible. Of these four
styles of wearing the hair, I am inclined to view the “mop-headed” style
as the result of the natural mode of growth, it being the one which the
hair would assume if allowed to grow uncombed and uncut. The native of
these islands unfortunately makes such a constant use of his comb that
one rarely sees his hair as nature intended it to grow. When, however, a
man with bushy hair has been diving for some time, the hairs,
disentangling themselves to a great extent, gather together into long
narrow ringlets, nature’s “coiffure” of the Solomon Islander. I was
pleased to find that Mr. Earl[100] and Dr. Barnard Davis,[101] in
writing on the subject of the hair of the Papuans, also consider that
the hairs would naturally arrange themselves in long narrow ringlets if
left uncombed, and that the bushy frizzled periwig is produced by
teasing out the locks by means of the comb. This bushy frizzled mass of
hair is sometimes referred to, as if it were one of the natural
characters of the Papuans: but since it is also characteristic of other
dark races of Africa and South America, and may be produced in
Europeans, it has but little distinguishing value.[102] Mr. Prichard in
his “Physical History of Mankind” (vol. v. p. 215), expresses himself to
be in doubt whether the bushy frizzled hair affords any racial
distinction, but he seems to have lost the point of the remarks of Mr.
Earl (to whom he refers) concerning the natural mode of growth of the
hair in long narrow ringlets. The term “mop-headed” is often applied to
the Papuan with a bushy frizzled periwig: but since a mop is neither
bushy nor frizzly, the term is more appropriately employed as I have
used it, and as I see Dr. Barnard Davis uses it, in connection with that
style in which the hair hangs in long drawn-out ringlets. The tendency
of the hair to roll itself into a spiral of small diameter is attributed
to the thin flattened form of the hair in section. According to Dr.
Pruner-Bey, the hair in the Papuan is implanted perpendicularly and not
obliquely, as in the great majority of the races of man.[103]

    [98] With the bushmen of the interior, the hair appears to be
    permanently woolly (_vide_ p. 121).

    [99] My experience, however, goes to prove that of Miklouho-Maclay
    that the hair grows uniformly over the scalp and not in little tufts
    separated by bald patches as described by Topinard.

    [100] “The Papuans” by G. W. Earl (page 2). London, 1853.

    [101] _Vide_ a paper by Dr. J. Barnard Davis in vol ii. (p. 95), of
    Journ. of Anthrop. Inst.

    [102] These bushy periwigs are found also among the Kaffirs in
    Africa and among the Cafusos of South America. Dr. Pruner-Bey, who
    appears to view these bushy periwigs as resulting from the natural
    growth of the hair, remarks that he has met in Europe three
    individuals whose hair had the same aspect. I have seen a
    characteristic Papuan periwig produced in England in the case of a
    fair-haired girl. (Anthropological Review: Feb. 1864.)

    [103] The Anthropological Review for February 1864 (p. 6).

The hue of the hair in adults varies usually in accordance with the
changes in the colour of the skin. Amongst the St. Christoval natives it
agrees with the numbers 35 and 42 of the colour-types of M. Broca:
whilst amongst the darker-hued natives of the islands of Bougainville
Straits the hair is of a deeper hue, corresponding with the colour-types
34 and 49. The average thickness of eleven samples of hair from the
former locality is from 1/260 to 1/270 of an inch; whilst in the latter
locality, where the hair is of a darker hue, the hairs are individually
coarser, ten samples giving an average thickness of 1/210 to 1/220 of an
inch. The diameter of the spiral, when measurable, varies between 5 and
10 millimètres,[104] its usual range throughout the group; but on
account of the practice of combing, it is often difficult to measure it
with any degree of accuracy. These measurements, however, are double the
size of the curl (2 to 4 mm.) which Miklouho-Maclay[105] has determined
to be characteristic of the Papuan. The difference may be due to the
greater intermingling of the eastern Polynesian element amongst the
Solomon Islanders.

    [104] In young boys in different parts of the group, the hair
    sometimes grows in larger flat spirals having a diameter of from 12
    to 15 millimètres.

    [105] “Nature.” Dec. 21st, 1882.

The natives of the eastern islands of this group frequently stain their
hair a light-brown hue by the use of lime, a practice which frees the
hair of vermin. The passing visitor might easily carry away with him the
impression that such light-brown hair was a permanent character; but on
examining adults, he would usually find that the hair is much darker at
the roots. The natives (women and boys) of the islands of Bougainville
Straits, and according to Labillardière,[106] those of the adjacent
island of Bouka, stain the hair by the use of a red ochreous earth, the
colour of which, blended with the deep colour of the hair, produces a
striking magenta hue.

    [106] Labillardière’s “Voyage in search of La Pérouse,” vol. i. p.
    246. London 1800.

With regard to the amount of hair on the face, limbs, and trunk, great
diversity is observed even amongst natives of the same village.
Epilation is commonly employed, a bivalve shell being used as a pair of
pincers; but there can be no doubt that the development of the hair
varies quite independently of such a custom. Out of ten men taken
promiscuously from one of the villages on the north coast of St.
Christoval, perhaps, five would have smooth faces; three would possess
a small growth of hair on the chin and upper lip; the ninth would
possess a beard, a moustache, and whiskers of moderate growth; whilst
the tenth would present a shaggy beard, and a hairy visage. With the
majority of the Solomon Islanders, the surfaces of the body and limbs
are comparatively free from hair; but hairy men are to be found in most
villages, and in rare and exceptional cases, the hairy-bodied,
hairy-visaged men are the rule. It would appear that in this group, the
qualities of treachery and ferocity are possessed in a greater degree by
those communities in which hairy men prevail. Hairy-visaged men are
commonly found amongst the natives of the Florida Islands. In
Bougainville Straits, the great majority of the men keep their faces and
chins free from hair, which the chiefs and the older men usually permit
to grow.

With age the hair generally assumes an iron-grey hue, as if the
decoloration was incomplete. In one old man, however, who was the
patriarch of Treasury Island, the hair was completely grey. Baldness
usually commences over the fore-head; and is not uncommonly observed
beginning amongst middle-aged men. The old women apparently regard hair
as an unnecessary encumbrance, the little that remains in later life
being generally removed.

I have not yet referred to an almost straight-haired element which has
been infused amongst the inhabitants of Bougainville Straits. The
individuals, thus characterised, have very dark skins, the hair being
even darker, and corresponding in hue with the colour-types 34 and 49.
With such natives the face is flatter, and the nose is more _écrasé_
than usual. The hair may be almost straight: and, if not very long, it
is often erect, giving the person a shock-headed appearance; whilst in
some cases it tends to gather into curls of a large spiral. Other
natives possess hair which combines the straight and frizzly characters,
giving the whole mass, when combed out, an appearance partly wavy and
partly bushy. Small boys in this part of the group have frequently curly
heads of hair with large flattened spirals. Traders tell me that
straight-haired individuals are found amongst the hill-tribes of St.
Christoval at the opposite end of the group. I have seen two such
natives, one a woman, and the other a man whom I met near Cape Keibeck
on the north coast of the island.

A few remarks with reference to the prevailing hues of the skin may be
here interesting. It would seem to be a general rule that the
darker-skinned natives occur in the western islands of the group, such
as New Georgia, Bougainville Straits, and Bougainville; whilst the
lighter-coloured natives are more restricted to the eastern islands such
as St. Christoval, Guadalcanar, &c. In different parts of the Solomon
Group, the colour of the skin, as may have been already inferred, varies
considerably in shade from a very deep brown, exemplified by colour-type
42 of M. Broca, to a copperish hue, best typefied by colour-type 29. The
prevailing darker hue of the western islands is represented by type 42,
and the prevailing lighter hue of the eastern islands by type 35. Where
there is no means of comparison, the darker hues of the skin might be
called black. The lightest hues, such as would appear to characterise
natives in isolated localities, as in Santa Catalina, and on the north
coast of Guadalcanar opposite the Rua Sura Islets, would be best
exemplified by colour-type 28. The elderly natives are, as a rule, more
dark-skinned than those of younger years, the difference in shade being
attributable partly to a longer exposure by reason of their age to the
influence of sun and weather, and partly to those structural changes in
the skin which accompany advancing years. The colour is usually fairly
uniform over the person, but in the case of the Malaita natives, before
referred to, the colour of the face and chest was of a lighter hue than
that of the limbs and body, as exemplified by contrasting the
colour-types 28 and 35.[107]

    [107] _Vide_ page for remarks on the effect of the prevailing
    skin-disease, an inveterate form of body-ringworm, on the colour of
    the skin.

I would draw attention to the circumstance that my observations were
confined to the coast tribes of these islands. The larger islands, which
may be compared in size to the county of Cornwall, are but thinly
populated in their interior by tribes of more puny physique and less
enterprising character, who are ill-suited to cope with their more
robust and more war-like fellow-islanders of the coast. These “bushmen,”
as they are called, are accredited by the coast-natives with inferior
mental capabilities as compared with their own. To call a man of the
coast a “bushman” is equivalent to calling him a stupid or a fool, a
taunt which is commonly employed amongst the coast-natives. The stone
adzes and axes, which have been discarded by the inhabitants of the
coast, are said to be still employed by the bushmen. I was unable to
make any measurements of these natives; but those I saw were usually of
short stature and of a more excitable and suspicious temperament. The
hair is worn in the woolly style, is short like that of the African
Negro, and its surface has often a peculiar appearance from the hairs
arranging themselves in little knobs. I believe that these bushmen, and
at the present time I am recalling to my mind those of the interior of
Bougainville, have naturally shorter hair than those of the coast, and
that the peculiar character of the hair just described is a permanent
one.[108] These bushmen probably represent the original Negrito stock of
these islands, which, at the coast, often loses many of its characters
on account of the intermingling with Eastern Polynesian and Malayan
intruders.

    [108] Mr. Earl, who well describes this knobby appearance of the
    surface of the hair of some Papuan tribes, also believes that these
    tribes may sometimes have naturally short hair. (“Papuans,” p. 2.)

With the object of testing the powers of vision possessed by the natives
of these islands, I examined the sight of twenty-two individuals who
were in all cases either young adults or of an age not much beyond
thirty. For this purpose I employed the square test-dots which are used
in examining the sight of recruits for the British army, and I obtained
the following results. Two natives could distinguish the dots clearly at
70 feet, one at 67 feet, two at 65 feet, three at 62 feet, four at 60
feet, two at 55 feet, three at 52 feet, four at 50 feet, and one at 35
feet. I roughly placed the average distance at which a native could
count the dots at about 60 feet, which is a little beyond the standard
distance for testing the normal vision of recruits, viz., 57 feet; but I
laid no stress on this difference, and briefly noted in my journal that
these natives possessed the normal powers of vision. The quickness of
the natives in perceiving distant objects, such as ships at sea, was a
matter of daily observation to us; and I was often much surprised by
their facility in picking out pigeons and opossums, which were almost
concealed in the dense foliage of the trees some 60 or 70 feet overhead.
I was therefore impressed with the greater discriminating power
possessed by these savages; but the results of my observations on their
far-seeing powers were not such as would justify the conclusion that
they excelled us very greatly in this respect.

Having read an interesting correspondence in “Nature” during February
and March, 1885, on the subject of “civilisation and eyesight,” I
forwarded the results of my observations to that journal (_vide_, April
2nd). A fortnight afterwards there appeared a communication from Mr.
Charles Roberts, in which he added greatly to the value of my
observations by comparing them with results obtained by the use of the
army test-dots in the case of English agricultural and out-door
labourers, results which were extracted from the Report for 1881 of the
Anthropometric Committee of the British Association. After making this
comparison Mr. Roberts remarked that _the figures gave no support to the
belief that savages possess better sight than civilised peoples_; and he
pointed out that my average of 60 feet, which, however, I had only
roughly estimated, was somewhat excessive and should have been 57·5
feet, which is only half a foot more than the distance at which
Professor Longmore has determined these test-dots ought to be seen by a
recruit with normal powers of vision. My observations were comparatively
few, but, as above shown, they give no support to the view that savages
possess superior powers of vision as compared with civilised races.

In the correspondence in “Nature,” above referred to, Mr. Brudenell
Carter supported the “commonly received view” that the savage possesses
greater acuteness of vision; but Lord Rayleigh held that it would be
inconsistent with optical laws to hold that the eyes of savages,
considered merely as optical instruments, are greatly superior to our
own; and he observed that it appeared to him that the superiority of the
savage is a question of attention and practice in the interpretation of
minute indications. The same opinion was expressed by Mr. Roberts, when
he referred to the common mistake of travellers in confounding acuteness
of vision with the results of special training or education of the
faculty of seeing, results which, as he remarked, are quite as much
dependent on mental training as on the use of the eyes.

There is a circumstance which may influence the powers of vision
possessed by these islanders; and it is this. With the object, I
believe, of excluding flies and other insects from their dwellings, the
natives keep the interiors dark, the door being usually the only
aperture admitting light. Coming in from the direct sunlight, I have
often had to wait a minute or two before my eyes became accustomed to
the change; but the natives do not experience this inconvenience. Some
hours of the day they commonly spend in their houses; whilst at night
they use no artificial light except the fitful glare of a wood fire. It
would seem probable that the influence of the opposite conditions
presented by the darkness of their dwellings and the bright sunlight,
would be found in the increased rapidity of the contraction and
dilation of the pupil with the enlargement, perhaps, of the retinal
receiving area. It is, however, a noteworthy circumstance that these
natives are able to pass from the bright tropical glare outside their
dwellings to the dark interiors, and _vice versâ_, without showing that
temporary derangement of vision which the white man experiences whilst
the iris is adapting itself to the new condition.

My attention was not attracted by the size of the pupils; but I paid no
especial attention to this point. Mr. J. Rand Capron in the
correspondence in “Nature,” above alluded to, refers to the circumstance
that the pupil varies in size in individual cases; and he instances the
case of one of his assistants possessing unusually large pupils who had
a singularly “sharp” eye for picking up companions to double stars,
small satellites, &c., and who could read fine print with a light much
less bright than is usually required. “The peculiarity affecting my
assistant’s eyes,” as Mr. Capron writes, “may be more common with the
savages than with us.” I am inclined myself to believe that, on a
careful comparison being made, the pupils of the savage will be
generally found to be larger. If such should be the case, we shall have
a ready explanation of his better discriminating powers of vision.

The eyes of these natives have usually a soft, fawn-like appearance with
but little expression. Of the twenty-two individuals whose sight I
examined, I came upon only one whose powers of vision seemed at all
defective. In this instance--that of a man about thirty years old--the
nature of the cause was sufficiently indicated by the prominence of the
eyes and the nipping of the lids, especially when the sight was strained
by trying to count the test-dots at a distance. The limit of distance at
which this man could count the test-dots was 35 feet. The question which
presented itself to my mind in this case was, whether a white man, who
could count the dots at the same limit of distance, would exhibit to the
same degree the external signs of myopia.

I also made some observations on the colour-sense of the inhabitants of
Bougainville Straits. Although able to match the seven colours of the
spectrum, viz., red, orange, yellow, green, Prussian blue, indigo, and
violet, they have only, as far as I could ascertain, distinctive names
for white, red, yellow, and sometimes blue; whilst all the other
colours, including black, indigo, dark blue, violet, green, &c., are
included under one or more general names for dark hues, as shown in the
list below. Some of the names of the colours have been suggested by the
colours of objects with which the natives are familiar. Thus, one of the
names of dark hues is evidently taken from that of charcoal (_sibi_).
Again, one of the names for red is but the native term for blood
(_masini_); whilst the commonest word for yellow (_temuli_) is also the
name of a scitamineous plant, the bulbous root of which possesses a
yellow juice. Yellow must be a familiar colour to these natives, as they
sometimes decorate their persons with the yellow juice that exudes from
incisions into the fruits of _Thespesia populnea_, one of the commonest
of littoral trees. They possess also the _Morinda citrifolia_, the roots
of which supply a bright yellow dye that is employed in other Polynesian
groups, such as in the Society Islands, for staining purposes. The
circumstance that different men often applied different names to the
same test-colour, shows that they have no recognised list of
colour-names; and it would appear probable that all the names are of a
suggestive nature, or in other words that they are derived from the
names of objects with the conspicuous hues of which the natives are
familiar.

                 NATIVE NAMES FOR COLOURS.

  WHITE,                               Anaa; Ana-anaa.
  RED, ORANGE,                         Alec; Masi-masini; Loto.
  YELLOW,                              Temuli; Samoi; Latili.
  BLUE,                                Totono.
  BLACK, INDIGO, VIOLET, GREEN (dark),
  BLUE (dark),                         Söipa; Kia; Sivi-sivi; Malai.

The pigments employed in decorating the posts of houses,
canoe-ornaments, carved clubs, &c., are white, red, and black. Blue is a
favourite colour with the natives of Bougainville Straits when choosing
beads and other articles of trade; and, in fact, blue is the favourite
colour for beads in most of the islands.

In the eastern islands, pigments of white, red, and black are also those
which are commonly employed for decorative purposes. In the island of
Ugi, as Mr. Stephens informed me, the same word is used to indicate all
the dark colours. A native of this island cannot distinguish the
different colours in the rainbow: and it should be here remarked that he
views the appearance of a bow with a large arc as a warning of the
approach of hostile canoes, and he retires accordingly to his house.

The following notes on the gestures and the expressions of the emotions
of the Solomon Islanders, which I was led to make after a perusal of Mr.
Darwin’s well-known work on these subjects, occur scattered about the
pages of my journals; and I must crave the indulgence of my reader if
they are, from this reason, of a somewhat disconnected character.

The natives of Bougainville Straits and of other parts of the group
_beckon_ with the hand, in a manner almost the reverse of our own.
Instead of holding out the hand with the palm uppermost and motioning
with the forefinger, they beckon with the palm downwards, and motion
with all the fingers. On several occasions, when motioning a native to
approach by means of our own gesture, I have had to adopt his own mode
of beckoning before he could understand me. . . . . Clapping the hands
is a common means of evincing _astonishment_ and _delight_, the hands
being usually held up before the face as in the attitude of prayer, but
little noise being made. Mule, the Treasury chief, clapped his hands
before his face, when Lieutenant Leeper showed him some of his
paintings; and surprise was exhibited in a similar manner by the men of
Alu, whilst I was taking a sample of hair from the head of one of their
number. Some young lads of Fauro clapped their hands noiselessly during
their laughter when I gave them a tune on the Jews-harp: whilst a party
of Treasury boys, who accompanied me on one of my rambles, thus evinced
their pleasure when some matches for lighting our pipes were
unexpectedly found in my bag.

The following mode of signifying _hunger_ was often adopted by my
youthful native companions in my excursions, when the sun was near its
meridian altitude, in order to remind me of the biscuit I generally
carried for them; and the little imps used to repeat the gesture in an
exaggerated form for my amusement. The belly is drawn in to a surprising
degree by the powerful contraction of the abdominal muscles; and,
assuming a dismal expression of countenance, the hungry individual
points with his finger to this unmistakeable sign of the apparently
empty condition of his stomach, and says “kai-kai, muru” (food for
stomach). Labillardière tells us that the natives of New Caledonia
signified their hunger in a similar manner by pointing to their bellies,
and contracting the abdominal muscles as much as they could.[109]
. . . . The natives of Bougainville Straits make use of the exclamation,
“Agai,” to indicate _pain_ and _suffering_. This cry often rang
pitifully in my ears when, from the prejudices of the natives, I was
unable to render much surgical aid in the case of the severe gunshot
injuries, which resulted from the conflicts between the Treasury and
Shortland islanders.

    [109] “Voyage in search of La Pérouse” (Eng. edit.: London 1800)
    vol. ii., p. 213.

Elevation of the eyebrows with a slight throwing backward of the head is
the gesture of _assent_. A native sometimes raises his eyebrows slightly
to indicate _caution_ or _reticence_ under circumstances in which we
should employ a cough or a wink; and, by the same sign, a _question_ may
be asked, and as silently answered by a similar movement of the
eyebrows, accompanied by a throwing up of the head. A native of Simbo,
on one occasion, because I would not give him tobacco, signified his
_contempt_ for me by spitting on the ground. A woman of Alu informed me
that she was the _mother_ of two girls standing near, by first pointing
to her daughters, and then touching her breasts. When _puzzled_, a
native sometimes adopts our sign of perplexity by frowning, and
scratching his head.

On one occasion, I was much amused by the behaviour of some of the
Treasury boys, lively young imps who used frequently to accompany me on
my excursions. One of their number had been offended by his companions,
who immediately began to caper round him, distorting their faces in a
peculiar manner by drawing the eyes and mouth towards each other with
their fingers, and producing an appearance reminding me of the human
faces on the dance-clubs of Bougainville Straits and New Ireland.
Sometimes they would only go through the motions by scraping their
fingers down their cheeks. The object was evidently to create terror,
but only in a mimic fashion.

But little gesticulation is used in ordinary conversation. A native of
Cape Keibeck, on the north coast of St. Christoval, who went through the
motions of throwing a spear in time of battle, assumed a hideous
expression of countenance with eyes starting and knitted brows, much as
Mr. Mosely describes in the instance of a native of Humboldt Bay, New
Guinea.[110] A native, who is planning the performance of an act of
treachery, usually exhibits during his conversation an excited, restless
manner, with a slight trembling of the limbs and a partial loss of
control over the facial muscles. It is in this manner that white men,
resident in the group, when approaching a village with which they are
unacquainted, often find an indication of the hostility or friendliness
of the inhabitants by observing the unconscious bearing of the first men
they meet.

    [110] “Naturalist on the Challenger,” p. 441.

These islanders converse in a low, monotonous voice; and are
unaccustomed to loud, stentorian tones, such as those in which words of
command are given. I was told a story of a white man who had engaged
some natives to take him out in a canoe to the site of a sunken rock,
which he intended to blow up with dynamite as it obstructed the channel.
Immediately on dropping the charge, he shouted out to his crew to paddle
away as quickly as possible and at the same time gesticulated wildly.
The men opened their eyes wide and stared at him with astonishment, but
never moved; and before they could recover themselves, off went the
charge, and the canoe and its occupants were blown into the air.
However, but little damage was caused except to the canoe. My informant
told me that if the men had been told quietly to paddle away, the
accident would never have happened.

I now come to the subject of the disposition of these islanders. There
is a generosity between man and man, which I often admired, although it
was easy to perceive that there was a singular relation between the
giver and the recipient. A native rarely refuses anything that is asked;
but, on the other hand, he is not accustomed to offer anything
spontaneously except when he expects an equivalent in return. His
generosity is, in truth, constrained by the knowledge of the fact that
by a refusal he will incur the enmity of the person who has made the
request. Often when during my excursions I have come upon some man who
was preparing a meal for himself and his family, I have been surprised
at the open-handed way in which he dispensed the food to my party of
hungry natives. No gratitude was shown towards the giver, who apparently
expected none, and only mildly remonstrated when my men were unusually
voracious. I was often amused at noticing how a native’s friends would
gather around when there was a sago palm to be felled.

But there is one occasion when the existence of friends must be very
trying to a Solomon Islander, and that is when he returns to his island
after his term of service in the plantations of Fiji or Queensland has
expired. He brings with him his earnings of three years in the shape of
a musket, a couple of American axes, and a large box filled with calico,
coloured handkerchiefs, tobacco, pipes, knives, beads, &c. On landing at
the beach, he is greeted by the greater portion of the village. The
chief at once appropriates the musket, as his way of welcoming the
wanderer on his return. His father selects, with due deliberation, the
best tempered of the axes. The chief’s son relieves him of one of the
largest knives. His numerous relations and friends assist themselves to
some of the more valuable articles in the box; whilst the calico and
beads are evenly appropriated by the different ladies of the village, as
their manner of evincing their pleasure at his safe return. The unhappy
man dares not refuse, and he finally leaves the beach for his own house
with a very light box and a heavy heart. But his friends in the
neighbourhood think it their duty to convey their congratulations in
person; and in a few days the box alone remains, which it is very likely
that the chief has already secured “in prospectu.” The foregoing is by
no means an exaggerated account of the reception which awaits a Solomon
Islander when he returns from his term of service in the colonies.

The natives of this group have obtained for themselves the reputation of
being the most treacherous and bloodthirsty of the Pacific Islanders.
Here, however, as in other groups, the inhabitants have been judged
according to the circumstances attending the visit of the navigator. If
he has come into collision with them, he paints their conduct in the
darkest colours; but if, as has rarely been the case, there has been
nothing to interrupt the harmony of his intercourse, he is apt, in his
description of the peaceful character of the natives, to reflect on the
want of humanity which marked the dealings of his predecessors. But for
us a middle course would seem preferable; and in approving the mild
measures of the one, we must not forget that the harsh treatment of the
other may have arisen in circumstances over which he had little control.
The early intercourse between civilized and savage peoples must of
necessity be fraught with peril, until the latter cease to look upon
every stranger as a probable foe. It is not often that we have the
pleasure of reading such accounts as are given by Kotzebue and Chamisso
of their intercourse with the Radack Islanders; yet we must remember
that the humane principles of La Pérouse led, unfortunately, to the
massacre of M. de Langle and eleven others in the Navigator Islands.
Here again the middle course is to be followed; and the traveller most
successful in his dealings with these races will be he who obtains for
himself their fear as well as their affection.

The early intercourse of the Solomon Islanders with the Spaniards, and
with the first French navigators, was too often marked by bloodshed to
enable us to form a correct estimation of the disposition of these
natives. We therefore turn without regret to the more pleasing
experience of a later voyager in these seas. In his account of his
intercourse with the natives of Isabel in 1838, D’Urville thus refers to
these islanders: “Nous sommes les premiers à inscrire dans l’histoire
des habitants de ces îles, une page en faveur de leur caractère: ils
auraient pu, presque sans dangers, massacrer ceux de nos officiers qui
sont allés chercher l’hospitalité aux villages d’Opihi et Toitoi, et
j’aime à croire qu’ils n’auraient pas résisté à la tentation, si dans
leur caractère il n’y avait pas eu quelques sentiments d’affection ou de
probité.”[111]

    [111] “Voyage au Pole Sud,” etc. Vol. V., p. 106.

In recalling my own experiences, I can scarcely remember a single
instance in which I was aught but kindly treated by a race of savages
who have been so often characterised as the most treacherous and
bloodthirsty in the Pacific. I was constantly in their power, since, in
my excursions, I very rarely had any other companions. I will,
therefore, frame my estimate of their character in the words of the
French navigator, that they would not have been able to resist the
temptation of harming me, if there was not in their disposition
something of the sense of honour and affection.




CHAPTER VII.

DRESS--TATTOOING--SONGS, ETC.


THE dress worn by the men of these islands is generally of the scantiest
description. A narrow band of cloth, worn like a [T] bandage, often
constitutes their only garment. In some islands visited by traders,
waist-cloths are worn. Often, however, and especially amongst the bush
tribes, the Solomon Islander presents himself as guiltless of clothing
as did our original parents. The dress of the women varies considerably
in different islands of the group. The married women of St. Christoval
and the adjacent small islands wear the scantiest of fringes, which
cannot be dignified by the name of dress: whilst the unmarried girls
dispense with clothing altogether. In the Florida Islands, the women are
more decorously clad, and wear a longer fringe. In the eastern islands,
however, the influence of the missionary and the trader have caused a
more general employment by the women of the “sulu” (a large coloured
handkerchief), which is fastened around the waist, and is very becoming.
The women of the islands of Bougainville Straits commonly wear the
“sulu;” but they frequently discard it for a time, as when they are
wading on the reefs, and then they are content with an improvised apron
of long leaves (“bassa”), the stalks of which are passed under a narrow
waist-band. On one occasion at Alu, when arriving at the beach after one
of my excursions into the interior of the island, I came upon a party of
women who were bathing in the sea. They at once came out of the water,
and began to interrogate my guides, having first provided themselves in
the most unabashed manner with temporary aprons of fern fronds and the
leaves of trees. They then gathered round me to learn where I had been,
and what I had been doing; and after I had satisfied their curiosity, I
sent them away, highly pleased with some tobacco and beads.

The men of these islands are always very anxious to become the
possessors of European articles of clothing, such as shirts, coats,
hats, etc.; but the happy owners seldom don them except during the visit
of a ship, when they strut about clad in some solitary garment, such as
a shirt or a waistcoat, or often only a hat. I had often some difficulty
in preserving my gravity when I met some sedate individual, as naked as
on the day when he was born, wearing a round hat on his head, and
carrying his shirt on his arm. The fortunate possessor of a shirt
usually regards it as a kind of light overcoat, to be worn on especial
occasions; and in some islands the possessors seem to prefer carrying
their shirts on their arms wherever they go. A few men, who have these
articles of clothing, never take them off after they have begun to wear
them. Such a practice, however, is quite opposed to the usual cleanly
habits of these islanders. Whilst we were in Bougainville Straits, three
natives were employed on board as interpreters, who were dubbed by the
men, Jacket, Waistcoat, and Trousers, as they used to wear a suit
between them. On one occasion, when I had induced some Faro men to take
me in their canoe to an island some distance away, I was amused at the
appearance of my crew, to whom I had previously given shirts. We were,
for all the world, like a party of nigger-minstrels. Following the
waggish advice of the quartermaster, the natives turned up their large
collars. Off we started, and the sight of their serious countenances,
half buried in their collars, was too much for my gravity: but when we
landed, and my men proceeded in a dignified manner to disembark, they
looked so ludicrously sedate in their long-tailed shirts, that I roared
with laughter.

The most picturesque of the personal ornaments of the natives of the
eastern islands is a frontlet of the handsome white cowries (_Ovulum
ovum_). About a dozen of these shells, rather small in size, are strung
together, and bound across the forehead. A single shell is sometimes
worn on the front of the leg just below the knee. Many men possess large
crescent-shaped plates of the pearl shell found in these seas, and which
they wear on the breast. Resident traders, such as Captain Macdonald at
Santa Anna, have largely supplied the natives with these ornaments.
Necklaces made of the teeth of dogs, porpoises, fruit-bats, and
phalangers (_Cuscus_), are commonly worn. The seeds of the _Coix
Lachryma_ are also employed for this purpose. Various articles are used
as necklace-pendants, such as _Bulla_ shells, the pretty _Natica
mamilla_, beans, the hard palate of a fish (probably a ray), and other
things. One native was very proud of a fragment of a willow-pattern
plate, which he had smoothed off and ground down to a convenient size
for his necklace.

Shell armlets[112] are in general use, and their number and size
frequently denote the rank of their owner. Those most prized are
fashioned out of the thickest part of the shell of _Tridacna gigas_
towards the hinge. On one occasion, in the island of Simbo, I had an
opportunity of observing the tedious process of making these _Tridacna_
armlets: A hole is first bored through the solid thickness of the shell,
and in it is inserted a piece of hoop iron, with one edge roughly
jagged, after the fashion of a saw. This is worked with the hands, and
after much labour the ring is sawn out of the shell. It is then rubbed
down and polished with sand. On account of the tedious nature of the
process of making them, these _Tridacna_ armlets are much prized by
their possessors. Amongst the numerous articles employed in trading with
these natives is a very good imitation of this armlet made of tough
white porcelain, and valued at about half a dollar. Smaller armlets are
also cut out of large shells belonging to the genera _Trochus_ and
_Turbo_. The shell armlets of these islanders are often first placed on
during youth, or at the first attainment of manhood; and, as the wearer
grows older these ornaments become too small to pass over the elbow, and
are permanently worn. Armlets are also made of native shell-money worked
into patterns. Sometimes a couple of curved boar’s-tusks are joined
together for this purpose. Excluding the shell armlets, those most
frequently worn are made of what is commonly known as “dyed grass.” This
material, however, consists, for the most part, of the strips of the
vascular tissue of ferns, belonging to _Gleichenia_ and other genera,
which are neatly plaited together in patterns (_vide_ page 281.) The
prettiest specimens of this work are to be obtained at Savo. The same
plaited armlets are worn by the Admiralty Islanders.[113] In some parts
of New Guinea, strips of rattan are worked in with this material.[114]
. . . In the Solomon Islands, armlets are usually worn on the left arm.
The native usually carries his pipe or his tobacco tucked inside them.
They are often worn very tight, especially in the case of the plaited
armlets, which actually constrict the limb.

    [112] By “armlet,” I mean an ornament encircling the arm above the
    elbow.

    [113] There is a chromo-lithograph of these ornaments in the
    “Narrative of the Cruise of the ‘Challenger.’”

    [114] Specimens in British Museum collection.

Nose ornaments are not commonly worn in the eastern islands, though the
nasal septum is generally pierced by a hole for the appendage which may
be of tortoise-shell, bone, shells, &c. Youths keep the hole patent by
retaining in it a small piece of wood of the thickness of a lead pencil,
and between one and two inches in length. The tip of the nose is
frequently pierced by a small hole about half an inch deep, in which a
small peg of wood is sometimes placed which projects beyond the nose and
gives the face an odd appearance.

The lobes of the ears are perforated by holes, which by continual
distension become of the size of a crown-piece and often larger. In some
islands, as in Santa Anna, a disc of white wood 1½ to 2 inches in
diameter is placed in these holes. Sometimes they are kept in shape by
the insertion of a shaving of wood rolled into a spiral; but more
frequently they are left empty. Singular uses are made of these holes in
the lobes of the ear, pipes and matchboxes being sometimes placed in
them. On one occasion, Taki, the Wano chief, came on board with a heavy
bunch of native shell-money hanging from each ear, a sign of mourning,
as he informed us, for a recently deceased wife. In some instances, more
particularly amongst the elder men, the pendulous loop formed by the
distended hole in the lobe becomes severed and hangs in two pieces. I am
told that when these loops break, the two parts are readily joined by
paring the torn surfaces obliquely and binding them together.

The natives of the islands of Bougainville Straits pay less attention to
personal decoration than do those of St. Christoval and the adjacent
islands. The large _Tridacna_ armlets are not often worn, the small
shell armlets being those generally preferred, and as in the case of
those worn in the eastern islands, their number indicates the rank and
wealth of the wearer. The plaited arm-bands described on page 132 are
frequently worn. Armlets made of trade beads are favourite ornaments of
the women: when visiting the houses of the chiefs, I have sometimes
found their wives employed in this kind of fancy-work, small red, blue,
and white beads being tastefully worked together in the common zig-zag
pattern. Here, as in the eastern islands, the septum of the nose is
pierced by a hole, but I rarely saw any ornament suspended from it. The
women of Treasury Island, however, sometimes wear in this aperture a
tusk-like ornament, 1½ to 2 inches long, which is made from the shell of
the giant clam. Occasionally I have observed clay pipes carried in this
perforation in the nasal septum. Here, also, the lobes of the ears are
pierced by large holes, and in the older men they hang in loops 2 to 3
inches in length.

The men of Simbo (Narovo Island) streak their countenances with lime,
whilst the boys of Treasury Islands sometimes paint their faces around
the eyes with the red ochreous earth that they employ for staining the
hair. The young lads of Faro occasionally adorn their faces with silvery
strips of a fish’s swimming-bladder which they plaster on their cheeks.

In the matter of personal decoration I should observe that the men
usually wear the plumes, not that the women dislike decorations, but
because they do not often have the opportunity of wearing them. If a
trade necklace or some similar ornament is given to a woman, it will
very soon be observed adorning the person of her husband. An incident of
this sort particularly annoyed me on one occasion in the island of St.
Christoval; but I might as well have tried to persuade a pig that it was
a glutton as have attempted to convince a native that such a transaction
was ungallant. In some islands it is the custom for the husband on the
occasion of a festival to load his favourite wife with all his worldly
wealth in the form of the native bead money; and, as at Santa Anna, the
wives of the headmen parade about the village thus heavily attired and
presenting such a picture of “portable property” as would have gladdened
the heart of Mr. Wemmick himself. This shell-money, to which I have
frequently referred in this work, and which is so often employed in
personal decoration, consists of small pieces of shells of different
colours shaped and strung together like beads. In the eastern islands,
this money is largely derived from the natives of Malaita. Six fathoms
of it are said to be sufficient for the purchase of a pig. The same kind
of money is used by the inhabitants of the Admiralty Islands, New
Ireland, New Guinea, and the New Hebrides. In the last two localities it
is worked into armlets.[115]

    [115] The natives of the Solomon Islands also occasionally employ as
    money the teeth of fish, porpoises, fruit-eating bats (_Pteropidæ_),
    and of other animals.

The men of the Solomon Islands are very fond of placing in their hair a
brightly-coloured flower such as that of _Hibiscus tiliaceus_, or a
pretty sprig, or the frond of a fern. My native companions in my
excursions rarely passed a pretty flower without plucking it and placing
it in their bushy hair; and they were fond of decorating my helmet in a
similar fashion. Sometimes one individual would adorn himself to such an
extent with flowers, ferns, and scented leaves, that a botanist might
have made an instructive capture in seizing his person. In addition to
the flowers placed in his bushy mass of blackish-brown hair, he would
tuck under his necklace and armlets sprigs and leaves of numerous
scented plants, such as _Evodia hortensis_ and _Ocymum sanctum_. He
would take much pleasure in pointing out to me the plants whose scented
leaves are employed in the native perfumery, most of which are of the
labiate order, and are to be commonly found in the waste ground of the
plantations. The women seldom decorate themselves in this manner. Those
of Bougainville Straits make their scanty aprons of the leaves of a
scitamineous plant named “bassa” which, when crushed in the fingers,
have a pleasant scent.

The fondness for decorating the person with flowers and scented herbs
has been frequently referred to by travellers in their accounts of the
natives of other parts of the Western Pacific. Mr. George Forster tells
us that the people of Tanna and Mallicolo in the New Hebrides place
inside their shell armlets bunches of the odoriferous plant, _Evodia
hortensis_, together with the leaves of crotons and other plants.[116]
We learn from Mr. Macgillivray,[117] and from Mr. Stone,[118] that the
natives of the south-east part of New Guinea are similarly fond of
decorating themselves with flowers and scented leaves which they place
in the hair and inside their armlets and necklaces.

    [116] “A Voyage round the World,” by George Forster, London, 1777;
    (page 276.)

    [117] “Voyage of H.M.S. ‘Rattlesnake,’” by John Macgillivray;
    London, 1852.

    [118] “A few months in New Guinea,” by O. C. Stone; London, 1880.

Tattooing is practised amongst both sexes in many islands; but the
process differs from that ordinarily employed in the circumstance that
the pigment is frequently omitted, and for this reason the marks are
often faint and only visible on a close inspection. In this manner the
natives of St. Christoval and the adjacent islands have their cheeks
marked by a number of shallow grooves arranged in a series of
chevron-lines, and differing but little if at all from the general
colour of the skin. On the trunk the lines are of a faint blue hue, and
here a pigment is more frequently used. The process, as employed in the
island of Santa Anna, consists in deeply abrading the skin with such
instruments as a piece of a shell, the flinty edge of the bamboo, the
tooth of a large fruit-eating bat (_Pteropidæ_), or even by the long
finger-nails. The older lads have to submit themselves to this operation
before they obtain the rights of manhood; and I was informed that during
its progress they are kept isolated in a house and fed on the blood of a
certain fish (?). After it is completed, they are at liberty to marry,
and they are allowed to take part in the fighting and in the fishing
expeditions.

Tattooing is not generally practised amongst the people of the islands
of Bougainville Straits. I only observed it in a few instances, more
particularly amongst the women, when it resembles that which has been
above described. A party of men from the village of Takura on the coast
of Bougainville, whom I met on one occasion, had their faces marked with
shallow linear grooves of much the same colour as the skin, which
commenced at the “alæ nostri,” and, curving over the cheek-bones,
terminated above the eyebrows. These lines were more distinct than those
which mark the faces of the natives in the eastward islands, although
they were probably produced in a similar manner. Another pattern of
tattooing, which may be described as a branching coil, is to be found in
the representation of the head of a native of Isabel Island, which was
obtained from a mould taken in D’Urville’s expedition in 1838.[119] Some
men of the districts of the Uta Pass and Urasi on the north coast of
Malaita, whom I met on one occasion, had their faces marked with a
double or a single row of blueish dots commencing on the cheek-bones and
meeting on the forehead.

    [119] Plate vi.: Atlas Anthropologie; “Voyage au Pole Sud et dans
    l’Océanie.”

In the place of tattooing, the inhabitants of the islands of
Bougainville Straits ornament their bodies with rows of circular and
somewhat raised cicatrices which are usually about the size of a
fourpenny piece and about a third of an inch apart. In the case of the
men, the shoulders, upper arms, and chest are thus marked: a double row
of cicatrices commences on the shoulder-blade of either side, and
crossing the upper arms near the apex of the insertion of the deltoid
muscle these rows arch over the armpits and meet at the lower part of
the sternum. The chiefs and their sons often have an additional row of
these marks. Although this is the common fashion, one sometimes meets
men who have the cicatrices confined to the chest or to the shoulders,
or to only one side of the body. Amongst the women, the shoulders, upper
arms, and breasts are similarly marked as shown in the engraving here
given, and in addition they have these rows of cicatrices across the
inside of the thigh. A triple row across the left breast distinguished
the principal wife of the chief of Treasury Island. This method of
ornamenting the body with raised cicatrices, which I also observed in
the case of the party of Takura natives above referred to, would appear
to be a sign of manhood and womanhood, as it is not to be found amongst
the younger of either sex. With regard to the mode of producing these
marks, I could only ascertain that they were made by placing the
powdered dust of touchwood on the skin and then igniting it. To produce
such a permanent and indelible cicatrix, I should think it probable that
means were employed to convert the burn into a festering sore. The light
colour of these scars would appear to indicate that no pigment is used
in the process. I should remark that this custom of raising the skin in
cicatrices, especially on the shoulders, breasts, and thighs, is very
prevalent among the Papuans of the south and south-west coasts of New
Guinea.[120] Mr. Mosely describes the same method of ornamenting the
body as he observed it amongst the men of the Admiralty Islands.[121]

    [120] “Papuans” by G. W. Earl; (p. 5.)

    [121] Journ. Anthrop. Inst. vol. vi., p. 379.

It may be here noticed, that the practice of circumcision is apparently
not to be met with in these islands, except, as observed by Dr.
Codrington, in the pure Polynesian settlements,[122] with which,
however, I did not come into contact.

    [122] Ibid., vol. x., p. 261.

I have previously described the modes of wearing and of decorating the
hair (pages 116, 134), and can only make a few remarks here. In some
islands, as at Ugi, the young boys have the entire scalp shaven with the
exception of two tufts on the top of the head. Then again, at the other
extreme of life, it is often the custom for old women to assist the
natural falling-off of the hair and remove it altogether. As a sign of
mourning, the hair may be trimmed, cut close, or shaved off.

The Solomon Islander often carries his comb stuck in his bushy hair. As
shown in the figure in this work, the comb in common use throughout this
group resembles very much in pattern and mode of workmanship that which
is in use in parts of New Guinea, the Admiralty Islands, the Tonga
Group, and other islands of the Western Pacific. The combs of different
islands may vary somewhat in details, but they belong all to this
pattern, being usually made of a hard dark wood, the teeth consisting of
separate pieces either bound tightly or glued together by a kind of
resin. The handles and upper parts are often prettily decorated with the
plaited “dyed grass,” so-called (_vide_, page 132). An excellent
coloured illustration of an Admiralty Island comb is to be found in the
official narrative of the cruise of the “Challenger.” In the islands of
Bougainville Straits, the native often carries in his hair an instrument
of three prongs rudely fashioned out of bamboo, as shown in one of the
figures. It is used as much for scratching the head as for combing the
hair.

Head-coverings are rarely to be found in this group, except in
Bougainville and Bouka. A native of Treasury showed me a singular
conical hat which he had brought from Bouka. It really was a double hat,
one inside the other, the inner hat being made of the leaf of the
“kiari,” a species of _Heliconia_, and the outer of the fan-shaped leaf
of the “firo,” a palm of the genus _Licuala_. A band of the so-called
plaited “dyed grass” encircles the base and keeps the hat on the head. A
similarly shaped hat but smaller and shorter, and made of the leaf of
the “kiari,” was worn by some Bougainville natives from the village of
Takura, whom I met in Fauro Island. It was placed towards the back of
the head; and as it covered only a small portion of the crown, it was
evidently more ornamental than useful. In addition, these natives wore a
little bunch of feathers on each temple. Their appearance in this
grotesque head-dress was rather ludicrous.

It is a remarkable circumstance that although the Solomon Islanders, as
a rule, wear no protective covering for the head, the carved figures of
their tambu-posts are usually represented with very European-looking
hats. These carved tambu-posts have various uses (_vide_, page 32). In a
similar manner in Bougainville Straits, the hat is to be noticed in the
case of the little wooden figures which are fastened on the stems of
canoes as protective deities. . . . . . . Where these islanders first
obtained their idea of a hat of this shape is a matter for speculation.
It may have been originally suggested by the hats of the Spanish
soldiers three centuries ago, who by means of their musketry seldom
failed to make a lasting impression of their visit during the six months
spent by the expedition in the group.

[Illustration: Hanging-hook.

Comb.

Fish-float.

Series of patterns, derived from the chevron or zig-zag line, which are
used for decorative purposes by the Solomon Islanders. The principal
steps in the series are alone indicated, the intermediary stages being
often exemplified in the ornamental designs of these natives. (The
dotted lines are my own).]

Sunshades in the form of a peak of plaited grass bound to the forehead
and projecting over the eyes are occasionally worn by the natives of
Bougainville Straits, whilst fishing in canoes, in order to protect
their eyes from the sun’s glare on the water. In Ugi, these sunshades
are sometimes worn on gala days. They did not, however, appear to be in
constant use in any part of the group which we visited.

The common decorative pattern employed by the natives of the islands
that we visited was the chevron line. It is the pattern used in
tattooing the face in the eastern islands; and it is represented in
alternating hues of red, white, and black, on the fronts of
tambu-houses. It is rudely cut on the outer border of the small shell
armlets of St. Christoval, and ornaments the cooking-pots and
drinking-vessels of Bougainville Straits. (_See Illustration._) In some
of the shell armlets a continuous lozenge or diamond-shaped design is
produced by the arrangement of the chevron lines as shown in the
woodcut. The advance from this design to the disconnected lozenge
pattern is then but an easy gradation. These chevron lines are often
curiously transformed. The Z pattern of inlaid mother-of-pearl, which is
shown in the illustration of the canoe-god, is apparently but a broken
chevron line. On the heads of the Treasury spears fantastic patterns are
cut out in which the chevron design is adapted to the human skeleton
(_See illustration_). . . . . . I may here add that the bamboo boxes
used for the betel lime are ornamented with rectilinear patterns
(scratched on their surfaces) which resemble those used in ornamenting
the similar lime boxes of New Guinea, Borneo, and Sumatra.[123] The
ornamental dance-clubs of Bougainville Straits exactly resemble the
clubs from New Ireland and possess those singular distorted
representations of the human face which characterise New Ireland
ornamentation.

    [123] Exhibited in the British Museum Ethnological collection.

Caution is required in studying the modes of ornamentation of these
islanders. The remark made by the Rev. Mr. Lawes, in reference to the
women of the Motu tribe in New Guinea,[124] that they are glad to get
new tattooing patterns from the printed calicoes, is equally applicable
to some of the Solomon Island natives. On one occasion I was gravely
informed by a native, as a fact likely to add to their interest, that
some designs I was copying had this origin.

    [124] Journ. Anthrop. Inst. vol. VIII., p. 369.

The Solomon Island songs, although often monotonous to the cultivated
ear, appeared to me to be in consonance with the wild character of these
islanders. Often when I have stopped to rest and enjoy a pipe in the
midst of my excursions, it may have been beside a stream in the wood or
on the edge of a tall cliff overlooking the sea, my native companions
have sat down and commenced their monotonous chanting, which, discordant
as it may have sometimes seemed to me, appeared to be in unison with my
surroundings. Now raised to a high key, now sinking to a low, subdued
drone, now hurried, now slow and measured, these rude notes recalled to
my mind rather the sounds of the inanimate world around me, such as the
sighing of the wind among the trees or the shrill whistle of the gale,
the noise of the surf on the reef or the rippling of the waves on the
beach, the rushing of a mountain torrent or the murmuring of a rivulet
in its bed. My thoughts at such times recurred to those unpolished ages
in the history of nations when the bard attuned his melody to the voices
of the waves, the streams, and the wind, and found in the mist or in the
cloud his expression for the shadowy unknown. At no time have the poems
of Ossian appeared to my mind to be invested with greater beauty than
when I have been standing in solitude in some inland dell or on some
lofty hill-top in these regions. The song of the bard of Selma, despite
its ruggedness, on such occasions, appealed more powerfully to my
imagination than many more finished verses, and seemed more in keeping
with scenes that owed to man nothing, remaining as they had been for
ages, Nature’s handiwork.

Frequently whilst descending some steep hill-slope or whilst following
the downward course of a ravine, my natives were wont to make the woods
echo with their shouts and their wild songs. The natural impulse to make
use of the vocal organs whilst descending a mountain is worth a moment’s
remark. Often I found myself involuntarily shouting with my savage
companions, when their loud peals of laughter attracted my attention.
Some years ago, when visiting the Si-shan Mountains which lie behind the
city of Kiukiang on the south bank of the Yang-tse, I remember listening
to the cries of the Chinese wood-cutters as they returned in the evening
down the narrow gorges that led to their homes. As their shouts died
away in the higher parts of the mountain, the echo was caught by the
wood-cutters below, and was answered back in such a manner that the men
further down the gorges took up the cry.

[Illustration: WAR DANCE and CANNIBAL SONG.

_Tempo di marcia._

(Music)

  Ko-pi-e-e Ko-pi-e-e ta-li Sor-si-o
  u-la mu-la ta-li Ko-pi-e-e-e Ko-pi-e-e-e
  ta-li Sor-si-o u-la mu-la ta-li

No. 2.

(Music)

No. 3.

(Music)

  Li-li a-ma-lo-o Li-li a-ma-lo-o A-
  -ma-lo na-va-ka-ro ka-ro Si-si na-ka-ri-e.

NOTE.--The vowels to be pronounced as follows: _a_ as in “tar,” _e_ as
in “obey,” _i_ as in “ici,” _o_ as in “so,” _u_ as in “rule.”]

The training of natives of these islands by the Melanesian Mission at
Norfolk Island has shown that the compass of their voices and their ear
for music are capable of much cultivation. When staying with Bishop
Selwyn at Gaeta in the Florida Islands, I heard familiar hymn-tunes sung
with as true an appreciation of harmony as would be found in the Sunday
School of an English village, and sung by a congregation of natives of
both sexes, who, with the exception of their teachers, had never left
their island.

During our lengthened sojourn in Bougainville Straits, we became very
familiar with the popular tunes of the natives; and through the
exertions of Mr. Isabell, I have been able to reproduce in this work
three of the commonest airs.[125] The songs are usually sung in chorus,
and a droning accompaniment is often introduced by some of the men which
is especially well given in the second tune. There appear to be four or
five common airs. All are short and most of them have refrains which are
repeated over and over again. The first tune is a cannibal song and is
sung at the war dances. Its words, as I learned from Gorai, the
Shortland chief, are the address of a man to his enemy, in which he
informs him of his intention to kill and eat him. The second tune,
though not possessing words, is often sung or rather chanted by the men.
When sung by a number of persons, its wild music is to an imaginative
mind very suggestive of the savage life. I have heard it sung by about
forty men whilst passing the night with them in the village of Sinasoro
in Faro Island. The tambu-house, in which we were, was dimly lighted,
and the natives were squatting around a wood-fire chanting their wild
song in chorus, and terminating it in a fashion that sounded very abrupt
to the white man’s ear. The third tune is a pretty air which the men of
the “Lark” used to play with the concertina in waltz time. The words,
accompanying it, have a music of their own. I learned from the natives
of Treasury Island that this tune was brought from Meoko (Duke of York
Islands) not long since.

    [125] Mr. Isabell was indebted for assistance to Mr. Tremaine of
    Auckland, N.Z.

The Pandean pipe is the musical instrument in common use amongst the
natives of the Islands of Bougainville Straits. I did not notice it in
St. Christoval and the adjacent islands at the other end of the group,
where it is either not known or but rarely used. The distribution of
this instrument in the Pacific is interesting. It is figured by
D’Albertis in his work on New Guinea, and there are specimens in the
British Museum Collection from Brumer’s Island off this coast, as well
as from the Admiralty Islands, the New Hebrides, the Tonga Group, and
New Zealand. The instruments from all these localities are distinguished
from the Solomon Island pan-pipe by the reeds being arranged in a single
row and being of a much smaller size. They are also more neatly made.
Those used by the Treasury and Shortland natives are composed of a
double row of from 6 to 8 reeds, the second row being merely added to
give support to the instrument. The longest reed is usually a foot in
length and three quarters of an inch in bore; whilst the shortest reed
is about 5 inches long and rather less than half an inch in bore. Some
natives prefer instruments having twice this length. The Pandean pipes,
played at the public dances of Alu, are of very large size, the length
of the longest reed of one which I measured being between 3½ and 4 feet.
At such performances, the air is given by the smaller pipes; whilst the
bass notes of the larger pipes form a droning but harmonious
accompaniment. The music of these instruments, being in the usual
contracted compass, is of a somewhat monotonous character. Those of
Treasury Island are said to be only adapted for playing one tune, which
is the second air given on the page. I learn from Mr. Isabell, who was
interested in this matter, that the natives vary the number of reeds in
the instrument according to the air it is intended to play. The musician
accompanies his melody with a nodding of the head and a swaying of the
body on the hips, movements which are anything but expressive and are in
fact rather ludicrous.

Jew’s harps of foreign manufacture are much in demand amongst persons of
both sexes and all ages throughout the Solomon Group. In the eastern
islands they fashion them of bamboo, as in the New Hebrides and New
Guinea;[126] but I did not observe any native-made instruments amongst
the people of Bougainville Straits. The women of Treasury Island produce
a similar though softer kind of music by playing, somewhat after the
fashion of a Jew’s harp, on a lightly made fine-stringed bow about 15
inches long. This is held to the lips and the string is gently struck
with the fingers, the cavity of the mouth serving as a resonator. . . .
That school-boy’s delight, the “paper-and-comb instrument,” finds its
counterpart in these islands. On one occasion, when I was enjoying a
pipe and watching the surf on the south coast of Stirling Island, a
young lad, who accompanied me, amused himself with some rude music by
holding in front of his lips, as he hummed a native air, a thick leaf in
which he had made a hole about half an inch wide, leaving the thin
transparent epidermis intact on one side; the vibration of this thin
membrane gave a peculiar twang to his voice.

    [126] Mr. Mosely in his “Notes by a Naturalist” gives an
    illustration of a Jew’s harp from the New Hebrides.

The drum in common use in the different islands we visited was made of a
portion of the trunk of a tree, 8 to 10 feet long, hollowed out in its
interior and possessing a slit in the middle. It is placed lengthways on
the ground, and is struck by two short sticks. Similar drums are
employed by the inhabitants of the New Hebrides[127] and the Admiralty
Islands.[128] This pattern may therefore be described as the Melanesian
drum. A kind of sounding-board, placed in a pit in the ground and struck
by the feet of the dancers, is described in my account of the dances of
these islanders (_vide_ page 144).

    [127] “A year in the New Hebrides” by F. A Campbell, p. 108. The
    drums are placed erect in the earth.

    [128] Mosely’s “Notes by a Naturalist on the ‘Challenger,’” p. 471.

As conches, the two large shells, _Triton_ and _Cassis_ are commonly
used. For this purpose, a hole is pierced for the lips on the side of
the spire.

Dancing is performed on very different occasions in these islands.
Besides the war, funeral, and festal dances, there are others which
partake of a lascivious character both in the words of the accompanying
chant and in the movements of the hands and body. Whilst visiting the
small island of Santa Catalina, I saw one of these dances performed by
young girls from 10 to 14 years of age. An explanation of their
reluctance to commence, which at first from my ignorance of what was to
follow I was at a loss to understand, soon offered itself in the
character of the dance, and evidently arose from a natural sense of
modesty that appeared strange when associated with their subsequent
performance. There are, however, other dances, purely sportive in their
nature. Of such a kind were some which were performed for my benefit at
the village of Gaeta in the Florida Islands. About twenty lads, having
formed a ring around a group of their companions squatting in the
centre, began to walk slowly round, tapping the ground with their left
feet at every other step, and keeping time with a dismal drone chanted
by the central group of boys. Every now and then the boys of the ring
bent forward on one knee towards those in the middle, while at the same
time they clapped their hands and made a peculiar noise between a hiss
and a sneeze: the chant then became more enlivening and the dancing more
spirited. On the following day the women of the village took part in a
dance which was very similar to that of the boys, except that there was
no central group, and that they wore bunches of large beans around the
left ankle which made a rattling noise when they tapped the ground at
every other step with the left foot. Bishop Selwyn, to whom I was
indebted for the opportunity of witnessing these dances in the village
of Gaeta, informed me that in the Florida Islands, dancing is often more
or less of a profession, troupes of dancers making lengthened tours
through the different islands of this sub-group.

[Illustration]

During a great feast that was held in the island of Treasury, the
following dance was performed. Between thirty and forty women and girls
stood in a ring around a semi-circular pit, 5 feet across, which was
sunk about 4 feet in the ground. A board, which was fixed in the pit
about half way down, covered it in with the exception of a notch at its
border. On this board stood two women, and as they danced they stamped
with their feet, producing a dull hollow sound, to which the women of
the circle timed their dancing, which consisted in bending their bodies
slightly forward, gently swaying from side to side, and raising their
feet alternately. All the while, the dancers sang in a spirited style
different native airs. Now and then, a pair of women would dance slowly
round outside the circle, holding before them their folded pandanus mats
which all the performers carried.[129]

    [129] The employment of a hole in the ground as a resonator does not
    appear to be common. Mr. Mosely in his “Notes by a Naturalist,” p.
    309, refers to a somewhat similar use of holes in the ground by the
    Fijians who place a log-drum of light wood over three holes and
    strike it with a wooden mallet.

I was present at a dance given on one occasion at Alu, preparatory to a
great feast which was about to be held. Soon after sunset the natives
began to assemble on the beach, and when Gorai, the chief, arrived on
the scene, between thirty and forty men arranged themselves in a circle,
each carrying his pan-pipe. They began by playing an air in slow time,
accompanying the music by a slight swaying motion of the body, and by
alternately raising each foot. Then the notes became more lively and the
movements of the dancers more brisk. The larger pipes took the part of
the bass in a rude but harmonious symphony, whilst the monotonous air
was repeated without much variation in the higher key of the smaller
instruments. At times one of the younger men stopped in the centre of
the ring, tomahawk in hand, and whilst he assumed a half-stooping
posture, with his face looking upwards, the musicians dwelt on the same
note which became gradually quicker and louder, whilst the dancing
became more brisk, until, when the tip-toe of expectation was apparently
reached, and one was beginning to feel that something ought to happen,
the man in the centre who had been hitherto motionless, swung back a
leg, stuck his tomahawk in the ground, and one’s feelings were relieved
by the dull monotone suddenly breaking off into a lively native air. . .
On another occasion, I was present at a funeral or mourning dance, which
was held in connection with the death of the principal wife of the Alu
chief. It will be found described on page 48.

I will conclude this chapter by alluding to a favourite game of the
Treasury boys which reminded me somewhat of our English game of
peg-tops. An oval pebble about two inches long is placed on a leaf on
the ground. Each boy then takes a similar pebble, around which a piece
of twine is wound; and standing about eight feet away, he endeavours in
the following manner to throw it so as to fall on the pebble on the
ground. The end of the twine is held between his fingers; and as the
twine uncoils, he jerks it backwards and brings his pebble with
considerable force on top of the other.




CHAPTER VIII.

CANOES--FISHING--HUNTING.


IN the eastern islands of the Solomon Group there is a considerable
uniformity in the construction of the canoe. “Dug-out” canoes are rarely
to be seen, except in the sheltered waters of some such harbour as that
of Makira, when they are provided with outriggers. In the case of the
built canoes, outriggers are not employed, and, in truth, the general
absence of outriggers is characteristic of this group. The small-sized
canoe, which is in common use amongst the natives of St. Christoval and
the adjacent islands, measures fifteen or sixteen feet in length and
carries three men. The side is built of two planks; whilst two narrower
planks form the rounded bottom. Both stem and stern are prolonged
upwards into beaks which are rudely carved; whilst the gunwale towards
either end is ornamented with representations both of fishes, such as
sharks and bonitos, and of sea-birds. The planks are sewn together, and
the seams are covered over with a resinous substance that is obtained
from the fruit of the _Parinarium laurinum_ which is a common tree
throughout the group. This resinous material takes some weeks to dry,
when it becomes dark and hard.

Of the larger canoes, which are similarly constructed, I will take as
the type the war-canoe. Its length is usually from 35 to 40 feet: its
sides are of three planks; and the keel is flat, the stem and stern
being continued upwards in the form of beaks. Native decorative talent
is brought into play in the decoration of the war-canoe. Its sides are
inlaid with pieces, usually triangular in form, of the pearl-shell of
commerce (_Meleagrina margaritifera_); and the small and large
_opercula_ belonging to shells of the _Turbinidæ_ with flat spiral discs
produced by grinding down ordinary Cone-shells (_Conidæ_) are similarly
employed. Along the stem and beak there is usually attached a string of
the handsome white cowries (_Ovulum ovum_), or of the pretty white
_Natica_ (_Natica mamilla_). In the island of Simbo or Eddystone, where
these shells are used in a similar manner to decorate the large canoes,
the white cowry marks the canoes of the chiefs; whilst the _Natica_
shell decorates those of the rest of the people.

The pretty little outrigger canoes of Makira on the St. Christoval coast
are only nine inches across; and the native sits on a board, resting on
the gunwales of his small craft. From one side there stretch out two
slender poles four or five feet in length and supporting at their outer
ends a long wooden float which runs parallel with the canoe.

The war-canoes have the reputation amongst resident traders of being
good sea-boats. They frequently make the passage between Malaita and
Ugi, traversing a distance of about thirty miles exposed to the full
force of the Pacific swell. A similarly exposed but much longer passage
of ninety miles is successfully accomplished by the war-canoes of Santa
Catalina, when the natives of this small island pay their periodical
visits to a friendly tribe on the coast of Malaita.

Skilfully managed, even the smaller canoes, which carry two or three
persons, will behave well in a moderately heavy sea. I frequently used
them and had practical experience of the dexterity with which they are
handled. On one occasion I was coasting along the west side of the
island of Simbo in an overladen canoe; and there was just enough “lop”
and swell to make the chances even as to whether we should have to swim
for it or not. It was astonishing to see the various manœuvres employed
by my natives to keep our little craft afloat--now smoothing off with
the blade of the paddle the top of the wave as it rose to the gunwale,
now dodging the swell and taking full advantage of its onward roll, now
putting a leg over each side to increase the stability of the canoe; by
such devices, in addition to continuous baling, I managed to escape the
unpleasantness of a ducking.

Although the larger canoes of the Solomon Islanders are apparently
suited to the requirements of the natives, yet the want of an outrigger
must be often felt, especially in making the unprotected sea passages
from one island to another. The natives of Bougainville Straits who, as
referred to below, occasionally fit their war-canoes, when heavy laden,
with temporary outriggers of stout bamboo poles, must evidently be aware
of the deficiencies of their canoes, unless thus provided: yet for some
reason or other they make no general use of this contrivance. Bishop
Patteson in 1866 was surprised to see on the St. Christoval coast an
outrigger canoe which had been built by the natives after the model of a
canoe that had been drifted over from Santa Cruz some years before.[130]
He says that the natives found it more serviceable than their own canoes
for catching large fish: yet in 1882 after a lapse of sixteen years, we
found no signs of this style of canoe having been adopted by the St.
Christoval natives. It seems to me that the explanation of the outrigger
canoe not being generally employed by the natives of these islands lies
in the arrangement of the larger islands of this group in a double line
enclosing a comparatively sheltered sea 350 miles in length, which is,
to a great extent, protected from the ocean swell. Thus, the
head-hunting voyages of the New Georgia natives to the eastward, which
may extend to Malaita 150 miles distant, are entirely confined to these
sheltered waters. The passages between Malaita and the eastern islands,
which I have referred to above, are, however, in great part exposed; but
they are only undertaken in very settled weather.

    [130] “Life of Bishop Patteson,” p. 126 (S.P.C.K. pub.).

On account of the frequent communication which is kept up between the
different islands of Bougainville Straits, where open-sea passage of
from 15 to 25 miles have to be performed, the larger canoes are in more
common use and in greater number than in the eastern islands of the
group. These large canoes vary in length between 40 and 50 feet, are
between 3½ and 4 feet in beam, can carry from 18 to 25 men, and are
paddled double-banked. They are stoutly built with three lines of
side-planking and two narrow planks forming the bottom of the canoe: all
the planks are bevelled off at their edges and are brought, or rather
sewn, together by narrow strips of the slender stems of a pretty
climbing fern (_Lygonia_ sp.), the “asama” of the natives, which have
the pliancy and strength of rattan. The seams are caulked with the same
resinous material that is employed for this purpose in the eastern
islands, and is obtained from the brown nearly spherical fruits of the
“tita” of the native, the _Parinarium laurinum_ of the botanist.[131]

    [131] The resin of this fruit is used for the same purpose in Isabel
    and probably throughout the group. It is similarly used in the
    Admiralty Islands. Narrative of the “Challenger,” page 719.

The natives of Bougainville Straits do not decorate their canoes to any
great extent; and in this they differ from those of St. Christoval, who,
as I have remarked, ornament the prows and gunwales with carvings of
fish and sea-birds, and inlay the sides with pearl-shell. The stems and
sterns of the large canoes of Faro and of Choiseul Bay are continued up
in the form of high beaks, which rise 12 to 15 feet above the water. I
was at first at a loss to find the explanation of these high beaks,
which give the canoes of Bougainville Straits such a singular
appearance. In the narratives of the voyages of Bougainville and
Surville who observed those high-beaked canoes, the former at Choiseul
Bay in 1768,[132] and the latter at Port Praslin, in Isabel, in
1769,[133] we find the explanation required, which is, that these high
prows, when the canoe is turned end on to the enemy, afford shelter
against arrows and other missiles.

    [132] “Voyage autour du Monde:” 2nd edit. augment. Paris, 1772; Vol.
    II., p. 187. In this work there is an engraving of one of these
    canoes.

    [133] “Discoveries of the French to the South-East of New Guinea,”
    by M. Fleurieu. London, 1791 (p. 139).

For sea-passages, greater stability is sometimes given to the large
canoes of the Straits, by temporarily fitting them with an outrigger on
each side, in the form of a bundle of stout bamboos lashed to the
projecting ends of three bamboo poles placed across the gunwales of the
canoe. The large canoes, in crossing from one island to the other in the
Straits, employ often a couple of small lug-sails which are made from
calico or light canvas obtained from the traders. I never saw any sails
of native material: but it was worthy of remark that in 1792, when
Dentrecasteaux approached close to the west coast of the Shortland
Islands, he noticed “large canoes under sail,” which, to quote directly
from the narrative, “annonçoient une navigation active dans cet archipel
d’îles extrêmement petites.”[134] Why the natives of these Straits no
longer employ sails of their own manufacture, it is difficult to say.
The very recent introduction of trade calico cannot have caused them to
be set aside for those of the new material, since when a native wants to
have a sail, and has no calico, he has no recourse to sails of his own
manufacture. Rather, it would appear, that the canoes under sail, which
navigated these Straits a century ago, belonged to a people more
enterprising than the present inhabitants of these islands.

    [134] “Voyage de Dentrecasteaux,” rédigé par. M. de Rossel, Paris,
    1808: tom. I, p. 117.

To the stem of the canoe, just above the water-line, is sometimes
attached a small misshapen wooden figure, which is the little tutelar
deity that sees the hidden rock, and gives warning of an approaching
foe. One of these figures is shown in the accompanying illustration.
They are similarly employed by the natives of the adjacent island of
Simbo, and of other islands in this part of the group. Often they are
double-headed, so that the little deity may keep a watchful look-out
astern as well as ahead; and then they are placed on the tops of the
high beaks of the Faro canoes. Probably the Chinese custom of painting
eyes on the sides of the bows of the junks, and the similar practice of
the Maltese, in the case of their boats, may date back to the little
gods of wood that were attached to the bows and stems of the canoes of
their barbarous predecessors. The origin of the figure-heads of our
ships may perhaps be traced back to times of savagery when a similar
superstitious practice prevailed.

“Dug-out” canoes are only to be found in the sheltered waters of
Treasury Harbour. They are from 16 to 18 feet long, are provided with an
outrigger, and are so narrow that the occupant sits on a board placed on
the gunwales with only his feet and legs inside the canoe. In the quiet
waters of the anchorage at Simbo, the natives make use of a raft of
poles lashed together somewhat after the manner of a catamaran, such as
I have seen on the coast of Formosa.

A few remarks on the mode of paddling, and on the paddles employed, may
be here fitting. The long tapering blade,[135] which is in common use in
the eastward islands, gives place in Bougainville Straits to the oval
and sub-circular blades. All the paddles which I saw had cross-handles.
Those used by the women of the Straits are unusually light, more
finished, and are sometimes decorated with patterns in red and black.
According to the length of the journey, one or other of two styles of
progression is adopted. In short distances, they often proceed by a
succession of spurts with a stroke of 60 and more to the minute, each
spurt lasting a few minutes, and being followed by a short interval of
rest. In longer distances they employ a slower stroke of from 40 to 50
to the minute, which is varied by occasional spurts. On one occasion
when taking a journey of 12 miles in a war canoe, I was much struck with
the different kinds of strokes by which my crew of eighteen men varied
their exertions. They usually paddled along easily at about 50 strokes
to the minute: but every ten or fifteen minutes they began a series of
spurts, each spurt beginning with a short sharp stroke of about 60 to
the minute, and passing into a slow strong stroke of about 28 to the
minute. After a succession of these spurts, which occupied altogether
about five minutes, they settled down again into their previous easy
stroke of 50 to the minute. Frequent stoppages occur during the course
of a long journey, either for enjoying a chew of the betel-nut or for
smoking a pipe; and the average speed, from this reason, would not
exceed three miles an hour, whilst a day’s run, between daylight and
dusk, in fine weather would be from 25 to 30 miles.

    [135] See illustration.

When a corpse is being transported in a canoe to its last resting-place
in the sea by the natives of the Shortlands, they adopt a funeral
stroke, pausing between each stroke of the paddle, and by a slight
back-water movement partly arresting the progress of the canoe. I
remember on one occasion, whilst watching a large canoe starting from
Ugi to the opposite coast of St. Christoval, remarking their singular
style of paddling. At every other stroke each man raised his arm and
paddle much higher in the air, and gave a vigorous dig into the water, a
very effective style as regards speed, and one likely to impress a timid
enemy with fear. . . . Before leaving this subject, I should refer to
the paddling-posture of these natives. All of them in the different
islands we visited squat down with their legs crossed, facing the bow.
The New Guinea practice of standing up to paddle a canoe did not come
under my observation except in the case of outrigger canoes, and in such
canoes it was not the rule. I should infer that the posture of sitting
or standing to paddle a canoe varies in accordance with the use of or
non-employment of an outrigger. If, as in the case of the Solomon Island
canoes, outriggers are rarely used, then the sitting posture will be
found to be the one adopted, since the unaided stability of the canoe
does not permit of the standing posture. If, on the other hand,
outriggers are usually employed, it follows that, as in certain parts of
New Guinea, the more effective posture of standing is preferred.

As fish form a staple diet of a large proportion of these islanders,
much ingenuity is shown in the methods devised for catching them. In the
eastern part of the archipelago, kite-fishing is commonly employed. A
kite[136] is flown in the air from the end of a canoe, and to it a
fishing-line is attached in place of the usual tail. Whilst the man in
the canoe paddles slowly ahead, the movement of the kite whisks the bait
about on the surface of the water; and when the fish bites, the kite
goes down. Instead of a hook and bait, the natives usually employ for
this mode of fishing some stout spider-web, which gets entangled around
the teeth and snout of the fish, and can be used several times. The
explanation of this plan of catching fish is probably as follows. The
kite swaying in the air offers some resemblance to an aquatic bird
hovering over the water where a shoal of small fish occurs. It thus
attracts the larger fish, who are said to follow the movements of these
birds, and are thus guided in the pursuit of the smaller fry. It is with
this object that the natives of the Society Group tie bunches of
feathers to the extremities of the long-curved poles which, projecting
from the fore-part of the canoe, support the lines.[137] As bearing on
this subject, I may remark that it is not uncommon in these seas to
observe porpoises, large fish, and sea-birds joining together in the
pursuit of small fry. On one occasion, when in my Rob Roy canoe, I got
into the thick of the fray. A large number of sea-birds were hovering
over the water, which was alive with fish, about a foot in length,
which, in pursuit of small fry, were themselves pursued by a shoal of
porpoises, and were pecked at by the birds as, in their endeavour to
escape, they leapt out of the water. It was a lively spectacle. The fish
jumped out of the water all around me, whilst the birds hovering within
reach of my paddle swooped down on them; and the huge porpoises, joining
lazily in the sport, rose quietly to the surface within a few feet of
the canoe, showed their dorsal fins, and dived again in pursuit of their
prey. I stupidly fired three shots with my revolver into the hovering
flock of birds; but it was not until after the third report that they
temporarily suspended the chase. . . . Another common method of fishing
in the eastern islands, which resembles in its idea that of the
kite-fishing, consists in the use of a float of wood about three feet in
length and rather bigger than a walking-stick. It is weighted by a stone
at one end, so that it floats upright in the water, a fishing-line with
the spider-web bait being attached to its lower end. The upper end of
the float, which is out of the water, is rudely cut in imitation of a
wading-bird; and here we have the same idea exhibited which I have
described above in the case of kite-fishing, the figure of the bird
being _supposed_ to attract the larger fish. There is, however, this
difference. A glance at one of these floats, one of which is figured
elsewhere, will convince anyone that a fish is not likely to be deceived
by such a sorry representation of a bird. Doubtless we have here an
instance of the survival of a more effective method of fishing, in which
the idea has been retained, but the utility has been lost. This plan is
in fact nothing more than the employment of a float, which is thrown
into the water by the fisherman, who follows it up in his canoe and
looks out for its bob.

    [136] Some of these kites, which I saw, had a form rudely
    representing a bird with expanded wings. Others had a squarish form
    and were made of palm leaf.

    [137] Ellis’s “Polynesian Researches,” Vol. I., p. 149-50.

In the eastern islands the fishing spear is frequently employed. With
this weapon in his hand, the native wades in the shallow water on the
flats of the reefs, and hurls it at any passing fish. The night-time is
often chosen for this mode of fishing. A party of natives provided with
torches, spread themselves along the edge of the reef and stand ready to
throw their spears as the fish dart by them. During the day, when the
reef-flats at low-tide are covered only by a small depth of water, the
fishermen advance in a semicircle until a fish is observed, when the two
wings close in, and the fish is surrounded. The kind of fish-spear which
they use much resembles that which Mr. Ellis describes in his account of
the Society Islands.[138] As shown in the engraving (p. 74), the head of
the fish-spear is composed of five fore-shafts of hard wood, notched at
their sides, and arranged around a similar fore-shaft. These are bound
together, and the whole is fitted into the end of a stout bamboo, giving
the weapon a total length of about seven feet. . . . . The fish-spear
does not appear to be so commonly used by the natives of Bougainville
Straits. There, its place is often taken by the bow and arrow, which are
weapons that are not in use amongst the natives of St. Christoval and
the adjacent islands at the eastern end of the group.

    [138] “Polynesian Researches,” vol. I., p. 143.

I should here remark that, when fishing on the reefs, natives are
sometimes struck by the gar-fish with such force that they die from the
wound. The possibility of this occurrence has recently been doubted. But
that such is the case, we incidentally learned from the natives of the
Shortlands. The people of Wano, on the north coast of St. Christoval,
believe that the ghosts which haunt the sea, cause the flying-fish and
the gar-fish to dart out of the water and to strike men in the canoes;
and they hold that any man thus struck will die.[139] This superstitious
belief could only have arisen from the circumstance of natives having
met their death in this manner; and it is probable that in this respect
the larger flying-fish would be quite as much to be feared as the
gar-fish. Mr. Moseley, in his “Notes by a Naturalist,” p. 480, refers
to such an event as not of uncommon occurrence in some of the Pacific
Islands.[140]

    [139] “Religious Beliefs and Practices in Melanesia,” by the Rev. R.
    H. Codrington, M.A. Journal of Anthropological Institute, vol. X.

    [140] _Vide_ also “Nature,” index of vol. XXVIII., for some further
    correspondence on this subject.

The material, from which the natives of Bougainville Straits manufacture
the twine for their fishing-nets and lines, is usually supplied by the
delicate fibres lining the bark of the young branches of a stout
climber, which is known to the natives as the “awi-sulu.” This climber,
which is probably a species of _Lyonsia_, has a main stem of the size of
a man’s leg, which embraces a tree, whilst it sends its offshoots for a
distance of some 40 or 50 feet along the ground. It is the delicate
fibres lining the inside of the skin of the young procumbent branches
that the native selects for his purpose. By scraping the thin bark or
skin with the edge of a pearl-shell, the fibres are first cleared of
other material: they are then dried in the sun; and when dry, they are
arranged in small strands, three of which are twisted together into a
fine line by rolling them with the palm of the hand on the thigh. The
natives sometimes obtain the material for their nets and lines from the
common littoral tree, the _Hibiscus tiliaceus_, which they name
“dakatako.”

In making their nets, our common netting-stitch is employed, the needle
being of plain wood, 18 inches long, and forked at each end; whilst the
mesh employed is a piece of tortoise-shell, having for a width of an
inch a length of 2½ inches. The method of netting familiar to ourselves
appears to be generally employed amongst the native races of this
portion of the globe. We learn from the Rev. George Turner that in Samoa
the same stitch and the same form of needle are employed which are in
use in Europe.[141] The natives of Port Moresby, in New Guinea, net “so
precisely in our mode that the seamen of H.M.S. “Basilisk” took up their
shuttles and went on with their work.”[142] The needle employed at
Redscar Bay, on the coast of the same island, is more like our own, the
mesh being of tortoise-shell, two to three inches long.[143] When
Captain Bowen, of the ship “Albemarle,” was visited in 1791 by some
natives of the Solomon Islands who came off to him in their canoes, he
thought he had found in the apparently European workmanship of their
nets a clue to the fate of La Pérouse, a very pardonable error which
receives its explanation from the above facts.[144]

    [141] “Nineteen Years in Polynesia” (London, 1861), p. 272.

    [142] Moresby’s “New Guinea” (1876), p. 156.

    [143] These specimens are in the British Museum Ethnological
    collection.

    [144] Dillon’s “Discovery of the Fate of La Pérouse” (1829), vol I.,
    p. lxix.

[Illustration]

Fishing on the reef-flats with large hand-nets is a common occupation of
the men in the islands of Bougainville Straits. Some five or six men
form a party, each man carrying a pair of long hand-nets in which the
netting is stretched on a long bamboo some 20 feet in length and bent
like a bow, as shown in the accompanying figure. The fishing party wade
about on the flat near the edge of the reef, each man being about 20
paces apart, and dragging behind him a pair of these clumsy-looking
nets, one in each hand. When a fish is perceived they close round; and
every man spreads out his nets, one on each side like a pair of wings,
thus covering an extent of some 40 feet. By skilfully dropping his nets,
when it makes a rush in his direction, the native secures the fish,
which, dashing head first against one of the nets, gets its snout caught
in the meshes; and a couple of blows on the head complete the capture. I
have seen fish of the size of an ordinary bass caught in this manner.
Smaller nets, 4 to 6 feet in length, with a finer mesh, are used for
catching fish of less size. The large hand-net is known as the “sorau,”
and the small hand-net as the “saiaili.” Such is one of the commonest
methods of fishing in the Straits. For this purpose, fishing parties
often visit the uninhabited small islands and coral islets that lie off
the coasts. There they erect temporary sheds and remain for one or two
weeks. In the numerous uninhabited islets and small islands which I
visited, I frequently came on the temporary habitations erected by
fishing parties; whilst propped up against the trees were the long
bamboo poles on which the nets are stretched. The natives of St.
Christoval and the adjacent islands employ a similar method in fishing
on the reef-flats. Fishing parties often spend a week or two on the
small islands and reefs which lie off the St. Christoval coast; thus
the men of Wano visit for this purpose the islet of Maoraha, about 12
miles down the coast; whilst those of Sulagina cross over to the Three
Sisters, which are about the same distance away.

Dip-nets, such as I have seen in common use on the banks of the Chinese
rivers, are here employed, though on a smaller scale, for catching small
fish. They are usually 7 or 8 feet across, and are stretched on two
crossed bamboos. Seine-nets, much prized by the natives on account of
the labour expended in making them, and buoyed up with floats of the
square fruits of the _Barringtonia speciosa_, are commonly employed.
There are other modes of net-fishing, of which I am ignorant, some of
which probably came under the notice of the officers of the survey: and
I hope that in reading these remarks they may be induced to supplement
them with additional information.

The fish-hooks employed vary in form and workmanship in different parts
of the group. In the sheltered harbour of Makira, the natives whiff in
small outrigger-canoes for a small fish of the size of a smelt, using
very fine lines and small delicately made hooks of mother-of-pearl.
During our stay at the island of Simbo or Eddystone, one of the
principal articles of exchange between the natives and ourselves was a
somewhat clumsy kind of fish-hook used for catching large fish. The
shank is of pearl-shell cut in the shape of the body of a small fish, 2
to 2½ inches long, and rather less than half an inch wide. The hook
itself, which is destitute of barbs and is made of tortoise-shell, is
bound by strong twine to the tail-end of the shank. Considerable labour
must be expended in making one of these hooks: but so eager were the
natives for tobacco, that we were able to obtain them for small pieces
of this article which could not have been worth more than half a
farthing. It is worthy of note that in the island of Treasury, about 80
miles to the north-west, these hooks are not made by the natives, who
were anxious to obtain from us those which we had brought from Simbo.
Very similar, though larger, hooks are used by the natives of other
Pacific groups; amongst them I may refer to those employed by the
Society Islanders[145] for catching dolphins, albicores, and bonitos.
These hooks, wherever they are used, as I need scarcely add, answer the
purpose of both hook and bait. The fish-hooks of European manufacture,
which are one of the articles used in trading with the natives, are in
demand in many islands, though not in all. In some islands, in fact, the
native fish-hook is preferred.

    [145] Ellis’s “Polynesian Researches,” vol. I. p. 146.

The various ingenious methods of ensnaring and decoying fish, which are
employed by the natives of this archipelago, would alone afford, to a
true enthusiast in the sport of fishing, materials for a small volume. A
plan which I saw employed at Ugi consisted in tying a living fish to the
end of a bamboo float and using it as a decoy for other fish. The
fisherman repairs to the reef when it is covered by a depth of between 2
and 3 feet of water. Placing the fish and bamboo float in the water, he
follows them up either in his canoe or on foot. The fish swims along,
drawing the bamboo float after it: it soon decoys some other fish from
its retreat, when the fisherman watches his opportunity and catches his
fish in a hand-net which he carries with him.

A singular mode of fishing, which Mr. Stephens of Ugi described to me as
being sometimes employed in that part of the group, may be here alluded
to. A rock, where fish resort, which lies 3 or 4 feet below the surface,
is first selected. On the surface of the water is placed a ring of some
supple stem so as to include within its circumference the rock beneath.
No fish on the rock will pass under this ring, which is gradually
contracted in size until the fish become crowded together, when they are
scooped up with a hand-net.

The following ingenious snare was employed on one occasion by my natives
in Treasury, when I was anxious to obtain for Dr. Günther some small
fish that frequented one of the streams on the north side of the island.
I was very desirous to have some of these fish, and my natives were
equally anxious to display their ingenuity in catching them. They first
bent a pliant switch into an oval hoop, about a foot in length, over
which they spread a covering of a stout spider-web which was found in
the wood hard by. Having placed this hoop on the surface of the water,
buoying it up on two light sticks, they shook over it a portion of a
nest of ants, which formed a large kind of tumour on the trunk of a
neighbouring tree, thus covering the web with a number of the struggling
young insects. This snare was then allowed to float down the stream,
when the little fish, which were between 2 and 3 inches long, commenced
jumping up at the white bodies of the ants from underneath the hoop,
apparently not seeing the intervening web on which they lay, as it
appeared nearly transparent in the water. In a short time one of the
small fish succeeded in getting its snout and gills entangled in the
web, when a native at once waded in, and placing his hand under the
entangled fish secured the prize. With two of these web-hoops we caught
nine or ten of these little fish in a quarter of an hour.

As in other Pacific groups, the natives sometimes catch fish by throwing
small bits of some poisonous fruit on the water, when in a short time
the fish rise dead to the surface. The crushed kernels of the fruits of
the common littoral _Barringtonia_ (_B. speciosa_) are thus employed by
the natives. I tried them on one occasion in a fresh-water lake in
Stirling Island, which abounded with fish, but after the lapse of two or
three hours, no dead fish appeared at the surface.

The use of dynamite for destroying fish, by white men in the group, has
led to its occasional employment for a similar purpose by the natives,
whenever white men have been thoughtless enough to give them this
substance. In August, 1882, I visited a village in the Bauro district on
the north coast of St. Christoval, which had lost its chief, a few days
before, from an injury to the hand, resulting from an accidental
explosion of dynamite whilst fishing. Such occurrences must not be
uncommon in these and other islands. In the previous April, we met with
a native teacher at Mboli Harbour who had lost one of his hands from a
similar cause.[146] At the end of May, 1884, I removed the left hand of
Captain Smith, the master of the labour-schooner “Lavina,” who had
received a very serious injury of the hand whilst fishing with dynamite
on the coast of Malaita. Some of the fresh-water fish which I sent to
Dr. Günther were obtained in this way through the kindness of Mr.
Curzon-Howe, the Government agent of the “Lavina;” and as I witnessed
the operation, I am in a position to pronounce on the hazardous nature
of the mode in which the dynamite was employed. . . . . With reference
to the natives, there are two very obvious reasons why this explosive
substance should not be permitted to get into their hands, even if we
disregard the hazard that would attend its use. In the first place, they
might employ it against white men and against their fellows; and in the
next place, its employment for obtaining fish would tend to encourage
the already too indolent habits of these islanders.

    [146] Since writing the above, I have learned from my friend, Dr.
    Luther, late of H.M.S. “Dart,” that he had to amputate on two
    occasions in the cases of natives who had sustained severe injuries
    of the hand whilst fishing with dynamite.

I pass on now to the subject of pig-hunting in these islands. Wild pigs
occurred in most, if not all, of the islands which we visited. I was
frequently warned by the natives, when undertaking a solitary excursion,
to look out for the boars, who attain a ferocity which, on account of
their powerful curved tusks, it would be dangerous to provoke unarmed.
On more than one occasion when alone, I came unexpectedly in the bush on
one of these boars, who are in appearance by no means despicable
antagonists. When they stand their ground, it is necessary to be
prepared for their onset; but as a rule they only indicate their
presence by the noise which they make when scampering away. In the
islands of Bougainville Straits, where there are numerous plantations of
sago palms, the wild pigs are very fond of the fruit of this palm before
the albumen of the seed attains its stony hardness. They often select as
their retreats the hollow trunks of the palms which have been felled and
emptied of the sago. Their habit of frequenting the plantations of sago
palms, and of feasting on the remains of the palms that have been lately
cut down and the pith removed, was observed by Captain Thomas Forrest in
the island of Gilolo, in the Indian Archipelago.[147] On the approach of
any special occasion of feasting, pig-hunting becomes a necessary sport
with the natives; but in addition, they frequently take to it for the
sake of replenishing their larders. With his spear and a couple of dogs,
a man is usually successful in getting his pig. The dogs bring the
animal to bay, when he is speared by the hunter, who, if alone, at once
sets to work to quarter and roast his quarry, and thus considerably
lightens the weight he has to carry back. During my excursions, my
natives used to frequently leave me when their dogs had roused a pig in
the bush; and on one occasion, when, much to my indignation, they had
been absent for an hour, they came back triumphantly with two large
boars. Captain Forrest, in his account of his voyage to New Guinea,
gives an illustration of “Papua men in their canoes hunting wild
hogs”[148] off the island of Morty, near the large island of Gilolo.
These men are represented with the spear, bow, and arrow, and a dog.
Such a method of hunting pigs never came under my notice in the Solomon
Islands and must necessarily be rarely employed.

    [147] “A Voyage to New Guinea and the Moluccas.” London, 1779 (p.
    39).

    [148] Ibid., Plate XI. of book of plates.

Wild dogs are numerous in the bush in the interior of Alu. They never
attack the natives or the pigs and, as they always slink away when
alarmed, they are not often seen. They subsist on the opossums
(_Cuscus_), waiting to catch them at the foot of the trunks of the trees
as they descend to the ground at nightfall. When I was away on an
excursion with Gorai the Alu chief, the native dogs that were with us
ran down a wild dog and worried it to death. I came in at the death, and
was not very much pleased with the spectacle which afforded much
amusement to Gorai and his men. The unfortunate dog was apparently of
the native breed. How these animals have come to prefer this mode of
life I could not learn.

My native companions during my excursions rarely returned to their homes
without bringing back an opossum (_Cuscus_). Usually this animal was
caught without much trouble, as it slumbers during the day and may be
then surprised amongst the foliage of the tree where it finds its home.
Sometimes, however, when the keen eyes of my natives discovered an
opossum amongst the leafy branches overhead, we were enlivened by an
exciting hunt. On such occasions, one man climbs the tree in which the
animal is esconced whilst three or four other men climb the trees
immediately around. By dint of shouting and shaking the branches, the
opossum is started from its retreat, and then the sport commences. This
clumsy looking creature displays great agility in springing from branch
to branch, and even from tree to tree. Suspended by its prehensile tail
to the branch above, the _Cuscus_ first tests the firmness of the branch
next below, before it finally intrusts its weight to its support. It
runs up and down the stouter limbs of the tree like a squirrel; but its
activity and cunning are most displayed in passing from the branches of
one tree to those of another. At length, scared by the shaking of the
branches, and by the cries of the natives who have clambered out on the
limbs as far as they can get with safety, the opossum runs out towards
the extremity of the limb, proceeding cautiously to the very terminal
branchlets, until the weight of its body bends down the slender
extremities of the branch, and it hangs suspended by its tail in mid-air
about ten feet below. The gentle swaying of the branches in the wind,
aided probably by its own movements, swings the opossum to and fro,
until it approaches within grasp of the foliage of the adjoining tree.
Then the clever creature, having first ascertained the strength of its
new support, uncoils its tail. Up goes the branch with a swish when
relieved of its weight; and in a similar manner the opossum swings by
its tail from the slender branches of the tree to which it has now
transferred its weight. Finally the opossum reaches the ground, where
its awkward movements render it an easy capture. It is then tied to a
stick and carried home alive on the shoulder of a native.

The _Cuscus_ is a common article of food with these islanders; and in
some islands, as in Simbo or Eddystone, it is kept as a pet by the
natives. Out of seven opossums that were kept as pets on board the
“Lark,” all died within a few weeks, being apparently unable to
withstand captivity. Most of them, however, were young. The cause of the
death of one of them was rather singular. Immediately after its death
the skin of the animal was literally covered with small ticks about the
size of a pin’s head and distended with blood, whilst the body presented
the blanched appearance of an animal bled to death. It had been ailing
for a day or two before and was incessantly drinking all liquids it
could get, even its own urine: but the ticks had not been sufficiently
numerous to be observed; and in fact they appeared to have covered the
animal in the course of a single night. As I was informed by the natives
of Simbo, these animals subsist on the shoots and young leaves of the
trees: on board the “Lark” they cared for little else than bananas. They
make a curious clicking noise when eating, and often hold the substance
in their fore-paws. When taken out in the day-time from their boxes they
were half asleep, and at once tried to get out of the bright light into
the shade. In the night-time they were very restless in their prisons,
making continual efforts to escape between the bars, and as soon as they
were let out they moved about with much activity. The older animals are
sometimes rather fierce. One of them which belonged to the men used to
spend a considerable portion of its time up aloft; and, when in want of
food, it would descend the rigging and go down to the lower deck. Their
naked tails have a cold clammy feeling; and with them they were in the
habit of swinging themselves from any object. When the _Cuscus_ was
about to be taken up by its master, it moored itself to the nearest
object by means of its tail. It always descended a rope head first, but
kept its tail twined round the rope during its descent so as to be able
to withdraw itself at once if necessary, the tail supporting the greater
portion of its weight.

Although the natives, who accompanied me in my various excursions,
usually displayed their skill in following a straight course through a
pathless wood where they could only see a few yards on either side of
them, yet on more than one occasion they were, to use a nautical
phrase, completely out in their reckoning, and I had to bring my compass
into use and become the guide myself in order to avoid passing the night
in the bush. When in the interior of the north-west part of Alu
accompanied by Gorai, the chief, and a number of his men, I was
astonished at the readiness with which, in the absence of any tracks,
they found their way to the coast. Gorai led the way; and on my asking
him how he managed to know the right direction in a thick forest with
neither sun nor trade-wind to guide him, he merely remarked that he
“saveyed bush,” and pointing with his hand in a particular direction, he
informed me that “Mono stopped there,” Mono being the native name for
Treasury. There was a little uncertainty among the natives as to whether
the old chief was guiding us aright; but there was no hesitation on the
part of Gorai, whose course as tested by my compass was always in the
same direction; he, however, disdained the use of the compass and
ultimately brought us back to the coast. When passing through a district
with which he is but little acquainted, the native frequently bends the
branches of the bushes as he passes, in order to strike the same path on
the way back. He must be frequently guided in his course through the
forest by noticing the bearing of the sun and the swaying of the upper
branches of the trees in the trade-wind, guides which were often
employed by myself when alone in the bush: but when, as not uncommonly
happens, there is such a dense screen of foliage overhead, that neither
the sun nor the upper branches of the trees can be seen, he must employ
other means of guidance. Rude tracks, usually traversed the least
frequented districts of the islands which we visited; and their
persistence appeared to be sometimes due to the fact that they were used
by the wild pigs.

Fallen trees commonly obstruct the most frequented paths in the vicinity
of villages: and there they remain until decay removes them, for the
native has no idea of doing an act for the public weal: with him, in
such and kindred matters, what is everybody’s business is nobody’s.
Captain Macdonald, in his capacity as a chief in Santa Anna, adopted the
serviceable method of employing natives, who had committed petty
offences, in making good walks in the vicinity of the houses of the
white residents. The example however was not followed by the natives for
the approaches to their own village of Sapuna. Being quite content with
their narrow footpaths, they probably could not understand that whatever
contributed to the public good was also to the advantage of the
individual.




CHAPTER IX.

PREVALENT DISEASES.


I HAVE previously remarked that in these islands the duties of the
sorcerer and the medicine-man are frequently combined. The same man, who
can remove a disease by exorcism and by ill-wishing can bring sickness
and death upon any obnoxious individual, may also be able in the
estimation of the people to procure a fair wind for an intended voyage,
or to bring about rain in a season of drought. I had more than one
opportunity of satisfying myself of the fact that the medicine-man often
trades upon the credulity of his patients, and that he is himself aware
that all his charms and incantations are mere trickery. In Santa Anna
his services are often employed to procure the recovery of a sick man,
and by some form of incantation he pretends to appease the anger of the
offended spirit to whom the illness is attributed. Captain Macdonald,
who has long resided in this island, informed me that when on one
occasion he had relieved by medicine the sufferings of a native who had
in vain employed the exorcisms of the village physician to effect his
cure, the success of his treatment did not detract in any way from the
reputation of the medicine-man, who, having informed himself of the
progress of the patient, after Captain Macdonald had given his remedy,
foretold his recovery and took to himself the whole credit of the cure.

In the island of Ugi chunam (burnt lime) is one of the domestic remedies
employed in sickness, being rubbed into the skin of the patient by his
friends. The chunam of some men is supposed to be more efficacious than
that of others, and messengers may be sent from one end of the island to
the other to procure it. One of our Treasury natives, who was employed
on board, had a reputation as medicine-man. His method of treatment in
the case of one of his own comrades consisted in tying a particular leaf
around the limbs and joints to localize the pain, and in striking the
affected part with the same leaf. On one occasion this man was himself
laid up with a large abscess in the buttock, which he attempted to cure
by tying a strip of the leaf around the thigh and by placing another for
a few moments over the seat of the abscess. He would not let me do much
for him; and from absorption of the purulent matter into the blood, a
number of abscesses began to form in other parts of the body which
brought him into a serious hectic condition. The poor fellow’s cries of
“Agai” “Agai,” corresponding to our exclamations of pain, made me feel
acutely for him; but he placed little faith in our offices, his great
desire, as intimated by his frequent cries of “Feli” (Fire), was to be
placed beside a large wood fire. He was sent on shore and given in
charge of his wife on our arrival off Treasury. When I landed to see him
a few hours after, I found him with his wish at last gratified; there he
lay beside a roasting fire, the very last condition that seemed likely
to promote his recovery. However he slowly regained his health, and I
did what I could for him in buying sago and other articles of food from
his own people who were not very ready with their supplies for the sick
man.

This brings me to the subject of the indifference often displayed
towards the sick and invalids. The natives view these things in a very
matter-of-fact way. On more than one occasion when in the house of
sickness, the son or the brother of the sick man has remarked to me, in
the coolest manner, “Him too much sick. I think by-and-by finish;” and
it is astonishing to hear of the manner in which they allow the sick to
shift for themselves. In the islands of Bougainville Straits the very
aged, who are unable to get about or to be of any service to themselves,
are placed in a house in which they are left alone although supplied
with food; and there they remain until they die. Two old and decrepit
men, who were both fast hastening to their ends, being the subjects of
chronic lung affections, were placed together in a house in Treasury
where they were supplied with food but rarely if ever visited. They were
placed there to die as the relations informed us; and there they
remained day after day until the end arrived. Mr. Stephens told me that
in his island of Ugi, if a cocoa-nut is placed by the side of the sick
man, his friends consider they have done all in their power. No attempt
is made to alleviate pain, or to soothe by companionship the tedious
hours of the sick. He lies deserted on his roughly plaited mat of
palm-leaves, in his wretched home where the sunlight rarely enters; and
there he awaits, perhaps without regret, his approaching death. When
consciousness leaves him, his friends regard him as already dead,
attributing the spasmodic breathing and the convulsive efforts of the
dying man to the agency of some evil spirit.

The influence of superstition probably explains the indifference which
prevails as to the welfare of the sick and aged. Those afflicted with
such an infirmity as blindness are kindly treated by their fellows. I
was particularly struck, whilst looking on at a feast in the village of
Treasury, by the attention that was paid to the wants of a young blind
man who sat aloof from the rest. He was blind from his birth, and I
particularly pleased him by sitting down beside him and giving him a
stick of tobacco.

In the case of those who have received some severe injury, such as a
gunshot wound, considerable care is shown by the friends in their
welfare. I saw much of the natives who were wounded during the
hostilities carried on between the natives of Treasury and the
Shortlands, and was astonished at the ease with which they recovered
from apparently hopeless injuries. My experience goes to support the
opinion laid down by Professor Waitz in his “Anthropology of Primitive
Peoples,”[149] that the healing power of nature is greater among savage
than among civilized races. The principle of non-interference was
literally carried out in defiance of the laws of hygiene and of the
experience of modern surgery. After the unfortunate conflict on the
islet of Tuluba, off the west coast of Alu, I visited the wounded man
and woman who had been brought back to their homes. I found the woman
lying in a dingy little house in which I had to stand still for a few
minutes before I could see my patient. Five days had elapsed since the
fight; and the condition of a wound, which has been left alone for this
period in a tropical climate, may be well imagined. She had received a
severe tomahawk wound just above the right knee, smashing the bone and
implicating the joint. The parts were much swollen and there was profuse
suppuration. No attempt had been made to wash the wound, and in
consequence it stunk horribly. A few pieces of split bamboo, less than a
foot in length, were lashed in a slack fashion around the joint by means
of rattan; but they could have given little or no support. Under the
couch, which was merely a layer of poles raised about a foot from the
ground, were placed hot stones wrapped up in leaves, from which the
warmth ascended to the injured limb which was left uncovered and exposed
to the flies and other insects. The poor woman was moaning terribly; and
her cries of “Agai” were painful to listen to, especially as I was
permitted to do but little. They would neither wash nor cover the wound,
and persisted in keeping up the hot air treatment by means of the hot
stones wrapped in leaves, which were placed under the couch. I
pronounced her recovery as hopeless; and was after a time obliged to
discontinue my visits, upon being told by one of the medicine-men that
as he could make her well, my presence was not required. I never saw the
woman again, but sometime after I learned that she was nearly well.

    [149] English edition: translated by J. F. Collingwood: London,
    1863: p. 126.

The man who was wounded at the same time had received a rifle-bullet
through the thigh without injuring the bone, and another through the
groin. I found his wounds in the same horrible condition, with the wound
of exit in the thigh as large as my fist. Nothing whatever had been done
except placing hot stones in leaves under the limb on the ground
beneath; and nothing more was done. There the man lay for several weeks
with his wounds unwashed and exposed to the air. In course of time he
recovered. One of the Treasury natives had been shot by one of his own
party, the rifle-bullet passing through the right elbow from behind, and
apparently disorganising the joint. I saw him a month after he had
received the injury, lying in a very emaciated condition on his couch,
with the wounded limb stretched out beside him quite unprotected and
displaying an extensive flesh-wound in front of the joint. The hot-stone
treatment had been the only one employed. In another month or five weeks
he was up and about, but of course with a useless elbow. One of the Alu
natives, who had been shot through the left shoulder from behind by the
Treasury chief, had nearly recovered when I saw him six or seven weeks
after, although the arm was useless.

Reflecting on the hot-stone treatment which the natives employed for
these severe injuries, I came to think that it was really efficacious.
They said themselves that the hot air eased the pain, and this was
probably effected, as I hold, by the warmth relaxing the parts after
suppuration had begun and thus assisting the escape of the purulent
discharges. The surgeon of our own time may take a hint from this
practice of the Solomon Islander. It would certainly scarcely accord
with the principles of modern surgery if a gunshot injury of one of the
larger joints was to be treated in one of our general hospitals by being
constantly kept in a current of heated air, uncovered and even unwashed.
The experiment, however, would be worth a trial in cases where
amputation is unpracticable and where death is the probable result.

It is a common saying amongst white men who have had to deal with these
natives, that when a man makes up his mind to die he assuredly will,
even although apparently in robust health. Such cases are not unusual on
board labour-ships on their way to the Queensland and Fiji plantations,
and they may be regarded as of the nature of nostalgic melancholy or
home-sickness. It is in truth hard to imagine the train of thoughts
which must pass through the simple mind of a native when his island-home
disappears below the horizon, and he is borne away to a strange land
from which, it may be, some of his acquaintances have never returned.
Even the attractions of the box of trade that his servitude will earn
may be insufficient to keep down the undefined apprehensions which fill
his breast; and the knowledge of the impossibility of seeking his
friends or his island again for what must appear to him an indefinite
period may only serve to strengthen his longing for home. Here we have
that disease with which the army surgeons of Europe were familiar, and
which has been most recently exhibited amongst the Italian troops
stationed at Masowah on the coast of the Red Sea. It is that “strange
disease” which Dr. Livingstone so pathetically describes in his “Last
Journals,” as affecting the victims of the slave-trade in the lake
region of Africa. I remember on one occasion, when visiting a
labour-vessel that had arrived in Treasury Harbour, my attention was
drawn by the mate to a native of New Ireland who had eaten little for
some days and was looking over the side of the ship towards the shore in
a depressed and moody manner. I saw that the thoughts of the poor fellow
were in reality far away; and I passed on to see some of the other sick
men. The next morning this New Ireland native was missing, and in the
evening his body was found washed up on the beach. . . . I would refer
my readers to some interesting remarks on this subject from the pen of
Mr. Romilly,[150] whose official experience in the Western Pacific
enables him to write with authority. The Solomon Islanders, according to
this author, are less affected by this disease than those of other
groups; whilst the New Hebrides natives appear to be most subject to
it. Not only do natives often die of nostalgia before they are landed,
but many die from this cause after their arrival in Fiji; and the only
way to cure those affected is the one least likely to be followed, that
is, “to send them home.”

    [150] “The Western Pacific and New Guinea.” London, 1886: pp.
    16,177.

In the eastern part of the Solomon Group, one commonly meets natives
limping along with large ulcerous sores on the soles of the feet, seated
usually near the base of the toes. They are often caused by stepping on
the sharp corals when fishing on the reefs, or by splinters of wood
piercing the skin of the soles of the feet when walking in the bush. As
a rule, the native pays no attention to these sores, and from neglect
the ulceration extends both on the surface and to the deeper tissues,
exposing the tendons and the metatarsal bones. Ultimately some or all
the toes may be lost, and an unshapely clubbed foot arises from the
subsequent contraction of the cicatrised surface. At other times, where
the ulceration has been superficial but has extended between the toes,
adhesion and perfect union of the lateral surfaces of the toes ensue,
and a continuous covering of skin bridges over the intervening spaces.
Mr. Nisbet, the government agent of the labour-schooner “Redcoat” from
Fiji, showed me a Solomon Island native with a foot of perfect form but
with apparently no toes. A continuous covering of skin covered the whole
foot like a thin sock, and the toes were only recognisable by the touch.
The man appeared to be but little incommoded by this obliteration of the
toes. Among the natives of New Britain, as we learn from Mr.
Romilly,[151] “the toes are not unfrequently joined together by a tough
membrane,” a defect which does “not seem to impair their activity.” This
evidently results from superficial ulceration in the manner I have above
described.

    [151] “The Western Pacific and New Guinea.” London, 1886, p. 21.

These ulcerous sores, if left exposed to the irritation of sand, dirt,
and flies, may last for years and may ultimately cause death. Dr.
Livingstone in his “Last Journals” (vol. ii. chaps. 2 and 3) speaks of
the ulcers of the feet from which many of the slaves die in the region
west of Tanganyika. They eat through everything muscle, tendon, and
bone, and often lame permanently. “The wailing of slaves tortured with
these sores is one of the night sounds of a slave camp.” These ulcers,
however, as they affect the Solomon Islanders, have a natural tendency
to heal. When staying with Bishop Selwyn at Gaeta in Florida, I
accompanied him on his morning round of visits to his patients, most of
them being the subjects of these large ulcerous sores on the feet and
legs. He tells me that with rest and cleanliness they soon take on a
healing action. Carbolic oil was the application he used, and it seemed
well suited for these discharging, loathsome sores. Several of the men
of the “Lark” were laid up with these ulcers of the feet for many weeks.
The ulcers in their case assumed a circular form with raised callous
edges and an irritable inflamed surface, being attended by much pain in
the surrounding parts. The free application of lunar caustic every two
or three days followed by poulticing, I found to be the most effectual
treatment. Dr. Livingstone, who was himself laid up with these sores for
eighty days in the interior of Africa, found the best of all topical
applications to be malachite rubbed down with water on a stone and
applied with a feather. The natives of Treasury Island in the Solomon
Group use an application prepared by pounding the fruit of the _Cycas
circinalis_, which grows near the edge of the cliffs on the south coast
of the adjacent Stirling Island.

There is a loathsome skin disease very prevalent amongst the inhabitants
of this group, which is generally known as the Solomon Island or Tokelau
ringworm. I should estimate that two-fifths of the total population of
these islands are thus affected. We found it more prevalent in some
islands than in others. In Treasury, for instance, four-fifths of the
people are the subjects of this disease, and half of the chief’s wives
who number about thirty are almost covered with it. In the southern
large island of the Florida Islands, it appears to affect quite one half
of the population. It ranges from one end of the group to the other,
neither sex nor age affording any immunity. The chiefs and their
families, however, seem to be less liable to this disease. The skin of
every man does not appear to afford a suitable nidus for the growth of
the fungus which is the cause of the eruption; and this is evident from
the circumstance that one parent may be covered with the disease while
the other is entirely free from it. This skin-eruption, although so
repulsive in appearance in the eyes of the European when he first visits
the group, is not viewed with any feelings of disgust by the natives;
and even the European after spending some time in the group learns to
disregard its repulsiveness. Those affected show no anxiety to be quit
of it and evince great indifference when any offer is made to them to
cure it. It is to them only an inconvenience; and apparently causes no
irritation except when the skin is hot and perspiring, as after
exertion.

When this disease first came under my notice in the early part of 1882,
I was unacquainted with what had been previously written on the subject.
I accordingly made a microscopical examination of the affected skin and
arrived at the conclusion, previously formed by those far more competent
to express an opinion than myself, that the eruption was an inveterate
form of body-ringworm. As it is to be seen affecting the skin of young
children in the form of limited circular patches, which usually commence
on the belly, it displays all the essential characters of _Tinea
circinata_ or body-ringworm. Spreading all over the trunk and limbs, the
eruption assumes a chronic character and its typical characters become
obscured. The whole skin, with the exception of that of the face and
scalp which are not attacked by the disease, is covered by a great
number of wavy desquamating lines partly concentric in their
arrangement; and on account of the intervals between the lines being of
a paler hue, the whole skin obtains a singular marbled appearance.

To such a degree is the skin implicated in some cases of the disease
that the rapid desiccation and desquamation of the epidermal cells lead
to a partial decoloration of the deeper parts of the cuticle, as though
the rate of the production of pigment was less rapid than the rate of
its removal in the desquamative process. This disease, in other words,
tends to decolorize the skin. From this cause, one occasionally meets
with a native whose skin as compared with that of his fellows is of a
pale sickly hue. The tendency to produce a lighter colour by the too
rapid destruction of the pigment is especially noticeable in those cases
where the body is only partially covered with the eruption, there being
a marked contrast between the paleness of the affected surfaces and the
dark hue of the healthy skin. The influence of this cutaneous disease on
the colour was remarked by Commodore Wilkes amongst the natives of the
Depeyster Islands in the Ellice Group. He refers to the skin of those
affected as much lighter than in any Polynesian race he had hitherto met
with.[152] The same effect of this disease was noticed by Mr. Wilfred
Powell amongst the natives of New Britain.[153]

    [152] “Narrative of the U.S. Exploring Expedition,” London, 1845;
    vol. V. p. 40.

    [153] “Three years amongst the Cannibals of New Britain,” London,
    1883, p. 86.

I have entered somewhat at length into the subject of the partial
decoloration produced by this eruption, because it has a bearing on that
“quæstio vexata,” the causes of race-colour. Pathology, in fact, affords
more than one instance of changes, almost of a permanent character,
produced in the colour of the skin through the influence of abnormal
action. Dr. Tylor in one of his lectures[154] alludes to “the morbid
appearance of race-character” produced by the bronzing of the skin in
Addison’s disease, which is shown to be immediately due to a deposit of
pigment in the _rete mucosum_ closely resembling that of the negro. “The
importance of the comparison,” he says, “lies in its bridging over the
physiological differences of race, by showing that morbid action may
bring about in one race results more or less analogous to the normal
type in another.” To the partial decoloration of the skin in Tokelau
ringworm and to the bronzing of the skin in Addison’s disease, these
remarks equally apply.

    [154] Delivered at Oxford on Feb. 15th, 1883: (“Nature” vol.
    xxviii., p. 9). _Vide_ also Topinard’s “Eléments d’Anthropologie
    générale:” Paris 1885, p. 325.

This disease has been variously spoken of by different authors and
travellers as Leprosy, Icthyosis, Psoriasis, Pityriasis versicolor, and
Tokelau Ringworm, of which it is needless to remark that the last is the
only name which is correct. The medical officers of the United States
Exploring Expedition, under Commodore Wilkes in 1841, were the first to
recognise the nature of the eruption in the case of the inhabitants of
the Depeyster Islands in the Ellice Group.[155] In 1874 Dr. Tilbury Fox,
after having examined some scrapings of the skin which had been sent to
him from Samoa, published in the “Lancet” (August 29th) a paper on
“Tokelau Ringworm and its Fungus,” in which he established the true
character of the disease, and disposed of a view held by the Rev. Dr. G.
Turner of the Samoan Medical Mission and by Dr. Mullen, R.N. of H.M.S.
“Cameleon,” that its origin may have been connected with the occurrence
of numerous dipterous insects found in scrapings of the skin after the
use of sulphur ointment. This last he showed to be only an accidental
feature of the eruption. Two years afterwards, Dr. Fox in connection
with Dr. Farquhar wrote an account of “Certain Endemic Skin and other
Diseases in India and Hot Climates generally” (London 1876), in which
further reference was made to this disease. It was there shown that
Tokelau ringworm, Burmese ringworm, Chinese ringworm, and the Indian
ringworms known familiarly as “dhobie itch,” “washerman’s itch,”
“Malabar itch,” etc., are all of them forms of _Tinea circinata tropica_
variously modified by such circumstances as the personal habits, the
nature of the apparel, and the character of the climate. A proof of the
correctness of this conclusion came under my observation in the Solomon
Islands, where the white men in taking this disease from the natives
suffer from it frequently in the form of “dhobie itch.” The parasitic
disease _Tinea circinata tropica_ to which, as above shown, all tropical
ringworms should be referred is, as Dr. Fox remarks in his work on “Skin
Diseases” (3rd edit., 1873, p. 451), “nothing more or less than ordinary
ringworm of the body (_tinea circinata_), such as we have in Europe,
determined in its occurrence to certain parts of the body by peculiar
circumstances, and assuming characters somewhat different from those
observed in the disease as it exists in colder climates, in consequence
of the greater luxuriance of the parasite consequent upon the presence
in one case of a greater amount of heat and moisture, which are
favourable to the development and speed the growth of fungi.”

    [155] “Narrative of the U. S. Explor. Exped.”: vol. v., p. 40.

The particular form of the disease to which the name Tokelau Ringworm
should be applied has a very wide distribution. Mr. G. W. Earl in his
work on “The Papuans” (London, 1853; p. 37) speaks of this disease under
the name of “icthyosis” as being very prevalent amongst all the coast
tribes of the Indian Archipelago: but I gather from some references made
by Mr. Wallace to this affection in his account of the Malay Archipelago
(3rd edit., 1872, p. 449) that it is not to be found so much amongst the
pure Malays as amongst the tribes of mixed origin. Mr. Marsden in his
“History of Sumatra” (London 1811, p. 190) refers to it as being very
common amongst the inhabitants of Pulo Nias, an island which lies off
the west coast of Sumatra. His description of the disease leaves no
doubt as to its true character, but he himself is uncertain as to
whether it is an “impetigo” indicating a mild type of leprosy, or
whether it is not ordinary “shingles” or a confirmed stage of ringworm.
The same disease was recently observed by Mr. H. O. Forbes amongst the
natives of Timor-laut and of the island of Buru, islands which lie at
the opposite end of the Indian Archipelago.[156] Two centuries since,
Dampier well described this disease in the case of the inhabitants of
Mindanao in the Philippines and of those of Guam in the Ladrones.[157]

    [156] “A Naturalist’s Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago;” pp.
    331, 402; London, 1885.

    [157] “Voyage round the World.” London 1729, vol. i., p. 334.

Coming to New Guinea, I find that this disease prevails all along its
coasts and in many of the off-lying islands, such as the Ki and Aru
Islands, Teste Island, Woodlark Island, etc. The authorities on which I
have founded this general statement are numerous and include, Modera,
Bruijn Kops, Wallace, Mosely, Miklouho-Maclay, Comrie, W. Turner,
Chalmers, Wyatt Gill, Romilly, Lyne, and others, whose descriptions,
though they often did not recognise the true character of the eruption,
leave no reasonable doubt on the matter.

This disease was observed by Mr. Wilfred Powell to be very frequent
amongst the natives of New Britain and the Duke of York Islands, where
it is called “buckwar.”[158] Dr. Comrie, R.N., when serving in H.M.S.
“Dido,” found it to be very frequent amongst the natives of New
Ireland.[159] Through the islands of the Solomon Group it is widely
spread, as I have already shown: and from them it has extended to the
different groups to the eastward, reaching the Gilbert, Ellice, Tonga
and Samoa Groups.

    [158] “Three years among the Cannibals in New Britain,” London,
    1883, p. 54.

    [159] Journal of the Anthropological Institute, vol. vi. p. 102.

In the Western Pacific we are able in some instances to trace the
eastward extension of this disease during the last half century. Dr. G.
Turner in his annual report of the Samoan Medical Mission, dated
October, 1869, refers to the recent introduction of the Tokelau Ringworm
amongst the Samoan Islanders as the introduction of a new disease. It
was brought to Samoa from Bowditch or Tokelau Island where it had been
also unknown until about ten years before, when it was introduced by a
native of the Gilbert Group who had been landed by a whaler. The Gilbert
or Kingsmill Islanders, according to the narrative of Commodore Wilkes,
believed that the disease came from the south-west, and called it the
“south-west gune,” the nearest islands in that direction being those of
the Solomon and Santa Cruz groups, between 800 and 900 miles away.
Commodore Wilkes, however, was of opinion that this disease had reached
the Kingsmill Group from the Depeyster Islands in the Ellice Group to
the south-south-east; and he refers to the circumstance that the disease
was most prevalent in the southern islands of the Kingsmill Group, being
apparently absent from Makin the northernmost island;[160] but this
distribution of the disease may be also urged in support of the more
probable view of the natives that it came from the south-west. We are
thus able to trace one probable track of this disease from the Solomon
Islands, or one of the groups immediately adjacent to them, across a
wide tract of sea to the Gilbert and Ellice Groups, and from there to
Tokelau Island, and thence to Samoa. The French navigator,
Dentrecasteaux,[161] found the same disease to be very prevalent amongst
the inhabitants of the Tonga Islands towards the end of last century;
and it seems strange that it did not reach the Samoa Group until about
seventy years after. The Tonga natives, however, may have derived it by
another and more direct course from the westward, namely through the New
Hebrides and the Fiji Groups.

    [160] “Narrative of the U. S. Explor. Exped.” vol. v. p. 105.

    [161] “Voyage de Dentrecasteaux,” par M. de Rossel, tom. I. p. 329,
    Paris 1808.

I may appear to have entered with unnecessary detail into this subject,
but it is apparent that this fungoid skin disease, disseminated as it is
by personal contact and other similar agencies, would have reached these
sub-central Pacific Groups long ago if they had been occupied through
ages by their present inhabitants. The same evidence, therefore, which
can be brought forward to prove the recent appearance of this disease
amongst the natives of these groups may also be advanced in support of
the recent occupation of these islands by the eastern Polynesians.

From the previous remarks on the distribution of Tokelau Ringworm it may
be inferred that in New Guinea and in the islands of the Malay
Archipelago we have the home of the disease. From this region it has
spread eastward towards the centre of the Pacific; and we may also infer
that this eastward extension of the disease has occurred within the last
three hundred years, since in the accounts which Gallego and Quiros give
of the natives of the Solomon, Santa Cruz, and New Hebrides Groups at
the time of their first discovery by the Spaniards, there is no
reference to the prevalence of any cutaneous disease, which, if it had
existed, would most certainly have attracted the notice of these early
navigators.

I only had one opportunity of treating this affection, and that was in
the person of a native of Guadalcanar, who was shipped on board as an
interpreter, and who had been the subject of the disease for about five
months. Partly from its obstinacy, and partly from the difficulty of
ensuring that the remedies were regularly and thoroughly employed, my
experience was not very satisfactory. Sulphur ointment, mercurial
ointment, tincture of iodine, and a lotion of hyposulphite of soda (1 in
12) were severally used, and after about three weeks the skin was almost
clean. Some weeks afterwards, the eruption re-appeared on the forearms
in the form of the characteristic small circumscribed patches of
body-ringworm. The local remedy, which I found most rapid in its effect
as a parasiticide in the treatment of this case, was the tincture of
iodine of which two applications completely removed the disease from the
fore-arms. The lotion of the hyposulphite of soda and the mercurial
ointment had apparently but little influence on the disease. The sulphur
ointment, however, had a gradual curative action. To many of the vessels
which leave Queensland and Fiji to recruit labour in the Solomon and New
Hebrides groups, sulphur ointment is supplied; and the government-agents
are instructed to use it in all cases of this disease amongst the
natives recruited. I learned from some of these gentlemen that, when the
remedy is applied thoroughly, and under superintendence, they usually
succeed in thoroughly cleansing the skin from the eruption before the
ships return to the colonies.

A pustular eruptive disease peculiar to children, which has been
referred to by various authors as prevalent in the New Hebrides, Fiji,
Tonga, and Samoa groups, affects many of the young children of the
Solomon Islands, usually occurring about the age of five. A number of
large papules, twice the size of a split pea, which subsequently become
filled with a pustular fluid, appear on the face. These pustules by
rupturing tend to unite and form unhealthy-looking sores of the size of
a florin. The disease pursues a regular course of papule, pustule, and
sore; and is said never to recur. As far as I could learn, the natives
interfere but little with its progress; and, as in Fiji where it is
known as _coko_,[162] they regard the disease as having a salutary
influence on the future health of the child.

    [162] “Fiji and the Fijians,” by Messrs T. Williams and J. Calvert.
    3rd edit. 1870, p. 151.

That peculiar spinal disease, which produces so many hunch-backs in the
Society and Samoan groups, and which is so well described by Mr. Ellis
in his “Polynesian Researches” (2nd edit., 1831, vol. iii. pp. 39, 40),
does not prevail among the Solomon Islanders. I can only recall one
instance of spinal deformity which came under my observation. It was in
the person of a little boy about ten or eleven years old, who was the
subject of lateral and posterior curvature of the spine. The little
fellow, who was a native of Simbo, apparently experienced no
inconvenience from the deformity, since a firm ankylosis had occurred.
He was able to accompany me in my ascents to the summit of his island,
which is elevated about 1,100 feet above the sea.

An epidemic catarrhal disease, which is allied to influenza, is very
prevalent amongst the natives of these islands. It is commonly followed
by lung-complications, which not infrequently cause the death of the
sufferer. Such an epidemic in running through a village sometimes
carries off several of the inhabitants. The elderly natives are, in
fact, very liable to pulmonary affections; such diseases usually
terminate their lives.

From the occurrence of an epidemic of this catarrhal disease, a village
often obtains an unhealthy reputation; and the natives abandon it for
some other situation, which is selected rather for the convenience of
its position than for its freedom from unhealthy influences. A
generation ago, one of the principal villages in the island of Ugi was
situated on the level summit of a hill overlooking Selwyn Bay on the
west coast, a site which would have at once been chosen both for its
salubrity and for its capability of defence. However, a number of deaths
occurred in the village from epidemic catarrhal disease; and the
inhabitants shifted their homes to the low-lying unhealthy situation
where the village of Ete-ete now stands.

Epidemics of mumps occur occasionally amongst these islanders. In
October, 1882, whilst we were taking to Ugi the crew of the “Pioneer,” a
schooner which had been wrecked off the coast of Guadalcanar, some cases
of this disease appeared among the natives belonging to that ship,
affecting ten out of the twenty on board, and pursuing its usual course.
It was evident that the disease had been originally brought from
Brisbane, as the ship which was engaged in returning natives from the
Queensland plantations, had had three cases previously, the first having
occurred on her arrival at Makira harbour, just a week after she left
Brisbane. That mumps is sometimes a fatal disease amongst these races,
there is no reason to doubt. Mr. Stephens of Ugi informed me that a few
years since, some natives of Lord Howe Islands, whom he was employing on
his premises, rapidly succumbed to this disease.

Men who were the subjects of _Elephantiasis arabum_ were occasionally
seen in the different islands we visited. Instances of “lymph-scrotum”
most frequently typify this disease, but now and then cases of “swollen
leg” occur. In the island of Faro or Fauro in Bougainville Straits, the
natives attribute this disease to the water of particular streams. There
is a stream on the west side of the island, the water of which when
drunk is said to produce “swollen legs.” For this reason the water is
never employed; and the ban is even extended to the cocoa-nut trees on
its banks.

Natives, who are the subjects of such congenital deformities as
“hare-lip,” are rarely seen. Very probably in such cases life is
destroyed by the parents soon after birth. I only observed one instance
of “hare-lip” which occurred in the case of a man of Simbo. This
malformation, which was of the single character, was associated with
abnormal development of crisp hair on the body and more particularly on
the back. As an instance of another kind of congenital deformity, which
however came but rarely under my observation, I may refer to a man of
Ugi who had six perfect toes on the right foot, both fifth and sixth
toes being provided with nails and apparently arising from a common
metatarsal bone. None of his family had the same deformity, which in his
case was probably inconvenient in more ways than one, as the print of
his foot was familiar to every native in the island.[163]

    [163] Mr. Romilly, in the work referred to on page 168, alludes to
    the strange prevalence of these congenital deformities of the hands
    and feet in New Britain.

Strabismus is not uncommon amongst the natives of these islands, and
appears to occur with the same relative frequency as amongst more
civilised people.

Venereal diseases, both constitutional and local, are said by traders to
be very frequent in certain islands, as in Ugi, which have had most
intercourse with the outer world. I rarely however came upon unequivocal
evidence of the constitutional form of these diseases, those cases which
came under my immediate observation being of the non-constitutional
types which, as in other tropical regions, are often of a rapidly
destructive character. The natives of Ugi assert that these diseases
have not been introduced within the memory of any living man, and no
tradition prevails with reference to their origin. I shall scarcely
enter into the question of the introduction of these diseases into the
more central groups of the Pacific, a subject which is discussed in most
of the narratives of the early expeditions to those regions, but in a
spirit of unfairness and mutual recrimination which goes far to
invalidate the conclusions arrived at. Negative evidence, however, must
be of a very exhaustive character before it would warrant the inference
that to the licence, so freely permitted to the crews of the English and
French expeditions during the latter half of the last century, must be
attributed the presence of these diseases among the Polynesian races.
M. Rollin, who, as surgeon of the frigate “Boussole,” accompanied La
Pérouse on his ill-fated voyage, adduces evidence to show the
probability of these diseases having existed in the Pacific before the
discoveries of the French and English navigators in that region;[164]
and La Pérouse himself approaches very near the truth when he suggests
that the free intercourse, which prevailed between the natives and the
crews during those expeditions, may have increased the activity and
destructive tendency of the pre-existing diseases.[165] For, not only
has M. Parrot of Paris demonstrated from an examination of the skulls of
some South American aborigines the existence of Syphilis in the New
World before Columbus set foot on its shores, but he affirms without
hesitation, after examining three fragments of infant skulls from a
dolmen in central France, that this disease existed in prehistoric times
(“Lancet,” May 10th, 1879). We are not therefore surprised at finding
references to venereal diseases in the ancient literature of China,
India, Arabia, Greece and Rome (Aitken’s “Medicine,” 6th edit, 1872, vol
i. p. 859); and having regard to the ethnological past of the Pacific,
we can with some confidence assume that the original stock, derived in
the first place from the Asiatic continent, brought with them these
diseases.

    [164] “Voyage round the World, by La Pérouse,” edit. by
    Milet-Mureau: London: vol. iii., p. 180.

    [165] Ibid. vol. ii. p. 52.

The susceptibility of these islanders to comparatively small falls of
temperature is an element in their predisposition to disease which
should not be disregarded. This susceptibility was strikingly shown to
me on one occasion, at the end of August 1882, when I was following up
the course of a stream at Sulagina on the north coast of St. Christoval.
Accompanied by a party of natives, I was wading up the stream for
several hours, the water often reaching the waist, whilst a steady
deluge of rain completed the wetting. Although the air was merely
comparatively cool for this latitude (10° 30′ S.), the thermometer in
the shade standing at 80° Fahr, my natives were shivering with the cold;
whilst I myself felt only the inconvenience of having been soaked
through for so many hours. As soon as we returned to the coast, all my
party huddled themselves together around their wood-fires in a little
hut and warmed their hands and feet as eagerly as we should in
winter-time at home. As I stood in the hut looking comfortably on at my
naked companions who, shivering and with their teeth chattering, were
endeavouring to warm themselves around the fires, I recalled to my mind
an incident which Mr. Darwin relates in his “_Journal of the Beagle_”
(p. 220), which although analogous, illustrates the converse of these
conditions. “A small family of Fuegians”--he writes--“soon joined our
party round a blazing fire. We were well clothed, and though sitting
close to the fire were far from too warm; yet these naked savages,
though further off, were observed, to our great surprise, to be
streaming with perspiration at undergoing such a roasting.”

Instances of mental weakness or of insanity amongst the natives of these
islands rarely came under my notice. However, more than one of the
chiefs whom we met had a half-witted individual on his staff, who made
himself generally useful to his master. The chief’s fool, as we called
him, was frequently my guide in the island of Santa Anna. He was the
general butt of the village; and I was told the girls would sometimes
seize hold of him and roll him about in the sand. Insanity would appear
to be of uncommon occurrence amongst these islanders; but I suspect that
such individuals are not permitted to live. Whilst the “Lark” was
engaged in the survey of Faro Island in Bougainville Straits, I learned
that there was a madman, who was partially dumb, living in the bush in
the interior of the island. Having murdered his wife about five months
before our visit, he had taken to the forest where he led a solitary
life at enmity with his fellow-islanders, who would have killed him, as
they told me, if they found him. He frequently used to steal from the
plantations; and during our stay in the island he was observed by a
woman near one of the yam patches. The chief’s son came up to me one
afternoon, after I had returned to the coast from an ascent of one of
the principal summits, to advise me to shoot this unfortunate being if
ever I saw him; and he added that if this madman should see me,
unobserved, he would either run away or take his opportunity of killing
me. However, I made several excursions into the interior afterwards; but
I never fell in with him.




CHAPTER X.

VOCABULARY OF THE ISLANDS OF BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS--TREASURY ISLAND, THE
SHORTLAND ISLANDS, FARO OR FAURO ISLAND, WITH CHOISEUL BAY.


THIS vocabulary was formed in great part by Lieutenant A. Leeper, to
whom I may take this opportunity of expressing my thanks for his
kindness, in thus placing it at my disposal. I have supplemented this
list from smaller vocabularies made by Lieutenant C. F. de M. Malan and
by myself. It is to be regretted that, owing to Lieutenant Malan taking
up a Colonial appointment in Fiji during the last year of the
commission, we were unable to avail ourselves in a further degree of his
knowledge of the Fijian tongue, and of his general acquaintance with the
construction of the Polynesian languages. We are, however, especially
indebted to him for the recognition of the pronominal suffixes.

The spelling follows to a great extent the mode adopted in the
missionary alphabet of Professor Max Müller, as given on page 116 of the
Anthropological Notes and Queries drawn up at the request of the British
Association. The vowels and diphthongs are pronounced as in the
following examples;--_a_ as _a_ in father, _e_ as _a_ in fate, _i_ as
_i_ in marine, _o_ as _o_ in note, _u_ as _oo_ in moon, _ai_ as _ai_ in
aisle, _au_ as _ou_ in proud. Where there has been an evident want of
agreement in the three vocabularies, I have given the different words or
the different spellings, as the case may have occurred. We have thus
been, in some degree, “checks” to each other: and I hope we have
avoided, in this manner, many of those errors into which the unassisted
framer of a vocabulary is so liable to fall. The accented syllable is
thus indicated (´) in most instances where it is needed, the accent
being usually placed on the penultimate.


_Miscellaneous Words_

  Afraid                          Fulau.
  Angry                           Fangolu; Gafolu.
  Armlet                          Pago.
  Arrow                           Iliu.
  Ashes                           Oafu.
  Awl                             Nila.
  Axe                             Libba-libba; Levo-levo.

  Back                            Aro.
  Bad                             Paiténa.
  Bag                             Ko-isa.
  Basket                          Koko; Besa.
  Beat (to)                       Lapu.
  Before                          Gaga.
  Behind                          Arogu.
  Big                             Yolulla; Kana-kana.
  Blood                           Masíni.
  Blow                            Ifu.
  Bow                             Lili.
  Boy                             Taui.
  Break (to)                      Taposha.
  Bring                           Galómi.
  Brother                         Manai-ina.
  Bury (to)                       Nafu.
  Buy                             Fūna-aili.

  Calico                          Bauro.
  Canoe                           Obuna.
  Cap                             So-so.
  Capsize (to)                    Igomo.
  Charcoal                        Sibi.
  Chew                            Tatau.
  Chief                           Lálafa; Yolóna.
  Chief’s eldest son              Natuna.
  Clean                           Lapu; Sapolu.
  Club                            Peko.
  Club (dancing)                  Toko; Toku.
  Cold                            Lulu-gulu.
  Comb                            Supi.
  Cut                             Ausi.

  Dance                           Gatu.
  Dark                            Lali.
  Day                             Boï.
  Dead                            Mate; Imati.
  Deaf                            Kipau.
  Devil (_i.e._, bad spirit)      Nito paiténa.
  Dig (to)                        Eli.
  Dirty                           Mati.
  Drift (to)                      Ali.
  Drink (to)                      Atali aoa.
  Drinking-vessel (a cocoanut).
    with neck of bamboo           Dogo.
    without neck                  Droo.
  Dry                             Dūgga-dūgga.

  Earthquake                      Nono.
  Eat (to)                        A-am.
  Egg                             I-au.
  Empty                           Golu.
  Enough                          Sumána.

  Fall                            Kappa.
  Fan                             Etif.
  Far                             De-apína.
  Fat                             Hatutu.
  Father                          Apa.
  Few                             Alua-tapoína.
  Fight                           Tala.
  Finish (end)                    Egáfulu.
  Finished                        Sumána.
  Fire                            Feli.
  Fish-hook                       A-ili.
  Flint                           Kilifela.
  Fly (to)                        Lofu.
  Food                            Dorómi; Darámi.
   „   (cooked)                   Selo-selo.
  Full                            Forna.

  Gift                            Teletafala.
  God (_i.e._, good spirit)       Nito drékona.
  Good                            Drékona; Dékona.
  Great                           Yolulla; Kana-kana.

  Half                            Koputi.
  Heaven                          Lavia.
  Heavy                           Mamma.
  Hot                             Posella.
  House                           Numa; Fale-fale.
    „   (tambu)                   Olatu.
  Hungry                          Belu.

  Inside                          Uni; Fakoria.

  Jew’s harp                      Mako-mako.
  Jump (to)                       Subolosa.

  Kick (to)                       Savulu.
  Kill (to)                       So-orti.
  Kneel (to)                      Fasiliki.
  Knife                           Papalana.
  Know (to)                       Atai.

  Lick (to)                       Damíti.
  Lift (to)                       Ikoti.
  Light (in weight)               Dugga-dugga.
  Live (to)                       Peoka.
  Long                            Deapa.

  Mad                             Kipau.
  Man                             Kániga; Tium; Kániga-tium.
  Many                            Tapóina.
  Mat                             Sararang; Pota.
    (The names of the two pandanus trees, from the leaves of which the
     mats are made.)
  Match                           Sararang (_vide_ preceding).
  Moon                            Ilala; Ilella.
  Mother                          Unka.

  Naked                           Ampea-paiia.
  Net (fishing)                   Sorau (large).
                                  Sai-aili (small).
                                  Awi-sulu.
    (The plant supplying the fibre is named awi-sulu, probably a species
     of “Lyonsia.”)
  New                             Faolu.
  Night                           Lali.
  No                              Api; Apea.
  Noise                           So-orli.
  None                            Ausaka.
  Now                             Ivai.

  Old                             Purafalu.
  Open                            Kapeta.
  Outside                         Ampapaluna.

  Paddle (noun and verb)          Fosi; Fose.
  Pay                             Aili.
  Path                            Poa.
  Pearl                           Bor-otulu.
  Pestle and mortar (wooden),
    used for pounding food        Tagero.
  Plane (a)                       Ketuma.
  Plenty                          Tapóina.
  Pot (cooking)                   Kore.
  Present (a)                     Teletafala.

  Quarter                         Totoli.
  Queen                           Mamaifi.
  Quick                           Fakare.

  Rain                            Laiti.
  Resin                         { Anóga, for torches.
    „                      [166]{ Tita, for canoe seams.
  Rope                            Fili.
  Run                             Gágona.

  Same                            Umbilua.
  Sea                             Keno; Kelo.
  Short                           Papa.
  Shut                            Dakopi.
  Sick                            Mate; Sali.
  Sing (to)                       Gatu.
  Sister                          Fafini.
  Sit                             Ahotu.
  Sky                             Abu; Avu.
  Sleep                           Suéli.
  Small                           Kaidakína.
  Smoke                           Tula.
  Speak                           Arei; Selli-selli.
  Spear                           Portulu.
  Spirit                          Nito; Nitu.
  Star                            Bito-bito.
  Stone                           Patu.
  Stop                            Aru.
  Sun                             Feo; Isang.
  Swim (to)                       Usu.

  Tail                            Aukuna.
  Tambu (forbidden)               Olatu.
  Tear                            Igati.
  Thin                            Morsu.
  Thirsty                         Fana-oa.
  To-day                          Ibai.
  To-morrow                       Boiwa
  Town                            Famaca.
  Tray                            Kisu; Kishu.
     (The name of the palm supplying the material for making the trays
      is also “kisu.”)
  Tree                            Au; Ava.

  Waist-cloth                     Malioto.
  Wait                            Au.
  Walk (to)                       Dagona.
  Wash (to)                       Sisi.
  Water                           Ateli (fresh).
    „                             Kelo; Keno (salt).
  Wet                             Pu-un.
  What?                           Afana?
  When?                           Lefila?
  Whistle (to)                    Faso.
  Wife                            Ewa.
  Wind                            Oa.
  Woman                           Batafa; Bataha; Talai-ina.
  Wood                            Au.
  Work                            Karre.
  Worn                            Tualina.

  Yes                             O-o.
  Yesterday                       Lafi.

    [166] These are also the native names of the trees supplying the
    resins, the _anoga_ being probably a species of “Canarium,” the
    _tita_, “Parinarium laurinum.”


_Numerals._

  One                             Ilia; Kala.
  Two                             Elua.
  Three                           Épisa; Ébisha.
  Four                            Efáte; Efatsi.
  Five                            Lima.
  Six                             Onomo; Onoma.
  Seven                           Fito; Fit.
  Eight                           Alu.
  Nine                            Ulia.
  Ten                             Láfulu.
  Eleven                          Láfulu kala.
  Twelve                          Láfulu élua.
  Thirteen                        Láfulu épisa
  Fourteen                        Láfulu efáte
  Fifteen                         Láfulu lima.
  Sixteen                         Láfulu ónomo.
  Seventeen                       Láfulu fito.
  Eighteen                        Láfulu alu.
  Nineteen                        Láfulu úlia.
  Twenty                          Tanuge; Tana oge.
  Thirty                          Pisa-vulu.
  Forty                           Fatia-vulu.
  Fifty                           Lima-hulu.
  Sixty                           Nomo-fulu.
  Seventy                         Fitua-fulu.
  Eighty                          Alua-fulu.
  Ninety                          Tia-fulu; Sia-fulu.
  Hundred                         Latu; Latu-u.


_Parts of Body._

  Ankle                           Sapolu.
  Arm                             Pagolo.
  Beard                           Polu.
  Cheek                           Papala.
  Chest                           Ate.
  Chin                            Ali.
  Ear                             Tana.
  Elbow                           Tau.
  Eye                             Mata; Shoï.
  Eyebrow                         Metapolissi.
  Face                            Laia.
  Finger                          Kim.
  Fist                            Gogumu.
  Foot                            Toto.
  Hair                            Tawo; Uutu.
  Hand                            Imai; Ime.
  Head                            Alapatu; To-o.
  Leg                             Tatabua; Nanabu; Tato.
  Lip                             Ulu.
  Mouth                           Uruguru.
  Neck                            Lua.
  Nose                            Leo; Le-u.
  Shoulder                        Fali.
  Stomach                         Muru.
  Thumb                           Gagata.
  Toe                             Kuri-kurisi.
  Tongue                          Miata.
  Tooth                           Nifo; Nifa.
  Trunk                           Tia.
  Waist                           Buli.


_Geographical and Nautical._

  Cape                            Manavo.
  Drift                           Ali.
  Hill                            Soma.
  Island                          Nua-nua; Pete.
  Land                            Mesola.
  Mountain                        Olo.
  Passage                         Ai.
  Rain                            Laiti.
  Reef                            Aru-oshe; Butulu.
  River                           Ateli; Atele; Sallile.
  Rock                            Pushai.
  Sand                            Mesola-lanun.
  Sea                             Keno; Kelo.
  Shallow                         Seala.
  Sky                             Abu.
  Steep (to)                      Suele.
  Stream                          Ateli; Atele; Sallile.
  Tide                            Tofala.
  Wind                            Oa.
         {Pull                    Fosi.
  Rowing {Back                    Palma.
         {Stop                    Atti-horsi.


_Animal Kingdom._

  Ant                             Doku.
  Bat (Pteropidæ)                 Dramo.
  Bird                            Maraka; Maruka.
  Butterfly                       Bebe.
  Cockatoo                        Anau.
  Crocodile                       Umau.
  Dog                             Au-au.
  Eel                             Tolo.
  Fire-fly                        Bito-bito.
  Fish                            Ianna; Ienna.
  Fly                             Lau-au.
  Fowl                            Kokole.
  Frog                            Appa-appa.
  Hornbill                        Po-po.
  Lizard                          Kurru-rupu.
  Opossum (Cuscus)                Mali.
  Osprey                          Manuella.
  Parrot                          Karro.
  Pig                             Boa.
  Pigeon                          Baólo.
  Rat                             Kuáki.
  Shark                           Bao.
  Snake                           Nifii.
  Turtle                          Palúsi.
  Turtle-shell                    Purai.


_Pronouns._

  My                             Gu, as a suffix, _e.g._ Toto-gu, my
                                 foot.
  Your                           Ng, as a suffix, _e.g._ Toto-ng, your
                                 foot.
  You                            Maito.
  Him                            Ealai.
  These                          Ea.
  Those                          Oa.


_Names of Natives._

    Men.--Gorai; Mule; Kópana; Krepas; Kurra-kurra; Erosini; Tutu; Lawi;
    Sege; Fauli; Kiliusi; Gégora; Nito; Émara; Olega; Malakolo; Butiu;
    Igeti; Ki´kila; Totono; Gélesi; Dúkutau; Alisa; Iri-isa; Sahi; Oïsi;
    Karubo; Devi; Dansi; Kamo; Fulagi; Pilaisi; Maluka; Tokura; Misiki;
    Levo; Tunu; Biro.

    Women.--Kaika; Bito; Siali; Évenu; Bose; Omakau; Domari; Duia.


_Vegetables, Fruits,[167] &c._

    [167] The native names of most of the common plants will be found in
    the list given on pages 294-304. _Vide_ also remarks on page 280.

  Banana                          Toitoi.
  Wild Plantain                   Kalula.
  Breadfruit                      Balia.
  Betel-nut                       Olega.
  Cocoa-nut                       Niu.
  Sago                            Nami; Bia.
  Taro (small)                    Koko.
  Taro (large)                    Karafai.
  Tobacco                         Brubush.


_Short Sentences and Phrases._

  Where have you come from?       Tiga fina?
  I come from Alu.                Tiga Alu.
  I want it.                      Ai peko.
  I do not want it.               Abu ai peko.
  I give you.                     Fantellao.
  Give me.                        Tellao.
  Will you give me?               Tellao fa?
  I do not give you.              Abu hanatellao.
  Do I go this way?               Fina fanato?
  What do you want?               Ahana pe-una? Ahampeo?
  What do you do?                 Ahana wussa?
  What is this?                   Mai-ito ahampeo?
  I go.                           Falalau.
  Go away.                        Fato.
  He goes.                        Onalau.
  Let me see.                     Fanaroro.
  Take it.                        Na.
  I take it.                      Nto.[168]

    [168] This is an expression of acknowledgment rather than of
    thanks.

In a recent work on the Melanesian languages, the Rev. Dr.
Codrington[169] deals with the languages of the islands of the Solomon
Group which lie east of New Georgia. Some of them, as he observes, fall
naturally into two divisions: those which belong to Ulaua, Malaita, Ugi,
San Cristoval, and the part of Guadalcanar adjacent; and those of
Florida, the parts of Guadalcanar opposite, and the nearest extremity of
Ysabel. In the first region, the language of Fagani on the north coast
of San Cristoval, is somewhat distinct; and in the second, that of Savo
is strangely different in some respects.[170]

    [169] “The Melanesian Languages,” by R. H. Codrington, D.D.
    Clarendon Press, 1885.

    [170] For instance, the Savo notation forms an exception to the
    decimal system of counting which prevails in the Solomon Islands.

The languages of the large islands of Choiseul, Bougainville, and Bouka
and of the numerous smaller islands in their vicinity, or, in other
words, the languages of the western portion of the Solomon Group have
hitherto scarcely come within the cognizance of the philologist, and are
therefore not referred to by Dr. Codrington in his comprehensive work.
It is probable that that of the islands of Bougainville Straits may form
the centre of another group of the Solomon Island languages, as it is
spoken by a dominant tribe of natives who have extended their raids to
the island of Bouka. Yet, it is a singular circumstance that the natives
of Takura, a village on the adjoining coast of Bougainville, cannot
understand the language spoken by the inhabitants of the islands of
Bougainville Straits. I met twelve of the Takura men visiting the island
of Faro, who were only able to make themselves understood by the Faro
people through the medium of an interpreter.

Little communication appears to take place between the natives of the
Straits and those of the islands of Vella-la-vella, Ronongo, and Simbo
(Narovo) to the eastward; and judging from a vocabulary obtained by
Captain Cheyne[171] in 1844 from the inhabitants of Simbo, or Eddystone
Island as it is also called, a native of this island would be scarcely
able to make himself understood by the people of Treasury Island nearly
eighty miles away. As shown in the foot-note[172] where the numerals up
to ten are compared, all the Simbo numbers with the exception of those
signifying _five_, _seven_, and _eight_ are apparently distinct. Many of
the common terms are equally different; so that it would appear that the
inhabitants of this island speak a language referable to a distinct
group of the Solomon Island languages, probably to be classed with those
spoken by the natives of Ronongo, Vella-la-vella, Kulambangra, and
perhaps New Georgia.

    [171] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean.”
    London 1852.

    [172]              _Simbo_       _Treasury_

         _One_         Kamee       { Ilia
                                   { Kala
         _Two_         Karu          Elua
         _Three_       Kuay          Episa
         _Four_        Mantee        Efate
         _Five_        Leema         Lima
         _Six_         Wouama        Onomo
         _Seven_       Weetu         Fito
         _Eight_       Kalu          Alu
         _Nine_        Seang         Ulia
         _Ten._        Manosa.       Lafulu.

         _Sun_         Gawaso      { Feo
                                   { Isang
         _Moon_        Popu          Ilella
         _Fire_        Eku           Feli
         _Sleep_       Puta          Sueli
         _Spear_       Opuree        Portulu
         _Bad_         Ekarenah      Paitena
         _Star._       Keenda.       Bito-bito.

I forbear from making many remarks on the general affinities of the
language of the islands of Bougainville Straits, and prefer to leave
such a comparison to those qualified to pronounce on the subject. There
are, however, certain points to which I will briefly refer.

Professor Keane, to whom I sent a portion of this vocabulary, informs me
that whilst the structure of the language and most of the words are
distinctly Papuan, the numerals and several terms are Polynesian.
However, whilst I was engaged in collecting plants and making general
botanical notes in this locality, it occurred to me that by comparing
the names of the common littoral trees with those of the same trees in
other Pacific groups and in the Indian or Malay Archipelago, I might
obtain some important additional clues as to the sources of the
language. In so doing I have obtained some interesting results, to which
I have briefly alluded on a previous page, and which go to show that the
peoples who originally migrated from the Indian Archipelago to the
various Pacific groups carried with them the names of several of their
common littoral trees, some of which may still be found in the
intermediate groups of islands, such as the Solomon Islands, which have
served as stepping-stones or halting places along the line of migration.
On page 101 I have taken “Barringtonia speciosa” as an illustration. I
will now refer to some other instances.

After examining the pages of Crawfurd’s Malay Dictionary, together with
the extensive list of the native names of plants obtained by G. J.
Filet, I have ascertained that the following names of pandanus-trees
belonging to languages of the Indian Archipelago may be traced across
the South Pacific to the Austral Islands, viz., _Harassas_,
_Haragh-hagh_, _Pudak_, _Putih_.[173][174] In the islands of
Bougainville Straits the four common pandanus-trees are known as
_Darashi_, _Sararang_, _Pota_, and _Samala_. In the Sikyana or Stewart
Islands off the eastern end of the Solomon Group, the pandanus is named
_Dawa_.[175] The Fijians name the “Pandanus odoratissimus”
_Balawa_.[176] In the Hervey Group and in the surrounding islands, as we
learn from Mr. Wyatt Gill,[177] the “Pandanus odoratissimus” is the
_Ara_ of the natives, whilst the “Pandanus utilis” is the _Rauara_; the
first being the Thatch-tree, and the last the Mat-tree. In the Austral
Islands further to the eastward, the names of the pandanus-trees were
ascertained by Dr. G. Bennett to be _Hoshoa_, _Sahang_, and _Pauhuf_
(“Pandanus odoratissimus.”)[178]

    [173] _Pudak_ (Pandanus inermis), _Pandan-pudak_ (P. moschatus),
    _Pandan-putih_ (P. leucacanthus). _Vide_ Crawfurd’s Malay
    Dictionary.

    [174] _Haragh-hagh_ (Pandanus moschatus) Sundaneesch, _Harassas
    leutiek_ (P. humilis) Sundaneesch, _Harrassas gedeh_ (P. caricosus)
    Sundaneesch. _Vide_ “De Inlandsche Plantennamen,” by G. J. Filet,
    published in “Natuurkundig Tijdschrift voor Nederlandsch Indie.”
    Deel xix. vierde serie, deel v. Batavia, 1859. Another list by J. C.
    M. Radermacher occurs in “Bataviaasch Genootschap,” deel i. p. 87.

    [175] Scherzer’s “Voyage of the Novara,” vol. ii. p. 617. London,
    1861-63.

    [176] Seemann’s “Mission to Viti.” London, 1862.

    [177] “Jottings from the Pacific,” pp. 183, 188. London, 1885.

    [178] “Gatherings of a Naturalist in Australasia,” p. 389. London,
    1859.

  Indian Archipelago           Haragh-hagh    Harrassas   Pudak, Putih.
  Bougainville Straits         Sararang       Darashi     Pota.
  Sikyana Islands                             Dawa.
  Fiji Group                   Balawa.
  Hervey Group, and vicinity   Rauara, Ara.
  Austral Islands              Sahang         Hoshoa      Pauhuf.

By arranging these names as in the above list, the important bearings of
such a comparison are at once seen; and I may here remark that I have
attached no weight to the non-retention of the same native name for the
same species of “Pandanus” in different localities, since as in the
instance of “P. odoratissimus,” there is no evidence that would lead us
to expect such a close agreement. Most of the common pandanus-trees have
a very similar appearance, and there is often a general name given to
them in addition to their distinctive names. Thus the natives of the
Bougainville Straits often designate all the species by the term
_Sararang_. In the Indian Archipelago, the general names are _Pandan_,
_Haragh-hagh_, _Harassas_, _Pudak_, _Rampai_, &c. These are the names
which would be applied to any new kind of pandanus-tree during the
migration eastward of the races of this archipelago; and it is manifest
that as the separate Pacific groups of islands came to be occupied by
different offshoots of the main migration, the same tree might have
received a different general name. Therefore, in investigating the
nomenclature of the pandanus-trees throughout the Pacific, we should
concern ourselves not with a comparison of the names of identical
species in different groups, but with the general names for the whole
genus of “Pandanus.” We desire, in fact, to find the equivalent of such
terms as the _Ara_ of the Hervey Group, and the _Sararang_ of
Bougainville Straits.

That the names of trees possessing such conspicuous characters as those
of the genus “Pandanus,” can be traced from the Indian Archipelago
eastward through the Solomon Islands, and across the Central Pacific to
the Austral Islands, is a circumstance of considerable interest to the
philologist and anthropologist. We have already seen (page 101) that in
the instance of “Barringtonia speciosa,” the name may be similarly
traced from the Indian Archipelago across the Pacific to the Society
Islands. Another example is to be found in the case of “Morinda
citrifolia,” the Indian mulberry, a common littoral tree in the Indian
and Pacific regions; it supplies a yellow dye extensively used by the
inhabitants. It is the _Bangkudu_ or _Mangkudu_ of the Indian
Archipelago and the _Wongkudu_ or _Kudu_ of Java in particular.[179] In
Bougainville Straits it is known as the _Urati_; in Fiji as the
_Kura_;[180] and in Tahiti as the _Aari_;[181] names which are evidently
different forms of the same word, probably the _Kudu_ of the Indian
Archipelago. Another tree, “Fagræa Berteriana,” the sacred tree of the
South Central Pacific groups, is the _Bubulata_ of Bougainville Straits,
the _Bua_ of Fiji,[182] and the _Pua_ or _Bua_ of the Hervey and Society
Groups.[183] I have not yet found the original of this name in the
Indian Archipelago, the only suggestive word being _Büa_ or _Buwah_, the
Malay word for fruit.

    [179] Crawfurd’s Malay Dictionary. Raffles’ “History of Java.”

    [180] Seemann’s “Mission to Viti.”

    [181] Bennett’s “Gatherings of a Naturalist,” p. 399.

    [182] Seemann. (Ibid.)

    [183] Wyatt Gill’s “Life in the Southern Isles” (p. 275), and
    “Jottings from the Pacific.”

Before proceeding further I should observe that an inquiry into the
names of the common littoral trees, such as “Barringtonia speciosa,”
“Morinda citrifolia,” and the species of “Pandanus,” which are yet
preserved in the languages of the islands of the Indian Ocean, might be
productive of important results. Being unable to follow up this branch
of the subject, I would recommend it to some of my readers. As an
encouragement, I would point out that there appears to be a resemblance
between the names for the pandanus-tree in northern Madagascar, and in
the Pacific Islands. Thus the _Hoshoa_ of the Austral Islands, the
_Darashi_ of Bougainville Straits, the _Harrassas_ of the Indian
Archipelago, and the _Vua-tchirié_[184] of North Madagascar, may be the
same compound word in different forms. _Vua_, it should be remarked, is
a prefix attached to many trees and plants in this part of Madagascar.
With this digression, I will now proceed.

    [184] Rochon’s “Voyage a Madagascar et aux Indes Orientales.” Paris,
    1791, p. 319.

Amongst the native names of trees in the Indian or Malay Archipelago
which are to be found in an altered form in the islands of Bougainville
Straits, I may refer to _Kanari_, which is the common appellation of
“Canarium commune,” in the former region.[185] The kernels of the fruits
of this tree furnish a frequent source of food to the Malay races and
also to the inhabitants of the Maclay coast of New Guinea, where the
tree is known by the similar name of _Kengar_.[186] In the islands of
Bougainville Straits, where the same or an allied species of “Canarium”
is found, the fruits of which form a staple article of food, the Malay
name of _Kanari_ and the New Guinea name of _Kengar_ have been
contracted to _Ka-i_. . . . The sago-palm (“Sagus,” sp.) affords another
instance. It is, according to Crawfurd, the _Râmbiya_ of the Indian
Archipelago.[187] Earl informs us that in Kisa, one of the islands of
the Sarawati group in the Banda Sea, it is known as the _Pihir_.[188] On
the Maclay coast of New Guinea it is the _Buam_.[189] In Bougainville
Straits it receives two names, _Bia_ and _Nami_, the former (I think)
being applied to the tree and the latter to the sago. . . . Then again,
the two similar names, the _Katari_ of Bougainville Straits and the
_Gutur_ of the Maclay coast,[190] are applied in both regions to
resin-yielding trees which belong, however, to different genera, the
_Katari_ being a species of “Calophyllum,” and the _Gutur_ a species of
“Canarium.” In both localities the name is also given to the resin
itself, which is employed by the natives for various purposes. But the
important point is that these two words are merely slightly altered
forms of _Gâtah_, which is the general name for gums and resins in the
Indian Archipelago;[191] and I need scarcely add that gutta-percha is
but the _gâtah_ of the _Pârcha_ tree, the familiar “Isonandra gutta” of
this region.[192] . . . . Some of the names of trees in Bougainville
Straits I have been unable to trace further westward than New Guinea.
Thus, the breadfruit-tree (“Artocarpus incisa”) is the _Balia_ of
Bougainville Straits and the _Boli_ of the Maclay coast of New
Guinea.[193]

    [185] In the numerous works referring to the Indian Archipelago,
    this word is sometimes written _kanary_ or _kanarie_.

    [186] Miklouho-Maclay in Proc. Lin. Soc, N.S.W. Vol. X., p. 349.

    [187] Crawfurd’s “Grammar and Dictionary of the Malay Language.”

    [188] “Journal of the Indian Archipelago.” Vol. II., p. 695 (1848).

    [189] Miklouho-Maclay Proc. Lin. Soc, N.S.W. Vol. X., p. 349.

    [190] Miklouho-Maclay (Ibid., p. 353, 357).

    [191] Crawfurd’s “Malay Dictionary.”

    [192] By an easy transition from _gâtah_ through _katari_ to _kauri_
    we have the probable origin of the native name of the resin-yielding
    “Dammara australis” (Kauri Pine) of New Zealand.

    [193] Miklouho-Maclay in Proc. Lin. Soc., N.S.W. Vol. X., p. 348.

The term _Uri_, which is applied in a slightly altered form to different
fruits in the Melanesian Islands, would seem to be derived from the
Indian Archipelago. Proceeding westward from the Banks Group where _Ur_
is the name of the fruit of “Spondias dulcis,” we find that in New
Georgia in the Solomon Islands _Ure_ is a designation for fruit. In the
neighbouring islands of Bougainville Straits, several species of “Ficus”
and their fruits receive the name of _Uri_. To the westward of the
Solomon Islands we come upon the same term in the Mafoor of New Guinea,
where the breadfruit is known as _Ur_. Lastly, in the island of Ceram in
the Indian Archipelago, the fruit of the banana is called _Uri_.[194]

    [194] I am mainly indebted to Dr. Codrington’s “Melanesian
    Languages” for the distribution of this term.

On this unequivocal evidence of one of the sources of the languages of
the islands of Bougainville Straits it is unnecessary to dilate. It
should, however, be remembered that other words are distinctly
Polynesian in their origin, and must be sought for in the languages of
the Pacific groups. Thus, whilst _numa_, the word for “house,” finds its
counterpart in the Malay _rumah_ and the Javanese _uma_, _fale-fale_,
which also signifies a house, is the _vale_ of the New Hebrides (Lepers
Island and Aurora Island), the _vale_ of Fiji, the _fale_ of Samoa and
Tonga, and the _whare_ of the Maori. According to Dr. Codrington, these
two words signifying a house, _fale_ and _ruma_, with their various
forms, have an interesting distribution. The first belongs to the
eastern Pacific, and the second to the western Pacific; but they overlap
in the intermediate districts as in the New Hebrides and the Solomon
Islands. It is, however, significant that both these words should be
included in the language of Bougainville Straits.

I will conclude my remarks on this vocabulary with a reference to the
imitative character of the names of some of the animals. In Bougainville
Straits, the frog is known as _appa-appa_ in imitation of its cry. For
a similar reason it is known in New Britain as _rok-rok_,[195] in
Australia as _twonk_,[196] and in the Malay Archipelago as _codac_.[197]
The lizard is named _kurru-rupu_ by the natives of these straits, an
appellation which is suggested by its cry; in the Malay Archipelago it
is known as _kikia_.[198] The hornbill is called _po-po_ by the natives
of Bougainville Straits in imitation of the rushing sound that it makes
during its flight, which has been aptly compared by travellers to the
noise of a locomotive. For this reason the natives of New Britain term
it _banga-banga_;[199] whilst at Redscar Bay, New Guinea, it is called
_pawporo_.[200] In a like manner the native dog of these straits is
named _au-au_, and the bush-hen (Megapod) _kokole_; there is, however,
no necessity to supplement these more familiar imitative names from the
numerous examples in the languages of neighbouring regions. The native
names, which the frog and the hornbill have received in the localities
alluded to, will serve to show how varied may be the form of the name
which has been suggested by the noise or cry of the animal. There would,
thus, appear at first sight to be but little connection between the
names _po-po_ and _banga-banga_; yet those persons who have been
familiar with the noise made by the hornbill during its flight will
recognise these terms as distinctly imitative of such a sound. Again,
few would guess that such different sounding names, as _appa-appa_,
_rok-rok_, _twonk_, and _codac_, have been very naturally suggested by
the cry of the frog.

    [195] Wilfred Powell’s “Wanderings in a Wild Country,” &c.

    [196] Tylor’s “Primitive Culture.”

    [197] Labillardière’s “Voyage in search of La Pérouse.”
    (Vocabularies in Vol. II.)

    [198] Labillardière. Ibid.

    [199] Wilfred Powell. Ibid.

    [200] Macgillivray’s “Voyage of H.M.S. ‘Rattlesnake.’”




CHAPTER XI.

THE JOURNAL OF GALLEGO--PREFATORY REMARKS.


A CONSIDERABLE interest was aroused in the minds of geographers, rather
more than a century ago, by the recent discoveries of French and English
navigators in that portion of the Western Pacific in which the Solomon
Islands are now known to lie. M. M. Buache and Fleurieu (pages 263-265)
endeavoured to show that the islands there discovered were none other
than the mysterious Islands of Solomon discovered two centuries before
by the Spaniards, the existence of which had been long treated as a
myth, and in fact, had almost been forgotten. This view was opposed by
Mr. Dalrymple, one of the foremost of the English geographers; and it
laboured under the serious disadvantage that the only existing narrative
of this Spanish voyage, on which such a conclusion could be based, was a
very brief and imperfect account incorporated by Dr. Figueroa[201] in a
work that was published at Madrid nearly half a century after the return
of the voyagers to Peru. There were some reasons for believing that
Hernando Gallego, the chief pilot of the expedition, had kept a journal
of the voyage;[202] but the geographical writers of the close of last
century failed to have access to such an account, and its existence was
doubted by some of them. The only other account, worthy of the name,
that was known to these writers was one included by Herrera in his
“Descripcion de las Indias Occidentales,” a work which was published at
Madrid about the year 1601, or more than thirty years after the Spanish
voyagers had returned to Peru. But this account was a somewhat vague,
general description of the Solomon Islands, which, although it
contained a few additional particulars, was of little service to the
cartographer.

    [201] Hechos de Don Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza, Quarto Marques de
    Canete; por el Doctor Christoval Suarez de Figueroa. Madrid, 1613.
    _Vide_ Note I. of the Geographical Appendix.

    [202] A MS. journal of Gallego was referred to by Penelo as
    occurring in the Barcia Library. (Dalrymple’s Hist. Coll. Voy. and
    Disc.: p. 96.)

It appears to have been only in the second quarter of the present
century that the existence of a journal written by Gallego became known
to geographers. It may seem at first sight difficult to explain the
reason of this narrative being so long unknown; but its author tells us
in his prologue that it was through fear he did not publish it; and from
other circumstances, referred to in the succeeding pages, it may be
inferred that pressure was brought to bear on him, and that the journal
was intentionally withheld in order to keep Drake, who had recently
appeared in the South Sea, in ignorance of the position of these
islands. The journal has for this reason always remained in manuscript.
The original manuscript was a few years since in the possession of Mr.
Amhurst. There is a copy in the library of the British Museum, which was
purchased of M. Fr. Michelena y Roiss in 1848;[203] and it is a
translation of this copy that is given in great part in the following
pages. In undertaking this translation, I have been greatly assisted by
my acquaintance with these islands; and I have thus been able to avoid
the pitfalls into which the somewhat careless copyist might have led me.

    [203] The British Museum Reference number is 17,623; and the title
    is as follows: “Descubrimiento de las Islas Salomon en el Mar del
    Sur: 1566,” by Hernando Gallego, native of Corunna.

If M. M. Buache and Fleurieu could have had access to this journal of
Gallego, they would have been saved much laborious criticism, both on
their own part and on the part of others. That they were able to employ
the scanty data, furnished by Figueroa, for the identification of the
lost Isles of Solomon with the recent discoveries of their own day, is
an accomplishment concerning which any adulation on my part would be
both unnecessary and unbecoming. Even with the comparative wealth of
materials which the journal of Gallego affords, as contrasted with the
account of Figueroa, all that remained to be done was to fill in the
rude outline originally sketched by the French geographers.

The story of the gradual identification of the Isles of Solomon forms an
interesting and instructive episode in the history of geographical
discovery. In the sketch which I have given, I have, so to speak, raked
up the ashes of a controversy which burnt itself out some generations
ago; but the labour expended in its preparation will not have been
unprofitable, if I have been successful in placing before my readers a
clear and connected account of how the Isles of Solomon were discovered,
lost, and found.


THE JOURNAL OF GALLEGO.

We find in the prologue, with which Gallego commences his account of
this voyage, an explanation not only of the principal object of the
expedition, but also of the motive which led the Spanish navigator to
draw up his narrative. It was for the propagation of the Christian faith
amongst the peoples of the unknown islands of the West that this
expedition was dispatched from the shores of Peru; and it was to guide
the missionary to the field of his labour that the chief pilot drew up
his relation of the voyage.

“I understand it to be incumbent”--thus Gallego writes--“on the men who
follow the nautical profession, and have had the good fortune, in some
degree, to take precedence of their fellows, to give an account of their
success. And there are many reasons why it is necessary that from the
ignorant these things should not be concealed. But for me, Christian
piety affords the principal inducement; and especially since it moved
the mind of that most Christian and most Catholic monarch, Don Philip,
to write to his Governor, the most illustrious Lope Garcia de Castro,
that he should convert every infidel to Christ. Imbued with this
feeling, I have made it my first object, by means of this relation and
of the additions made by me to the sea-chart, to enable the
missionaries, who are to guide the infidels into the vineyard of the
Lord, to know where these places will be found and to learn how to
navigate these seas exposed to the fury of the winds, and how all
dangers and enemies may be avoided. This is my design, unless I am
otherwise convinced. Let the curious accept this brief discourse. It is
from fear that its author has not wished to print it. This is my object:
such is my desire. Receive, reader, this token of esteem, and be
steadfast in God. Farewell!”

Before proceeding with the journal of Gallego, it is necessary for me to
remark that I have relegated to an appendix much of that which is of
interest to the geographical student. The reason is an obvious one and
needs no further reference, since the narrative often takes the
character of a sea-log, and the geographical and critical points
involved are necessarily only of special interest.

The Governor, Lope Garcia de Castro, gave orders for the equipment of
two ships of the fleet for the discovery of certain islands and a
continent (tierra firme) concerning which His Catholic Majesty D. Philip
II. had summoned a number of persons versed in mathematics in order to
deliberate on the plan to be followed. After selecting the vessels, he
nominated as General in command of the expedition his nephew, Alvaro de
Mendana; as Commander of the troops (maestre de campo), Pedro de Ortega
Valencia; as the Royal Ensign, D. Fernando Enriquez; and lastly, as
Chief-Pilot--to quote the words of the journal--“myself, the said
Hernando Gallego.”

The number of all that embarked on this voyage, including, besides the
soldiers and sailors, four Franciscan friars and the servants, was a
hundred. The preparations were made with such alacrity and willingness
that the ships were fitted out with a dispatch that seemed scarcely
credible; and on the 19th day of Nov., 1566,[204] being Wednesday, the
day of St. Isabel, the two ships sailed from Callao, the port of the
City of Kings, which is situated, as Gallego remarks, in 12½° S. lat.
Shaping their course to the south-west, they had not to allow for the
variation of the compass, since the needle pointed direct to the pole;
and reference is here made in the journal to the circumstance that in
Spain, more particularly in the city of Seville, the needle varied one
point to the north-west. Steering in the same southerly and westerly
direction until the 27th of the same month, they reached the latitude of
15½°, being by their reckoning 57 leagues[205] due west from the “morro
de Uacaxique,” which was in the same latitude.[206] They now shaped
their course west, following along the parallel of 15¾°, because “the
Lord President had said that in the latitude of 15°, at a distance of
600 leagues from Peru, there were many rich islands.” With the wind “a
long time in the south-east,” they accomplished a usual daily run of
from 20 to 30 leagues. By the third of December, they were by their
reckoning in the meridian of the bay of Fego,[207] which is stated by
Gallego to be situated in 16° north of the equinoctial and 546 leagues
due north of their position. On the 7th of the same month, the
Chief-Pilot recorded his observation that the needle showed no
variation from the pole and that it neither dipped nor tilted up.

    [204] _Vide_ Note II. of Geographical Appendix.

    [205] Spanish leagues, 17½ to a degree, all through the narrative.

    [206] I have not been able to find this name in any maps or charts.

    [207] In the maps I have examined there is no bay of this name
    given.

“At this time,” he writes, “I inquired of the pilots as to our position;
but I only provoked their obstinacy: and we went on our voyage sailing
across the ocean to discover land. We noticed the flight of the birds
that passed us in the morning and evening, and whence they came, and
whither they went towards the setting sun. All this was no certain
guide, as some flew north and others south; and there was nothing to
justify our pursuing the flying-fish which abounded in those seas.” It
is right that I should here allude to the importance attached by the
voyagers of this period to the flight of birds which had often guided
them to the discovery of new lands. It was for this reason, it will be
remembered, that Columbus swerved from his westerly course when
approaching the American Continent.

Gallego soon began to lose confidence in the opinion of the Lord
President, because pursuing their course along the same parallel of 15¾°
they failed to observe any signs of land. On the 12th of December, being
in the meridian of the harbour of La Navidad (a port on the Pacific
coast of Mexico, in lat. 19° 12′ N., long. 104° 46′ W.), there was a
consultation between Gallego and the other pilots, when their latitudes
were found to agree, but the dead reckoning of the pilots was greater.
At length, on the 16th of the month, it was resolved by the Chief-Pilot
to leave this parallel and head more to the northward, as they were now
620 leagues rather more than less from Peru and there were no signs of
their approaching land.

Accordingly the course was altered; and for four days they ran
west-by-north reaching the latitude of 13¾°, and accomplishing 166
leagues. During the 20th and 21st of December they steered north-west
for 65 leagues, keeping a good look-out for land, but to no purpose. On
the 22nd, after steering to the north-west-by-west for 30 leagues, they
reached the parallel of 11°. They then coursed north-west until the
26th, which was St. Stephen’s Day, having gone by their reckoning 95
leagues and attaining, as their observations showed, a latitude rather
under nine degrees (nueve grados escasos). It is worthy of note that in
the daily record, which was at this time kept by Gallego of the course
and distance and of the latitude obtained by observation, it usually
happens that the computed latitude is considerably less than that
observed.[208] In this journal, however, the latitudes are all those of
observation except where it is otherwise mentioned. During the 27th and
28th of December they stood to the west-north-west for 60 leagues; and
on the two following days they steered west-by-north for 62 leagues,
reaching the latitude of 6¼°. It is here recorded that the needle was
deflected a third of a point to the north-west. On the last day of the
year they sailed 30 leagues to the west, experiencing strong currents.

    [208] This circumstance was, probably, due to a strong southerly
    drift.

Hitherto no signs of land had been observed, and, in consequence,
symptoms of uneasiness showed themselves amongst the crews. As they
sailed along, they were led in their imaginations to believe that they
were always on the point of making the land; but no land appeared. “The
pilots told me,” writes Gallego in his journal, “that I was the only
person who was not disheartened after having sailed so many leagues
without seeing land: and when I told them that they would suffer no ill
and that, with the favour of God, they would see the land at the end of
January, they all kept silent and made no reply.”

The 1st of January, 1567, found the Spanish voyagers steering west along
the parallel of 6¼°; and in accordance with the opinions of his fellow
pilots, Gallego kept this course until the 7th, traversing in the time
about 125 leagues.[209] They now experienced unsettled weather, the wind
shifting to the north and subsequently to the north-east. Although
steering west-by-south, they did not change their latitude as much as
they expected; and, on the 10th, after accomplishing 30 leagues on this
course during the past three days they found their latitude in 6½°.
During the 11th and 12th with a very favourable wind they sailed 55
leagues to the west on the same parallel. Heavy rain-squalls here
overtook them; and they ran along under easy sail.

    [209] For one day, Saturday the 3rd, there is no record in the
    Journal of the distance run. To allow for this omission, I have
    taken 18 leagues as being the average daily run during this week.

“On this day,” writes Gallego, “they signalled from the “Almiranta” (the
general’s ship) to ask where the land should be. I replied that it lay,
in my opinion, 300 leagues away; and that at all events we should not
sight it until the end of the month. At this time some of the people
began to doubt whether we should ever see the land. But I always told
them that, if God was with them, it would be His pleasure that they
should not suffer ill.” During the 13th they steered west 25 leagues and
found themselves in the parallel of 6°. On the following day they ran in
the same direction for 30 leagues, experiencing much rain and varying
winds. Their water supply was failing, and the minds of many were the
more depressed; for these reasons they ran on with eased sheets and did
not shorten sail.

But the long-expected land was near, and I will permit Gallego for the
time to tell his own story. “On the Thursday the 15th of January, we had
heavy showers of rain and such thunder and lightning as we had not seen
in all the voyage. We were distant from the land of Peru, on the course
which we had steered, 1450 leagues. In the following[210] morning we ran
with a light wind 15 leagues south-west-by-west, and were in the
latitude of 6½°. A seaman went to the top and discovered land in the
shape of a small island, which appeared on the port hand to the
south-west-by-west. We were about six leagues from it, because being a
low island it could not be seen at a greater distance. Keeping away, we
reached it at sunset. This island is low and level. It has many reefs
around it, and has quite a bay of the sea in the middle of it. After we
had arrived, I found the latitude to be 6¾°. We were eager to send a
boat in; but, however, it was thought best to await the arrival of the
‘Almiranta’ which was much behind us.

    [210] The word “following” has been added by me, since from the
    subsequent remarks of Gallego, it is evident that this land was
    sighted on the 16th.

“In the meantime seven canoes full of people started from the island.
Some turned back to the shore and the remainder came off to the ship.
But when they saw so many persons, they returned to the beach and made
great bonfires. That night they put up flags, seemingly for the
protection of the island. We were not able to determine whether they
were mats of palm-leaves or of cotton, they were bleached so white.[211]
The people in the canoes were naked and of a tawny hue. When the
‘Almiranta’ arrived, we agreed that no boats should land until the next
day, as it was then evening. And when it dawned, it blew so strong from
the north-west that we drifted a quarter of a league to leeward of the
island. I wished to reach it, but could not, as the wind was so strong
that we could carry no sails. I advised that, if we beat up to reach the
island with the wind so strong and contrary, the ships might be broken
in pieces (on the reefs); that it would not be wise to run the risk of
losing all our lives for an island so small; and that seeing that the
island was inhabited, the rest could not be far away. Although being so
near to this island, we could not get bottom with 200 fathoms.”

    [211] Mats of very fine quality are manufactured in many of the
    Pacific islands.

The decision of Gallego naturally caused much discontent amongst the
crews. “The soldiers murmured”--thus the Journal continues--“because
they were unwilling to leave this island, notwithstanding that they
would run the chance of losing their lives. Being weary of the voyage,
they took no pains to conceal their displeasure. But I cheered them and
consoled them with the assurance that they would meet with no
misfortune, and that with the grace of God, I would give them more land
than they would be able to people; for this island (as I pointed out to
them) was not more than five or six leagues in size. I gave it the name
of the Isle of Jesus, because we arrived at it on the day after that
which we accounted the 15th of January.”[212]

    [212] It is scarcely possible to identify this island with any of
    the islands marked in the latest Admiralty charts. _Vide_ Note III.
    of the Geographical Appendix.

As the Spanish voyagers were now approaching the scene of their future
discoveries, their course becomes of peculiar interest to the historical
geographer.[213] Continuing their voyage on the 17th of January, they
had before them a long and tedious passage, having to contend with
contrary winds and being swept north and south in turns by the currents.
On the 23rd, they were in the latitude of 6°, and on the 28th in 5½°. At
length on Sunday the 1st of February, when they were according to their
reckoning 165 leagues from the Isle of Jesus, they discovered two
leagues away[214] some banks of reefs with some islets in the middle of
them. “These shoals”--as described by Gallego--“ran obliquely from
north-east to south-west. We were not able”--so he writes--“to get their
extremity within our range of sight; but as far as we could see them
they extended more than fifteen leagues. We gave them the name of ‘Los
Bajos de la Candelaria,’ because we saw them on Candlemas Eve: and I
took the latitude near them, when we lay east and west with their
centre, and found it to be 6¼°.” On referring to the present Admiralty
charts, it will be noticed that the name “Candelaria Reef,” is applied
to an atoll lying about eighty miles to the north of the large island of
Isabel in the Solomon Group and named “El Roncador” by Maurelle the
Spanish navigator in 1781. Now, seeing that this atoll is not more than
six miles across, it cannot possibly be identical with the extensive
reefs which are above described by Gallego under the name of the
Candelaria Shoals. As shown in the appendix,[215] it is highly probable
that these shoals are the same with those which lie about 35 miles to
the north of the Roncador Reef, where they constitute an atoll fifty
miles in width which was discovered by the Dutch navigators Le Maire and
Schouten in 1616, and was named “Ontong Java” by Tasman in 1643.

    [213] I would direct the nautical reader to Note V. of the
    Geographical Appendix which refers to Gallego’s observations of
    latitude in this group. He will thus be saved some confusion in
    comparing the Spanish latitudes with those of the present charts.

    [214] Thus the distance of these shoals from the Isle of Jesus would
    be probably about 167 leagues in all. Figueroa gives the distance as
    160 leagues.

    [215] _Vide_ Note IV. of the Geographical Appendix.

Leaving these shoals, they steered south-west, expecting to sight land,
which could not have been, in the opinion of Gallego, more than fifty
leagues distant. During the night, however, they had to heave-to on
account of the heavy weather; and on the following day, which was the
day of our Lady of Candlemas, they experienced the same weather and were
obliged to take in all sail. During the next day, which was the 4th of
February, the weather improved; and steering at first west-by-north they
subsequently stood to the south-west; and as night approached they
shortened sail, in the event of there being other reefs and shoals such
as those they had already passed. The prevailing winds had been
north-west; but on the following day the wind went round to the west and
fell very light. For four days they had been unable to take observations
on account of the thick weather. On the 5th,[216] their latitude was
found in 7° 8′, from which Gallego inferred that in those four days they
had drifted fifteen leagues to the south-by-west. They now made sail and
headed north.[217] (?)

    [216] There is apparently an error in the journal with reference to
    this date, since the 6th is omitted altogether.

    [217] The subsequent remarks relative to the course show that there
    is here an error in the M.S., or in the original journal.

“This day,” writes Gallego, “was Saturday, the 7th of February, and the
80th day since we set out from Callao, the port of the City of the
Kings. In the morning I ordered a seaman to go aloft to the top and scan
the south for land, because there seemed to me to be in that quarter an
elevated mass; and the seaman reported land. The land soon became
visible to us; and a signal of our discovery was made to the ‘Almiranta’
which was half a league from the ‘Capitana’ (Gallego’s vessel). Every
one received the news with feelings of great joy and gratitude for the
favour which God had granted them through the intercession of the
Blessed Virgin, the Glorious Mother of God, whom we all believed to be
our mediator; and the ‘Te Deum laudamus’ was sung.”

They were distant from the land, when they first saw it, about 15
leagues. It is described in the journal as “very high.” Turning the
ships’ heads in that direction, after they had gone 3 or 4 leagues, they
discovered much more land belonging to the same island which appeared to
be a continent. They did not get up to it until the evening of the next
day, which was Sunday the 8th of February.

“Shortly after we arrived,” continues Gallego in his narrative, “many
large and small canoes came off to see us, displaying signs of amity.
But they did not dare to come alongside the vessels; and as we
approached the land, they kept away. However the General threw them some
coloured caps, and being thus assured they came alongside the ship. The
boat was launched, and in it went Juan Enriquez with eight musketeers
and target-men (rodeleros) to see if they could find a port to anchor
in, and also to search for the place whence the canoes had come. The
rest of the natives became more confident, and some of them came on
board the ship. As they behaved well, we gave them things to eat and
drink; and they remained on board until it began to grow dark, when they
got into their canoes and went ashore. And those who had gone away in
the boat, seeing that it was getting dusk, returned without having found
any port. As soon as it was dark we stood out to sea, and the natives in
the canoes returned to their homes. They told us that for the sake of
friendship we should have gone with them, and that they would have
entertained us and given us plenty to eat.

“We stood to windward that night with a light wind; and the currents
carried us more than three leagues to the west-north-west, bringing us
over some reefs on which we might have been lost as the sea was breaking
around them. Finding ourselves in seven fathoms of water, we at once
made course to stand clear of them. We remained under easy canvas until
it dawned, when we saw that the currents had carried us right upon the
shoals; and as the sea broke around us, we made more sail. I hailed the
‘Almiranta’ to make the best of her way out of her position among the
shoals; and we accordingly stood away until we found a sufficient
depth.”

Juan Enriquez was now dispatched in the boat to find a harbour for the
ships; but he was deterred by the sight of all the reefs and returned to
the ship. He was ordered by the General to go back again and carry out
his search, and “I told him”--adds Gallego--“that it was necessary for
the safety of the ships that he should find a port without delay.” The
position of the Spanish vessels was a truly critical one; and only those
who have been similarly situated in a sailing ship in unsurveyed waters,
studded with unknown coral reefs, can realise how anxious the moment
was.

“Committing ourselves to God”--thus Gallego writes--“I sent a man aloft
to the fore-top, and placed another on the bowsprit, and I told them to
notice where the shoals were white. The sounding-lead was kept in hand;
and in the event of our having to go about or to anchor, we stood by the
sheets and bowlines and had the anchor cleared. I steered for the place
where we found seven fathoms of water, as it seemed to me that we should
not find a less depth. The boat had not yet reached the shore, so I
determined to sound and I got twelve fathoms with a clear bottom; and
farther on it was deeper and also clear of rocks. Although it was
mid-day, a star appeared to us over the entrance of the reef. Taking it
as a guide and as a good omen, we were cheered in spirit and became more
hopeful. As we proceeded, the water deepened little by little: and I
informed the General that we were already clear of the reefs . . . I
signalled to the ‘Almiranta’ to follow us. As we neared the harbour
where the boat had gone, they signalled to us that they had found a good
anchorage. Presently we entered the harbour with the star over the bow,
and we anchored, the ‘Almiranta’ entering shortly afterwards. At the
entrance of the port is a rock (or islet), in size larger than the ship.

“It was the day of Santa Polonia, the 9th of February. The harbour,
which is in the latitude of 7° 50′, we named the port of Santa Isabel
del Estrella; and we named the island, Santa Isabel. The Indians called
the island Camba; and their cacique is named Billebanarra. This harbour
lies nearly in the middle of the north coast of the island, and is 26
leagues north-east and south-west from the reefs.[218] Having
disembarked with the other captains, I took possession of the island in
the name of His Majesty. A cross was erected: and I chose a convenient
place for building a brigantine.”

    [218] The reefs, here referred to, are evidently the Candelaria
    Shoals. This bearing of the harbour with these shoals does not
    warrant the position which has been assigned to Estrella Bay in the
    present Admiralty Chart, its position there being due south of these
    reefs.

On the following day, Gallego landed with the carpenters; and they began
with all diligence to fell the trees and to saw the planks for the
construction of the brigantine. Meanwhile the General had sent Pedro
Sarmiento with thirty men into the interior. They penetrated about five
leagues, and met with some Indians, one of whom they took as a hostage.
This native was treated kindly by the General; and he was set at liberty
in order that he might carry a favourable account to the other natives
of the island. During this incursion, a soldier had been struck by an
arrow, but received no hurt. Shortly afterwards, a larger force was
dispatched under Pedro de Ortega to explore the interior. The expedition
included 52 persons, and comprised 35 soldiers, with some seamen and
negroes. They were absent seven days from the ship; and from the account
of Gallego, we may infer that but little discretion was employed in
their dealings with the natives. They burned “many temples dedicated to
the worship of snakes, toads, and other insects;” and, as the result of
such proceedings, two soldiers were wounded, one of whom subsequently
died of tetanus. His name was Alonzo Martin, and he bore the character
of a good soldier.

“These people,” writes the Chief Pilot, “are tawny and have crisp hair.
They go naked, wearing only short aprons of palm leaves. They have as
food some maizes or roots which they call _benaus_ and plenty of fish.
They are, in my opinion, a clean race, and I am certain that they eat
human flesh.” On the 15th of March, whilst the Spaniards were at mass on
shore, a fleet of fourteen canoes arrived at the place where the
brigantine was being built. The cacique, who was in command, sent the
General a present of a quarter of a boy, including the arm and hand,
together with some roots (benaus), which he requested him to accept. In
order that the natives should understand that the Spaniards did not eat
human flesh, the General ordered it to be buried in their presence, at
which they were abashed and hung their heads, and returned to an islet
which was situated at the entrance of the harbour. This cacique, who is
termed in the Journal the Taurique Meta, lived at a place fifteen
leagues from the harbour to the west-by-north. Pedro de Ortega, with the
two pilots, Pedro Roanges and Juan Enriquez, were sent with thirty
soldiers and four Indians to visit the place where this taurique lived.
They were absent four days, and effected nothing except the capture of
four Indians, two of whom they retained as hostages in order to compel
the natives to bring them provisions.

On the 4th of April, the brigantine was launched, and the rigging was
set up. It having been resolved that she should proceed on a voyage to
discover the other islands and harbours, Gallego, Ortega, with 18
soldiers[219] and 12 sailors, embarked on board; and on the 7th of April
they left the port. Following the coast along to the south-east, they
came to two islets, lying six leagues away from the port of Santa Isabel
de la Estrella, and situated, according to an observation of Gallego,
exactly in the latitude of 8°. On these islets were many palms which
were deemed to be palmettos and cocoa-nut trees. “This land,” as the
Chief Pilot remarks, “trends south-east and north-west. The needle stood
a point to the north-east and there remained. Proceeding on our cruise,
we saw many islets in the same direction . . . .[220] 5 leagues from
where we had started; and we anchored at an islet in which we found a
canoe and three houses. We landed 7 soldiers; and they went up towards
the houses in search of the Indians, who, however, carried off their
canoe. On reaching the houses, the soldiers found a quantity of
provisions, which they brought on board the brigantine. Continuing our
voyage along the coast, 17 canoes came out to us. In them came an
exceedingly daring Indian, who, calling himself the cacique Babalay,
held his bow towards us, and signified to us that we should go with him,
and that, if we should not wish to go, he would carry us by force and
would kill us. On account of his audacity, the “maestre de campo”
ordered them to fire and knocked him down with a shot; and when those in
the canoes saw him fall, they all fled to the shore. Shortly afterwards,
I tacked towards the shore in order to make a port, as the wind was
strong. In a little time we came to an anchor, and I found by
observation that the latitude was 8⅙°. . . .[221]” Leaving this
anchorage, they stood out to sea, with the wind in the north-north-west;
and in a short time they kept away and followed the coast along to the
south-east-by-east.

    [219] According to the MS. in this passage, only 10 soldiers
    embarked; but on one occasion during the cruise it is stated that 18
    soldiers were landed (_vide_ p. 207), a number which agrees with
    that given by Figueroa.

    [220] The words omitted here are in the Spanish: “hasta la provincia
    de Vallas.”

    [221] Reference is here made to the fact that the coast ran
    north-west-by-west with the island of Meta, which was seven (?)
    leagues distant. This island of Meta was probably a small coast
    island on which the chief of that name lived.

“And as we sailed on,” continues Gallego, “the mast sprung and nearly
fell on us. Seeing what had happened, I ordered the sails to be secured
and the tackle to be brought to the weather side, and in this manner
the mast was “stayed.” When the night overtook us we were without
knowledge of any port, having much thick weather with wind and rain.
Guided by the phosphorescence of the sea we skirted the reefs; and when
I saw that the reefs did not make the sea phosphorescent, I weathered
the point and entered a good harbour at the fourth hour of the night,
where, much to our ease, we passed (the remainder of) the night.[222]
This port is 6 leagues from where we set out, and is in a great bay. It
is capacious and has 7 or 8 inhabited islands. The next day I
disembarked the people to get water and wood; and we saw coming to the
beach more than a hundred Indians, carrying their bows and arrows and
clubs with which they are accustomed to fight. The ‘maestre de campo’
ordered those on shore to embark, fearing some ambuscade. Soon the
Indians arrived but they did nothing, and a canoe came. Seeing that they
made no attack, the ‘maestre de campo’ ordered four soldiers to go
ashore and fire three or four shots to frighten them; and when this was
done and the Indians saw it, they shot their arrows and took to flight.
Thus passed the 12th of April.

    [222] To find in a dark night and in thick weather an opening in a
    line of coral-reef on an unknown coast, is an undertaking fraught
    with the greatest hazard, even for a ship possessing steam power.
    The only available guide is that which was followed by this
    clear-headed navigator; but it is one which, as it depends on the
    luminosity of the sea, can only be of occasional service. When the
    sea has been unusually phosphorescent, each roller, as it breaks on
    the weather-edge of the reef, is marked by a disconnected line of
    light, reminding one of the straggling fire of a line of musketry. I
    once saw this phenomenon splendidly exhibited on the coast of Japan,
    the sea-surface being crowded with myriads of “Noctilucæ.”

“Whilst in this bay we saw to seaward a very large island which lies
east and west with this bay. This island is called in the language of
those Indians, Malaita. The west extreme of this island lies east and
west with the point of Meta.[223] This island lies with the shoals of
Candelaria north-west-by-west and south-east-by-east 52 leagues;[224]
and the extremity of this island of Malaita is in 8°; it is distant from
the island of Santa Isabel 14 leagues; it has 5 or 6 islets at the
extremity, which are, each of them, 2 leagues in circuit. There are two
islets in the middle, between the two large islands. The name of the
Isle of Ramos suggested itself for this Island of Malaita, because it
was discovered on Palm Sunday (Domingo de Ramos).[225]

    [223] The point of Meta is probably near the place where the chief
    of that name lived. _Vide_ page 203.

    [224] “Norueste sueste quarta de leste hueste” is the bearing given
    in the MS. The distance of 52 leagues very closely corresponds with
    the distance indicated on the present chart between the west end of
    Malaita and Ontong Java. (_Vide_ appendix: note iv.)

    [225] Through an unconscious error in the translations by Mr.
    Dalrymple and Capt. Burney of the account given by Figueroa, the
    name “Isle of Ramos” has been applied in modern charts to an islet
    nearly in the middle of the passage between Isabel and Malaita. For
    further particulars consult Note VI. of appendix.

“Coasting further along from this bay, we saw a fleet of more than seven
large canoes making for the shore where there were fisheries. The canoes
came on with us; and many Indians shot their arrows at us with great
shouting. The ‘maestre de campo,’ on seeing their daring, ordered some
muskets to be fired; and one Indian was killed and the rest took to
flight. On the following day, which we made the 14th of April, running
further along the coast to the east-south-east (?) we sailed nearly 6
leagues. Here the Indians came out to us in a friendly manner, bringing
cocoa-nut and other things which we needed. Here we saw a hog, which was
the first we had seen. The next day we went further out in quest of the
point and extremity of this island, running to the south-east. From the
bay to the point of the island, the coast ran north-west and south-east.
There are some islets near this point; and from this point to the bay is
14 leagues. I took the latitude and found it to be barely 9°. At this
point, two canoes came out to us with fighting-men, in order to question
an Indian whom we had on board, one of the two we took from Meta. They
shot their arrows at us; and when we fired a musket to frighten them,
they fled.

“On the following day, which we reckoned the 16th of the month, being at
the extremity of this island, we named it Cape Pueto;[226] and from here
we discovered some islands to the south-east,[227] which are 9 leagues
from this cape. Some lie north-by-west and south-by-east;[228] and
others north-west and south-east. And we approached them this day with a
fair wind, sailing to the south-east. We arrived at ten o’clock in the
night at an island which was a league and a half in circuit; and there
we anchored. It is low and beset with reefs. We sailed around it. It
has many palms, is inhabited; and it was there we passed the night. When
it dawned, we were desirous to land but could not on account of the
numerous shoals and reefs. It was named ‘La Galera.’ Here a canoe came
off to us carrying 50 men whom we perceived to be ready for
battle. . . .[229] It preceded us to another large island which was a
league distant. It was soon joined by many canoes both small and large;
and in (one of) them came a leading taurique. He came and approached us
in a friendly manner, and gave us beads (chaquiza), of the kind they
wear, which resemble those that are found in Puerto-viejo.[230] The
‘maestre de campo’ gave him a good reception; and in token of peace
presented him with some things which we had on board. Soon the taurique
commanded the men in the canoes to take the brigantine in tow and bring
us into the harbour, which they did. After we were inside, the ‘maestre
de campo’ landed with 18 soldiers; and I remained with 12 on board the
brigantine. The Indians soon took up their weapons, and hurled stones at
us, and jeered at us because we asked for provisions. Seeing their
insolence, some shots were fired at them, and two Indians were killed.
Thereupon they fled, leaving their houses defenceless. This island is
called in the language of the Indians, Pela.[231] And there is a chain
of five islands, which lie east and west one with another. The first of
these, which we came to, was at the east end, for we were pursuing our
discoveries from East to West; it lies with the Cape Prieto north-west
and south-east, 9 leagues from the said cape. It will be in circuit 12
leagues. It is well peopled by natives and has many huts and towns
and . . . .[232] To this island we gave the name of Buena Vista from its
appearance; it seemed to be very fertile, and was well-peopled; and the
rest are as above mentioned. They go naked, without any covering
_whatever_, and have their faces patterned (tattooed).[233] There are
many inhabited islands around. I took the latitude here, and found it
to be 9½° south of the equinoctial. It runs east and west.

    [226] The name of this cape is spelt in three different ways in this
    MS., viz., Puerto, Pueto, and Prieto. The latter is that adopted in
    Figueroa’s account. Puerto seems to be the correct name as no reason
    is given in the journal for using the epithet of “black” (prieto);
    but the last is employed in the present chart.

    [227] In the account of Figueroa this bearing is given as
    south-west, which, as pointed out by Pingré, Fleurieu, and Burney,
    is in contradiction to the other bearings, and was by all three
    authors replaced by that of “south-east.”

    [228] “Norte sur quarta del norueste sueste.”

    [229] As the meaning is obscure, I have here omitted the following:
    “and coming close to us” which is followed in the Spanish by “no nos
    dijo cosa nise movieron contra nosotros,” which I have left
    untranslated.

    [230] A town in the province of Quito, in the kingdom of Peru.

    [231] Gela is the present native name of the Florida Islands.
    (Codrington’s “Melanesian Languages,” p. 522, _circâ_). Consult Note
    VII. of the geographical appendix.

    [232] “Lugares formados y juntos.” These words, which I have not
    translated, are to be found unaltered in Figueroa’s account, and
    have been rendered thus by Dalrymple “places cultivated and
    enclosed.”

    [233] “Las caras labradas.”

“On Good Friday of this same year we went from this island to another a
league distant. We found in it abundance of cocoa-nuts; and we placed a
quantity on board the brigantine for our sustenance. Whilst we were at
this island, a canoe came off to us with three Indians; they left us to
go from there to the large island; and they offered us hogs, but we did
not want them.

“On arriving at the large island, the ‘maestre de campo’ landed and came
to a town which was on high-ground. Here they gave him two hogs, which
he brought off with him to the ship, having met with no bad treatment;
and we returned to pass the night at the islet (?). This day was Holy
Saturday. On the following day, which was the Feast of the Resurrection,
we skirted the south coast of the island; and from here we went to
another island, which is a league from it. On our arrival, there came
off to us more than 20 canoes of fighting-men, who planned taking us to
their town and capturing us, and displayed much delight amongst
themselves. I ordered the anchor to be weighed that we might get to a
better place, because we were almost touching the shoals. When the
Indians saw that we were about to shift our position, they got into
their canoes in a great hurry with their bows and arrows, and clubs, and
many stones; and in a very fierce manner they began to shoot their
arrows and stones at us. Seeing their daring, we replied with the
muskets; and many Indians were killed, and the whole were repulsed; and
they rallied and came on to the attack with greater fury; but this time
they suffered even more, and for the second time they were repulsed and
routed. There were more than 700 Indians. We took three canoes; but
afterwards we abandoned two and kept the other. Deserting their towns,
they went off with many howls and cries to the higher land in the
interior. Soon the ‘maestre de campo’ landed with 20 men: and he
endeavoured to bring off some provisions to the brigantine, and to
restore friendship with the natives; but from their dread of the muskets
they would never approach; and they kept much in advance of them calling
to each other by conch-shells and with drums. Seeing that there was no
help for it, we set fire to a house, after having taken possession of
the island in the name of His Majesty, as in the case of the other
islands; and we gave it the name of ‘La Florida.’ This island is in
latitude 9½° and lies east and west with the island of Buenavista. It
is 25 leagues in circuit, and is a fine island in appearance, with many
inhabitants, who are also naked as in the other islands; and they redden
their hair, eat human flesh, and have their towns built over the water
as in Mexico.[234]

    [234] In the present day the natives of Florida built their houses
    on piles. See p. 60, of this work.

“This day we went on to other islands which are further to the east in
the same latitude. The first has a circuit of 25 leagues. We had not
resistance from them (the Indians); because they had already come to
know that they could not overcome us, if we were prepared for them. To
this island, we gave the name of San Dimas. We did not go to the
remaining islands that we might not hinder ourselves. We named the one
San German, and the other the Island of Guadalupe.” (_Vide_ Note VII. of
the Geographical Appendix.)

“The next morning we went to another very large island which is on the
south side of the five islands. In the middle of the way, or half-way
between them, is an island which we named Sesarga. It is 8 leagues in
circuit. This island is high and round and well-peopled; with plenty of
food, _mames_ and _panales_[235] and roots and hogs [which have no grain
to eat?]. In the middle of this island there is a volcano, which is
continually emitting great smoke. It has a white streak which resembles
a road descending from the higher parts down to the sea. This island is
in latitude 9¾°. With the island of Buenavista it lies north-west and
south-east (?).[236] Five leagues from this island, there came out 5
canoes; and they gave us a fish, telling us by signs that we should go
with them to their island, and that they would give us hogs. The Indians
went away; and we slept this night at sea.

    [235] Figueroa gives for _mames_, _ynanimes_; and for _panales_,
    _panays_. In the first instance, “yams” are probably meant; whilst,
    in the second case, Burney suggests that by _panays_ the
    “breadfruit” may be referred to. Fleurieu hints that it may be the
    application of the name of the “parsnip” to some other vegetable.
    The “taro” is evidently here alluded to.

    [236] In Note VII. of the Geographical Appendix, I have treated of
    the question relating to the identification of the islands which lie
    between Cape Prieto and the north coast of Guadalcanar, with the
    Spanish discoveries. In so doing, I have re-opened a discussion that
    excited considerable interest a century ago, but which has since,
    notwithstanding the efforts of Burney and Krusenstern, been almost
    forgotten. Those acquainted with these islands will recognise in
    Sesarga the present Savo.

“On the next day, which was the 19th of April, we arrived at the great
island, which we had seen, and came upon a town of the Indians. There is
a large river here; and there came out canoes to the brigantine, and
some Indians who were swimming, and some women and boys. They gave us a
rope, and towing us, carried us to the shore. When we were close to the
beach, they began to throw stones at us, saying, ‘Mate,’ ‘Mate,’ meaning
that they were going to kill us.[237] Some shots were fired, which
killed two of them, and immediately they left us and fled. The ‘maestre
de campo’ landed with 20 men, and took possession as in the case of the
other islands. In the town was found, in small baskets, a large quantity
of provisions, of roots, and ginger which is plentiful in this island.
We put on board the brigantine what we could, including a hog. The same
evening, we embarked; and we gave this island the name of Guadalcanal
and to the river that of Ortega. I took the latitude, and found it to be
in 10½°. With the higher part of Buenavista, it lies north and south 9
leagues, and with that of Sesarga north-west and south-east. From here
we determined to return to where we had left the ships. We, therefore,
started on the return voyage. Running back to the island of Santa
Isabel, we passed by the island of Sesarga, which is called in the
language of the Indians ‘Guali.’ Pursuing our way, we came close to Cape
Prieto. We sailed along the south coast and arrived at an island, 7
leagues from Cape Prieto, which lies with the island of Sesarga
north-by-west[238] 15 leagues. The taurique of this island, Beneboneja
by name, called it the island of Veru. It is a league from that of Santa
Isabel. The passage (entrada), which is on the south-east side of the
island of Beru (Veru), has a fine harbour that is able to hold a
thousand ships: it is 6 leagues in length, has a depth of 12 to 8
fathoms, is very clear (of shoals), and has an outlet to the north-west
a league in length.[239] This channel[240] runs west-north-west to the
cape of this island, where there is a large town which has more than 300
houses. The Indians received us in a friendly manner, giving us a hog:
and because they would not give us more than a hog, we seized three
canoes; and when they saw that we had taken these canoes, they ransomed
them, giving for two canoes two hogs. We saw in this island some pearls
that the Indians brought, which they did not hold in much esteem. They
also brought us some tusks[241] that seemed to belong to some large
animal, of which they have many: and they told us that we should take
them and give them back their canoe. I considered that we should restore
their canoe and accept these tusks: but the ‘maestre de campo’ was not
willing to do so. This island is in latitude 9⅓°. We named it the island
of Jorge.[242]

    [237] There is here a strange coincidence. The natives in using the
    word “mate”--a widely spread Polynesian word for “dead”--were
    unconsciously making a correct use of the Spanish verb “matar,” to
    kill.

    [238] Norueste quarta del norueste (?).

    [239] This fine harbour is at present known as Thousand Ships Bay.
    It was visited by D’Urville, in 1838, who named his anchorage
    Astrolabe Harbour.

    [240] The outlet to the northwest has been named Ortega Channel. It
    was explored by the officers of D’Urville’s expedition.

    [241] Probably boar’s tusks.

    [242] The St. George’s Island of the present chart.

“We continued our return journey, sailing to the west-by-north around
the said island of Santa Isabel. When we were a third part from the
south-south-east portion of this island, we saw two large islands. We
did not go to them, because _we had not reached the extremity of the
island which we should have to round_,[243] and also because the coast
is beset with many reefs and shoals which we could scarcely pass through
in the brigantine, it being impossible to sail through them in ships.
These islands would be 6 leagues from Santa Isabel; they are in latitude
9⅓° S., as they lie east and west with the island of Veru 10 leagues.
These islands, which we passed, bear east and west one with the other.
The land runs much further to the west-by-north. The needle declined to
the N.W.[244] I observed the sun near the river and found myself
in 9° full (_9 grados largos_). In this island we saw many bats
(_murcielagos_) of such a size that the wings from tip to tip measured 5
feet in expanse. This island has a breadth of 20 leagues; for I took the
sun on the north side, where the ships lay, and now on the south side;
and in this last I found the latitude to be 9° full (_largos_), whilst
on the north side the latitude is 8° minus 8 minutes, lying
north-north-east and south-south-west 20 leagues. To the two large
islands, which we saw, we gave the following names, to the one San
Nicolas, and to the other, which lies more to the west, the Isle of
Arracises (Reefs), because there are so many reefs to pass through that
it is impracticable to sail round the island.[245]

    [243] The general sense of this passage italicized is here given.

    [244] For N.W. read N.E. There is evidently a mistake in the MS., as
    Gallego previously found the needle to vary one point to the
    north-east, when a few leagues from Estrella Harbour (see p. 204).

    [245] These two islands were probably, from their bearing with the
    island of Veru or St. George, the two mountainous islands in the
    south-east part of New Georgia, which, as observed by Gallego, runs
    much further to the westward. Their distance, however, from Veru, is
    more than double that which Gallego gives.

“After running for four days, but not through the nights, we could
scarcely sail along,[246] on account of the many reefs; and we entered a
passage a quarter of a league further on, but seeing that there was no
outlet we had to return by the aid of the oars.[247] At this time many
Indians came out against us, from among the reefs, with their bows and
arrows. We made sail, and as we were proceeding in the same direction,
18 canoes full of fishermen, in each canoe 30 Indians, with their bows
and arrows, came to shoot at us. We fired some shots, and so they went
away and left us.

    [246] _Lit._ “we were unable to sail along.”

    [247] This blind passage may be the one indicated in the present
    chart in the vicinity of Nairn Island, an off-lying islet.

“On the 26th of April, we reached some reefs and grounded on them.
. . .[248] Some Indians came out at this time with bows and arrows; and
we fired some shots, but because the Indians did not leave us, we did
not repeat this. There are many islets near, both inhabited and
uninhabited. The island became narrower as we arrived at a point of this
island which is from the extremity 6 leagues north-west to south-east.
We entered a passage separating the island from the other islets around,
which are many and inhabited. This is the west part of the island; and I
took the sun at its extremity and found myself in 7½°. This island is 95
leagues in length, and in circuit more than 200.[249] As we sailed on,
some canoes came out to us; and on our firing some shots, they left us,
because . . . (_porque nos aflirian_).

    [248] The following sentence, being unintelligible to me, has not
    been translated, “porque en esta isla hay muchos sueños que llaman
    fuenos forzado volver atras para salir.”

    [249] These dimensions are very greatly in excess.

“Issuing from the passage, we saw, towards the east-by-south,[250] 6
leagues away, a large island. We did not go to it, so as not to delay
ourselves. We gave it the name of San Marcos.[251] It is in latitude
7¾°. This island lies with that of Santa Isabel west-by-north and
east-by-south. All this people, which we have hitherto seen, are naked,
and are as the Moors of Barbary, and do not confess the Lord.

    [250] This bearing is evidently an error; the correct bearing is
    given a few lines below.

    [251] The island of San Marcos is evidently the Choiseul Island of
    the present chart, as named by Bougainville in 1768; and the passage
    through which the brigantine had just passed, is that known as
    Manning Strait between Choiseul and Isabel.

“Sailing on to the 28th of the month, there came out to us 34 canoes in
line of battle, in order to stop us. Three large canoes, which passed
astern, followed us for more than 2 leagues. When we saw their
determination to overhaul us (_que trahian_), we fired at them with a
small cannon and some muskets. At this, they took to flight . . . (_mas
que de paieia_). Although we had been away from the ships a long time
and were endeavouring to return, we were delayed in arriving at them, as
we were opposed by the east winds.

“Being anchored on Sunday at a small uninhabited island, we determined
to send before us a canoe with nine soldiers, a sailor, and an Indian
who had always accompanied us. Whilst they were coasting along, not
daring to stand out to sea, they got on some reefs. Through their
negligence, the canoe was broken in pieces; and by God’s mercy, the
people escaped with the loss of what they carried, their muskets and
ammunition being wetted. When they were all collected together, they
resolved to return to the brigantine; and the Indian ran away from them,
although he did not belong to that land. Having walked all that night
over the stones and rocks along the coast, for fear of meeting the
Indians, they came to a point where they found a cross which they had
put up when they passed by there; and they worshipped it, and determined
to await there the arrival of the brigantine. They put up a flag _which
was seen by us as we came along_. . . .[252] We went to receive them and
found them in a sorry plight (_maltratados_). Continuing our voyage, we
came to where they had been wrecked amongst some reefs close to an
islet, in which they had left two hogs that they carried with them. A
canoe was sent for them (the hogs) and they were taken. Near here we
anchored, because there was much wind. As the weather was fine and the
wind was off the land, we went inside the reefs, looking out for our
ships all that day and part of the night. We made sail the next day at
dawn, and arrived at the port of Santa Isabel de la Estrella, where we
found the ships, to the no small satisfaction of both those on board and
of ourselves.[253]

    [252] “Visto por losque en el veniamos soyechamos lo que podia ser.”

    [253] From the context it may be inferred that the brigantine
    completed the circuit of the island of Isabel. Figueroa, in his
    narrative, expressly states that the brigantine turned the west end
    of the island, and encountered head easterly winds in her return to
    the ships. Figueroa also tells us that during the absence of the
    brigantine some of the men in the ships had died of sickness; but
    Gallego does not refer to this circumstance.

“The same day on which we arrived at Santa Isabel de la Estrella, I told
the General that it was necessary to refit the ships, and that soon
afterwards we should proceed further on to follow up what we had begun.
Accordingly, on the 8th of the said month, we left the port of Santa
Isabel de la Estrella, on our way out, passing by some reefs which are
at the entrance of the harbour. We sailed on until the end of two days.
The brigantine, being unable to keep up with the ships, drifted towards
the land, so much so that at dawn she was nearly out of sight, although
there came in her the pilot Gregorio Gonzalez with some of the soldiers
and sailors who had (previously) gone in her. Being afraid of losing
her, I made signals to her to go about and make a reach to seaward. I
deemed that unless one of the ships turned back to take her in tow, we
should lose her. Seeing that, on account of the many reefs, she was so
essential to us for the exploration of those islands, and had been built
by us after so much labour and through my diligence, I left the
‘Almiranta’ to go on, and turned back in the ‘Capitana’ to get her. We
kept the sounding-lead in hand for fear of the reefs; and about 6
leagues out to sea (_seis leguas de la mar_) I found myself in 6
fathoms. I went about immediately, and it pleased God that we found
deeper water. We found the brigantine in the hours of the night; and we
took her in tow with no little labour, going after the ‘Almiranta’ which
had followed the course I had advised in order to avoid the many reefs
existing here, and leaving behind in her course the islands of Veru and
Flores,[254] and many others which were discovered in the brigantine,
without touching at them. At the end of four days, we saw the
‘Almiranta’ right ahead of us, not having yet found a port.

    [254] The island of Florida is probably thus referred to.

“On Tuesday, the 12th of May, we arrived at a port in the island of
Guadalcanal, to which we had gone from Santa Isabel; but we were not
able to arrive at the river of Ortega which lay two leagues to windward
of where we were. This day, the wind blew so hard from the east that our
cable parted and we lost an anchor. On the following morning I went in a
boat to find a good anchorage, for we were anchored on an (open) coast;
and I went a league from here to the rear of an islet which was close to
this island of Guadalcanal; and having sounded everywhere I found that
it was clear (of shoals) and afforded a good anchorage for the ships,
since it had a large river which was named by us Rio Gallego. It is in
latitude 10° 8′. From here I returned to the ships, and brought them to
this port which we named Puerto de la Cruz.[255]

    [255] The position of this harbour is shown on the present chart;
    but it is placed too much to the eastward; since, from the
    narrative, it is apparent that it lies near Sesarga, which is the
    present Savo.

“This same day, the General landed with all the soldiers and self; and
he took possession of this island in the name of His Majesty as in the
case of the other islands. A cross was erected on a little eminence that
was there; and we all paid our adoration. Some Indians, who stood near
to look on, commenced to discharge their arrows; and some shots were
fired at them, by which two Indians were killed; and so they left us and
fled, and we embarked for that night.

“On the following morning, when we intended to land to say mass, we
noticed that the Indians had pulled up the cross and had carried it off.
On account of their audacity, the General ordered the soldiers to get
themselves ready to go in search of the cross and to put it in its
place: and whilst they were going ashore in the boat, we saw the Indians
return and endeavour to set it up. When it was in its place, they went
away; but it appeared that they had not thrust it in sufficiently, and
it fell. Presently, the same men attempted to erect it; but, from fear
of us, they did not stop to set it up quite straight and fled; and
herewith our people reached the shore and disembarked. The General sent
Pedro Sarmiento with some soldiers to look at the cross; whilst he
himself remained on the beach with the rest of the people. On reaching
there, they found that the cross was not upright; and they placed it as
it was at first. Pedro Sarmiento then returned, and they all embarked
and came back to the ships.

“In order not to lose time, I gave the order to repair the brigantine,
as she was very leaky. She was repaired accordingly; and then it was
determined that Don Fernando Henriquez, the chief-ensign (alferez
general), and I, the said Hernan Gallego, should go in the brigantine
with 30 soldiers and sailors to discover the remaining lands of the same
island of Guadalcanal. On the 19th of May, we sailed in the brigantine
along the coast of the said island which is named, in the language of
the natives, Sabo.[256] And on the same day, the General sent Andres
Nuñez with 30 soldiers to see what the land possessed, and to endeavour
to make a search in cracks or broken ground, because the miners, who
understood it, said that it was a land for gold. And so they carried out
this object in an excursion of 7 days. Whilst they were endeavouring to
make a trial of the ground in a large river, so many natives crowded
around them that they had to give it up, because they would not suffer
them to do it. By a sign which they gave, they said that there was gold.
They have . . . .[257]; and here were found the first hens of Castile.
They brought back two young hens and a cock, which they all received
with much satisfaction, understanding that they would discover better
land.” (These birds were evidently the “bush-hens,” _Megapodiidæ_, of
these islands.)

    [256] The name of Savo is at the present day given to the volcanic
    island, named by the Spaniards, Sesarga, which lies off the
    north-west coast of Guadalcanar: Savuli is the name of a village at
    the west end of Guadalcanar (_vide_ map in Dr. Codrington’s
    “Melanesian Languages”).

    [257] “muchas guacanaras en este entrada.”

“Those in the brigantine, as they sailed along the coast of this island
from the south-east to the north-west,[258] saw many villages near a
river that was nigh to the ships. We passed a league further on, and
after another league came to the river of Ortega. All this coast is full
of villages; yet we did not stop to have seen more of it. Going further
along the coast, we came to a river and anchored in it; and we resolved
to land to see the people who were there. More than 200 Indians came out
to meet us in a friendly manner, with their bows in their hands and the
clubs with which they fight. They gave us some plantains (_platanos_)
which abound here. After we had seen this, the people embarked; however,
they threw some stones at us as we were embarking. We were from the
ships 12 leagues. Proceeding on our course to the south-east, we saw in
another river a large population of natives, and we named it Rio de San
Bernardino because it was that same day. It is in the latitude of 10⅓°,
and bears . . . .[259] There is a very high round hill here. This river
is 4 leagues from where we started from, as I have said.[260]

    [258] A perplexing error. Read instead, N.W. to S.E. Figueroa gives
    the course as E.S.E.

    [259] “Nor norueste suhueste” (an impossible bearing).

    [260] The sense of this sentence is not intelligible to me.

“We continued coasting along this same island; and two leagues from this
river, we came to a great village on the bank of a small river. Don
Fernando landed, and took a canoe which he found in the river, and also
some roots, that they call “mames” (yams) and others, “names,” which
they found in cases. We told the natives to give us some hogs, and they
should have their canoe back. They said that they would give them to us
with the intention of detaining us whilst they collected their numbers.
Thereupon they began to play their instruments for the battle. By the
time we were embarked, more than 600 ruffians (_gandules_) had
assembled. Coming to the beach with their bows and arrows, and clubs,
and stones, they began to shoot; but no musket was fired at them,
although they did not cease from shooting at us. Some took to the water
and swam off to the brigantine endeavouring to cajole us with fair
words, asking us for the canoe and promising us a hog. They tried to
take it from astern: and when we observed this, we threatened them and
they went ashore.

“The Indians then brought on a pole a bundle of dry grass in imitation
of a hog; and they placed it on the beach. Some came off to the
brigantine and said that there was the hog, that we should go for it,
and should give back the canoe. We saw the deceit that they intended;
and when they perceived that we understood what it was and did not go
for it, they threw stones at us and rushed into the sea, swimming with
their weapons in their hands. Withal, we did not wish to harm them until
we saw their boldness, and that they were coming to the brigantine to
shoot at us with their arrows. To frighten them, some shots were fired
high in the air, which did not wound any one; and so we went further
along the coast, whilst they returned to the shore and followed us until
we arrived off another large river, with many people as numerous as
themselves, whom they joined.

“On the 22nd of May, we named this river Santa Elena. There is much
level ground here which is covered with palms and cocoa-nut trees. This
island has a very lofty _cordillera_ in its interior and many ravines
from which these rivers issue; whilst between the mountains and the sea
there are eight leagues of level country. In the mouth of the river
there are many sandbanks; but we did not anchor there, and sailed a long
way from the coast to double a point of reefs, where we anchored. The
wind blew so strong from the south-east that we ran much risk when
seeking shelter to leeward of the shoals that run out from the river.
Here I anchored, and although there was much wind, it was fine weather
at sea.

“The Indians, who were more than a thousand in number, swam out to us
with their bows and arrows; and they dived and plunged beneath the water
to lay hold of our anchor and carry the brigantine ashore. Seeing their
determined perseverance, we fired some shots, and having killed some, we
ceased firing; and they made for the shore, where they raised some
mounds of sand for their protection. As we were short of water, we were
compelled to get more; and when we headed towards the shore, a great
number of the natives assembled together to menace us lest we should
take up a position in the rear of their works, from which they defended
themselves. We loaded a small cannon with small shot, and discharged it
against their mound-works, by which some were wounded and one killed.
Seeing that they could not hold the works, they left the beach and
withdrew to the mountain slope.

“And we found a place to get water in the canoe that we had; but it was
brackish; and I told them that unless they brought sweeter water they
should not come on board the brigantine. The Indians said that they
would fetch it in the earthen jars which were given them for it; and
taking them, the Indians went and brought it sweet and put it on board
the brigantine. Soon they all came on board, and they did not follow us
any more. Continuing our voyage along the same coast for another 6
leagues, we anchored off a great town, which was more than three leagues
in extent (_mas de tres leguas de poblacion_), whence there came out to
us more than 3,000 (!) Indians, who gave us a hog and many cocoa-nuts;
and they filled the earthen jars with water and brought it off in their
canoes, and they came on board the brigantine to visit us without arms.
Close to the shore there are two inhabited islets lying about half a
league to sea; and further on to the north-west of these two islets,
there is another islet of sand. Soon we steered our course to the
south-east, following the trend of the coast for two leagues. There are
two other islets, and another of sand, near them, which were not
inhabited.

“On the 24th of May we sailed further along; and there came off to us 18
canoes, which accompanied us until sunset. When they were about to go,
they menaced us with their bows; and on some shots being fired to
disperse them, they quickly left us. Accordingly, we kept our course
until the extremity of this island, which runs from north-west to
south-east. We went to look for a port for the ships in case it should
be needed; and we found at the point of this promontory many islets with
shoals between them. Among them is a large island with a good port. We
were in want of water, and two canoes that accompanied us showed us
where to get it, with the intention of luring us there and killing us;
for they came with their weapons. They were joined by 30 other canoes,
one of them carrying 30 Indian warriors. Arriving whilst we were
watering, they landed, and having got plenty of stones and arrows and
spears, some went to attack the brigantine, whilst the others went to
attack those who were getting water on shore. When we saw their
determined daring, shots were fired by which some were killed and many
wounded; and so they fled, leaving behind two canoes empty, and carrying
off the rest. The large canoe was much injured, and in their
precipitation they threw themselves into the sea; but we took the canoe
with four Indians, two wounded and two unharmed. We landed them, and
treating them well, gave them their liberty and restored their canoe.
And so they went away; and I kept a boy that I took here. I found the
latitude to be in 10¾°. On the south-south-east side of the point, the
coast trends from north-east to south-west, but from this point we could
not see the end of it. The port is 40 leagues from where we left the
ships.[261]

    [261] The description of this part, its situation, and relative
    position to the adjoining coasts of Malaita and St. Christoval, as
    stated below, all point to its identity with Marau Sound. In the
    Geographical Appendix reference is made to the discrepancies in the
    distances and latitudes of Gallego.

“We left this port with some difficulty as it lies among the reefs. We
saw to the south-east-by-east an island 7 leagues away;[262] but we did
not go to it, as we were going to the island of Malaita, as the Indians
name it, which lies with the island of Guadalcanal, and with the
point where we had been, north-east-by-east. We sailed to the
north-east-by-east for 16 leagues, and arrived at a good harbour which
has many reefs at the entrance. There came out 25 canoes with warriors
who discharged their arrows. Some shots were fired at them, which killed
some and wounded others. This port, which is on the south-south-west
coast, is in the latitude of 10¼°; and the name, Escondido, was given to
it, because it is almost enclosed by reefs.[263] In this island we found
apples of some size, oranges, a metal that seemed to be a base kind of
gold, and, besides, pearl-shell, with which they inlay the club they use
in battle, being the one they usually carry. These natives, like the
rest, go _completely_ naked. In the name of His Majesty we took
possession of this island, to which we gave the name of the Isle of
Ramos.” (_Vide_ Note VI., Geographical Appendix.)

    [262] This island is evidently St. Christoval.

    [263] Future visitors to the southern portion of Malaita will
    doubtless be able to identify this port with some anchorage on the
    west coast to the northward of the Maramasiki Passage. In so doing
    they should not forget the usual error of Gallego’s latitudes (Note
    V. of the Geographical Appendix).

“Leaving this port, we sailed to the south-east for four leagues, and
discovered an entrance to a harbour resembling a river dividing the
lands from each other.[264] We could not see the end of it; and on
account of the strong current we were unable to enter. We accordingly
passed on another four leagues, where we found a good port: and in it I
took the latitude, and found it to be 10⅓° south of the equinoctial. It
has an islet at the entrance which should be left close on the starboard
hand in entering the port. Two hundred Indians came out and attacked us.
To this port we gave the name of La Asuncion, because we entered it on
that day.[265] This day we sailed out and proceeded further along the
coast to the south-east. Close to the extremity of the island, we put
into a _small bay_,[266] where they discharged some arrows at us, and on
our firing some shots they left us. Quitting the small bay, we sailed as
far as the end of the island which is in 10¼°.[267] It lies north-east
and south-east with the isle of Jesus, which is the first island we saw,
and lies in 7°. [With the other end of Malaita, which is to the
north-east, and lies east and west with Meta in 8°, it is 85 leagues.
There is another point in 7°, with which the Isle of Jesus lies
north-east-by-north 135 leagues.[268]]

    [264] This is without a doubt the Maramasiki Passage which cuts
    through the south-eastern portion of Malaita.

    [265] Port Asuncion may, perhaps, be the large bay of Su Paina.

    [266] _Caleta_ in the Spanish. This anchorage may, perhaps, be
    identified with Su Oroha or with one of the inlets or coves nearer
    to Cape Zélée, such as Te Oroha or Te Waina. (“Pacific Islands:”
    vol. I.; “Western Groups:” p. 61, 62; “Admiralty publication,”
    1885.)

    [267] This latitude is not consistent with that given above for the
    port of Escondido, which, according to the journal, lies more than
    half a degree to the north-west.

    [268] I have endeavoured unsuccessfully to get at the meaning of the
    two sentences enclosed in brackets.

“This island of Malaita has a length of 114 leagues. We did not go to
the north side, and for that reason we cannot say what is its breadth.
The island of Guadalcanal is very large. I do not estimate its size,
because it is a great land and half a year is needed to sail along its
shores.[269] That we sailed along its length on the north side for 130
leagues and did not reach the end, shows its great size. Moreover, on
the east[270] side of the extremity, the coast trended to the west,
where I saw a great number of fine towns.[271]

    [269] “_Para andallæ es menester medio anno._”

    [270] This should be “west.”

    [271] See Note VIII. in Geographical Appendix for remarks on the
    exaggerated ideas as to the size of this island.

“From the extremity of this island of Malaita we saw another island,
which lies east and west from this cape 8 leagues, to which we went,
arriving in the night. We anchored in front of a town on the coast,
which has a small river; and whilst we were anchoring, two canoes came
off to see us, but they soon returned. At dawn we sent the people on
shore to get water: and the natives came out peacefully with their women
and their sons. They are all naked like the others. The women carry in
their hands some things like fans, which they sometimes place before
them. When the water was procured, we asked for a hog, and they brought
it; and placing it so that we should see it, they returned and carried
it off. But we did not injure them in any way; and accordingly embarked
and proceeded out to sail round the island. When the natives saw that we
were going, most of them came out in their canoes with their bows and
arrows in pursuit of us. The first man who was about to aim, we knocked
over with a shot. At this, they turned and fled; and we pursued them as
far as the port, capturing some canoes that had intended to take us. A
friendly Indian, whom we carried with us, climbed a palm tree and saw
how the Indians came in regular bodies bearing their shields. We went to
arms, and sent three soldiers to see in what force the people were. They
came in their canoes in two or three divisions to attack the brigantine:
and we began to bring our musketry into action, killing two Indians and
an Indian woman. They soon retired; and our men who were on the shore
having embarked in the brigantine, we went on in pursuit of our quest.
The island is named Uraba[272] in the language of the Indians. We gave
it the name of La Treguada because they led us into a treacherous
truce.[273] This island is in latitude 10½°. It is well peopled, and has
plenty of provisions of their kind. Although small, it has an area of 25
leagues. There is communication with the neighbouring islands, and with
a cape that lies to the north-west. It trends north-west and south-east
until the middle of the island, where we found these 10°, and the other
. . . . . (_milad_) trends north-north-west until the end of the island.

    [272] The reader will have already inferred that the island of Uraba
    is the Ulaua of the present chart, and will have noticed that the
    name of the island has remained the same during the last three
    centuries. It is the Ulawa of the present natives, and the
    Contrarieté of Surville.

    [273] One must judge Gallego in the spirit of his times. Humane as
    he really was, we cannot free him from his share in this unfortunate
    conflict with the natives of Ulaua: and the name of La Treguada had
    been better never bestowed. The next navigator who visited this
    island was Surville in 1769; who, following up his previous
    proceedings at Port Praslin in Isabel, repelled its inhabitants with
    grape shot.

“To the south-by-west of the point of the island there are low islands,
with many shoals around them, which are three leagues distant from this
island of La Treguada, to which we went and obtained water. They are
inhabited; and we gave them the name of Las Tres Marias. They trend
west-by-north and east-by-south.[274]

    [274] These three islands are without doubt identical with the three
    small islands which are named the Three Sisters in the present
    chart. Surville, the French navigator, who saw them in 1769, gave
    them the name of Les Trois Sœurs, which they still retain. At the
    present day they are uninhabited, and any water that could be
    obtained would be of a very doubtful quality. Fleurieu hints at the
    identity of Les Trois Sœurs and Las Tres Marias.

“There is another island which lies three leagues from Las Tres Marias.
It is low, and the inhabitants are like those around. We named it the
island of San Juan, and found in it a good harbour. We took possession
of it in the name of His Majesty, as in the case of the other islands.
It is 6 leagues in circuit; and is in latitude 10⅔°.[275]

    [275] The San Juan of Gallego is evidently the island now known as
    Ugi. There is no apparent reference in this journal to the small
    adjacent island of Biu.

“We went thence to another great island,[276] which lies north and south
with it, 2 leagues away. Before we arrived, 93 canoes with warriors came
out to us and . . . . .[277] We took an Indian chief and placed him
below the deck. He seized a sword, and defending himself attempted to
escape, until at last the sword was taken from him and he was bound. We
sent the people on shore, intending to take possession; but so many
natives attacked them that we were not able to do so, and we returned to
the island of San Juan. I offered to Don Fernando to take possession of
it before dawn; and it was done. In the island of San Juan, they
ransomed the Indian, and gave us for him three hogs, to which he added
some beads. As a sign of friendliness, Don Fernando Henriquez embraced
him.

    [276] Apparently this is the island named Santiago below. It is
    without doubt St. Christoval.

    [277] “y tuvimos gran guasavara.”

“On the following day, which was the 2nd of June, we arrived at dawn off
the island of Santiago.[278] More than 50 canoes came out to us; and
they planned to carry us off to their towns. It was necessary to fire
some shots in order that they should quit us; and they left us and
returned. Possession was taken of this island in the name of His
Majesty; and we did no injury to the people. This island is 40 leagues
in length on its north side: and it is narrow, and in part mountainous,
and is well peopled. The Indians of this island go naked and eat human
flesh. Its eastern extremity is in latitude 10¾°; and lies north-west
and south-east with the island of Treguada 12 leagues. The south-east
extremity lies north-west and south-east 18 leagues with the island of
Malaita.

    [278] The reader will now require to use some caution in following
    this part of the narrative, since Gallego seems to have fallen into
    much confusion respecting the island of St. Christoval. The name of
    Santiago was evidently applied by him to the north side of the
    island west of the prominent headlong of Cape Keibeck, which he
    might easily have taken for the extremity of the island. The name of
    San Urban was in all probability given to the peninsula of Cape
    Surville, which, as I have myself remarked while off the St.
    Christoval coast, has the appearance of a detached island when first
    seen, in approaching it from the northward and westward. This
    deceptive appearance, when viewed from a distance, is due to the
    circumstance that the neck of the peninsula of Cape Surville is
    raised but a few feet above the level of the sea, and is in
    consequence below the horizon when this cape is first sighted. The
    distance of San Urban from Guadalcanal, as given above, is
    inconsistent with the rest of the journal; and for 4 leagues, 40
    leagues was evidently intended, the omission of the cipher being
    probably a clerical error. The name of St. Christoval was
    subsequently given, as shown further on in the narrative, when the
    Spanish ships visited the south coast of this island.

“When we were all embarked to proceed further on, a violent north-east
wind overtook us, and drove us to the extremity of Santiago, whence we
saw a large island to the south-east that trended westward. It was 18
leagues distant. It is in latitude 10½° south of the equinoctial; and is
4 leagues distant from the island of Guadalcanal. We gave it the name of
the island of San Urban.

“On account of the sickness of myself and of some of the soldiers, we
did not proceed further: and, keeping away to leeward, we arrived at the
island of Guadalcanal. We landed at a town where the Indians gave us
. . . . . .[279] when we intended to get water, and where we set free
the three Indians in the canoe; and they gave us a hog and _panales_.
But they were in great fear of us, and leaving us they returned to the
town. Beads were given to them as a sign of friendship. Leaving there,
we continued our cruise to return to the ships, and touched at some
places where we had been before, the natives receiving us in a friendly
manner, and giving us what they had, because they were much afraid of
the muskets we carried. We sailed further on to a port, where, during
our previous stay, we had been received peacefully. We got water there;
and they gave us a hog and almost filled the brigantine with _panoes_,
which is the food they eat. It is a very good harbour for the ships, and
lies under the shelter of an island. There are many inhabitants.

    [279] “La Guacanara.”

“We continued our return cruise, intending to explore a river where we
had been before. Sailing into the port to obtain provisions, we arrived
close off a town which the Indians abandoned when they saw us. We found
there, many _panoes_ and _ñames_ (yams) with which we loaded the
brigantine. I tried to catch a tame white parrot, which the Indians had
together with many others of various hues. When the Indians saw that we
did no harm, they all assembled, and came and gave us a hog to induce us
to go. Presently we sailed on to another river, on the bank of which
there is a large town; we anchored in it. The Indians began to make
fires, and to cast the fire in the air;[280] it was a thing we had not
seen in any other part.

    [280] “hechar por lo alto.”

“On the next day, which was the 6th of June, the Feast of the Holy
Ghost, we reached the ships, and found them all very sad. It appeared
that on the Day of the Ascension, the steward with four soldiers and
five negroes were sent on shore for water. As on previous occasions,
they were sent because the cacique of that tribe was a friend and used
to come off to the ships to give us cocoa-nuts, whilst his men used to
fetch the water in the earthen jars, and because we trusted them for the
friendly manner in which they behaved in their dealings with us. This
day, however, when they were gone for the water, it seemed that the boat
got aground because they had not taken care to keep her afloat as she
was being filled. At this moment, the Indians rushed out from ambush
with their weapons and were upon them; and they did not leave a single
soul alive except a negro of mine who escaped. All the rest they hewed
to pieces, cutting off their heads, and arms, and legs, tearing out
their tongues, and supping up their brains[281] with great ferocity. The
negro who escaped took to the water to swim off to an islet that was
near. However, they swam in pursuit, and with a cutlass, which he
carried in his hand, he defended himself from them in such a manner that
they left him, and he reached the islet. From there he began to make
signs, and to shout out to those in the ships, which they perceived; and
as quickly as possible the General went ashore to see what had happened.
When he reached there, the ill tidings were told. The Indians retired to
the hills. In a short time, the dead Christians were recovered; and they
buried them in the place where they used to say mass, the soldiers in
one grave, and the negroes in another. Of the negroes, one belonged to
the King, two to ourselves, and one to the boatswain. It was a thing to
hear their shouting, and the noise that the Indians made with their
drums. It appeared to be a general assembling day with them, because
more than 40,000 Indians[282] had gathered together for this purpose.
When our people had buried the dead, they embarked in the ships, being
in great grief with what had occurred.

    [281] The New Ireland cannibals of the present day are fond of a
    composition of sago, cocoa-nut, and human brains. (“The Western
    Pacific and New Guinea.” London 1886: p. 58: by H. H. Romilly.)

    [282] This is either an exaggerated statement, or it is an error in
    transcribing.

“As I understand, the cause of the Indians coming to attack us was this.
The cacique came off to the ‘Capitana’ to entreat that our people would
give him back a boy belonging to his tribe, whom they had taken. He
offered a hog for him; but they would not give him up. On the following
day, the cacique brought a hog off to the ship, and said that, if they
gave him the boy who was a kinsman of his, he would give them the hog.
But they would not give him up, and took the hog by force. When the
cacique saw how he had been treated, he went away and did not return to
the ships again. In a few days, the disaster happened.

“On the day after this unfortunate event, the General ordered Pedro
Sarmiento to land with as many men as he could muster to inflict
punishment. He burned many towns, and killed more than 20 Indians. Then
he returned to give account of what he had done. Each day that they
landed they endeavoured to punish them the more. On a subsequent
occasion, because no more Indians were seen whom they could punish, the
General ordered Pedro Sarmiento to proceed to a point that lay to the
south-east a league and a half from the ships. For he considered that
all the Indians had been concerned in the treachery and in the death of
the Christians. Having embarked 50 soldiers in two boats, Pedro
Sarmiento went there, but he found no Indians as they had fled to the
hills. After he had burned all the buildings and habitations that he
could find, he turned back on his way to the ships. Some Indians, who
came out from a point, followed him slowly; and our people lay in ambush
and killed three or four Indians, the rest escaping in flight. They then
returned to the boats, and embarking came back to the ships. An Indian,
whom we took, informed us of those who were concerned in the death of
our men. He said that the leader was a taurique, named Nobolo, who lived
on the bank of the river that lay a league to the east of the Rio
Gallego; and that with him there were many others who had collected
together for that object and with the said result.

“On Wednesday, the 9th of June, the men of the ‘Almiranta’ were engaged
in making a top-mast on the islet close to where the ships were
anchored. Some musketeers and targeteers (_rodeleros_), who were eight
in number, were in guard of the carpenter’s party. As it happened, the
Indians were then preparing for another attack; and more than 300 of
them lay in ambush, ready for the assault. About 10 Indians crossed over
to the islet with bows and arrows concealed; and they brought a hog,
intending to beguile our men by occupying their attention in talking,
whilst the other Indian warriors should be arriving. When I saw the
Indians crossing over and this canoe heading for the islet where our
people were making the top-mast, I ordered some musketeers into the
boat; and accompanied by Pedro Sarmiento, we steered so that the islet
concealed us from those in the canoe. Approaching the islet, we passed
between it and the main island and came close up with the canoe which
had only one Indian on board, the others having thrown themselves into
the sea. The canoe was captured together with the hog which they had
brought to deceive us. When we had joined the party who were making the
top-mast, we returned to the ships after having killed those who came in
the canoe. This was the most effective attack that was made, for the
Indians went away much discouraged.

“On the 12th of the same month of June, the General took the brigantine
and a boat with nearly all the people, in order to inflict further
punishment at a river which lay a league to the east of the place where
the ships were anchored; and I accompanied him. An hour before the dawn
we arrived close to the river; and we were about to conceal ourselves
and fall upon the Indians, when we were seen by their sentinels and they
went to arms. I remained with four musketeers in charge of the
brigantine and the boat in the mouth of the river, so as not to allow
any canoe to escape. The General on arriving at the town, which had more
than 200 houses, found it deserted. He set fire to it; and then we
returned to the ships.

“The next day, which was Sunday the 13th of June, we made sail during
the night and proceeded in the ships to follow up the discoveries of the
brigantine. When we had sailed about 8 leagues to the south-east, we
anchored because the wind was contrary. The General landed here to get
some provisions for the sick, of whom there were many. In a short time
he returned to the ships, when we made sail with the land-breeze. Now
died the pilot, Paladin, an experienced seaman. We lost sight of the
brigantine, as she went ahead of us: and we did not see her until we
found her anchored in a port off an islet that lay half a league to
windward of where we had anchored in the brigantine during our voyage of
discovery. There were many inhabitants here; and they came off to us as
friends. On account of it being Corpus Christi Day, we remained here all
the day. Mass was said at the islet which is close to the anchorage. We
watered the ships there. The Indians gave us of their own free will two
hogs and many cocoa-nuts and _ñames_ (yams). The cacique of this tribe
was named Meso, and the town was called Urare. This people is at war
with the people of Feday, which is the name of the place where we were
anchored. . . . . .[283]

    [283] “que nos maron gente.”

“On the 18th of June, we left this port, and proceeded on our voyage,
seeking the island of Santiago or San Juan,[284] which was the island
that we had discovered and named. We beat to windward against a strong
head wind in our endeavour to arrive at the island of Santiago; but on
account of this contrary wind and the boisterous weather, we did not
fetch it; and I determined to steer to the south of the island of
Santiago, the wind and the contrary currents not allowing us to find a
harbour. We coasted along an island, not seen in the brigantine[285],
and we held on our course for fourteen days, endeavouring to reach the
end of the island; but in the middle of the island, on account of the
contrary wind and currents, what we gained one day we lost the next.
Accordingly I went to find a port. We named this island San
Christoval.[286] It was our Lord’s pleasure that after so much
difficulty I should find a very good port for the ships; and on the
following day I returned to the ships. We sailed to windward that night
on account of the boisterous weather, which obliged us to shorten sail
and lie-to[287] for the night. When it dawned, we found ourselves three
leagues to leeward of the port, which we tried in vain to reach; and
since we kept falling to leeward, I was compelled to take the brigantine
and go in search of another anchorage, with the understanding that when
I had found one, I should signal to the ships to follow the brigantine.
The signal being made, I guided the ships to the brigantine, which lay
outside a point of reefs that formed the harbour; and so we entered it.

    [284] Gallego here seems to have forgotten that he had previously
    applied these two names to different islands, that of San Juan to
    Ugi and that of Santiago to the large island south of it, viz., the
    present St. Christoval (see p. 222).

    [Foootnote 285: This remark is inconsistent with the previous
    reference to their steering south of Santiago.]

    [286] I should here call attention to the circumstance that the
    Spaniards were navigating the south coast of this island. Further
    proof of this is given in succeeding pages.

    [287] “Sin velas de mar a el traves.”

“It is a good and secure anchorage; and there is a town there which has
eighty houses. The General landed with the captains and the soldiers to
obtain provisions and to take possession of the island, in the name of
His Majesty, which we did without opposition, for the Indians received
us peacefully. The same evening we landed, and went in marching order to
see the town, but without doing them any injury; and we returned to the
ships with the agreement that on the following morning we should revisit
the town to get provisions, of which we were in need.

“On the morning of the 1st of July, we all landed with the determination
to obtain provisions for our present necessities; and the General
entered one part of the town with the greater number of our people,
whilst Pedro Sarmiento with twelve soldiers entered another part. When
the Indians saw our determination, and that we entered the town in two
places, they began to arouse themselves and to take up their weapons,
making signs that we should embark. They held a consultation in a small
hollow, where Pedro Sarmiento and his party entered. One of the headmen
was seen to make incantations and invocations to the devil, which caused
real terror, because it seemed as though his body was possessed of a
devil. There were two other Indians, who, whilst making great
contortions with their faces and violently shaking themselves, scraped
up the sand with their feet and hands and threw it into the air. They
then made towards the boats with loud shouting and yells of rage, and
tossed the water in the air. At this, our people sounded the trumpets to
assemble where the General was; for there were all the Indians with
their bows and arrows and darts and clubs, which are the weapons with
which they fight. They came very close to us, bending their bows and
bidding us to depart. It became necessary for us to fire; and
accordingly some were killed and others were wounded. Thereupon they
fled and abandoned the town, in which there was a great quantity of
_panaes_ and _ñames_ and many cocoa-nuts and almonds,[288] which were
sufficient to load a ship. Presently we set about carrying to the boats
all that we found, and nothing more was done that day. The Indians did
not dare to return to the town again, and that night we embarked. This
port is in 11° south latitude. It is in close proximity to the island of
Santiago, to the south-east; it is narrow and mountainous, and the
inhabitants are like the rest.[289]

    [288] These almonds were without doubt the almond-like kernels of
    the fruit of a species of _Canarium_, a common article of food at
    the present day.

    [289] This sentence refers to the island, and not to the port,
    judging from the context.

“After three days had passed, the General ordered that the brigantine
should proceed on a voyage of discovery; and Francisco Muñoz Rico, with
ten soldiers, and I, with thirteen seamen, embarked. We left this port
on the 4th of July, and coasted along this island of Paubro, as it is
called in the language of the natives, being that which we named San
Christobal.[290] Until the middle of the island, the coast trends
north-west and south-east for 20 leagues and a point nearer east and
west; and the other half trends west-by-north and south-by-east. We
entered a harbour, which was the first we discovered in this cruise; and
there we remained for the day.

    [290] This reference to the native name of _Paubro_ is interesting,
    since at the present day St. Christoval is largely known by the
    native name of _Bauro_, which is evidently the same. This is also
    without a doubt the “large country named _Pouro_” of which the
    natives of Taumaco (Duff Group) informed Quiros about forty years
    afterwards (_vide_ Geographical Appendix, Note XV.).

“On the following morning we left there, and proceeded further along the
coast to the east-by-south. We entered a small bay, enclosed by reefs,
near which were three towns. We seized two boys here. The officer in
command of the soldiers went with all our people to reconnoitre the town
that was a league away; and I remained behind in charge of the
brigantine with no small risk, for there were only three soldiers left
with me to defend it. In a few hours the people returned with two canoes
that they had taken, and five sucking-pigs, and some _panaes_, and
plantains, with which they embarked. We then made sail to proceed
further along the coast.

“On the next day a canoe with two Indians came off to us. They were
friendly, and one of them came on board the brigantine. We sailed on in
order to reach a harbour, and proceeded further along the same coast, on
which there were many towns, and the people of them were, as we
expected, very turbulent; for a canoe preceded us, giving warning in
such a manner that in all this island we were not able to capture
anything. As we approached a promontory (_morro_), many Indians came out
and threw stones at us with much shouting; and at the extremity of this
island we discovered two small islands. The end of this island is in
11½° south of the Equinoctial. This island is a hundred leagues in
circuit and seven leagues in width, and is well peopled.

“From the extremity, we went to one of the small islands which was the
smallest and lay to the south side.[291] On arriving there we anchored;
and there came off to us twelve Indians who came on board the brigantine
and spent some time with us. On their being asked by signs what further
land there was in that part, they said that there was none; but towards
the west, where we pointed, they said that there was much land. We saw
it, and because there was no time or opportunity we did not go to
it.[292] Through the day and night we had much wind. As we were about to
disembark, the natives began to throw stones at us; and when some shots
were fired for our own defence, they fled. Accordingly, we landed and
went to the town, where we found some hogs and a quantity of almonds and
plantains. I ordered a sailor to climb a high palm to see if he could
descry land to the south, or south-east, or north-west (?)[293] but no
further land appeared. There came from that quarter a great swell which
was a sign of their being no more land there. This island, we named,
Santa Catalina; in the language of the natives it is called Aguare.[294]
It is 40[295] leagues round, and it is low and level. It has many palms
and is well peopled. It has many reefs. It is in latitude 11⅔°, and it
lies two leagues south-east from the extremity of San Christobal.

    [291] This small island was subsequently named Santa Catalina; and
    the circumstance of the Spaniards going to it before they visited
    the adjacent small island of Santa Anna, is a proof of their having
    coasted along the south side of St. Christoval. Then, the
    description of the trend of the coast (_see_ page 229) applies
    rather to the south than to the north coast; and this is further
    confirmed by the circumstance that when the Spanish ships were soon
    afterwards leaving the group on their return voyage to Peru, they
    weathered or doubled the two islands of Santa Anna and Santa
    Catalina. Again, no reference is made to the islands visible off the
    north coast, which would have been certainly referred to, even
    although they had previously visited them in the brigantine. I lay
    stress on this point as it clears up the confusion of the different
    names applied to St. Christoval.

    [292] There is some obscurity in this passage, and in rendering it I
    have been guided by the account of Figueroa.

    [293] “North-west” is an error, which the context indicates, even
    excluding other circumstances; it should be “south-west.”

    [294] The present native name is Orika, or Yoriki of the Admiralty
    chart.

    [295] An evident mistake, and one inconsistent with the context. The
    island is scarcely two leagues in circuit.

“On the 11th of this month, we went from this island to the other island
which lies with it north-north-west and south-south-east,[296] a short
league distant from it.[297] It is distant 3 leagues, east-by-south,
from the end of San Christobal; and is in latitude 11° 36′. We named it
Santa Anna; it is called Hapa[298] in the language of the natives. It is
7 leagues in circuit; and is a low round island with an eminence in the
centre, like a castle; it is well peopled, having abundant provisions,
with pigs and hens of Castile; and there is a very good port on the east
side.[299]

    [296] This bearing is only approximate, the magnetic bearing being
    nearly north and south.

    [297] This distance agrees nearly with that on the chart which is
    about two miles. Figueroa, in his account, gives the distance as
    three leagues.

    [298] The village, situated on the shores of Port Mary on the west
    coast of the island, is at present called Sapuna by its inhabitants.
    Allowing for the variation in the spelling of native names, we can
    here recognise the Hapa of the Spaniards. Oo-ah or Oa, is the name
    of the island.

    [299] This is a good description of the appearance of this island.
    The port is, however, on the west side; and the circumference of the
    island is not half this amount.

“On arriving there, we landed the people, and the Indians commenced _to
attack us_.[300] On an Indian being killed, they began to fly, and
deserted the town. Our men entered the houses in search of provisions,
but they found only three hogs, as all the rest had been placed in
safety. At nightfall we embarked in the brigantine and stood off the
land; and all the night we heard no sound except the crowing of many
cocks. The next morning, which was the 13th of July, we landed the
people to obtain more provisions to carry back for the sick in the
ships; and when the Indians saw our people landing, they got into
ambush. I was left with four soldiers in charge of the brigantine. The
Indians, with loud cries, began to attack our men, discharging many
darts and arrows. Their bodies were painted with red stripes, and they
had branches on their heads.[301] They wounded three Spaniards and a
negro of mine; and also the officer in command, Francisco Muñoz, a dart
piercing the shield and arm and projecting a hand’s breadth on the other
side of the shield. Rallying our men, we attacked them valiantly,
killing some Indians and wounding many others, so that they abandoned
the place and fled. We burned the town, and took water. From the higher
ground near by we tried to discover any appearance of land; but as we
saw none, we embarked on our return voyage to the ships.

    [300] “A dar nos guacanara.” What “guacanara” means, I can only
    guess at.

    [301] I cannot gather the meaning of this latter part of the
    sentence and have rendered it literally. The same expression occurs
    in the account of Figueroa.

“Sailing all this day with a fair wind, we arrived at the island of San
Christobal; and that night we entered a port because there was a
threatening appearance in the weather. We landed in a town that was
there, and the Indians fled, discharging some arrows. A soldier was
wounded in the throat, but not seriously, and he was able to swallow
some food. As we wished to leave the port with the rising moon, we
embarked; and we named the port La Palma.

“We continued our voyage back to the ships; and when we had sailed about
4 leagues from the port, a canoe came off to look at us and to learn
what people we were. As we had need of Indians for their language, we
endeavoured to take the canoe; and so we coaxed them on, and of four
which came in the canoe we took three alive, and one died whilst
defending himself. In the evening, we arrived at the Puerto de la
Visitacion de Nuestra Senora, where the ships lay.[302] I found that, on
account of bad treatment, all the Indians whom we had taken in the
islands had gone.

    [302] From the short description of this harbour given on page 228,
    it is probably not Makira Harbour on the south coast of St.
    Christoval; although from the time occupied by the brigantine in her
    return voyage along this south coast from Santa Anna to the ships,
    it must be in its vicinity.

“I gave a report to the General of what we had seen and accomplished in
the expedition, telling him that there was no appearance of land further
(in that direction), but that all the mass of the land, which was
endless, lay to the west; and that, from this, he would perceive what
ought to be done. A council of the captains and pilots was held to
determine what steps should be followed in the prosecution of the
voyage; and it was decided to refit the ships for this purpose; this,
therefore, was the result of the general consultation. The ships were
accordingly refitted;[303] but on Saturday, the 7th of August, in the
same year of 1568, all mustered together and made a protestation to the
General and the captains with reference to the plan to be pursued. I
told them briefly that because the ships were getting worm-eaten and
rotten, and the rigging and cordage were not of much good, we should be
determined to complete, without delay, the object for which we had come.
The General, in reply, said that it would be well that the brigantine
should go in search of more provisions, of which we were in want; but I
pointed out that this should not be done, because all the islands that
we had visited were aroused, and the provisions hidden. They asked for
my opinion as to returning to Peru, whence we had come; and I told them
that we should not sail to the south of the Equinoctial, as we should be
lost, on account of there being many people, scanty provisions, and but
little water. I also said that if we were to direct our course to
positions in latitudes which we should have time to reach, we should not
have time to find land to the south-south-west and south, which would be
a work of difficulty; and that such a new navigation, with 1,700 leagues
of sea to cross on our return voyage, did not seem prudent. I therefore
gave it as my opinion that we should steer north to reach the latitude
of the first land we found, because it would be necessary, in order to
shape a course from Peru, to go beyond the south tropic for thirty
degrees and more; and I also said that when they should venture to make
the return voyage, they should carry an abundance of water and
provisions, because, otherwise, they would run the risk of all
perishing. And so the pilots came to my view, which satisfied the
protest that had been made; and I gave my opinion in the presence of a
clerk who was Antonio de Cieza. Concerning the idea of my asking to
found a settlement in these islands, I said that in that matter I did
not know what the General intended to do, since the instructions
concerning it were in his keeping. To this opinion they all came, and
were of one mind without one that did not assent.[304]

    [303] Figueroa refers to the ships being heaved down in this
    harbour.

    [304] The impression, which this interesting passage leaves on my
    mind, is that the Chief-Pilot prefers in his narrative to gloss over
    an incident which must have been full of disappointment to himself.
    Further on in the narrative, he writes more freely on the subject
    (page 237). In Note IX. of the Geographical Appendix, I have given
    some further remarks on this passage.

“At midnight on the following Monday, when all were asleep, the General
ordered Gabriel Muñoz and myself to go with some soldiers and make an
entrance into a town in order to seize some Indians for interpreters
(_para lenguas_). We went with 30 men, and took an Indian with his wife
and young son; and all the rest of the Indians fled. We then returned to
the ships; and straightway we made preparations for prosecuting our
voyage.

“On the 11th of August of the same year, we left the Puerto de Nuestra
Senora, which is in 11° south of the Equinoctial, in order to follow our
voyage to Peru. Sailing to windward, at the end of 7 days after we had
left the port, we weathered the island of San Christobal with the two
islands of Santa Catalina and Santa Anna. On the Tuesday evening,
having shortened sail, we had reached the islands of Santa Catalina and
Santa Anna, which lay three leagues to the north-north-west. Looking
around we did not see any more land, and here a strong south-east wind
overtook us; and we shaped our course to the north-east-by-east.”

In this manner the Spaniards left behind them the Isles of Salomon after
a sojourn of six months in these islands; and, perhaps, a few
reflections on their discoveries in this group, and on their dealings
with the inhabitants, may be here apposite. They seem to have landed on,
and to have taken formal possession of, almost every island of any size
from Isabel eastward; they named all the large islands in the group with
the exception of Bougainville; and the majority of the smaller islands
also received their names. In the Geographical Appendix, I have given a
list of the islands named by the Spaniards, which do not at present bear
the names given them by their original discoverers.[305] It would be a
graceful compliment to the memory of the gallant Gallego, who was the
central figure of this expedition, if, after the lapse of more than
three centuries, the Spanish names should be associated with these
islands in the Admiralty charts. The reason why such islands as
Choiseul, Contrarieté, Les Trois Sœurs, and the Ile du Golfe (Ugi), at
present bear the names given to them by the French navigators,
Bougainville and Surville, rather more than a century ago, is to be
found, not in any intended act of injustice to the Spanish discoverers,
but in the circumstance that the imperfect account of Figueroa,[306]
which omits many of the discoveries made in the brigantine, has been the
only source of information available in the construction of the
Admiralty charts. Those who have written most on the history of
geographical discovery in these regions, Pingré, Dalrymple, Buache, and
Fleurieu a century ago, and Burney in the early part of the present
century, had only the account of Figueroa at their disposal.[307] The
Journal of Hernan Gallego, the existence of which was doubted, would
have been invaluable to them; and although a non-professional writer, I
may be pardoned when I express my admiration at the manner in which M.
M. Buache and Fleurieu arrived at such correct inferences, based as they
were on such scanty premises. One or two mistakes have arisen in the
nomenclature of the present chart, which are due to misconceptions in
the English translations of the account given by Figueroa, to wit, I may
cite the instance of the Isle of Ramos. . . . . . . The additional names
which the Journal of Gallego enables us to identify with existing
islands are, in truth, to be found in the general description of the
Salomon Islands, which Herrera incorporated in his “Descripcion de les
Indias Occidentales,” which was published about 1601. But this
description was, as just remarked, of a general character, and beyond
confirming the suspicion that there were other accounts of Mendana’s
discoveries besides the relation of Figueroa, it was but of little
service to the nautical geographer.

    [305] _Vide_ Note X.

    [306] Translated in great part from the original in the works of
    Pingré, Dalrymple, Fleurieu, and Burney. (Hechos de Don G. H. de
    Mendoza: par Dr. C. S. de Figueroa.)

    [307] Pingré’s “Mémoire sur le choix et l’état des lieux où le
    passage de Vénus du 3 Juin, 1769;” Dalrymple’s “Historical
    Collection of Voyages;” Fleurieu’s “Découvertes des François en 1768
    et 1769 dans le sud-est de la Nouvelle Guinée” (also Eng. edit.);
    Burney’s “Chronological History of Voyages and Discoveries,” &c.

I come now to a less pleasant task, that of reviewing the character of
the intercourse that prevailed between the Spaniards and the natives. It
has been remarked by Commander Markham in his spirited sketch of the
discoveries of Mendana, that the conduct of the Spaniards, in their
intercourse with the islanders, was not otherwise than humane;[308] but
I feel assured that a different opinion would have been expressed, if
the writer had extended his inquiries further into the narrative of
Gallego. During their six months’ sojourn in this group, the loss of the
Spaniards was but trifling in comparison with the losses they inflicted
on the natives. In these numerous conflicts the natives must have lost
not less than a hundred killed, whilst the Spaniards lost ten of their
number; but a large proportion of these unfortunate islanders fell
victims to the lamentable succession of reprisals for the massacre of
the watering-party at the Puerto de la Cruz, an act of retribution which
the Spaniards had entirely brought upon themselves. In the great
majority of instances the natives assumed the aggressive, but not in
all; and although the Spaniards were often justifiably compelled to
employ force in obtaining provisions, yet there was often nothing to
excuse them in seizing the canoes, in cajoling natives alongside in
order to capture them, or in carrying off with them from the group an
unfortunate native with his wife and child. The natives kept on board
the ships escaped on account of ill-treatment; and, as Gallego also
writes, all the islands were aroused to such a degree by the visit of
the Spaniards, that they concealed their provisions, and the ships
began their return-voyage to Peru with scanty supplies of food and
water. . . . . . We must, however, judge of the conduct of the first
discoverers of the Solomon Islands in the spirit of the age to which
they belonged. The zeal, which led them to burn the temples dedicated to
the worship of snakes and toads in the interior of Isabel, was
appropriate to the spirit of an age in which expeditions were fitted out
for the double purpose of discovering new territories and of reclaiming
the infidel. Yet, if we lay aside the religious element, I doubt very
much whether the lapse of three centuries has materially raised the
standard by which our dealings with savage races should be guided. The
white man kidnaps; the savage revenges the outrage on the next comer;
the ship-of-war in its reprisal is of necessity equally indiscriminate;
and thus feuds are re-opened with no single effort at conciliation.

    [308] “The Cruise of the ‘Rosario,’” 2nd edit., 1873 (p. 8).

We left the Spanish vessels when on the eve of their departure from the
Isles of Salomon. Little could Mendana or Gallego have then believed
that two centuries would pass away before the white man should again
visit the scene of their discovery. The Chief-Pilot kept in his journal
an almost daily record of the course and usually of the distance during
the first portion of this return voyage; but as he was not so regular or
so precise in noting the distance of each day’s run, the latitudes,
which he frequently records, enable me to follow this portion of the
track with some degree of confidence.[309] It was on the 18th of August
that they bore away to the north-eastward (N.E. by E.) with a strong
south-east wind. Experiencing rain-squalls and calms, they kept a little
to the north of this course, and on the 23rd they were in latitude 7°
(full _largos_), being, as they computed, 36 leagues W. by N. from the
Isle of Jesus.[310] It is apparent from the Journal that Gallego
expected to find more land in this vicinity, and that he would willingly
have gone in search of it. But the expedition had lost heart in the
enterprise, and all that they desired was to return to Peru. A look-out
was kept for several days, but not a sign of land was seen; and
thereupon Gallego, stifling his own desire, thus records his lament in
his journal: “As in the case of the archipelago of the islands, they did
not allow me to explore further where I wished. And I hold for certain
that if they had allowed me to go further, I should have brought them
to a very prosperous and rich land, which will be discovered at God’s
pleasure by whomsoever He wills. We were not far from it now, and of its
goodness I did not wish to speak, because they were all disheartened and
desired to return to Peru.”

    [309] I have only indicated the general course in the return voyage,
    as a full translation would be tedious to the reader and would
    occupy too much of my space.

    [310] The bearing was to the southward of west, as the Isle of
    Jesus, according to Gallego’s own observation, was in latitude 6¾°.
    Three days after, when they were in latitude 5½° S., Gallego gives
    their distance and bearing from the Isle of Jesus as 45 leagues W.
    by N.

Heading north-eastward with uncertain winds, they were obliged to steer
S.E. by E. for six days as the wind shifted to the north-east. Finally,
they headed to the northward again, and in the last day of August they
passed the 3rd parallel of south latitude. “Between 2° and 4° of south
latitude,” as Gallego writes, “we met abundant signs of land, such as
palm-leaf matting, burnt wood, sticks, and _rosuras_,[311] which the sea
derived from the land. From these signs we knew that we were near the
land, although we did not discover it. We thought that it was New
Guinea,[312] because it is not in a greater latitude than 4° south of
the Equinoctial.”

    [311] Not translated.

    [312] Gallego here adds: “Inigo Ortez de Retes discovered it
    (_i.e._, New Guinea) and no other: but Bernardo de la Torre did not
    see it: nor is there such a Cabo de Cruz (Cape of the Cross) as he
    says.” I have placed this interesting reference to the discovery of
    New Guinea in a foot-note, as it is suddenly interposed in the
    narrative. In Note XI. of the Geographical Appendix, the reader may
    learn more, if so desirous.

New Guinea, however, lay some 1200 miles away; and the Spanish vessels
were in the vicinity of the Gilbert Group, which lay probably about 300
miles to the eastward. On September 5th, with shifty and contrary winds,
they crossed the Equator at about the 168th meridian of longitude east
of Greenwich. The course pursued, in which it would appear the
Chief-Pilot had not been consulted, was the subject of a protest made to
the General. Thus writes Gallego: “I said to the pilot, Juan Henriquez,
that we ought to petition the General to direct our course to one place
or another or to steer for one pole or the other, as we were expending
our provisions and water in beating to windward. Since the General
followed his own opinion and showed no desire to consult me, I made this
request in the presence of Antonio de Cieza, Clerk, all of which appears
more fully in the said petition, which is in the possession of the said
Clerk.”

Steering to the north and subsequently to the N.E. by E., they reached
the 4th parallel of north latitude on September 8th. “This day,” writes
the Chief-Pilot, “I signified to the ‘Almiranta’ that they should keep a
good look-out from 6° up to 11°, as we were heading for the land.”
Altering their course to N.N.W., they reached the parallel of 6° on the
14th, the needle showing no declination to the north-east. On the 15th
and 16th, they headed north-east, and on the 17th, steering north, they
found themselves in 8°. The surmise of Gallego proved correct. In this
parallel, they discovered land.

“Two hours before dawn,” as the Chief-Pilot writes, “we came upon the
shoals and islands of San Bartolomeo, which trend north-west and
south-east and are 15 leagues in length. The south-east extremity is in
8°, and the north-west extremity lies in 8⅔°. There are two lines of
reefs with apparently channels between them. There seems to be another
line about half-a-league distant. At the north-west, there are two
islets, which lie one with the other east and west one league. The coast
is steep-to; and we did not find any depth to anchor on the west side.
There were many houses and much people and _villos_ in these islands.
Between the islands, which number more than 20, a canoe was under sail,
but it made for the shore. We launched the boat to go for water. They
could only obtain a cock of Castile, which they brought back with them.
The people fled, abandoning their houses. They came upon a chisel made
from a nail, which appears to have belonged to some ships that had been
there, and some pieces of rope. They did not find water, but the
cocoa-nut palms were cut which showed how the inhabitants got their
water.[313] These Indians drink “chicha,”[314] which is made from some
fruits like pine-apples; and on this account there is an infinite number
of flies. We beat to windward for three hours trying to find depth to
anchor; but the water was a thousand fathoms (_estados_) deep. When the
boat returned, we continued our voyage.”

    [313] This probably refers to cocoa-nut palms that had been cut for
    making “toddy,” a practice to be found amongst the natives of the
    Line Islands at the present day.

    [314] An Indian name for a drink prepared from maize.

Figueroa, in his scanty account, neither gives the name nor the latitude
of this discovery, so that previous writers, who derived their
information entirely from this source, were unable to identify these
islands with those in the charts. However, with the materials afforded
to me by the journal of Gallego, I have been able, after carefully
following the track of the Spanish ships, to identify this discovery
with the Musquillo Islands in the Ralick Chain of the Marshall Group.
Having followed their course northward from the vicinity of the Gilbert
Group, to which I referred above (page 237), it was evident that they
were about to pass through the Marshall Islands, and that if they should
sight land, I had only to compare the description of Gallego with the
present chart of this group, in order to identify this discovery with
one of the atolls that there exist. (_Vide_ Note XII. of the
Geographical Appendix.)

Continuing their course to the northward, they began to get short of
water, and the people sickened and . . . . .[315] On the 22nd of
September, they attained the latitude of 11½°, and running due north
along the meridian, they reached the latitude of 19⅓° on October 2nd,
when they discovered “a low islet enclosing the sea after the manner of
a fishing-net, and surrounded by reefs.” “We were hove-to all that
night,” . . . writes Gallego, . . . “believing that it was inhabited,
and that we should be able to obtain water. But there were only
sea-birds living on it; and its surface was sandy with some patches of
bushes. It is probably two leagues in circuit: and is in latitude 19⅓°
north of the Equinoctial. As it was the Day of San Francisco, we named
it the Isle of San Francisco.”

    [315] “Murieron hartos.” To avoid falling into a serious mistake, I
    have not translated this, more especially as Figueroa refers to no
    deaths on board during the voyage to Peru.

This island of San Francisco has not been identified by previous writers
with any island in the present chart, as Figueroa supplied them with the
latitude alone, but gave no reliable account from which they might be
able to follow the previous track; nor, in fact, in the times of Burney
and Krusenstern, who were the last to devote any considerable attention
to the discoveries of Mendana, was this part of the Pacific sufficiently
well known to enable even a confident surmise to be made. Commodore
Wilkes, amongst others, has swept more than one phantom-island from this
region. The track of the Spanish ships northward from the Marshall Group
brought them, in fact, to a little coral-atoll, named Wake’s Island in
the present chart, and lying in 19° 10′ 54″ N. lat. This is the Isle of
San Francisco, which is but little altered in appearance in our own
day.[316]

    [316] _Vide_ Note XIII. of the Geographical Appendix for further
    information on this subject.

Keeping the same northerly course, they passed the limit of the tropic
of Cancer on October 7th; and in another week they had reached the
latitude of 30°. They now shaped their course north-east; and Gallego
consulted the other pilots as to the position of the land, and as to the
bearing of the Cabo de Fortunas[317] (Cape Fortune). “They told me in
reply,” . . . . as the Chief Pilot informs us, . . . . “that we were
already in the vicinity of land, that this cape lay, in their opinion,
70 or 80 leagues to the north-by-west, that we were much to leeward of
the land, that it was not practicable to reach the cape with this wind
as the coast trended north-west and south-east, and that we could not
live unless we fell in with the land.”

    [317] This cape is evidently referred to as on the Californian
    coast; I cannot identify it.

Could the Spaniards have known at this time what lay before them, the
bravest heart amongst them would have quailed. Instead of being in the
neighbourhood of the Californian coast whither they were steering, they
had more than 3,000 miles of ocean to traverse and two long dreary
months to struggle through, before they were fated to sight the land.
They were destined to pass through storms, the like of which Gallego had
never witnessed during his 45 years’ experience of the sea. The two
ships were to be parted; and each was to pursue its solitary way in the
fear that the missing ship had foundered. Such was the lot before them
with sickness already amongst them, and with a failing store of water
and provisions.

The Chief-Pilot thus continues his narrative--“On the 14th of this month
(October), I continued to steer both ships in close company to the
north-east. In the middle of the night there came a squall with a little
rain. We shortened sail; and at that time the ‘Almiranta’ was to
windward; but she allowed herself to fall to leeward for an hour, and
when it dawned we could only see her from the top. Hoping to fall in
with her, we carried only the fore-sail, and made no more sail all that
day and night. We headed to the north-east until the second hour of the
day; and because we did not see her, we took in all the sails. This was
the 16th day of the month of October.

“Two hours after noon on Sunday the 17th, whilst we were yet hoping, we
shortened sail because there was much wind from the south-east. We were
driven before the gale; and as we were lying in the trough of the sea
without any sails, the wind came upon us with all its fury from the
north-east, such as I never beheld during the 45 years that I have been
at sea, 30 of which I have served as pilot. Such boisterous weather, I
have never witnessed, although I have seen storms enough. For a squall
to take us when we were without sail, this was what frightened me. A sea
struck us on the port side from the water-line to the middle hatch,
which was battened down and caulked as I had ordered. We were deluged
with water. Everything went its own way; and the soldiers and sailors
were swimming about inside the ship, as they were trying to launch the
boat, which was smashed and full of cables and water. The sailors were
not able of themselves to do it; but God and His Blessed Mother willed
that it should be done.[318] Then I ordered the sailors to unfurl a
little of the sail; but before two gaskets were loosed, the fore-sail
went into two thousand pieces, and only the bolt-ropes remained. For
more than half-an-hour the ship was in great peril until the main-mast
was cut away.[319] And soon I ordered them to make a sail of a
_frecada_,[320] and of a piece of a bonnet (_boneta_); with this the
ship was able to answer her helm . . . . . .[321] The weather began to
clear. We were driven from our course more than 50 leagues, because the
storm overtook us in latitude 32⅓°, and when it began to clear we found
ourselves in 30°. When this weather came upon us we were 70 leagues
south-east-by-south[322] from the Cabo de Fortunas; and when it began to
clear we were 120 leagues, rather more than less.

    [318] This reference to the launching of the boat, in order, I
    infer, to lighten the vessel, is ambiguously expressed. Figueroa, in
    his account, would appear to imply that the boat was merely relieved
    from its weight of ropes and water; but further on in his account,
    Gallego expressly refers to their being without a boat.

    [319] Figueroa adds to this account. He says that the General gave
    the order to cut away the mainmast, and that it carried away a
    portion of the bulwarks.

    [320] _Frazada_ in the account of Figueroa.

    [321] “Para atras hechamos el camarote de popa a la mar.”

    [322] I cannot understand this bearing.

“We headed on our course with only the fore-sails, as we had no other
sails, since the sailors had lost the bonnets overboard. On the 21st of
October, the wind went round to the opposite quarter, and lasted until
the 29th. Coursing north-east with much wind and sea, we sailed
close-hauled on one tack or the other, because it was no longer possible
to sail free as the sea would engulph us. The ship did not behave well
in a beam sea, for soon she shipped seas on either side, and she lost as
much way as she made. On the evening of the 29th of October, the wind
went round to the south-east, and there was a heavy sea. The wind was so
strong that we were unable to make any sails, as they were carried away.
All that night we lay in the trough of the sea with much wind and
thunder and lightning, so that it seemed like the overwhelming of the
world.[323] On the following morning I ordered them to clear away the
sprit-sail and use it as a fore-sail, so that we might steer the ship.
Before we had run for a watch to the north-east, the wind went round to
the south, and with such force that it carried away the sails and we
were left without any sail. We employed _las frescadas_ (blankets?) for
sails, and thus we went this day. Soon the wind lessened, and we hoisted
the fore-sail and coursed north-east until the next day, which was the
last day of October.”

    [323] Figueroa in his account states that there was always a foot
    and a half of water in the hold.

The “Capitana,” to which ship the narrative for a time alone refers, was
now in 29° N. lat. A very strong north-east wind, lasting until November
4th, drove them to the south-east in latitude 26°. These north-easterly
winds continued to prevail; and being unable to sail close to the wind,
the Spaniards could not keep their latitude and were being driven from
their course, to the south-east.[324] “We were,” . . . . as Gallego
writes, . . . . “much wearied and suffered from hunger and thirst, as
they did not allow us more than half a pint of stinking water and eight
ounces of biscuit, a few very black beans, and oil; besides which there
was nothing else in the ship. Many of our people were unable from
weakness to eat any more food. A soldier, who had gambled with his
allowance of water and had lost it, became desperate with thirst and
cried out all the day. Being without a boat, we could do nothing on
approaching a harbour. We resolved to trust that God would send us the
means of help. He provided for us in His great mercy, and on the day of
St. Isabel (November 19th) he gave us a (fair) wind, and we sailed in
the latitude of 28° and up to 30°. This weather lasted until the 26th of
November, and we were 125 leagues further on our voyage.”

    [324] Figueroa in his account tells us that they rigged a jury-mast,
    making use of a top-mast for this purpose.

During the first week of December they experienced foul winds and thick
weather: but on the 9th the wind went round to the south-south-east; and
they reached the latitude of 31° on the 12th. Signs of the vicinity of
land were now observed, such as sea-birds and a goose. A sailor leapt
into the sea after a floating piece of a pine, and brought it on board,
in order to bring fair weather. Rain fell, and enough water was
collected for three days. At length the land was sighted by the watchful
eye of Gallego. “It was the eve of our Lady the Virgin” . . . . . he
writes . . . . . “and whilst standing at the side of the ship, I saw the
land. Some of us, who despaired to see it, said that it could not be the
land. Sailing through the night, two hours before the dawn we found
ourselves close to two islets that lay a league from the mainland in
latitude 30° north of the Equinoctial.[325]”

    [325] Gallego here observes that the day before the land was
    sighted, the needle remained pointing north.

At length the Spaniards had reached the coast of Old California. “The
mercy of God”--as Gallego writes--“had brought us safely through so many
storms and privations that the soldiers had despaired of seeing it.
Following along the coast, as it trended to the south-east, we entered a
bay which resembles in form a pen for shoeing cattle (_corral de herrar
ganado_). We could not see the outside point on account of its great
distance. We found ourselves embayed; and it was necessary to steer west
to weather this point. . . . . . We were detained three days with calms
and north-west winds, as we had to beat to windward to weather this
point. We named this bay _la bahia de San. tome_: it is in latitude
27¾°. At the point of this bay there are two large islets, named the
Isles of Cacones.[326] We doubled the point on the 23rd of December. We
beached the ship for 12 days between these islets. Having lost our boat
at sea, we went ashore on a raft of casks to get water. There we made
another raft of rushes and some casks, on which we carried on board 12
casks of water and many fish that we caught.”

    [326] This large bay, which deeply indents the Californian
    peninsula, is named in the present maps the bay of Sebastian
    Vizcaino, after the Spaniard who surveyed this coast in 1602.
    Gallego’s name of San. tome, which may be a contraction for San.
    Bartolomeo, has, therefore, the priority of some 30 years and more.
    The prominent headland, which they had to double, is at present
    called Point Eugenio. The two _large islets_ off this point are now
    called Cerros and Natividad Islands.

Having obtained timber for making another boat, they continued their
voyage, as the Indians were hostile. A foul wind caused them to pass by
the port of Xalosco, and they “tacked to seaward to double the Cabo de
Corrientes, which is in 21°, in order to reach the port of Santiago,
which is 50 leagues beyond Xalosco.”

On the 24th[327] of January, 1569, they entered the port of Santiago.
The Chief-Pilot tells us in his journal that he was well acquainted with
this coast and with its people: this port,[328] he says, lies six
leagues from Port Natividad, and is in latitude 19¼°. Before they left
Santiago a joyful surprise awaited them. “On the day of St. Paul’s
Conversion, three days after our arrival, the ‘Almiranta’ . . . . . hove
in sight. She was much in want of water and provisions; and she carried
no boat which, like ourselves, she had cast over in the great storms;
and her main-mast was cut away. They did not recognize the coast. It was
our Lord’s good will to bring us together in this port. God knows how
glad we were to see each other. In preserving us through such great
tempests, our Lord had worked a miracle . . . . . They told us what had
happened during the great storms: and that when they arrived, they had
only one vessel (_botija_) of water remaining . . . . . Sama, the
alguacil-mayor of the city of Mexico, came with some people of the town
of Colima to see who we were, and he talked with the General.”

    [327] This should be the 22nd of January, as Gallego observes
    subsequently that the “Almiranta” arriving on the 25th came three
    days after them.

    [328] During his passage from the Californian to the Mexican coast,
    Gallego seems from some observations in his journal to have been
    puzzled by getting a latitude of 23° 26′ before he arrived at the
    extremity of the Californian Peninsula. He speaks of San Lucas as
    being “at the end of California in the tropics;” but this
    observation apparently did not clear up his doubt on the matter; and
    in fact on first touching the Mexican coast, the number of small
    bays made him think that it was still the coast of California. The
    latitude of Cape San Lucas, the extremity of the Californian
    Peninsula, is 22° 52′: it is, therefore, well within the tropics.

The two ships left the port of Santiago on the 10th of March.[329] Nine
days afterwards, they sailed into the port of Atapulco (Acapulco) to
obtain news from Peru: but learning nothing, they left in an hour.
Gallego adds that this port is the nearest to the city of Mexico, and
that it lies in 17°. Proceeding along the Mexican coast, they anchored
outside the port of Guatulco (lying according to Gallego in 15½°); and
they sent a boat on shore to learn news of Peru and to get wine and
biscuits . . . . . “All the people of the town,” . . . . . the
Chief-Pilot writes . . . . . “were scared and fled into the interior,
because they had heard in Mexico that we were a strange Scotch people”
(_gente estrangera escoceses_).

    [329] Gallego refers to an eclipse of the moon at nine in the night
    of the 10th of March. “At the end of an hour the moon was clear.”

Through a jealousy exhibited by the pilots of the “Almiranta” towards
Gallego, the “Capitana” was left behind at this port for a day and a
night, for which, says the object of their jealousy, the General was
very angry with them. However, the “Capitana” arrived in the port of
Caputla nine days before the other ship. The people there were at first
much disturbed; but on recognising Gallego, who had been there on
previous occasions, they were reassured; and they carried the news
ashore that the voyagers had come from “the discovery of the islands.”
On the 4th of April the “Capitana” arrived in the port of Realejo on the
Nicaraguan coast, and was followed five days after by the “Almiranta”.
. . . . “In this port,” . . . . . continues the Chief-Pilot . . . . .
“we beached the ships and caulked the seams, and set up lower-masts and
top-masts, of which we had need, in order to be able to lie up for Peru.
With all our necessity in this port, neither the officials of the
government nor any other persons would give or lend money to us for the
repair of the ships. Perceiving that otherwise the ships would be lost,
and that it was indispensable for the service of His Majesty, I lent the
General all the money which I had of my own, and I received an
acknowledgment for 1400 _pesos_ (dollars), with which the ships were
refitted; and they were victualled for another piece of gold of 400
_pesos_: all this I lent for the service of His Majesty.

“We left this port, which is in latitude 12½°, on the 28th of May.
Sailing to the Cabo de Guion (Cape Guion), we lay up thence for the
coast of Peru. On the 4th of June we lost sight of the coast of
Nicaragua; and on the 5th we passed to leeward of Mal Pelo Island.[330]
On the morning of the 11th we were off Facames,[331] which lies four
leagues below the Cabo del San Francisco (Cape San Francisco) on the
coast of Peru. On the 14th we anchored in Puerto-viejo; and on the 19th
we reached Point Santa Elena. On Sunday, the 26th of June,[332] Don
Fernando Henriquez left with the news for Lima or the City of the
Kings.”

    [330] The Malpelo Island of the present charts.

    [331] This is evidently Atacames, which has the position described.

    [332] The two last dates are referred to as July. This is apparently
    a mistake, and I have, therefore, corrected it in the translation.

LAUS DEO.




CHAPTER XII

THE STORY OF A LOST ARCHIPELAGO.


THE most interesting feature in the history of the discovery of the
Solomon Group is the circumstance that during a period of two hundred
years after it was first discovered by the Spaniards it was lost to the
world and its very existence doubted. In the belief that I shall be
treading on ground new to the general reader, I will at once pass on to
relate how this large archipelago was lost and found again.

Fancied discoveries of the precious metals in the island of Guadalcanar
inflamed the imaginations of the Spaniards: and the reports, which they
gave on their return to Peru, in 1568, of the wealth and fertility of
the newly-found lands, cast a glamour of romance over the scene of their
discoveries which the lapse of three hundred years has not been able
altogether to remove.

To colonize his new discovery and add one more to the vast possessions
of Spain, became the life-long ambition of Mendana. In order to further
his great aim, he gave to these islands the name of the “Isles of
Salomon,” to the end that the Spaniards, supposing them to be the
islands whence Solomon obtained his gold for the temple at Jerusalem,
might be induced to go and inhabit them. Thus, the name of the new
discovery was itself a “pious fraud,” if we may believe the story of
Lopez Vaz,[333] a Portuguese, who was captured by the English, nearly
twenty years afterwards, at the River Plate. This seems to me to be the
explanation of the name, which we ought, in fairness, to receive; since,
after reading the narrative of Gallego, it is scarcely crediting the
Spaniards with ordinary reasoning faculties to imagine that Mendana and
his officers really thought that they had found the Ophir of Solomon.

    [333] “Purchas, his Pilgrimes,” Part IV., Lib. VII.

However, many years rolled by; and Mendana had arrived at an elderly
age before any further undertaking was attempted. The appearance of
Drake in the South Sea, some years after the return of the expedition to
Peru, caused the scheme of colonization to be abandoned. The Spaniards
now found a rival in the navigation of that ocean which, under the
sanction of a Papal decree, they had hitherto regarded as exclusively
their own. The dread that they would be unable to hold the “Isles of
Salomon” against the attacks of the powerful nation now intruding in
their domain, caused them to relinquish the coveted islands; and
“commandement was given, that they should not be inhabited, to the end
that such Englishmen, and of other Nations as passed the Straits of
Magellan to go to the Malucos (Moluccas), might have no succour there,
but such as they got of the Indian people.”[334] To prevent the English
obtaining any knowledge of these islands, the publication of the
official narrative of Mendana’s voyage was purposely delayed. So strong
a pressure was brought to bear upon Gallego, the Chief-Pilot of the
expedition,[335] that he was afraid to publish his journal, which has
not only remained in manuscript up to the present day, but was not
brought to light until the second quarter of the present century. Thus,
it happened that for nearly half-a-century after the return of Mendana,
there was no account of the expedition:[336] no chart preserved its
discoveries, it being considered better, as things were then, to let
these islands remain unknown.[337]

    [334] “History of Lopez Vaz: Purchas, his Pilgrimes,” Part IV., Lib.
    VII.

    [335] _Vide_ prologue to “Gallego’s Journal,” page 194.

    [336] _Vide_ page 192.

    [337] Letter from Quiros to Don Antonio de Morga, Governor of the
    Philippines.

The popular ignorance of these islands naturally increased the mystery
that surrounded them; and their wealth and resources were soon increased
ten-fold under the influence of the imaginative faculties of the
Spaniards. Lopez Vaz, the Portuguese already referred to, writing about
the year 1586 of the recent American discoveries, remarked that “the
greatest and most notable discovery that hath beene from those parts now
of late, was that of the Isles of Salomon.” But romance and fact are
strangely mingled in his story. We learn from him, for the first time,
that the Spaniards, although “not seeking nor being desirous of gold,”
brought back with them, from the island of Guadalcanar, 40,000
_pezos_[338] of the precious metal. No reference is made to such a find
of gold on the part of the Spaniards in the accounts of Gallego and
Figueroa: and it is probable that the reports to this effect may have
originally arisen out of the circumstance that, when the ships were
being refitted and provisioned at the port of Realejo, on the Nicaraguan
coast, for the completion of their voyage to Peru, the necessary
expenses, which amounted to 1800 _pezos_, were defrayed by the
Chief-Pilot, Gallego.[339]

    [338] Dollars.

    [339] _Vide_ page 245.

If the English captain, Withrington by name, who elicited this
information from his Portuguese prisoner, Lopez Vaz, had hoped to have
obtained any satisfactory account of the position of these vaunted
islands, he must have been grievously disappointed. He learned from him
that the Spaniards, having coasted along the island of Guadalcanar until
the parallel of 18° S. latitude without reaching its extremity, were of
the opinion that it formed “part of that continent which stretches to
the strait of Magalhanes” (Magellan). From this misconception, the idea
arose that the Spaniards had discovered the southern continent and that
Gallego was the discoverer,[340] and so vague was the information of the
extent of the newly-discovered islands that, when in 1599, an English
ship was carried by tempest to 64° S. lat., the captain, on sighting
some mountainous land covered with snow, considered that it extended
towards the islands of Salomon.[341]

    [340] Dalrymple’s “Historical Collection of Voyages,” &c., Vol. I.,
    p. 96.

    [341] “Purchas, his Pilgrimes,” Vol. IV., p. 1391.

But to return to the long-deferred project of Mendana. Years of delay
seemed only to increase the desire of the first discoverer of this group
to complete his work. A change occurred in the vice-royalty of Peru; and
under the auspices of the new Viceroy an expedition of four ships was
fitted out, on which were embarked sailors, soldiers, and emigrants to
the total number of four hundred. In 1595, more than a quarter of a
century after the return of his first expedition, Mendana, now an
elderly man, sailed from Peru accompanied by his wife, Donna Isabella
Baretto. Fernandez de Quiros, who had braved with his leader the perils
of the first voyage and had shared with him in the disheartenings
arising from a hope so long deferred, now served under him as chief
pilot. Their destination was St. Christoval, the easternmost of the
Solomon Group. The imperfect knowledge of the navigator of those days
was curiously exhibited during this voyage. With the means at his
command, it was a comparatively easy matter to follow along one parallel
of latitude or “to run down his latitude” as the sailor terms it; but
to ascertain with any approach to accuracy his meridian of longitude was
scarcely within the power of the Spanish navigator. When only about
half-way across the Pacific and about the same distance on their voyage
to the Solomon Group, they discovered a group of islands, which, from
their latitude, they believed to be the object of their quest. Further
exploration, however, convinced Mendana of his mistake; and he named his
new discovery Las Marquesas de Mendoza, a name which this group at
present in part retains. On continuing the voyage, the crews were
assured that in three or four days they would arrive at the “Isles of
Salomon,” which were in point of fact more than three thousand miles
away. The three or four days wearily spun themselves out into
thirty-three. General discontent became rife; and murmurs of
dissatisfaction arose which might have shortly ended in open revolt. At
length, late one night they were overtaken by one of the rain-storms so
common in those regions; and when the clouds lifted, they saw within a
league of them the shores of a large island. The discovery was signalled
from the flag-ship, the “Capitana,” to the other three ships: but only
two replied. The missing vessel, the “Almiranta,” had been last seen
between two and three hours before. No trace was ever found of her.
Whither she went, or what fate befell her, are questions which have
remained amongst the many unsolved mysteries of the sea. There is
something tragical in this disappearance of a large ship having probably
over a hundred souls on board, men, women, and children, when apparently
the goal of the expedition had been attained.

The appearance of the natives of this large island at first induced
Mendana to believe that he had at last arrived at the lands he had been
so long seeking. But his belief was short-lived. The new island was
named Santa Cruz; and having abandoned the original object of the
expedition to establish a colony on the island of St. Christoval, the
Spaniards commenced to plant their colony on the shores of a harbour
which they named Graciosa Bay. Disaster upon disaster fell on the little
colony. Disease struck down numbers of the settlers, and the poisoned
weapons of the natives ended the lives of many others. Mutiny broke out;
and the extreme punishment of death was inflicted on the conspirators.
The foul murder of the chief who had steadfastly befriended them was
punished, it is true, by the execution of the murderers; but the enmity
of the natives could not thus be pacified. Broken-hearted and overcome
by disease, Mendana sickened and died; and the heavens themselves must
have seemed to the superstitious Spaniards to have frowned on their
design, for a total eclipse of the moon preceded by a few hours the
death of their commander. The brother of Donna Isabel had been selected
by Mendana as his successor; but a fortnight afterwards he died from a
wound received in an affray with the natives. It was at length resolved
to abandon the enterprise; and rather over two months after they had
first sighted the island, the survivors of the expedition re-embarked
for Manilla. Hoping to learn something of the missing ship before
finally steering northward, they directed their course westward until
they should reach the parallel of 11° of south latitude, when they
expected to arrive at St. Christoval whither the “Almiranta” might have
gone. The course[342] which they steered under the guidance of Quiros,
the pilot, must have soon brought them on this parallel; and they appear
to have followed it with a favourable wind until the second day,[343]
when seeing no signs of land, they were urged by the increasing sickness
and by the scarcity of water and provisions to give up the search, and
to this change of plans Quiros gave his consent. In a few hours, if they
had continued their course, the mountain-tops of St Christoval would
have appeared above the horizon and the “Isles of Salomon” would have
been found. But such was not to be; and when probably not more than
fifty miles from the original destination of the expedition, the ships
were headed N.N.W. for Manilla. Such a course must have brought the
Spanish vessels yet closer to the eastern extremity of the group; but
the night fell, and on the following morning the Solomon Islands were
well below the western horizon. Of the three ships, two only reached the
Philippines. The “Fragata” lost the company of the other ships and
“never more appeared.” It was subsequently reported that she had been
found driven ashore with all her sails set and all her people dead and
rotten.[344]

    [342] The course is differently given, by Quiros as W. by S. and by
    Figueroa as W.S.W. (Dalrymple’s Historical Collection: vol. I., 92.)

    [343] Figueroa implies the second day; whilst Quiros speaks of “two
    days.”

    [344] Dalrymple’s Historical Collection of Voyages: vol. I., 58.

Thus terminated the attempt of the Spaniards to found a colony in the
Solomon Islands; and the ill fate which it experienced was scarcely
calculated to encourage others to undertake a similar enterprise.
Barely half of the four hundred souls who had left Peru under such
bright auspices could have reached the Philippines. Among them, however,
was Quiros the pilot of Mendana, who, nothing daunted by disaster and
ill-success, returned to Peru and endeavoured to re-awaken the spirit of
discovery which was losing much of its enthusiasm with the departing
glory of the Spanish nation. The Viceroy of Peru referred him to the
Court of Spain; and, after experiencing for several years the effects of
those intrigues which seem to have been the accustomed fate of the early
navigators, Quiros set sail from Callao at the close of 1605, to search
the Southern Ocean once again for the Isles of Salomon and the other
unknown lands in that region. He had been supplied with two ships, and
was accompanied by Luis Vaez de Torres as second in command. It is
unnecessary to enter here into the particulars of the voyage across the
Pacific. It will be sufficient for my purpose to state that Quiros
finally sought the parallel of 10° south, and sailed westward in the
direction of Santa Cruz, which he had discovered with Mendana ten years
before. Being rather to the northward of the latitude of Santa Cruz, he
struck a small group of islands, the principal of which was called
Taumaco by the natives. These islands have been identified with the Duff
Group, which lies about 65 miles north-east of Santa Cruz. Nearly two
centuries had passed away before these islands were again seen by
Europeans, when they were sighted by Captain Wilson of the missionary
ship “Duff,” in 1797. During the ten days spent by the Spaniards at
Taumaco, Quiros obtained information of a number of islands and large
tracts of land in the neighbourhood, which seemed to confirm him in his
belief in a vast unknown extent of land in the Southern Ocean. The list
of these islands are included in a memorial[345] subsequently presented
by Quiros to Philip II. of Spain, which contains many particulars of the
discoveries of the expedition in this region. Some of them I have been
able to identify with names on existing charts, but referring my reader
to Note XIV. of the Geographical Appendix, I will only allude here to
the most interesting reference in this memorial, which is to _a large
country named Pouro_, that is without doubt the large island of St.
Christoval in the Solomon Group, which lay rather under 300 miles to the
westward. The central portion of St. Christoval is at present called
_Bauro_, and by this name the whole island is often known to the natives
of the islands around. Thus, without suspecting it, Quiros had described
to him an island of the lost Solomon Group, and the very island which
had been more completely explored than any other by the expedition of
Mendana nearly forty years before. Had he been in possession of
Gallego’s journal, in which the native name of _Paubro_ is given to St.
Christoval, he would have at once recognised in this _Pouro_ of the
Taumaco natives the _Paubro_ of Mendana’s expedition. His informant
spoke to him of silver arrows which had been brought from _Pouro_, but
this circumstance did not set him on the right track; and thus for the
second time this enterprising navigator unwittingly let the chance pass
by of finding the Isles of Salomon.[346]

    [345] Dalrymple’s Hist. Coll. of Voyages: vol. I, p. 145. This
    memorial is given in the original in Purchas, (His Pilgrimes, Part
    VI, Lib. VII, Chap. 10.) _Vide_ also De Brosses “Histoire des
    Navigations aux Terres Australes:” tom. I, p. 341: Paris 1756.

    [346] The question of this name of Pouro is further treated in Note
    XV. of the Geographical Appendix, since an attempt has been made by
    Mr. Hale, the American philologist, to identify it with the Bouro of
    the Indian Archipelago.

The opportunity had gone; and, for this reason, the remainder of this
voyage of Quiros has no interest in connection with the Solomon Group.
The information which he had obtained of the numerous islands and tracts
of land in the vicinity of Taumaco seems to have banished from his mind
all thoughts of the missing group. Steering southward, and passing
without seeing the island of Santa Cruz of which he had been in search,
he reached the island of Tucopia, of which he had previously obtained
information from the natives of Taumaco. Continuing his course, he
finally anchored in a large bay which indented the coast of what he
believed was the Great Southern Continent. The name Australia del
Espiritu Santo was given by him to this new land, when flushed with the
success of his discovery. In the hour of his supposed triumph, fortune
again frowned on the efforts of the Spanish navigator. A mutiny broke
out on board his ship, and Quiros was compelled by his crew to abandon
the enterprise. Without being able to acquaint Torres of what had
happened, he left the anchorage unperceived in the middle hours of the
night, and after making an ineffectual attempt to find Santa Cruz, he
sailed for Mexico. Torres, after ascertaining that the supposed southern
continent was an island,[347] continued his voyage westward, and,
passing through the straits which bear his name, ultimately arrived at
Manilla.

    [347] This island is one of the New Hebrides, and still retains its
    Spanish name of Espiritu Santo.

The results of the expeditions in which Quiros had been engaged could
hardly have been looked upon with feelings of great satisfaction at the
Spanish Court, where the veteran navigator in the true spirit of
Columbus now repaired to advocate the colonization of the Australia del
Espiritu Santo he had just discovered. The Isles of Salomon had been
also discovered, it is true; but two succeeding expeditions had failed
to find them. Santa Cruz had similarly eluded the efforts of Quiros; and
his last discovery of the supposed southern continent had been proved by
his companion, Torres, to be an island. Several years had passed away,
and Quiros was an old man before his wishes for a new expedition were
granted. In furtherance of the exploration of the Isles of Salomon and
the Australia del Espiritu Santo, he is said to have presented no less
than fifty memorials to the king; in one of which, after painting in the
brightest colours the beauty and fertility of his last discovery, he
thus addresses his Sovereign: “Acquire, sire, since you can, acquire
heaven, eternal fame, and that new world with all its promises.” Such
appeals coming from one who might fitly be called the Columbus of his
age could scarcely be rejected by the monarch. In 1614, Quiros, bearing
a commission from the king, departed from Spain on his way to Callao,
where he intended to fit out another expedition. Death, however,
overtook him at Panama on his way to Peru; and with Quiros died all the
grand hopes, which he had fostered, of adding the unknown southern
continent to the dominion of Spain. Had he lived to carry out his
project, Australia might have become a second Peru. The spirit of
enterprise on the part of the Spanish nation never again extended itself
into this region of the Western Pacific. During the next century and a
half the large island-groups, which the Spaniards had discovered in
these seas, were not visited by any European navigators;[348] and it is
surprising how few benefits have accrued to geography from these three
Spanish expeditions to these regions. Their discoveries have had to be
rediscovered; and it has been only by a laborious process on the part of
the geographer that the navigator has been able to make any use of the
imperfect information, which the Spanish navigators have bequeathed to
us of their discoveries in these seas.

    [348] In 1616, the Dutch navigator, Le Maire, when he discovered and
    named the Horne Islands in lat. 14° 56′ S. and Hope Island in 16° S.
    thought that he had found the Solomon Islands; but these islands lie
    more than a thousand miles to the eastward of this group.
    Dalrymple’s Hist. Coll., vol. II., p. 59.

The death of Quiros deepened more than ever the mystery that was thrown
over the Isles of Salomon. Although Herrera[349] had published in 1601 a
short description of these islands, which he must have derived from
official sources, no account of the first voyage of Mendana was
published until nearly half a century after the return of the expedition
to Peru, when in 1613 a short narrative appeared in a work written by
Dr. Figueroa.[350] However, the exaggerated description, such as Lopez
Vaz had given, obtained by virtue of prepossession a stronger hold on
the memories of the sea-faring world. The same spirit of jealousy
against other nations, which had compelled Gallego to suppress his
journals, and had so long withheld any account of Mendana’s discoveries,
now doomed to destruction the several memorials and documents of Quiros;
but fortunately the work of destruction was not completed. The
consequence of such proceedings was to greatly heighten the exaggerated
misconceptions relating to the Isles of Salomon. We learn from
Purchas[351] that Richard Hakluyt was informed in London in 1604, by a
Lisbon merchant, of an expedition which had left Lima in 1600 and had
fallen in “with divers rich countries and islands not far from the
islands of Salomon. One chief place they called Monte de Plata, for the
great abundance of silver there is like to be there. For they found two
crowns’ worth of silver in two handfuls of dust, and the people gave
them for iron as much and more in quantity of silver.”[352] Amongst the
misconceptions which prevailed is one which we find in a memorial
addressed by Dr. Juan Luis Arias to Philip III. of Spain,[353] where he
refers to the discovery of “New Guadalcanal” and “San Christoval” as
quite distinct from Mendana’s subsequent discovery, as he alleges, of
the Isles of Salomon; and he alludes to the opinion of some that New
Guadalcanal was a part of New Guinea. In Peru the actual existence of
these islands came to be doubted; and successive viceroys held it a
political maxim to treat the question of the existence of the Solomon
Islands as a romance.[354]

    [349] _Vide_ page 192.

    [350] _Vide_ page 192.

    [351] “His Pilgrimes,” vol. IV., p. 1432.

    [352] Geographical writers are not agreed as to whether this
    allusion refers to one of the voyages of Quiros or not. From the
    date it would appear probable that it refers to Mendana’s second
    voyage, when Quiros was chief pilot.

    [353] A translation is given by Mr. Major in his “Early Voyages to
    Terra Australis.”

    [354] Pinkerton’s Voyages, vol. XIV., p. 12.

The jealous attitude, assumed by Spain towards other nations with
reference to these discoveries, succeeded only too well in bewildering
the geographers who endeavoured to ascertain the true position of the
Solomon Islands; and so varied were the opinions on the subject, that
the latitude assigned to them varied from 7° to 19° south, and the
longitude from 2400 miles to 7500 miles west of Peru. Acosta, in 1590,
ignorant of the materials several years after placed at the disposal of
Figueroa, located these islands about 800 leagues[355] west of Peru, and
Herrera gives them the same position,[356] a longitude which Lopez Vaz
had previously given them in the account obtained from him in 1586 by
Captain Withrington. The discoverers themselves, if we may trust the
estimates given in the accounts of Gallego and Figueroa, and in the
memorials of Quiros, considered that the Solomon Islands were removed
about double this distance from the coast of Peru. Their estimates vary
between 1500 and 1700 Spanish leagues, whereas the true distance is
about 2100 leagues or from 1500 to 2000 miles west of the position
assigned by the discoverers. In his second voyage, Mendana was misled by
this small estimate when he at first mistook the Marquesas for his
previous discovery, the Isles of Salomon. I am inclined to consider that
the Spanish navigators purposely under-estimated the distance of these
islands from the coast of Peru, and that in so doing they were actuated
by two motives. In the first place, they would be desirous to bring
their discoveries within the line of demarcation fixed by the Papal Bull
after the discovery of America by Columbus, by which the hemisphere west
of a meridian 370 leagues west of the Azores was assigned to Spain, and
that to the east of this meridian to Portugal. Thus it was that Spain
had had to deliver the Brazils to Portugal; and in possessing herself of
the Moluccas she had appropriated by a geographical fraud lands which
should have belonged to that nation.[357] Their other motive is probably
to be found in that jealousy of spirit which, in order to prevent Drake
and the English from finding their discoveries, caused the suppression
of Gallego’s journal and the burning of many of the memorials of Quiros.

    [355] Spanish leagues, 17½ to a degree.

    [356] Herrera at the same time places them 1500 leagues from Lima!

    [357] I am indebted to Mr. Dalrymple (Hist. Collect. of Voyages,
    vol. I., p. 51) for this explanation of the small estimates of the
    Spanish navigators.

Similar confusion prevailed amongst the early cartographers as to the
position which they should assign to the Solomon Islands. As M.
Buache[358] points out, the first charts representing the Isles of
Salomon, which were published at the end of the 16th century, made a
near approximation to their true position by placing them to the east
and at no great distance from New Guinea. Subsequent cartographers,
however, were less happy in their guesses at the truth. In the “Arcano
del Mare,” published by Dudley, in 1646, the Solomon Islands were
transported to the position of the Marquesas, with which they were
thought identical. This position was generally received until early in
last century, when Delisle adopted a position much nearer to that given
in the early maps. M. Danville, however, later on in the century, being
unable to reconcile the Spanish discoveries with the more recent
discoveries in the South Seas, suppressed altogether the Isles of
Salomon in his map of the world; and his example was followed by several
other geographers, who were equally anxious to expunge the lost
archipelago from their maps and to relegate it to the class of fabulous
lands.

    [358] “Memoir concerning the existence and situation of Solomon’s
    Islands,” presented to the Royal Academy of Sciences in 1781.
    (Fleurieu’s “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769.”)

After the death of Quiros, the Spanish nation ceased to favour any
further enterprise in search of the missing archipelagos, which do not
appear to have engaged the special attention of any nation. Generations
thus passed away, and the Solomon Islands were almost forgotten. But
there lingered amongst the sea-faring population in Peru, memories of
the missing islands of Mendana and Quiros, which were revived from time
to time by some strange story told by men, who had returned to Callao
from their voyage across the Pacific to Manilla. Even in the first
quarter of last century, the mention of the Isles of Salomon suggested
visions of beautiful and fertile lands, abounding in mineral wealth, and
populated by a happy race of people who enjoyed a climate of perfect
salubrity. This we learn from the narrative of Captain Betagh,[359] an
Englishman, who, having been captured by the Spaniards in 1720, was
detained a prisoner in Peru. He speaks of the arrival, not long before,
of two ships at Callao, which, though cruising independently in the
Pacific, had both been driven out of their course and had made the
Solomon Islands. A small ship was despatched to follow up their
discovery: but as she was only victualled for two months, I need
scarcely add that she did not find them. It is very probable that the
islands made by the two ships were the Marquesas.

    [359] Pinkerton’s “Voyages and Travels,” vol. XIV., p. 12.

Not very long after this attempt to find the missing group, Admiral
Roggewein,[360] the Dutch navigator, in his voyage round the world,
sighted, in 1722, two large islands or tracts of land in the Western
Pacific, which he named Tienhoven and Groningen (the Groningue of some
writers). Behrens, the narrator of the expedition, considered them to be
portions of the Terra Australis. Geographers, however, have differed
widely in their attempts to identify these islands. Dalrymple and Burney
held the opinion that these islands were none other than the Solomon
Islands; but the question is of little importance to us, as no
communication took place with the natives.

    [360] Dalrymple’s “Hist. Coll. of Voyages,” vol. II.

In his “Histoire des Navigations aux Terres Australes,” which was
published in Paris, in 1756, De Brosses, after referring to the
circumstance that geographers differed a thousand leagues in locating
this group, inserts, as giving quite another idea of their position, the
story of Gemelli Careri, when on his voyage from Manilla to Mexico, in
command of the great galleon. It appears that when they were in 34°
north lat., a canary flew on board and perched in the rigging. Careri at
once inferred that the bird must have flown from the Solomon Islands,
which lay, as he learned from the seamen of his vessel, two degrees
further south. The source of the Spanish commander’s information might
have suggested some rather odd reflections: however, De Brosses, as if
to justify this belief of the sailors of the galleon, refers to two
islands, Kinsima (Isle of Gold) and Ginsima (Isle of Silver), lying
about 300 leagues east of Japan, which, having been kept secret by the
Japanese, had been ineffectually sought for by the Dutch in 1639 and
1643.[361] De Brosses, it should be remembered, was writing when the
Isles of Salomon were in the minds of many a myth. That this notion of
the seamen of the galleon should suggest to him two legendary islands
placed east of Japan, islands believed by the Dutch not to belie their
names in mineral wealth, sufficiently shows how wild speculation had
become with reference to the position of this mysterious group.

    [361] Tome I., p. 177.

In a few years, however, there was a revival of the spirit of
geographical enterprise in England, under the enlightened auspices of
George III.; and the time was approaching when, in anticipation of the
transit of Venus in 1769, the attention of the English and French
astronomers and geographers was more specially directed to the South
Pacific, with the purpose of selecting suitable positions for the
observation of this phenomenon. M. Pingré, in his memoir on the
selection of a position for observing the transit of Venus, which was
read before the French Academy of Sciences in December, 1766, and
January, 1767, gave a translation of the account given by Figueroa of
Mendana’s discovery of the Solomon Islands; but he did not throw much
new light on their supposed position.

Whilst the attention of geographers was thus once more directed towards
this part of the Pacific, the two English voyages of circumnavigation
under Commodore Byron and Captain Carteret[362] supplied them with
information, which pointed to the correctness of the view of the old
cartographers that the Solomon Islands lay to the east, and not far
removed from New Guinea. That Commodore Byron, when sailing in the
supposed latitude of these islands in 1765, expected to fall in with
them more towards the centre of the Pacific, is shown by the
circumstance that he at first believed one of the islands of the group,
subsequently named the Union Group, to be the Malaita of the Spaniards,
an island which actually lay more than 1500 miles to the westward.
However, he continued his course in the track of the missing group,
until he reached the longitude of 176° 20′ E. in latitude 8° 13′ S., a
position more than 800 miles to the eastward of that assigned to the
Solomon Islands in his chart. Giving up the search, Commodore Byron
steered northward to cross the equator, and ultimately shaped his course
for the Ladrones. His remark in reference to his want of success augured
ill for the future discovery of the Solomon Group, since he doubted
whether the Spaniards had left behind any account by which it might be
found by future navigators.

    [362] Hawkesworth’s Voyages (vol. I.) contains the accounts of these
    expeditions.

In August, 1766, another expedition consisting of two ships, the
“Dolphin,” and the “Swallow,” under the command of Captain Wallis, and
Captain Carteret, sailed from Plymouth with the object of making further
discoveries in the southern hemisphere. After a stormy passage through
the Straits of Magellan, the two ships were separated just as they were
entering the South Sea. This accidental circumstance proved fortunate in
its results for geographical science, as each vessel steered an
independent course. Whilst Captain Wallis in the “Dolphin” was exploring
the coasts of Tahiti, Captain Carteret in the “Swallow” followed a track
more to the southward, and ultimately brought back to Europe tidings of
the long lost lands of Mendana and Quiros. In July, 1767, Captain
Carteret being in 167° W. long, and 10° S. lat., kept his course
westward in the same parallel “in hopes”--as he remarks--“to have fallen
in with some of the islands called Solomon’s Islands.” After reaching
the meridian of 177° 30′ E. long. in 10° 18′ S. lat., a position five
degrees to the westward of that assigned to the Solomon Islands in his
chart, Captain Carteret came to the conclusion “that if there were any
such islands their situation was erroneously laid down.” He was
afterwards destined to discover, unknown to himself, nearly a thousand
miles to the westward, the very group whose existence he doubted.
Continuing his westerly course, he arrived at a group of islands, the
largest of which he recognised as the Santa Cruz of Mendana, which had
not been visited by Europeans since the disastrous attempt to found a
Spanish Colony there more than 170 years before. With a crazy ship, and
a sickly crew, Captain Carteret desisted from the further prosecution of
his discoveries in those regions; and shaping his course W.N.W., he
sighted in the evening of the second day a low flat island, one of the
outlying islands of the Solomon Group, which, without suspecting the
nature of his discovery, he called Gower Island, a name still preserved
in the present chart.[363] During the night, the current carried him to
the south, and brought him within sight of what he thought were two
other large islands lying east and west with each other, which he named
Simpson’s Island, and Carteret’s Island. Captain Carteret communicated
with the natives, but did not anchor. These two islands have proved to
be the forked northern extremity of the large island of Malaita. Keeping
to the north-west, he subsequently discovered, off the north-west end of
the group, a large atoll with nine small islands, which are known as the
Nine Islands of Carteret. On the following morning he was fated, without
being aware of it, to get another glimpse of the Solomon Islands. A high
island, descried by him to the southward, which is named Winchelsea
Island in his text, and Anson Island in his chart of the voyage, was in
all probability the island of Bouka visited nearly a year afterwards by
Bougainville, the French navigator. Thus the missing group was at length
found, but without the knowledge of the English navigator who discovered
it. He had, in truth, expected to find it 20° further to the east. It
was reserved, however, for the geographer in his study to identify the
discoveries of Carteret with the Isles of Salomon of Mendana.

    [363] Captain Carteret communicated with the natives, but did not
    anchor.

At the end of June, 1768, Bougainville the French navigator,[364]
coming northward from his discovery of the Louisiade Archipelago and of
the Australia del Espiritu Santo of Quiros, made the west coast of a
large island, now known as Choiseul Island, one of the Solomon Islands.
When the ships were about twenty miles south of the present Choiseul
Bay, boats were sent to look for an anchorage, but they found the coast
almost inaccessible. A second attempt was made to find an anchorage in
Choiseul Bay, but, night coming on, the number of the shoals and the
irregularity of the currents prevented the ships from coming up to the
anchorage. In this bay the boats were attacked by about 150 natives in
ten canoes who were dispersed and routed by the second discharge of
fire-arms. Two canoes were captured, in one of which was found the jaw
of a man half broiled. The island was named Choiseul by its discoverer,
and a river from which the natives had issued into the bay was called
“la riviere des Guerriers.” Passing through the strait which bears his
name, the French navigator coasted along the east side of Bougainville
Island, and passed off the island of Bouka. The natives who came off to
the ship in their canoes displayed the cocoa-nuts they had brought with
them, and constantly repeated the cry, “bouca, bouca, onellé.” For this
reason, Bougainville named the island, Bouca, which is the name it still
retains on the chart. It is, however, evident from the narrative that
the French navigator never regarded this name as that by which the
island was known to its inhabitants. When Dentrecasteaux, during his
voyage in search of La Pérouse, lay off this island in his ships in
1792, the natives who came off from the shore, as Labillardière informs
us,[365] made use of the same expression of “bouka.” This eminent
naturalist considered that the word in question was a term in the
language of these islanders; and he refers to it as a Malay expression
of negation, except when a pause is made on the first syllable when it
signifies “to open.” On leaving behind him the island of Bouka,
Bougainville quitted the Solomon Group; but from his account it is
apparent that he had no idea of having found the missing archipelago.
Referring to these islands in the introduction to his narrative, he
writes:--“supposing that the details related of the wealth of these
islands are not fabulous, we are in ignorance of their situation, and
subsequent attempts to find them have been in vain. It merely appears
that they do not lie between the eighth and twelfth parallels of south
latitude.” In Bougainville’s plans and charts, these discoveries are
referred to as forming part of the Louisiade Archipelago which he had
found to the southward. In the general chart showing the track of his
voyage, the Solomon Islands are placed about 350 miles north-west of the
Navigator Islands; and they are there referred to as “Isles Salomon dont
l’existence et la position sont douteuse.”

    [364] “Voyage autour du Monde en 1766-1769:” second edit, augmentée:
    Paris 1772.

    [365] Labillardière’s “Voyage a la recherche de la Pérouse:” Paris
    1800: tome I., p. 227.

In June of the following year, 1769, there sailed from Pondicherry an
expedition commanded by M. de Surville,[366] who was bound on some
enterprise with the object of which we are still to a great extent
unacquainted. It is, however, probable as we learn from Abbé
Rochon,[367] that some rumour of an island abounding in wealth and
inhabited by Jews, which was reported to have been lately seen by the
English seven hundred leagues west of Peru, had led to the fitting out
of this expedition. Not unlikely, stories of the wealth of the missing
islands of Mendana had been revived by the arrival in India of some ship
that had come upon them in her track across the Pacific; and the
reference to their being populated by Jews may be readily understood
when I allude to the fact that the form of the nose in one out of every
five Solomon Islanders, and in truth in many Papuans, gives the face
quite a Jewish cast. In October, 1769, Surville discovered and named
Port Praslin on the north-east coast of Isabel, which was the same
island of the Solomon Group that Mendana had first discovered two
hundred years before. Here he stayed eight days, during which time his
watering-parties came into lamentable conflict with the natives. Sailing
eastward from Port Praslin, he sighted the Gower Island of Carteret,
which he named Inattendue Island. Subsequently he reached Ulaua, which
he called, on account of the unfavourable weather which he experienced
in its vicinity, Ile de Contrarieté. The attempt to send a boat ashore
was the occasion of another unfortunate affray with the natives, who
were ultimately dispersed with grape-shot. It will be remembered that
just two centuries before, the Spaniards in the brigantine came into
conflict with these same islanders, and that they named their island La
Treguada in consequence of their supposed treachery (_vide anteâ_). In
the neighbourhood of Contrarieté, Surville sighted three small islands,
which he named Les Trois Sœurs (Las Tres Marias of the Spaniards), and
near them another island, which he called Ile du Golfe, the Ugi or Gulf
Island of the present chart. Sailing eastward, he apprehended from the
trend of the neighbouring St. Christoval coast that he would become
embayed; but his apprehensions were removed when he arrived at the
extremity of this land, which he named Cape Oriental, and the two
off-lying small islands of Santa Anna and Santa Catalina were called
Iles de la Délivrance in token of the danger from which he had
apparently been delivered. In total ignorance of the fact that he had
been cruising amongst the islands of the lost archipelago of Mendana,
Surville now directed his course for New Zealand; and on account of
sanguinary conflicts with the natives of Port Praslin and Contrarieté,
he named his discoveries Terre des Arsacides or Land of the Assassins.

    [366] An account of this expedition is given in Fleurieu’s
    “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769 to the south-east of New
    Guinea:” London, 1791.

    [367] “Voyages à Madagascar et aux Indes Orientales:” Paris, 1791.

In 1781, Maurelle, the Spanish navigator, in command of the frigate
“Princesa,” during his voyage from Manilla to San Blas on the west coast
of Mexico,[368] came upon the Candelaria Shoals of Mendana, which lie
off the north coast of Isabel Island. I have shown on page 200 that
these Candelaria Shoals are no other than the Ontong Java of Tasman,
which was identified by M. Fleurieu[369] with the discovery of Maurelle.
To the south-east of these shoals the “Princesa” approached another,
which on account of the roaring of the sea was named El Roncador: this
has been erroneously identified with the Candelaria Shoals by M.
Fleurieu, and it is so named on the present Admiralty charts. Thus it
nearly fell to the lot of the Spanish nation to be amongst the first to
find the group they had originally discovered; but Maurelle was not
acquainted with his vicinity to the missing Isles of Salomon, and
turning the head of his ship eastward, he proceeded on his voyage.

    [368] An account of this voyage is given in “Voyage de la Pérouse
    autour du Monde,” par Milet-Mureau: London, 1799: vol. I., p. 201.

    [369] “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769,” etc.: pp. 179,
    18 .

In July, 1788, Lieutenant Shortland, when returning to England from Port
Jackson in convoy of a fleet of transports, made the Solomon Group near
Cape Sydney on the south coast of St. Christoval. He skirted the south
side of the group until he arrived at Bougainville Straits, and received
the impression that he was coasting along an apparently continuous tract
of land, to which he gave the name of New Georgia. Passing through
Bougainville Straits, which, in ignorance of the discoveries of the
French navigator, he named after himself, Lieutenant Shortland continued
on his voyage. The names of the numerous headlands[370] on the south
side of the Solomon Group, bear witness in the present chart to the
accurate observations of the English navigator: and from him Mount
Lammas, the highest peak of Guadalcanar, received its name. Like
Bougainville and Surville, Shortland was not acquainted with the nature
of his discoveries.[371]

    [370] Capes Philip, Henslow, Hunter, Satisfaction, etc.

    [371] Shortland communicated with the natives of Simbo. An account
    of this voyage is given in the “Voyage of Governor Phillip to Botany
    Bay:” London, 1789.

It now remained for the geographers to avail themselves of the materials
placed at their disposal by the voyages of the French and English
navigators. M. Buache in a “Memoir on the Existence and Situation of
Solomon’s Islands,”[372] which was presented to the French Academy of
Sciences in 1781, deals with the discoveries of Carteret, Bougainville,
and Surville. The steps by which he arrived at the conclusion that the
groups of islands discovered by these navigators were not only one and
the same group, but that they were the long-lost Isles of Salomon of
Mendana, afford an instructive instance of how a patient and laborious
investigator, endowed with that gift of discrimination which M. Buache
employed with such laudable impartiality, may ultimately attain the
truth he seeks, invested though it be in clouds of mystery and
contradiction. Groping along through a maze of conflicting statements,
to which both navigators and geographers had in equal share contributed,
M. Buache finally emerged into the light of day, when he asserted in his
memoir that between the extreme point of New Guinea as fixed by
Bougainville and the position of Santa Cruz as determined by Carteret,
there was a space of 12½ degrees of longitude, in which the Islands of
Solomon ought to be found. In this space, as he proceeded to show, lay
the large group discovered by Bougainville and Surville which, he with
confidence asserted, would prove to be none other than the long-lost
islands of the Solomon Group.

    [372] This memoir is given by Fleurieu in the appendix of his work.

But such a view of the character of the recent French discoveries in
these seas was received by English geographers with that spirit of
partiality from which the cause of geographical science has so
frequently suffered. Mr. Dalrymple in his “Historical Collection of
Voyages,” published in 1770, before he had become acquainted with the
discoveries of Carteret, Bougainville, and Surville, stated his
conviction that there was no room to doubt that what Mendana called
Salomon Islands in 1567, Dampier afterwards named New Britain in 1700.
In the introduction to the narrative of his second voyage round the
world, when he followed up Bougainville’s exploration of the Australia
del Espiritu Santo of Quiros,[373] Captain Cook supported this view. The
arguments, however, of M. Buache had no weight with Mr. Dalrymple, who
in 1790 re-stated his opinion that the Solomon Islands of the Spaniards
and the New Britain of Dampier were one and the same, and he referred to
the discoveries of Bougainville and Surville as showing no similitude in
form to the Solomon Islands of the old maps.[374]

    [373] This group, which had been previously named by Bougainville,
    L’Archipel des grandes Cyclades, was designated The New Hebrides by
    Cook, a name which it retains on the present charts.

    [374] “Nautical Memoirs of Alexander Dalrymple.”

But in the minds of French geographers there was little doubt as to the
correctness of the views of M. Buache. Amongst the detailed geographical
instructions given by Louis XVI. in 1785 to La Pérouse, when he was
setting out on his ill-fated expedition, was one which directed the
attention of this illustrious navigator to the examination of the
numerous islands of the Solomon Group, and especially to those which lay
between Guadalcanar and Malaita.[375] It was considered almost
indubitable, as M. Fleurieu informs us, that the intended exploration by
La Pérouse of this archipelago would convert probability into certainty.
But when in the vicinity of the islands he was never destined to behold,
La Pérouse experienced that mysterious fate which has excited sympathy
throughout the civilised world. On the reef-girt shores of Vanicoro his
ships were wrecked, and the French commander and his men were never seen
again by any Europeans. As Carlyle wrote, . . . “The brave navigator
goes, and returns not; the seekers search far seas for him in vain,
. . . . and only some mournful mysterious shadow of him hovers long in
all heads and hearts.”[376]

    [375] “Voyage de la Pérouse,” rédigé par M. L. A. Milet-Mureau;
    London, 1799.

    [376] Carlyle’s “French Revolution,” ch. V., p. 37.

The ominous silence that had fallen over the doings of the absent
expedition, on account of the non-arrival of the long expected
dispatches, must have been, in a double sense, a cause of disappointment
to M. Fleurieu, who had hoped to demonstrate the correctness of the
views of the French geographers by the results of the explorations of La
Pérouse. It was with the object of showing that the New Georgia of
Shortland was one and the same with the Terre des Arsacides of Surville
and the Choiseul of Bougainville, and that the French and English
navigators had independently of each other discovered the lost Solomon
Group, that M. Fleurieu published in Paris in 1790 his “Découvertes des
François en 1768 et 1769 dans le sud-est de la Nouvelle Guinée.”[377]
“The desire of restoring to the French nation its own discoveries, which
an emulous and jealous neighbour has endeavoured to appropriate to
herself, induced us,” thus the author wrote in his preface to his work,
“to connect in one view, all those that we have made towards the
south-east of New Guinea; and particularly to prove, that the great
land, which Shortland imagined he discovered in 1788, and to which he
gave the name of New Georgia, is not a new land, but the southern coast
of the Archipelago of the Arsacides, the famous Islands of Solomon, one
part of which was discovered after two centuries by M. de Bougainville
in 1768, and another more considerable by M. de Surville in 1769.” I
need not refer to the detailed arguments of this learned geographical
writer. Under his arguments, Surville’s appellation of Terre des
Arsacides and Shortland’s of New Georgia,[378] finally gave place to the
original title given by the Spanish navigator. “It was the work of M. de
Fleurieu,” thus writes Krusenstern,[379] the Russian voyager and
hydrographer, “that removed once and for all any doubt that might have
been held about the identity of the discoveries of Bougainville,
Surville, and Shortland, with the Solomon Islands.” Another illustrious
navigator, Dumont D’Urville,[380] thus alludes to the successful labours
of his countrymen, . . . “Le laborieux Buache et l’habile Fleurieu
travaillèrent tour à tour à établir cette identité qui, depuis, est
devenue un fait acquis à la science géographique; les îles relevées par
Surville et par Bougainville sont réellement l’archipel Salomon de
Mindana.” Thus the lost archipelago was found, not so much by the
fortuitous course of the navigator as by the patient investigations of
the geographer in his study. The result is intrinsically of little
importance to the world at large; but, as an example of the success of a
laborious yet discriminate research, it may afford encouragement to all
who endeavour to add something to the sum of knowledge.

    [377] English translation published in London in 1791.

    [378] The designation of New Georgia has been retained in the modern
    charts for that portion of the group which is known as Rubiana.

    [379] “Recueil de Mémoires Hydrographiques,” St. Petersburgh, 1824.
    Part I., p. 157.

    [380] “Histoire Générale des Voyages,” Paris, 1859; p. 228.

I will now refer briefly to the voyagers who subsequently visited this
group, after its identity had become established. In May 1790,
Lieutenant Ball,[381] in the “Supply,” when on his voyage to England
from Port Jackson _via_ Batavia, made the eastern extremity of the
Solomon Islands. He sailed along the north side of the group until
opposite the middle of Malaita, when he headed more to the eastward and
clear of the land. He correctly surmised that he was sailing along the
New Georgia of Shortland, but on the opposite side of it: though he
looked upon the islands of Santa Anna, Santa Catalina, and Ulaua as his
own discoveries, and he named them respectively Sirius’s Island,
Massey’s Island, and Smith’s Island. In December 1791, Captain Bowen of
the ship “Albemarle,” during his voyage from Port Jackson to Bombay,
sailed along the coast of New Georgia, and reported that he had seen the
floating wreck of one of the vessels of La Pérouse; but this report was
discredited by Captain Dillon in the narrative of his search after the
missing expedition.[382] In 1792, Captain Manning,[383] of the
Honourable East India Company’s Service, during his voyage from Port
Jackson to Batavia in the ship “Pitt,” made the south coast of the
Solomon Group off Cape Sidney, which was the headland first sighted by
Lieutenant Shortland. Sailing westward, he imagined St. Christoval and
Guadalcanar were continuous, and he thus delineates their coasts in his
track-chart much as Shortland did. The Russell Islands he named
Macaulay’s Archipelago, a name which ought to be retained as a
compliment to their discoverer. He then passed between Rubiana and
Isabel, naming the high land of the latter island Keate’s Mountains.
Passing through the strait between Choiseul and Isabel, which bears his
name, Captain Manning proceeded northward on his voyage.

    [381] _Vide_ “An Historical Journal,” &c., by Capt. John Hunter.
    London, 1793; pp. 417-419.

    [382] “Voyage in search of La Pérouse’s Expedition.” London, 1829.

    [383] “Chart of the track and discoveries of the ship ‘Pitt,’ Capt.
    Edward Manning, on the western coast of the Solomon Islands in
    1792.”

At this time, a French expedition, under Admiral Dentrecasteaux, was
cruising in the same part of the Pacific with the object of ascertaining
the fate of La Pérouse. Amongst the instructions embodied in a “Mémoire
du Roi,” which were given to the French admiral, was the following one
referring to the Solomon Islands: . . “Qu’il s’occupe à détailler cet
archipel, dont il est d’autant plus intéressant d’acquérir une
connoissance parfaite, qu’on peut avec raison le regarder comme une
découverte des François, puisqu’il étoit resté ignoré et inconnu pendant
les deux siècles qui s’étoient écoulés depuis que les Espagnols en
avoient fait la première decouverte.”[384] In July 1792, when on his way
from New Caledonia to Carteret Harbour in New Ireland, in prosecution of
his search for the missing expedition, Dentrecasteaux made the Eddystone
Rock which had been thus named by Shortland, and passing by Treasury
Island, he skirted the west coast of Bougainville and Bouka. In May of
the following year, when on the passage from Santa Cruz to the Louisiade
Archipelago, the expedition sailed along the south coast of the Solomon
Islands as far as Rubiana. Passing between St. Christoval and
Guadalcanar, Dentrecasteaux sailed close to the island of Contrarieté
and communicated with the natives. Whilst one of his ships lay off the
north-west part of St. Christoval, the natives of Gulf Island (Ugi)
discharged a flight of arrows from their canoes and wounded one of the
crew. It is satisfactory to learn that her commander contented himself
with firing a musket and discharging a rocket at them without effect,
and that no other retaliatory measures were taken to intercept them in
their flight. Turning back on his course, the French admiral was almost
tempted to explore the group of islands between Guadalcanar and Malaita,
to which the work of Fleurieu had directed his attention, and had he
done so, he would have cleared up the confusion with which the vague
description of Figueroa has surrounded these islands; but his
instructions and the object of his voyage led him along the south coast
of Guadalcanar on his way to the Louisiade Archipelago.

    [384] “Voyage de Dentrecasteaux,” rédigé par M. de Rossel. Paris,
    1808; tom. i., p. xxxiii.

To the voyagers who visited this group during the first half of the
present century, I can only briefly allude. The Solomon Islands were
seldom visited during the early portion of it, except, perhaps, by
occasional trading-ships whose experiences have rarely been made known,
a loss which may not be a subject for our regret. However, in March,
1834, there sailed from New York the clipper “Margaret Oakley,” bound on
a trading and exploring voyage in the South Pacific.[385] She was
commanded by Captain Morrell, who was accompanied by a young American,
named Jacobs, to whom we are indebted for a very singular narrative of
the cruise, which, for private reasons, was not published till 1844.
Into the extremely questionable proceedings of Captain Morrell,[386] in
his dealings with the natives during his sojournings in the Western
Pacific, I need not here enter. It will be sufficient for me to remark
that they had better have been buried in the oblivion which is most
fitting for such deeds of heartless cruelty. Mr. Jacobs, in his attempt
to describe the discoveries of the voyage with which we are more
particularly concerned, exercises an amusing freedom in dealing with the
explorations of the famous early navigators in this region. Instead of
adding to our knowledge of these seas, by his presumption, he has thrown
discredit on the whole of his narrative; and it is only by the insertion
in his account of a rude sketch-map of New Guinea and the islands
south-east of it that he has rescued his narrative from utter confusion.
There we see, that by Bidera he means New Britain; by Emeno, New
Ireland; Bougainville is honoured by the retention of his name for the
large island which he discovered; whilst the other large land-masses of
the Solomon Group would have had their identities hopelessly lost in the
narrative under the appellations of Baropee, Soterimba, and Cambendo,
had it not been for the rude map attached. References to dates are
systematically avoided by Mr. Jacobs; however, it would appear that
probably, in 1835 or 1836, they extended their cruise to the islands of
the Solomon Group. Coasting along the west side of Bougainville Island,
they sailed through the straits of that name, and skirting the north
coasts of Choiseul (Baropee) and Isabel (Soterimba), they turned Cape
Prieto and steered S. by E. Sailing by a singular rock like a ship under
sail (the Two Tree Islet of the chart), their course lay through
beautiful verdant islands; and then passing a volcanic island with steam
issuing from the crater on its summit (the Sesarga of the Spaniards and
the Savo of the present day), the lofty lands of Cambendo (Guadalcanar)
appeared in view. Coasting westward, along the north side of
Guadalcanar, they were visited by Tarlaro, the King(?) of Cambendo, who
was accompanied by a great number of natives. On the following day, they
visited a large village, where they were friendly received; and shortly
afterwards they left the group, steering southward and passing Rennell
Island.

    [385] “Scenes, Incidents, and Adventures in the Pacific Ocean.” By
    T. J. Jacobs. New York, 1844.

    [386] When Dumont D’Urville was in London, shortly before he started
    on his last voyage, he was asked his opinion of Morrell with
    reference to his cruises in the high southern latitudes. His reply
    was that he was already acquainted with him as “un fabricateur du
    contes.” (“Voyage au Pole Sud.” 1837-1840. Introduction, p. lxvii.)

In November, 1838, Dumont D’Urville,[387] the French navigator, sighted
the Solomon Group, in his passage westward from Santa Cruz. Coasting
along the north side of St. Christoval and the south side of Malaita, he
recognised in Surville’s Terre des Arsacides the Malaita of the
Spaniards. He then set himself to work to clear up the difficulty with
reference to the position of the islands named by the Spaniards, Galera,
Florida, Buena Vista, Sesarga, &c., islands which had never been since
explored, but he ultimately contented himself with viewing these islands
from off the north coast of Buena Vista. After endeavouring imperfectly
to identify them with the description of their first discoverers, he
anchored in Thousand Ships Bay, which was originally discovered by
Gallego and Ortega; and he named his anchorage Astrolabe Harbour, after
one of his ships. From the circumstance that the natives, who came off
to the ships, made use of such expressions as “veri gout,” “captain,”
“manoa” (man of war), D’Urville concluded that they had recently been
visited by other voyagers.[388] Leaving Thousand Ships Bay, he sailed
along the south coast of Isabel, and passing through Manning Strait, he
skirted the north side of Choiseul and Bougainville Islands and then
left the group.

    [387] “Voyage au Pole Sud et dans l’Océanie.” 1837-40. Paris, 1841.

    [388] According to his narrative, Jacobs, in the “Margaret Oakley,”
    anchored in the vicinity of Thousand Ships Bay, two or three years
    (?) before the visit of D’Urville.

Dumont D’Urville was the last of the French navigators to whom the
re-discovery and exploration of the Solomon Islands are in the main due.
A singular fatality seems to have attended the careers of nearly all the
French commanders who visited these seas. With the exception of
Bougainville, who lived to superintend, in 1804, the fitting out of the
flotilla, at Boulogne, for the invasion of England, all died during the
voyage or shortly after their return. Surville was drowned on his
arrival at Peru. La Pérouse met with his untimely fate at Vanikoro, and
neither of the two commanders of the expedition that was sent in search
of him survived the voyage; Dentrecasteaux died from scurvy off New
Britain, and Huon Kermadec died before the ships left New Caledonia.
Lastly, D’Urville was killed in a railway accident at Paris, whilst
engaged in the completion of the narrative of his expedition.

In July, 1840, Captain Sir Edward Belcher,[389] whilst on his voyage to
New Ireland, in H.M.S. “Sulphur,” made the south coast of Guadalcanar;
but after looking in vain for an anchorage, he continued his course. In
1844, Capt. Andrew Cheyne, in the trading-schooner “Naiad,” visited
Simbo Island and the neighbouring islands. We are indebted to him for
much information concerning this part of the group.[390] About 1847,
Monsignor Epalle, a French Roman Catholic Bishop, was landed, with
eighteen priests, on the island of Isabel, for the purpose of founding a
mission. On first landing, the bishop strayed from the rest of the party
and received his death-blow at the hands of the natives, who are
supposed to have been tempted by his dress and ornaments. In April of
1847, three French missionaries, living at Makira, were murdered by the
hill-tribes of St. Christoval; and in March of the following year, M.
Dutaillis,[391] in command of the French corvette “L’Ariane,” anchored
at Makira, and sent an expedition into the interior by which the
villages of the murderers were destroyed and many of the natives killed
and wounded.

    [389] “Narrative of a Voyage round the World in H.M.S. ‘Sulphur:’”
    vol. II., p. 70.

    [390] “A Description of Islands in the Western Pacific Ocean.”
    London, 1852.

    [391] “Annales Hydrographiques;” tome I. 1848-49. “Last Cruise of
    the ‘Wanderer,’” by John Webster, p. 73.

In September, 1851, the ill-fated yacht “Wanderer,”[392] with her owner,
Mr. Benjamin Boyd, on board, visited the Solomon Group. Cruising along
the south coast of St. Christoval, the yacht put into Makira, where she
lay at anchor nearly three weeks. Friendly intercourse was established
with the inhabitants and frequent shooting excursions were made into the
interior. Mr. Boyd thought so highly of the advantages of Makira and its
harbour, that he intended to return there with the intention of entering
into a treaty with the principal natives of the locality for the purpose
of acquiring it for future commercial purposes. However, the careers,
both of the yacht and of its owner, were drawing to a close. From
Makira, they proceeded to Guadalcanar. Leaving his vessel anchored in
Wanderer Bay, as it has since been named, Mr. Boyd landed with his gun,
accompanied by a native of Panapa. Neither of them were ever seen again;
and they appear to have met with their deaths at the hands of the
natives soon after landing. A great number of the natives attacked the
yacht, but they were repulsed by the crew of the “Wanderer” with
grape-shot and musketry. An ineffectual search was made for Mr. Boyd and
his companion: and before the yacht left the locality, round and
grape-shot were poured into the villages, canoes and houses were burned,
and probably a large number of natives were killed and injured. The
“Wanderer” now left the group; and in the following month she was
totally lost on the bar of Port Macquarie on the Australian coast.

    [392] “Last Cruise of the ‘Wanderer.’” By John Webster.

In 1854, there were rumours in Sydney, that Mr. Boyd was still alive and
that his initials had been seen carved on trees in Guadalcanar. A skull,
which had been bought from a chief by the captain of a trading-ship as
that of Mr. Boyd, proved, on examination, to belong to a Papuan.
However, in December of this year, Captain Denham, in H.M.S. “Herald,”
visited the scene of the tragedy; and after making inquiry into the
matter, he came to the opinion that the unfortunate owner of the
“Wanderer” had been killed directly after he landed, and that the
various stories current respecting his being alive were inventions of
the natives.

I now bring to a close this short sketch of the history of the Solomon
Group since its identity was established by the French geographers
towards the end of the last century. During the last thirty years there
has been greatly increased intercourse with the natives of these
islands; the Melanesian Mission has firmly established itself; numerous
traders have resided in the more friendly districts; and the visits of
men-of-war and trading-ships have been very frequent. But this increased
intercourse with the outer world of savage peoples, who can with
difficulty distinguish between a stranger and a foe, has been
accompanied, as we might naturally have expected, by many tragic
episodes, some of which we can deplore, most of which we can only
reflect upon with mingled feelings of shame and regret. The reprisals on
the part of men-of-war have not been always satisfactory in their
results; and the effect of the labour-traffic has been to undermine the
confidence which the missionary and well-intentioned trader have been
long endeavouring to create. The quiet heroism of the members of the
Melanesian Mission, under circumstances often the most dispiriting and
insecure, it would ill become me to praise. It will be sufficient,
however, to remark that it has been the only redeeming feature in the
intercourse of the white man with these islanders during the last
twenty-five years.




GEOGRAPHICAL APPENDIX.


NOTE I.

    THE ACCOUNTS OF GALLEGO AND FIGUEROA COMPARED.--On carefully
    comparing these two accounts, I have no doubt that Figueroa derived
    almost all his information from the journal of Gallego. He, to a
    great extent, employs his own phraseology; but in the descriptions
    of the islands and of the natives, the words and expressions
    employed are often identical, and the mode and order of description
    are evidently supplied by the journal of Gallego. An indirect proof
    of the source, whence Figueroa drew his materials, is to be found in
    the circumstance that, after the two vessels were separated during
    the voyage back to Peru, he confines his account to the experiences
    of the “Capitana,” which was Gallego’s vessel; and here his account
    is substantially a condensed form of Gallego’s journal which is
    occasionally quoted literally. Figueroa, however, does not inform us
    of the source of his information; and he has evidently, in some
    measure, endeavoured to infuse his own method of expression into the
    account. There are not wanting proofs, however, that he was assisted
    from other sources, but only in a small degree. For instance, he
    occasionally intercalates a circumstance to which Gallego does not
    allude; and he varies in the accounts of the conflicts with the
    natives: thus he refers to some of the Spaniards having died at
    Estrella Harbour, to there being a foot and a half of water in the
    hold of one of the ships during the return voyage, to the ships
    being heaved-down at St. Christoval, and to a few other similar
    occurrences unrecorded by Gallego. The account of Figueroa differs
    in the date of the year of the voyage. It contains only a bare
    reference to the cruise of the brigantine to St. Christoval and its
    adjacent islands, whilst the vessels lay at the Puerto de la Cruz on
    the coast of Guadalcanar. It is from this cause that the names of
    all the islands visited and named during this cruise of the
    brigantine are not given in Figueroa’s account. Herrera, however, in
    his short description of these islands, gives a full list of the
    names of the islands, and, in this respect, his description is
    superior to that of Figueroa.


NOTE II.

    DISCREPANCIES IN THE DATES OF THE YEARS.--There is a strange
    discrepancy in the dates of the years during which this expedition
    was away from Peru. The year 1566, is given on the title-page of the
    British Museum copy of Gallego’s Journal; and the author expressly
    states that the expedition left Callao on November 19th, 1566; he
    carries this year on, naming the following year, 1567; but in August
    he gives the year as 1568, and makes the return to Peru to be in
    1569. It is evident from the narrative that the ships were absent
    from Peru about nineteen months, from November of one year to June
    of the second ensuing year; and it is highly probable that the year
    of their departure was 1566, and that of their return 1568. . . .
    Figueroa differs strangely in the dates he gives.[393] In the first
    line of his account he says that the ships were dispatched in 1567;
    and in the succeeding paragraph he gives January 10, 1568, as the
    date of their departure from Callao, thus being quite at variance
    with Gallego, both as regards the day, the month, and the year. The
    ships reached the coast of Mexico on their return voyage in January
    1568, according to Figueroa. From this inconsistency it may be
    inferred, that 1567 was intended as the date of the departure from
    Peru. . . . Herrera,[394] in his description of these islands,
    states that they were discovered in 1567, which accords with the
    narrative of Gallego. . . . Arias[395] in a memorial addressed to
    Philip III. of Spain, says that Mendana discovered San Christoval in
    1565; but his account is both short and confused, and was evidently
    not derived from original sources. . . . Notwithstanding the
    conflicting character of the dates, the probable dates would appear
    to be as follows.--The ships left Peru on November 19th, 1566,
    discovered the Isles of Salomon on February 7th, 1567, and arrived
    at Peru on June 19th, 1568.

    [393] “Hechos de Don Garcia H. de Mendoza,” por el Doctor Christoval
    S. de Figueroa. Madrid, 1613.

    [394] “Descripcion de las Indias Occidentales.” (Madrid, about
    1601.)

    [395] “Early Voyages to Terra Australis,” by R. H. Major (p. 1).
    Hakluyt Society, 1859.


NOTE III. (Page 199.)

    THE ISLE OF JESUS.--Burney[396] estimated the longitude of this
    island to be 172° 30′ East of Greenwich; Krusenstern,[397] on surer
    grounds, fixed it at 171° 30′: but both estimates were based on an
    erroneous longitude of the Candelaria Shoals. . . . I have shown in
    note iv. that these shoals are probably identical, not with the
    Roncador Reef as is implied in the present charts, but with the
    islands of Ontong Java, to the northward; however, this correction
    affects but little the question of longitude. Taking the longitude
    of the centre of Ontong Java at about 159° 30′ E. (in lat. 5° 25′
    S.), the longitude of the Isle of Jesus, 167 Spanish leagues to the
    eastward (in lat. 6° 45′ S.), would be about 169° E. The only island
    shown on the present charts in the vicinity of this position is
    Kennedy Island, also called Motuiti, the existence of which is
    stated to be doubtful. Its position, as determined by the “Nautilus”
    in 1801, was 8° 36′ S. 167° 50′ E.[398] However, in 1883, the German
    war-vessel “Carola” failed to find it in this position in the chart,
    and the initials _E. D._ are there attached to the name. The
    difficulty may, I think, be explained by the existence in this
    region of some atoll of no great size, the position of which has
    been never correctly determined. It would appear that a similar view
    is held by Captain Wharton, the present Hydrographer, since in the
    Sailing Directions for these seas issued in 1885, the island is
    still given prominent mention.[399] Not improbably the missing
    island will be found between the 6th and 7th parallels, and near the
    position assigned to the Isle of Jesus.

    [396] “Chronological History of Vovages and Discoveries in the South
    Sea.” Vol. I. p. 289. London, 1803.

    [397] “Recueil de Mémoires Hydrographiques.” St. Petersburg, 1824.

    [398] Findlay’s “Directory of the Pacific Ocean.” Part II 999.
    (London, 1851.)

    [399] “Pacific Islands.” Vol. I. p. 50. (Western Groups.) 1885.

    Herrera gives the name of another island, “El Nombre de Dios,” which
    is said by him to lie in 7° S. lat., and to be 50 leagues distant
    from Santa Anna; Gallego does not refer to any island with this
    name; and since Herrera makes no reference to the Isle of Jesus, it
    is possible that this isle may be here alluded to, as its latitude
    corresponds somewhat with that of “El Nombre de Dios.” M.
    Fleurieu[400] identifies this island, however, not with the Isle of
    Jesus, but with an island off the north end of Malaita which was
    named Gower I. by Captain Carteret in 1767, and Inattendue I. by M.
    Surville, in 1769.

    [400] “Discoveries of the French, 1768-1769, to the S. E. of New
    Guinea,” p. 181. (London, 1791).


NOTE IV. (Page 199.)

    THE CANDELARIA SHOALS.--The shoals were identified by Fleurieu with
    the Roncador Reef discovered by Maurelle in 1781; and Krusenstern
    subsequently confirmed this opinion. Gallego, however, describes
    shoals trending N.E. and S.W. for more than fifteen leagues, which
    cannot possibly be the Roncador Reef of the present chart, which is
    not more than six miles across. These Candelaria Shoals, on the
    other hand, correspond in their size with the large atoll of Ontong
    Java lying about 35 miles to the north of the Roncador Reef, and
    being about 50 miles in width. The apparent difference in latitude
    between Ontong Java, which lies in about 5° 25′ S., and the
    Candelaria Shoals of Gallego, which were placed by him in 6° 15′ S.,
    may be explained by the circumstance that the majority of Gallego’s
    observations of latitude in the Solomon Group were about two-thirds
    of a degree in excess of the true latitude.[401] By making this
    correction, the latitude of Ontong Java and of the Candelaria Shoals
    will be found to closely approximate. The bearing and distance of
    the Candelaria Shoals from the west end of Malaita (as given by
    Gallego on p. 205) and from Estrella Harbour (as given on p. 202) go
    to support my view that the Candelaria Shoals of Gallego and the
    Ontong Java of Tasman are one and the same.

    [401] _Vide_ Note V. of Geographical Appendix.


NOTE V.

    THE LATITUDES OF GALLEGO IN THE SOLOMON GROUP.--On making fourteen
    comparisons of the latitudes obtained by Gallego with the latitudes
    of the same places in the most recent Admiralty charts, places about
    which there can be no doubt as to their identity, I find that all
    but two are in excess of the true latitude. The excess varies
    between 11′ and 1° 7′ (about); and since seven of the twelve
    latitudes vary between 38′ and 46′ in excess, we may take 40′ _plus_
    as about the probable and average prevailing error of Gallego’s
    observations of latitude in this group. A constant error points to
    some constant defect of observation; whether it may be instrumental
    or otherwise, I must leave to the judgment of my nautical readers.
    . . . . It may be inferred from his journal that Gallego did not
    endeavour to make his latitudes by observation accord with his
    bearings, as they are so often at variance. This circumstance should
    be borne in mind in order to explain the discrepancies that occur.


NOTE VI. (Page 206.)

    THE ISLE OF RAMOS AND THE ISLAND OF MALAITA.--On referring to the
    account of Figueroa in the original Spanish, I find that, like
    Gallego, he applies the name of Ramos to Malaita. Pingré, who
    published a translation of Figueroa’s account in 1767 at Paris,[402]
    associates the two names together. Dalrymple[403] in his
    translation, published in 1770, laid the ground for future
    misconception, by so pointing the sentence that the name of Ramos
    might be taken as intended for one of the “two islets” in the middle
    of the passage between Malaita and Isabel. Fleurieu,[404] in his
    translation of Figueroa published in Paris in 1790, applies the name
    of Ramos to Malaita. Burney,[405] in his version (1803), apparently
    applies this name to one of the islets above referred to. The
    authority of Dalrymple and Burney would appear to supply an
    explanation of the circumstance that in the present Admiralty charts
    this name of Ramos is applied to an islet between Malaita and
    Isabel; but Dalrymple’s version is susceptible of two meanings, and
    may be urged with equal justice on either side. Gallego and Figueroa
    both apply the two names to the same island; so that circumstance
    alone is sufficient to justify the restoration to Malaita of the
    Spanish name of “The Isle of Ramos.” The original cause of the
    mistake is to be attributed to the first discoverers, who gave their
    own name and were not content with the native name. Herrera[406] has
    fallen into the opposite error, since, in distinguishing between
    Malaita and Ramos, he gives the latter a circuit of 200 leagues.

    [402] “Mémoire sur le choix et l’état des lieux où le passage de
    Vénus du 3 Juin, 1769.” (Paris, 1767.)

    [403] “Hist. Coll. of Voy. and Discov.,” London, 1770.

    [404] “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769.”

    [405] “Chronol. Hist. Voy and Discov.,” vol. i.

    [406] “Descripcion de las Indias Occidentales.”


NOTE VII. (Pages 207-209.)

    THE ISLANDS BETWEEN CAPE PRIETO AND GUADALCANAR.--These islands
    which occupied the attention of Fleurieu and Burney, and excited the
    curiosity of Dentrecasteaux, and which D’Urville had intended to
    have completely explored, have long baffled the efforts of
    geographical writers, who have endeavoured to identify them with the
    islands mentioned by Figueroa in his brief account of Mendana’s
    discoveries in this region. His description is evidently derived
    from that of Gallego, of which it is but an imperfect and erroneous
    extract: and I will therefore disregard it. The island of Galera is
    apparently a small island, not named in the present chart, which
    lies close to the north-west coast of Buena Vista. The neighbouring
    large island, a league distant, to which Gallego only applies the
    native name of Pela,[407] is, as I apprehend, the Buena Vista of the
    present chart: the Buena Vista of the Spaniards is apparently an
    island, not named in the chart, which lies west of the present
    Sandfly Passage. The remaining four of the five islands may be in
    the future identified with the incompletely surveyed intersected
    mass of land to which the general name of Florida is applied in the
    present chart. The island of Sesarga is without doubt the volcanic
    island of Savo: but I must refer the reader elsewhere for further
    information on this subject of Sesarga.[408]

    [407] At the present day the whole of the Florida sub-group is known
    to the natives as Gela. (Codrington’s “Melanesian Languages,” p.
    522.)

    [408] The evidence is given in my volume of Geological
    Observations.


NOTE VIII. (Page 220.)

    THE EXCESSIVE DIMENSIONS OF GUADALCANAR.--How could such
    misconceptions have arisen? They are totally inconsistent with the
    rest of the journal; and to such statements must be attributed the
    exaggerated reports which long prevailed with reference to the size
    of this island. The lengths of the islands of Isabel, Malaita, and
    St. Christoval, as given by Gallego, are greatly overstated; in the
    case of the two former islands they are at least double the true
    dimensions, and they completely disagree with the latitudes and
    bearing, which are noted in the journal.


NOTE IX. (Page 233.)

    THE CONSULTATION AS TO THE FUTURE COURSE OF THE EXPEDITION.--The
    ignorance in which Mendana seems to have kept his officers with
    regard to the character of his instructions considerably hampered
    the captains and pilots in their consultation. We learn subsequently
    (page 237) that it was originally intended to prosecute the voyage
    westward in order to explore the extensive lands that lay in that
    direction. However, the protest made by the crews seems to have
    caused a change of plans. They were to steer northward for the Isle
    of Jesus, where Gallego apparently expected to find more land, as
    they provided themselves with natives as interpreters (page 233)
    before quitting the group. This northerly course found favour, when
    Gallego pointed out that it was on the track of their return voyage.


NOTE X. (Page 234.)

    ISLANDS IN THE SOLOMON GROUP WHICH DO NOT AT PRESENT BEAR THE NAMES
    GIVEN TO THEM BY THE SPANIARDS:--

  Present name.               Spanish name.

  Ugi                         San Juan
  Three Sisters               Las Tres Marias
  Ulaua (Contrarieté)         La Treguada
  Malaita                     Ramos (Isle of)
  Savo                        Sesarga
  Ontong Java                 Candelaria Shoals
  Choiseul                    San Marcos
  New Georgia (?)           { San Nicolas
                            { Arracises (Reefs).


NOTE XI. (Page 237.)

    INIGO ORTEZ DE RETES AND BERNARDO DE LA TORRE.--We learn from
    Galvano’s “Discoveries of the World,”[409] that in 1545 Captain
    Inigo Ortez de Rotha was dispatched from Tidore to New Spain. He
    sailed to the coast of Papua, and not knowing that Saavedra had
    discovered it in 1528, he assumed the honour of the discovery. Mr.
    Coutts Trotter in a recent article[410] refers to him as Ortiz de
    Retez or Roda, and he informs us elsewhere[411] that Antonio de
    Abreu was probably the first discoverer of New Guinea in 1511.
    According to Galvano (page 234), a Spanish officer named Bernaldo de
    la Torre started from the Philippines in 1543, on a voyage to New
    Spain.

    [409] Hakluyt Society’s Publication, 1862, p. 238.

    [410] Encyclopædia Britannica (Article on “New Guinea.”)

    [411] Proceedings, Royal Geographical Society, 1884, p. 196.


NOTE XII. (Page 238.)

    THE ISLANDS OF SAN BARTOLOMEO.--The Musquillo Islands of the
    Marshall Group, with which I have identified this discovery of the
    Spaniards, were thus named by Captain Bond in 1792.[412] They form a
    double atoll about 38 miles in length and trending N.W. and S.E.
    The N.W. end is in latitude 8° 10′ N., and the S.E. end is in
    latitude 7° 46′ N. Captain Bond ranged along the coasts of above 20
    small islands. At the N.W. end and isolated from the rest are two
    small islands about three miles apart. On comparing this description
    with that given by Gallego, the reader will have little doubt as to
    the identity of the Musquillo Islands with the Spanish discovery. It
    is probable that Gallego considered this discovery to be near the
    position of an island discovered in 1536 in 14° N lat. by Toribio
    Alonzo de Salazar,[413] 328 Spanish leagues from the Mariana
    Islands, and named by him San Bartolomeo. This discovery of Salazar
    is marked in Krusenstern’s General Atlas of the Pacific.

    [412] Purdy’s “Oriental Navigator,” p. 689.

    [413] Krusenstern’s “Mémoires Hydrographiques,” St. Petersburgh,
    1827: Part II, p. 49.


NOTE XIII. (Page 239.)

    THE ISLE OF SAN FRANCISCO.--Wake’s Island, with which I have
    identified the Isle of San Francisco, was discovered in 1796 by the
    “Prince William Henry.” Commodore Wilkes, who fixed its position in
    1840 (lat. 19° 10′ 54″ N.; long 166° 31′ 30″ E. of G), thus
    describes it. “Wake’s Island is a low coral one, of triangular form
    and eight feet above the surface. It has a large lagoon in the
    centre, which was well filled with fish of a variety of species;
    amongst these were some fine mullet. There is no fresh water on the
    island, and neither pandanus nor cocoa-nut tree. It has upon it the
    shrubs, which are usually found on the low Islands of the Pacific,
    the most abundant of which was Tournefortia. The short-tailed
    albatross is found here; birds quite tame though not as numerous as
    in other uninhabited islands. The appearance of the coral blocks and
    vegetation leads to this conclusion that the island is at times
    submerged or that at times the sea makes a complete breach over
    it.”[414] Wake’s Island is about the size of the island described by
    Gallego. Its latitude, its isolated position, and the close
    agreement of Wilkes’ description with that of Gallego, leave no room
    to doubt that Wake’s Island and the Isle of San Francisco are one
    and the same . . . Burney refers to a small island named San
    Francisco which is placed in the chart of the Galleon in Anson’s
    voyage in lat. 19½ north and 84° east of the Strait of San
    Bernardino; but he adds that it is too far to the east to be
    identified with the island discovered by Mendana.[415]

    [414] “Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition,” vol V.
    p. 267.

    [415] “Chronol. History of Voy. and Disc.” vol I. p. 291.


NOTE XIV. (Page 251.)

    THE LIST OF ISLANDS IN THE VICINITY OF TAUMACO WHICH WAS OBTAINED BY
    QUIROS IN 1606 FROM ONE OF THE NATIVES.--They are as follows,
    Chicayana, Guantopo, or Guaytopo, Taucalo, Pilen, Nupan, Pupam,
    Fonfono or Fonofono, Mecaraylay, Manicolo, Tucopia, Pouro. More than
    half of these islands can be identified with certainty, even after
    an interval of nearly three centuries.

    Chicayana may be without a doubt identified with Sikyana or
    Sikai-ana, the present native name of the Stewart Isles which lie
    about 250 miles to the north-west of Taumaco, or as the Taumaco
    people reckoned, four days’ sail in their large canoes. In fact, the
    native from whom Quiros obtained his information was originally from
    Chicayana, having been carried by contrary winds to Taumaco whilst
    endeavouring with a number of his fellow-islanders to reach the
    island of Mecaraylay. The Chicayana natives were described to Quiros
    as being very fair with long loose _red_ hair, some, however, being
    darker like mulattoes, but with hair neither curled nor quite
    straight. They possess much the same characters at the present
    day.[416]

    [416] These islands, as far as is known, were not visited by
    Europeans until nearly two centuries after the visit of Quiros, when
    Captain Hunter came upon them in 1791.

    Guaytopo or Guantopo was a larger island than those of Taumaco and
    Chicayana. Since it is placed three days’ sail (native reckoning)
    from Taumaco and two days from Chicayana, it may have been one of
    the eastern islands of the Solomon Group. The inhabitants were said
    to have skins as fair as Europeans and red or black hair. They
    punctured their bellies in a pattern of a circle around the navel;
    and painted their bodies red down to the waist. The women were very
    handsome and were clothed with some light material from head to
    foot. The natives of Guaytopo, Taumaco, and Chicayana, were on very
    friendly terms and spoke the same language.

    The islands of Pilen and Nupan are evidently the Pileni and Nupani
    of the adjacent Matema or Swallow Islands, which lie to the
    northward of the large island of Santa Cruz. Fonofono or Fonfono,
    which is stated to lie near Pilen and Nupan, may perhaps be the
    Lomlom of the same small group. It was described to Quiros as being
    “many islands, small and flat,” with a good port. The inhabitants
    were said to be dun-coloured, and very tall.

    Tucopia was subsequently visited by the Spanish navigator. In later
    times it has obtained a melancholy interest in connection with the
    fate of La Pérouse. Mécaraylay is apparently in the vicinity of
    Guaytopo, but possessing a different language, its inhabitants being
    noted for the use of tortoise-shell ornaments. Its name suggests
    that of Makira, on the south coast of St. Christoval, in the
    neighbouring Solomon Group. Taucalo may perhaps be the volcanic
    island of Tinakula lying off the north coast of Santa Cruz Island.
    It is stated to be near Taumaco.

    The “large country” called Manicolo is to be identified with the
    adjacent large island, named Vanikoro in the present Admiralty
    charts, which lies about 100 miles to the southward of Taumaco. It
    is referred by Captain Cook[417] to the Mallicolo of the New
    Hebrides, lying 4° further south, which he visited in 1774; but this
    view cannot be sustained. In the first place, it is stated to lie
    two days’ sail from Tucopia. The following evidence, however, is
    sufficient of itself to settle the point. When Captain Dillon[418]
    was on his way to Vanikoro in 1827, to ascertain the fate of La
    Pérouse, he learned from the natives of the neighbouring island of
    Tucopia that the island he was going to was called _Malicolo_: but
    he subsequently ascertained on visiting the island in question, that
    it should be more correctly called _Mannicolo_ or _Vannicolo_. In
    his chart of the island, Captain Dillon calls it Mannicolo. The
    resemblance in name between these two islands in the New Hebrides,
    and Santa Cruz Groups has been a frequent cause of misconception in
    references to the narratives of the early navigators.

    [417] “Voyage towards the South Pole and round the World,” vol. II.,
    p. 146.

    [418] “Discovery of the fate of La Pérouse,” London, 1829: vol. I.,
    p. 33.


NOTE XV. (Pages 100, 251.)

    THE POURO OF QUIROS.--A native of Chicayana, whom Quiros had
    captured at Taumaco, told the Spanish navigator that there dwelt in
    Taumaco “an Indian, a great pilot,” who had brought from “a large
    country, named Pouro,” certain arrows, with points, in the form of a
    knife, which, from the native’s description, Quiros concluded were
    of silver. Pouro, he learned, was very populous, and its inhabitants
    were dun-complexioned.

    When I first came upon this reference to Pouro, I at once recognised
    it as an allusion to the Bauro (St. Christoval) of the Solomon
    Group, lying rather less than 300 miles to the westward of Taumaco.
    Mr. Hale,[419] the philologist of the United States Exploring
    Expedition, under Commodore Wilkes, endeavours to identify the Pouro
    of the Taumaco natives with the Bouro in the Malay Archipelago, an
    island lying more than 2,000 miles further westward: and he refers
    to the circumstance of the silver arrows that were brought to
    Taumaco as supporting his view. Regarding Bouro as the island
    referred to in the traditions of the Fijians, Tongans, and Samoans,
    relating to the origin of their race, Mr. Hale finds in the Pouro of
    the Taumaco natives an allusion to this sacred island, and in the
    circumstance of the silver arrows he finds evidence of communication
    between these two regions. There can, however, be little doubt that
    by this Pouro the Bauro of the Solomon Group was meant. The presence
    of the silver arrows may be easily explained, when we remember that
    about forty years before, the Spaniards were exploring this island
    of Bauro, or Paubro as Gallego gives it (page 229).

    [419] “Ethnography and Philology of the U. S. Exploring Expedition,”
    p. 195.


NOTE XVI.

    THE EDDYSTONE ROCK AND THE SIMBOO OF LIEUTENANT SHORTLAND.--For a
    considerable time after the re-discovery of the Solomon Islands by
    the French and English navigators, few islands were better known in
    the group than Eddystone or Simbo Island. In thus naming this
    island, however, there has been a singular misconception; and since
    the name of Simbo has been omitted in the latest Admiralty chart
    (August, 1884) of the group, some explanatory remarks may be of
    interest.

    In August, 1788, Lieutenant Shortland,[420] whilst sailing along the
    south coasts of the Solomon Group on his voyage from Port Jackson to
    England _via_ Batavia, approached “a rock which had exactly the
    appearance of a ship under sail, with her top-gallant sails flying;”
    and so striking was the resemblance that a signal was made to the
    supposed vessel. The ships did not approach within three or four
    miles of this rock. It was named the Eddystone and was placed in
    lat. 8° 12′ S., bearing S.S.W. a league from two remarkable hills
    which were named the Two Brothers. A point running south from these
    two hills was named Cape Satisfaction. Whilst the English ships were
    off the Eddystone, some natives came to them in their canoes, from
    whom Shortland learned that they had come from “Simboo,” a place
    which lay, as they indicated by their gestures, near Cape
    Satisfaction. In the chart of his discoveries, this officer assigns
    this name to some land lying east of the Two Brothers near the
    position of the island at present called Gizo, but it is evident
    both from his chart and from his narrative that he considered Simboo
    as the general name for the land to the east of Cape Satisfaction;
    and Fleurieu, when remarking on his discoveries, made the suggestion
    that the Simboo of Shortland might prove to be the Choiseul of
    Bougainville.[421]

    [420] The narrative of Lieut. Shortland’s voyage is given in “The
    Voyage of Governor Phillip to Botany Bay in 1787”: London, 1789.

    [421] “Discoveries of the French, 1768-1769, to the S.E. of New
    Guinea:” London, 1791, p. 196.

    In what manner, we may now inquire, have the discoveries of
    Shortland been identified with the islands that are laid down in the
    latest charts of this group? For half a century and more the name of
    Eddystone has been attached, not to a rock such as that to which it
    was originally given, but to the adjacent volcanic island about four
    miles in length and about 1100 feet in height; and the name of Cape
    Satisfaction has been given to the south end of Ronongo which lies
    ten miles N.N.E. of Eddystone Island. This cape is stated by
    Shortland to run south from the two remarkable hills which he named
    the Two Brothers. The island of Ronongo, however, has a long and
    level summit destitute of peaks; and it is evident that we must look
    elsewhere for the Cape Satisfaction of Shortland. In Eddystone
    Island, there are two singular conical hills which might very fitly
    have been named the Two Brothers, and it will be seen from the
    sequel that it must have been to the south extremity of this island
    that the name of Cape Satisfaction was in the first place given. I
    shall also point out that the original Eddystone rock is represented
    at the present day by a bare rock which rises out of the sea at a
    distance of about a third of a mile from the south-west coast of
    Eddystone Island, and that the Simboo, from which the natives came
    to visit Shortland, was a diminutive island on the opposite or
    south-east side of this same island.

    When, in July 1792, the French expedition under Dentrecasteaux
    arrived in this locality, the Eddystone rock was at once recognised
    by the description of Shortland. . . . “nous aperçûmes”--thus wrote
    Labillardière[422] the naturalist of the expedition--“le rocher
    nommé Eddystone. De loin nous le prîmes, comme Shortland, pour un
    vaisseau à la voile. L’illusion étoit d’autant plus grande, qu’il a
    à peu près la couleur des voiles d’un vaisseau; quelques arbustes en
    couronnoient la sommite.” In the Atlas of this voyage (carte 24),
    this rock is placed off the south-west end of the island at present
    named Eddystone Island, and exactly in the position of the bare rock
    above alluded to, which will be found marked in the plan of this
    island made by the surveying officers of H.M.S. “Lark” in 1882.
    Lieutenant Malan tells me that this rock at the time of the survey
    was quite bare of vegetation. It rises in two conical masses from
    the water between which a boat can pass in calm weather. Although it
    has a height of 30 feet, it is frequently washed over by the heavier
    seas. The change in the appearance of this rock, since the visit of
    Dentrecasteaux in 1792 when its summit was crowned with shrubs, has
    been probably due to a movement of subsidence which has affected the
    adjacent coast of Eddystone Island in recent years (_vide below_).
    To such a change must be attributed the confusion which has arisen
    with reference to the Eddystone rock; and cartographers, failing to
    identify it, have applied its name to the adjacent volcanic island
    on which they have also bestowed the name of Simbo. During his
    survey of this island in 1882, Lieutenant Oldham ascertained that
    this name of Simbo actually belonged to a small island bordering its
    south-east coast with which it was connected by coral reefs. The
    true native name of Eddystone Island, he found to be Narovo, and in
    the latest Admiralty charts it is thus designated; the name of Simbo
    is there attached to the small adjacent island which is, I have no
    doubt, the Simboo from which the natives came, who visited
    Shortland’s ships in 1788 as they lay off the Eddystone rock. At the
    present day the larger island of Narovo is but thinly populated, and
    its inhabitants are under the sway of a powerful chief who resides
    on the small island of Simbo. There he rules over a warlike and
    adventurous people who by their head-hunting raids have established
    the fame of their diminutive island throughout a large portion of
    the Solomon Group.

    [422] “Voyage à la recherche De la Pérouse,” par Labillardière:
    Paris, 1800: tom i, p. 215.

       *       *       *       *       *

    [In my volume of Geological Observations I have described the
    movement of subsidence, to which is due the confusion concerning the
    original Eddystone rock].




CHAPTER XIII.

BOTANICAL NOTES IN BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS.


MY botanical collections were made during 1884 in the islands of
Bougainville Straits; and in order to add to the completeness of this
section of my work, I will briefly refer to the physical character of
this locality. The principal islands of this sub-group are Treasury
Island, the Shortland Islands, and Faro, or Fauro, Island; whilst around
these lie numerous smaller islands and islets. The largest is not more
than twelve miles in length, and none of them attain an elevation
exceeding 2000 feet, Faro being about 1900 feet, Treasury about 1100,
and Alu, the principal of the Shortland Islands, about 500 feet. In
geological character they differ widely, Treasury being, for the most
part, of recent calcareous formations, Faro of volcanic formations,
whilst Alu is formed of rocks of both these classes. Of the numerous
smaller islands and islets which dot these straits, some are of
volcanic, and others of coral rocks.

In my botanical excursions in these islands, I received the greatest
assistance from the natives; and I was particularly struck with the
familiar knowledge of their trees and plants which these islanders
possessed. They have names for not only nearly all the trees, but for
several of the grasses; and, in the case of the former, when I was
uncertain as to whether I had come upon any specimen before, they would
obtain its flower, or fruit, or foliage, and point out to me its
comparative characters. The superior knowledge, which these natives
possess of each plant and its uses, has often led me to reflect on the
meagre acquaintance with the commonest trees, shrubs, and herbs, which
the ordinary white man can claim. Had my native companions asked me to
instruct them in a similar manner on the vegetation of an English
woodland--if such a rapid change of scene were possible--they would
probably have regarded me as a very ignorant and unobservant fellow.
They have names for and display a familiarity with many plants that can
be of no service to them, a somewhat puzzling circumstance, which may be
perhaps explained by their employing instinctively a method of exclusion
in the selection of those plants that are of service to them. For the
building of his house, the cultivation of his ground, the construction
of his canoe, the manufacture of his spears, clubs, and other weapons,
and for his many other wants, the native has to resort to the vegetable
kingdom for the requisite materials. An extensive acquaintance with the
vegetation of his island-home is unconsciously acquired by a native who
has himself to provide for all his necessities: but his knowledge
extends far beyond that limit which mere utility would appear to demand.
In a paper published recently in an American serial,[423] Mr. Matthews
combated the notion that savages are versed only in the knowledge of
plants and animals that contribute to their wants. He found that the
Indians are incomparably superior to the average white man, or to the
white man who has not made zoology or botany a subject of study. In this
respect, his experience accords with my own. The native of the Solomon
Islands will point out by name, in some remote inland dell, an
insignificant plant, which, he says, is of no service to him: he names
all the weeds of his cultivated patches; and he is similarly acquainted
with all the wild fruits, usually distinguishing them by their edible or
injurious qualities. Yet, in arriving at such a conclusion, it behoves
one to be wary, as I have sometimes found that the native applies the
name of a useful plant to all other useless plants (usually of the same
genus or family) that resemble it in their more conspicuous characters.
Then, again, I have often been surprised at the singular holes and
corners in the vegetable world which the native ransacks to supply his
wants. A fern that clothes the higher slopes of Faro Island, and which
is known to the natives as “sinimi,” and to the botanist as a species of
_Gleichenia_, furnishes the material for their plaited armlets. For this
purpose they employ narrow strips of the vascular tissue that forms the
firm central portion of the stem. I had previously looked upon this fern
as of little use to these islanders, and on learning of the ingenious
purpose for which it was employed, I became very careful in the future
when pronouncing on the utility or inutility of any familiar plant.

    [423] “Bulletin of the Philosophical Society of Washington,” Vol.
    VII.

With these preliminary remarks, I will proceed to describe the general
characters of the vegetation of these islands; and, in order to connect
my observations together, I will treat of them in the form of a series
of excursions made in different districts.

_An ascent of one of the larger streams in the Shortland Islands._--In
the lower part of its course, the stream follows a circuitous course
amidst the gloom and dismal surroundings of a mangrove swamp. It is
difficult to convey in words a true idea of such a scene. The features
most imprinted on my memory are those of “a slow and silent stream” of
dark turbid water, traversing a swamp of black, repulsive-looking mud,
in which the crocodile finds a congenial home. The light of day is
subdued into a depressing gloom by the foliage of the mangrove forest:
the air, charged with the miasma of decaying vegetable life, is
impregnated with a sour, unpleasant odour; and the silence that prevails
is interrupted only by the fall of a branch, or by the startled cry of
some wading-bird disturbed in its haunt. Nipa palms line the banks in
places, and occasionally occupy the swamp for some distance on either
side of the stream. Overhead, perched high upon the branches of the tall
mangroves, occur the two singular epiphytes, _Hydnophytum_ and
_Myrmecodia_, both of which have been found to be species new to science
(_H. Guppyanum_, Becc.; _M. salomonensis_, Becc.). From the following
remarks, my readers will be able to observe the peculiar features of
these interesting rubiaceous plants. The large swollen base of the stem,
sometimes eighteen inches in length, is occupied by cavities which are
usually infested by ants that actively resent any attempts to carry off
their home. It has been considered that this swollen mass and its
chambers are due to the irritation produced by the ants gnawing at the
base of the young growing stem, and that the plant cannot thrive without
the ants; but from observations made by Mr. H. O. Forbes,[424] in Java,
on the origin of “this curious-galleried structure” in a species of
_Myrmecodia_, it would seem that this swollen mass and its chambers are
produced without the presence of ants, and that in their absence the
plant may thrive vigorously. Not unfrequently, I found the ants in
scanty numbers, and sometimes they were absent altogether. In the case
of _Myrmecodia salomonensis_, and _Hydnophytum inerme_,[425] they are
found in considerable numbers. The chambers of _H. Guppyanum_ are
usually nearly full of dirty rain-water, and contain scarcely any ants,
a few cockroaches being generally found in the cavities. Those specimens
which I examined of another species of this genus (_H. longistylum_,
Becc.), that occurs on the coast trees, contained a few cockroaches, but
no ants; and, on the outer surface of one of the swollen masses, I found
a small crab. From my own cursory notes, it would therefore seem
probable that these epiphytes may thrive without the presence of ants.
. . . . With this digression, I return to my description of the ascent
of the stream.

    [424] “A Naturalist’s Wanderings in the Eastern Archipelago,” p. 81.
    (1885.)

    [425] This species was obtained at Ugi.

Leaving behind the slime and gloom of the swamp, the rising ground is
reached, at the base of which the vegetation is of the most luxuriant
character, and often have I lingered here in my Rob Roy canoe to admire
the luxuriance of plant-growth that surrounded me. For on account of the
lowness of the district, it shares the dampness though not the
infertility of the swamps below. The soft clayey rock, which is exposed
in the banks of the stream, affords a rich and even too productive soil.
Nature runs riot and becomes prodigal in her profusion; and thus growth
is too often associated with decay to present on all occasions a
pleasing picture to the eye. Here the tree-fern, the croton, the wild
plantain, and numerous areca palms flourish; but the alpinias,
heliconias, and other scitamineous plants form the chief feature of the
vegetation on this gently rising ground.

Higher up the stream, tall forest trees rise on each side often
enveloped partially by a drapery of runners and climbing plants, their
leafy branches spreading over the water. Stout lianas hang in festoons
across the stream. Partly hidden amongst the greater vegetation may be
seen the fan-palm of the district (_Licuala_, the “firo” of the
natives), and another pretty little palm known as the “sensisi,”
_Cyrtostachys_, together with the handsome foliage of a _Plerandra_
(“fo”) and numerous areca palms. An occasional _Dolicholobium_
(“lowasi”) with white flowers distributes its fragrance around. Ferns
abound along the banks, varying in size from the small _Trichomanes_ to
the tree-fern, twenty feet in height, and the _Angiopteris_ with its
magnificent spreading fronds fifteen feet and more in length. If one
leaves the stream for a few minutes at the foot of the hills, a moist,
low-lying district is traversed, the home of the scitamineæ and the
areca-palms, which latter are distinguished amongst the natives as the
“momo,” “niga-solu,” “niga-torulo,” and “au-au.”

Ascending the hill slopes towards the source of the stream, numerous
palms rise up on either side. The _Caryota_ (“eala”) with its branches
resembling the fronds of a huge adiantum, the handsome “kisu” (probably
a species of _Drymophloeus_) and a tall areca known as the “poamau,” are
those which frequently meet the eye. Interspersed among them we notice
the lesser areca-palms and the fan-palm before alluded to. On the crest
of the hill, at a height of some 200 or 300 feet above the sea, are
found tall forest trees, some of them of gigantic size and attaining a
height of 150 feet and upwards. Amongst them occur the banyan (“chim”),
other ficoid trees with the flange-like buttresses, and the “katari,” a
species of _Calophyllum_ which supplies the natives with a resin for
their torches. In the following description of the interior of the
forest in this region I have referred at some length to the larger
trees.

_The interior of the forest. . . ._ To obtain a true idea of the
forest-growth in these islands, it is necessary to traverse one of the
more level districts in the interior, which is removed from the vicinity
of the cultivated patches of the natives. Entering the confines of the
forest direct from the full glare of the tropical sun, one experiences a
peculiar and often oppressive sensation, which may be attributed to the
combined influences of the warmth, the humidity, and the effluvia
arising from the decaying vegetation, to the impressive silence that
reigns, and to the subdued light or dusky atmosphere that there
prevails. Meeting overhead at a height of some 150 feet from the ground,
the foliage and the smaller branches of the lofty trees form a dense
leafy screen roofing over, as it were, a series of lofty corridors in
which the palms and the lesser trees flourish. The gloom that there
prevails is rarely lightened by the direct rays of the sun, except here
and there through the gap left by the downfall of one of the huge trunks
that now lies rotting on the ground. Nor is the silence that reigns
often broken, except by the cooing of the fruit-pigeons overhead or by
the rushing flight of the hornbill startled from its repose. Here the
steady blast of the trade is no longer felt and is only perceptible in
the movements of the foliage of the tallest trees. Yet there is little
in such a scene that would strike the mind of the merely æsthetic lover
of nature. Flowers he rarely sees: they are only to be found where the
sunlight can reach them in the partially cleared spaces in the midst of
the forest, or on the sides of ravines, or along the coasts. On the
other hand, however, he cannot fail to be impressed by the luxuriance
and magnificence of the vegetation in this conservatory of Nature.

Under such conditions the palms flourish. The _Caryota_, the “kisu”
palm, numerous areca-palms, with the tree-fern, give the character to
the lesser vegetation. Huge climbing stems, such as the “droau,” the
“aligesi” (_Aleurites?_), the “nakia” (_Uvaria_), the “awi-sulu”
(_Lyonsia_) lie in coils on the ground and rising vertically reach the
lower branches of the trees some fifty to a hundred feet overhead. The
large purple papilionaceous flowers of the “droau” sometimes strew the
ground at the bases of the tallest trees. If the forest be situated on a
hill-side, the slope is clothed by _Selaginellæ_ which often display in
the midst of their dark-green foliage pretty bleached fronds that form a
striking contrast to the prevailing hue. Mosses, small ferns, and fungi,
such as the massive expansions of _Polyporus_ and the more delicate
plates of _Hexagona apiaria_ and others, conceal in some degree the
unsightliness of the decaying log. A drapery of lycopods and of trailing
and climbing ferns, such as _Trichomanes_ and _Lygonia_ more or less
completely invests the lower portions of the trunks of the larger trees.
Seventy or eighty feet overhead the wide-spreading fronds of the
birds-nest fern (_Asplenium nidus_) appear half-suspended in mid-air, as
they project from their point of attachment to the tree. Lower down the
trunk, the handsome aroid _Epipremnum_ may be observed. Epiphytic
orchids form no marked feature in this forest-scene, preferring, as they
do, those situations where the direct sunlight can reach them, as at the
coast and on the sides of ravines. Terrestrial orchids, however, with
inconspicuous and sombre-coloured flowers thrive in the gloom and
moisture of the forest.

The larger trees, to which I have not yet referred, often attain a
height of 150 feet and over. Here the banyan and more than one species
of _Canarium_ including the “ka-i” or Solomon Island Almond tree,
together with a _Ratonia_ (“nekale”), a _Vitex_ (“fasala”), the “katari”
(_Calophyllum_) before mentioned, and numerous ficoid trees known to the
natives as the “uri,” the “ilimo,” and the “nie,” figure amongst the
more conspicuous of the forest trees. Many of them possess at the base
of the trunk large buttresses or flanges, which, as in the “tobu,”
“ilimo,” “nie,” and “maranato” (_Sapotacea?_), may rise twelve to
fifteen feet up the trunk and extend some twenty feet away along the
ground. Some of the ficoid trees throw off at a height of from twenty to
thirty feet, large flange-like buttresses, which, on reaching the
ground, form natural arches. These lofty trees, as I have already
remarked, meet together overhead to form a leafy screen, which, whilst
it excludes the direct rays of the sun, admits and confines both the
moisture and the heat. This conservatory of nature contains within its
own precincts the conditions for its preservation. Here the young tree
grows up, its safety ensured, until at length it becomes a pillar in the
edifice in which it was itself reared. The open character of the wood
and the absence of scrub and undergrowth, more especially on level
ground, have often been a cause of surprise to me. I have often walked
without impediment through the gloomy corridors of such a forest,
brushing past the huge trunks of the tallest trees, and winding in and
out amongst the palms that number as many years in age as their giant
compeers count decades.

On first treading in such a forest, the visitor is much impressed by the
imposing appearance and size of the banyans and the buttress-trees. With
mingled feelings of awe and pity he will perceive that between these
monarchs of the forest there is waged an unequal struggle, in which the
huge buttress-tree always succumbs to the rough embraces of its foe. He
will observe all the stages in the struggle. Here the buttress-tree may
be seen in its prime, but in part embraced at its lower part by the
tightly clasping offshoots of the young banyan. Further on, in the midst
of the interlacing columns of the banyan, the buttress-tree may be seen
partially strangled. Dry rot has attacked its trunk reaching almost to
the core, so that a sheath-knife sinks readily up to the handle in its
substance; yet, far overhead the wide-spreading branches of this forest
potentate are covered with green foliage, and still wave defiantly in
the trade. In the prolonged contest the buttress-tree is dying hard, and
in fact it is the stout investing trunks of the banyan that alone hold
its victim erect. Near by may be another banyan of larger size and
presenting the appearance of a maze of columns which may cover an area
thirty to forty feet across. Its victim has long since disappeared, and
a hollow in the centre of the maze of stems alone marks the former
situation of the huge buttress-tree.

What finer or more impressive simile could be employed to illustrate the
gradual degeneration and final downfall of a nation under the choking
influences of vice, corruption, luxury, and misgovernment? A mighty
forest tree is slowly strangled by the caresses of an insidious creeper.
With advancing decay its tottering stem is alone supported by the
tightening grasp of its foe. Yet its higher branches retain their
vitality to the last; and when the end comes, its ashes add fertility to
the soil and vigour to the growth of its destroyer.

It is not to be surprised that this battle of the trees should be
included in the mythical lore of some of the inhabitants of the Pacific
islands. Dr. George Turner, in his recent work entitled “Samoa, a
hundred years ago and long before,” gives the following legend of the
banyan. . . . . . “A report reached Samoa that the trees of Fiji had
fought with the Banian tree, and that it had beaten them all. On this
the Tatangia (_Acacia laurifolia_) and another tree went off from Samoa
in two canoes to right the Fijian champion. They reached Fiji, went on
shore, and there stood the Banian tree. ‘Where is the tree,’ they
inquired, ‘which has conquered all the trees?’ ‘I am the tree,’ said the
Banian. Then said the Tatangia, ‘I have come to fight with you.’ ‘Very
Good, let us fight,’ replied the Banian. They fought. A branch of the
Banian tree fell, but the Tatangia sprung aside and escaped. Another
fell--ditto, ditto--the Tatangia. Then the trunk fell. The Tatangia
again darted aside and escaped unhurt. On this the Banian tree ‘buried
its eyes in the earth’ and owned itself conquered.”

_An ascent to the summit of the Faro Island. . . ._ In making an ascent
to the higher districts of this island, which attains an elevation of
about 1900 feet above the sea, a little may be learned perhaps of the
vertical distribution of the coast flora in this portion of the Solomon
Group. The cycad (_Cycas circinalis_) grows most frequently just within
the trees that immediately line the beach and may be often observed at
all heights up to 400 feet above the sea, but it is not usually found at
greater elevations.[426] The following large trees commonly occur on the
hill-slopes up to an elevation of a thousand feet, the “fasala”
(_Vitex_), the “toa” (_Elæocarpus_), the “opi-opi,” the “ka-i”
(_Canarium_), the “katari” (_Calophyllum_), and others; whilst the palms
such as the fan-palm (_Licuala_), the _Caryota_ (“eala”), the “kisu”
(_Pinanga_) and the arecas, fill up the intermediate ground, the
fan-palm growing in great numbers and often monopolising the slope.[427]
The smaller trees, of a height usually of sixty or seventy feet, which
are more frequently observed during the lower half of the ascent, are, a
species of _Cerbera_ (“anumi”), the “kunuka” (_Gnetum_), the
“palinoromus” (_Couthovia_), the “poporoko,” and others; whilst on the
hill-slopes below the elevation of 500 feet the small conifer _Gnetum
Gnemon_ (“meriwa”) may be commonly seen. In three different localities,
at elevations of between 1,000 and 1,100 feet above the sea, I came upon
brakes of fine bamboos (_Schizostachyum?_) 35 to 40 feet in length which
are employed as fishing-poles by the natives. This bamboo, both in
Treasury and Faro Islands, does not appear to occur below this height;
whilst in the Shortland Islands, although found at a lower elevation, it
selects the higher regions of the island.

    [426] At Treasury Island I found a solitary cycad at a height of a
    thousand feet above the sea. As it was in the vicinity of a
    plantation of sago palms, it is probable that it had been planted by
    the natives who employ the fruits for medicinal purposes.

    [427] This fan-palm, the “firo” of the natives, was in 1884 only
    represented in Treasury by a single individual which had been
    brought a few years before from Bougainville, where the leaves are
    employed in making a conical hat that is commonly worn.

Above a thousand feet, many of the trees and palms so frequent below
become less common or disappear. The fan-palm (_Licuala_) which grows in
such numbers in the lower levels did not come under my notice above this
elevation. On account of the absence of large trees near the summit, the
lesser vegetation receives more of the sun’s rays; and thus at 1,600
feet above the sea the alpinias, such as the “vitoko” and the “kokuru”
re-appear, plants which usually abound in the lower levels in all open
situations, as on the banks of streams. For the same reason, we find
near the summit of the island at elevations of 1,600 to 1,700 feet the
tall composite shrub, _Wedelia biflora_, which is one of the commonest
of the plants that grow at the margin of the beach. On account of this
absence of large trees, and the consequent increased exposure to the
sun’s rays, the smaller trees with conspicuous flowers find a congenial
situation at this elevation: here are found the species of
_Dolicholobium_ (“lowasi”), which is common on the banks of the streams
in the lower levels, the _Fagræa Berteriana_ (“bubulata”) which grows
also at the coast, a wild nut-meg tree (_Myristica_), a species of
_Harpullia_ (“wawaupoko”), the “pakuri” (_Eugenia_), the “baimoloi” and
others. In these higher regions tree-ferns grow to a height of thirty
feet; and here the areca-palms, “momo” and “niga-torulo,” are also
found. Here flourishes the _Gleichenia_, a fern which does not usually
grow at elevations under 700 feet above the sea, and which is
represented by two common species: it is the “sinimi” of the natives
who, as I have already remarked, work the fine strips of its vascular
tissue into armlets which they commonly wear. Near the summit and all
down the slopes is found a species of _Begonia_, a genus, as I am
informed by Baron von Mueller, not before recorded from islands east of
New Guinea.[428] A dense growth of the trailing stems of a _Freycinetia_
and of ferns clothes the rocky sides of the highest peak, which is
almost bare of trees. Here however I found a new genus of the
_Pandanaceæ_, which, like some other pandanus trees, is known to the
natives as “sararang.” It grows to a height of fifty feet, and was only
observed by me on the highest peak of the island and for two or three
hundred feet below. It has a very conspicuous white “branching female
spadix,” three to four feet in length; and I learn from Professor Oliver
that the same or a near ally of it, though not in a condition to
describe, was collected by Signor Beccari in Jobi Island off the
north-west coast of New Guinea.

    [428] A species of _Ophiorrhiza_ is in Treasury Island usually
    associated with this _Begonia_ and is found at all elevations.

_The coast vegetation of the larger islands. . . ._ It is in the coasts
of such an island as Treasury or Faro Island, where the strictly
littoral and more inland plants become intermingled, that the Solomon
Island vegetation in some degree redeems its character. Here the
prevailing sombreness and inconspicuous inflorescences give place to
bright hues and to a variety of flowers. Here are seen the handsome
white flowers of a rubiaceous tree, a species of _Bikkia_; the yellowish
flowers and bright red fruits of _Harpullia capanioides_ (“koloa”); the
crimson flowers of an _Erythrina_ (perhaps _indica_); the yellow flowers
of _Cæsalpinia Nuga_; the large pods of _Pongamia glabra_; and the
fruits of a wild nutmeg (_Myristica_, sp.). _Hernandia peltata_ and
_Clerodendron inerme_ may also be here found. The conspicuous flowers of
_Hibiscus tiliaceus_, _Thespesia populnea_, and of other littoral trees
such as _Cerbera Odollam_ and _Guettarda speciosa_, add their brightness
to the scene. Amongst the foliage of the trees twine a species of
_Ipomœa_ with handsome white flowers, and here are seen the wax-like
flowers of more than one species of asclepiad (_Hoya_, sp). Orchids,
some of striking beauty, hang from the trunks of the trees and form a
conspicuous feature in the scene. Among them occur species of
_Dendrobium_, _Coelogyne_, _Cleisostoma_, etc.

_The littoral vegetation, as exhibited in a coral islet. . . ._ I will
take the case of one of the many wooded islets that have been formed on
the coral reefs by the action of the waves. On the weather side of such
an islet, which may be termed its growing edge, the vegetation is
scanty, and there are but few trees. A binding weed and more than one
species of _Ipomœa_ loosely cover a surface composed almost entirely of
calcareous sand, broken shells, coral debris, and pumice pebbles; and it
is on such an unproductive soil that two or more species of _Pandanus_
and _Casuarina angustifolia_ flourish. Here at the margin of the beach
may be seen in profusion the tall composite shrub, _Wedelia biflora_,
and another common shrub, _Scævola Kœnigii_. Two climbing peas prefer
the sandy soil in this situation, one with yellow flowers, _Vigna
lutea_, and the other with pink flowers, _Canavalia turgida_; whilst a
dense growth of _Flagellaria indica_ often conceals from view any rocky
slope overlooking the beach. Just within the line of vegetation
immediately bordering the beach, the following trees commonly occur,
_Ochrosia parviflora_ (“pokosola”), _Heritiera littoralis_ (“pipilusu”),
_Terminalia catappa_ (“saori”), _Cycas circinalis_, and one or more
species of _Pandanus_. Here also a species of _Crinum_ (the “papau” of
the natives) and the _Tacca pinnatifida_ (“mamago”) may be usually
found. (I hoped to have referred to the ferns of such a coral islet; but
my endeavours to obtain any information of my collection have been
unavailing).

On the lee side of such an islet, which is the oldest portion of its
surface, the vegetation is much denser and of a different character.
Here, the trees form a thick belt, their branches overhanging the rising
tide. Those of most frequent occurrence are, _Barringtonia speciosa_,
_Calophyllum inophyllum_, _Hibiscus tiliaceus_, _Thespesia populnea_,
_Guettarda speciosa_, _Morinda citrifolia_, _Cerbera Odollam_, _Pongamia
glabra_, _Tournefortia argentea_, and others. The trunks of the larger
trees often lean over the beach or lie partly procumbent on the sand.
Amongst the foliage of these coast trees, many of which have large
conspicuous flowers, climbing asclepiads of the genus _Hoya_ with their
equally conspicuous flowers may be frequently observed. Orchids, often
of considerable beauty, hang from the reclining trunks of the trees.
Here, as in the case of the coasts of the large islands, we perceive how
pleasant is the contrast which the littoral vegetation presents when
compared with the gloomy and apparently flowerless forests, where the
tallest trees possess but an inconspicuous greenish inflorescence.

In the interior of such a coral islet, huge banyans and other trees
having wide-spreading buttresses are to be found. Many of them attain a
height of 150 feet and upwards, and afford a home to numbers of
fruit-eating pigeons which largely subsist on their fruits, and through
whose agency the interiors of coral islets are stocked with these large
trees. Conspicuous amongst the trees is a species of _Canarium_ (the
“ka-i” of the natives), the disgorged nuts of which frequently strew the
ground beneath; a banyan (_Ficus_) with large oblong fruits and another
species with small spherical fruits; other ficoid trees with large
buttresses, such as the “uri”; a species of _Eugenia_, probably a
variety of _Eugenia jambos_; together with several other trees.

This description of the vegetation of a coral islet brings me to refer
to the manner in which such an islet, which is usually of very recent
origin, has become stocked with its plants: and in so doing I shall be
treating of a very important matter, _the oceanic dispersal of plants_.
Fortunately for me, my notes and collections relating to this subject
had an increased value at the time of my arrival in England, and in this
respect I have been able to accomplish one of the principal aims of a
young traveller, that of supplying trustworthy materials to those
engaged in the particular line of research to which his notes and
collections relate.[429]

    [429] Mr. Botting Hemsley was on the point of completing his report
    on the oceanic dispersal of plants in connection with the Botany of
    the “Challenger” Expedition. Such of my collections, as referred to
    his work, were placed at his disposal by Sir Joseph Hooker; and my
    notes were incorporated in volume I. of the Botany of the
    “Challenger” (Part III. p. 309), to which I must refer my readers
    who are more specially interested in this subject.

The picturesquely wooded islets of these seas have been stocked through
two principal agencies. Winds and currents drift to their shores the
fruits and seeds of the littoral trees which ultimately form the margin
of the vegetation; whilst the fruit pigeons disgorge the seeds or fruits
of those often colossal trees which occupy the interior.

I will first refer to the former of these agencies. Lines of vegetable
drift, intermingled with floating pumice, are frequently observable
whilst cruising among the islands of the Solomon Group. The floating
fruits commonly found belong to the most familiar littoral trees of this
region, those of _Barringtonia speciosa_ and _Calophyllum inophyllum_
being especially frequent; and on more than one occasion the solitary
fruits of the former were noticed at sea by Lieutenant Oldham and myself
at distances of from 130 to 150 miles to the southward of the group,
being probably derived from one of the islands of the New Hebrides to
the eastward. Other fruits or seeds occurring frequently in the drift
are those of _Nipa fruticans_ and of two or more species of _Pandanus_;
numerous beans (species of _Mucuna_, _Canavalia_, _Dioclea_), the long
germinated seeds of the mangrove (_Rhizophora_), an occasional
cocoa-nut, the cones of _Casuarina equisetifolia_, _Terminalia catappa_,
_Lumnitzera coccinea_, _Guettarda speciosa_, _Ochrosia parviflora_,
_Heritiera littoralis_ and others.[430]

    [430] Other fruits found floating were a second species of
    _Calophyllum_, a species of _Gomphandra_, _Harpullia_ sp., and some
    _Scitamineæ_.

The foregoing seeds and seed-vessels with many others may be observed
washed up by the waves on the surface of the bare sandy islets or
sand-keys, which exhibit the first stage in the growth of those
picturesquely wooded coral islets that are ultimately formed on the
reefs. On such a sand-key, not more than some 25 or 30 yards across, I
have counted as many as 30 different kinds of seeds and fruits, all
collected together in the centre, which was only washed over at
spring-tides. One of the first trees to establish itself is the mangrove
(_Rhizophora_), which by its reclaiming agency adds to the area of the
islet and enables other trees, such as _Lumnitzera coccinea_, to take up
their abode. _Pari passu_ with the seaward extension of the reef, the
islet increases in size; and in time the winds and currents bring other
fruits and seeds which germinate and form ultimately the belt of
littoral trees bordering the beach. In this manner _Barringtonia
speciosa_, _Calophyllum inophyllum_, _Thespesia populnea_, _Hibiscus
tiliaceus_, _Cerbera odollam_, _Ochrosia parviflora_, _Heritiera
littoralis_, _Terminalia catappa_, different species of _Pandanus_,
_Casuarina equisetifolia_, and _Cycas circinalis_ with many others
referred to on a previous page, become established. It is worthy of note
that the fruits of the great majority of trees which form the margin of
the vegetation, whether on the lee or weather side of such an islet,
float in salt water.[431] The small cones of the _Casuarina_ however,
require a certain amount of drying before they can be transported by the
waves. The green fruits of the _Cycas_ usually sink in salt water; but I
found that one out of ten specimens floated, an exceptional circumstance
which sufficiently accounts for the occurrence of _Cycas circinalis_ on
these coral islets.

    [431] The results of some experiments I made are given on page 305.

Whilst through the agency of the winds and currents the waves have
stocked the islet with its marginal vegetation, the fruit pigeons have
been unconsciously stocking its interior with huge trees, that have
sprung from the fruits and seeds they have transported in their crops
from the neighbouring coasts and islets. Perched up in the branches of
the trees, these birds disgorge the seeds they have brought from other
localities; and the rejected seeds and seed-vessels lie strewn on the
ground beneath. The soft and often fleshy fruits, on which the fruit
pigeons subsist, belong to numerous species of trees. Some of them are
as large even as a hen’s egg, as in the case of those of the species of
_Canarium_ (“ka-i”) which have a pulpy exterior that is alone digested
and retained by the pigeon. The fruits of the banyans and other ficoid
trees, which with the _Canarium_ are amongst the most conspicuous trees
in the interior of the coral islets, are apparently preferred by the
fruit pigeons, since they occur commonly in their crops. A species of
_Eugenia_ common in the interior of these islets possesses fruits found
in the crops of these birds. Amongst other fruits and seeds on which
these pigeons subsist, and which they must transport from one locality
to another, are those of a species of _Elæocarpus_ (“toa”), a species of
laurel (_Litsea_), a nutmeg (_Myristica_), an _Achras_,[432] one or more
species of _Areca_, and probably a species of _Kentia_. There is,
however, another bird common on these coral islets, the ground pigeon
_Geophilus nicobaricus_, known commonly as the Nicobar pigeon, which
transports seeds in its gizzard cavity that on account of their hardness
are not fed upon by the ordinary fruit pigeon (_Carpophaga_). The
peculiar structure of the gizzard, which is described on page 323,
enables the Nicobar pigeon to crack seeds that can only be broken by a
sharp blow with a stone. I have found inside this organ, the hard red
seeds of a leguminous plant, very probably _Adenanthera pavonina_, of
which one seed is occasionally found to be cracked. We may therefore
consider that many small hard seeds and seed-vessels, which would be
refused by the common fruit pigeon of these islands, are transported
from one locality to another in the gizzard cavity of the Nicobar
pigeon.

    [432] I am indebted to Mr. Charles Moore of Sydney N.S.W., for the
    identification of this fruit. (_Vide_ also “Journal and Proceedings
    of the Royal Society, N.S.W.,” XVII., p. 226.)

From the foregoing remarks it may be inferred that the pigeons in these
islands play a very important part in the dispersal of plants, to which,
as Mr. Botting Hemsley remarks in his report (page 313), they have
perhaps contributed more than any other animal. In the Solomon Islands
the fruit pigeons, as dusk approaches, frequent the islets on the coral
reefs in great numbers, and from their unwillingness to leave their
roosts in the trees they fall an easy prey to the sportsman. In one
afternoon, on one of the islets of Choiseul Bay, 57 birds fell to the
guns of Lieutenant Heming and Lieutenant Leeper; and it is to these two
officers that I am indebted for my opportunities of collecting the
fruits taken from the crops of these pigeons.

In drawing my botanical remarks to a close, it may be fitting to recall
the more lasting impressions which I have received of the vegetation of
these islands; and I may do so in a very few words. The characteristic
features of the vegetation are to be found in the number and variety of
the areca palms; in the abundance of the alpinias, heliconias, and other
scitamineous plants; in the imposing size and form of the banyans and
the buttress trees; and in the profusion of the ferns. I have not
previously dwelt upon the important part which the ferns take in the
vegetation of these islands, because I had hoped to have heard something
of my collection which I presented to the British Museum eighteen months
ago; but, to my great chagrin, I have been unable, after repeated
application, to learn anything concerning it. I may here state that
ferns abound everywhere; in moist and dry situations; in sheltered and
exposed districts; now decking the tree-trunks with their draperies, or
concealing the unsightliness of the decaying log; here covering the bare
slopes of some lofty hill-top, or clothing the surface of some treeless
tract. The tree-fern and the wide-spreading _Angiopteris_ are to be
found on the banks of streams or in some inland dell. The former avoids
the coast, and occurs at all elevations up to 2000 feet and over: it
flourishes at the heads of valleys.


LIST OF PLANTS COLLECTED IN THE ISLANDS OF BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS, SOLOMON
GROUP, DURING 1884.[433]

    [433] I am mainly indebted to the kindness of Professor Oliver for
    the list of the plants collected by me in the Solomon Islands, most
    of which were sent to Kew. The ferns are in the British Museum, but
    I can learn nothing of them. Fortunately, the fungi were not
    included; and for a list of them I am indebted to Mr. Baker. Most of
    the orchids, and some of the asclepiads, were given by me to Baron
    von Mueller, who intends to examine them in connection with
    subsequent collections. I take this opportunity of expressing my
    sense of the great kindness he showed me with reference to my plant
    collections. To Signor Beccari I am also indebted. Owing to my
    inexperience in botanical collecting, the specimens were often
    inadequate for descriptive and specific determination; but my
    deficiencies will appear more excusable when I state that I devoted
    my attention more particularly to the trees. Professor Oliver,
    however, informs me that, in spite of its defects, my collection
    gives an excellent conception of the flora of the islands visited.

    ANONACEÆ.

    Uvaria, sp. . . vulgo “Nakia.” A stout climber.

    GUTTIFERÆ.

    Ochrocarpus ovalifolius, T. And v. O (Calysaccion) tinctorium,
    Seem.? vulgo “Kokoilo.” A littoral tree about thirty feet high.

    Calophyllum Inophyllum, L., vulgo “Bogoau.”

    Calophyllum sp. . . vulgo “Katari.” Two tall trees apparently
    distinguished by the size of the fruits. (Flowers not obtained.) A
    dark resin oozes from the bark, which the natives burn in torches.

    MALVACEÆ.

    Hibiscus tiliaceus, L.: vulgo “Dakatako.”

    Thespesia populnea, Corr.: vulgo “Kai-kaia.”

    STERCULIACEÆ.

    Kleinhovia Hospita, L.: vulgo “Lafai.”

    Heritiera an H. littoralis, var. angustifolia? vulgo “Pipilusu.”

    TILIACEÆ.

    Triumfetta procumbens, Forst.

    Elæocarpus sp. . . vulgo “Toa.” A tree about seventy feet high, with
    conspicuous blue fruits, eaten by fruit-pigeons.

    OXALIDACEÆ

    Oxalis corniculata, L.

    SIMARUBEÆ

    Soulamca amara, Lam.

    RUTACEÆ.

    Evodia hortensis, Forst.: vulgo “Luk-a-luk.”

    Rutacea (§ Toddaliæ?). Detached leaves and flowers picked up from
    the ground at the foot of a tall forest tree. Flowers “4-meri;
    petala imbricata libera; stamina 4 libera, pet. alterna, ovarium
    liberum integrum, 4-loc?”

    BURSERACEÆ.

    Canarium sp. . . No flowers obtained. A tall forest tree, a hundred
    feet and upwards in height. Vulgo “Kai.” Known as the Solomon Island
    almond tree. The kernels afford a common article of food in August
    and September.

    Canarium? vulgo “Nie.” A tree with buttresses, a hundred feet high.

    Canarium? vulgo “Nie.” A tall forest tree, with buttresses, 100 to
    150 feet high.

    OLACINEÆ.

    Gomphandra sp. . . vulgo “Ninilo,” or “Ningilo.” A tree thirty to
    forty feet high. Fruit eaten by wild pigs.

    Lasianthera sp. . . nov? vulgo “Porutolo.” A tree sixty to seventy
    feet high.

    Olacinea (dub): vulgo “Poporoko.” A tree sixty feet high, having a
    light reddish wood, and a dark red sap.

    CELASTRINEÆ.

    Salacia sp. . . nov.

    RHAMNACEÆ.

    Colubrina asiatica, Bngn.

    AMPELIDEÆ.

    Leea sambucina, L. (A Gr. U.S. Expl. Expn.)

    SAPINDACEÆ.

    Schmidelia aff. S. obovatæ, A Gr. A littoral tree, thirty feet high.

    Harpullia cupanioides, Roxb.: vulgo “Koloa.” Littoral.

    Sapindacea an aff. Harpulliæ? vulgo “Wawau-poko.” Growing 1400 feet
    above the sea.

    Ratonia sp. . . vulgo “Nekale.” A forest tree, a hundred feet high
    and over, with inconspicuous buttresses.

    Ratonia sp. . . vulgo “Nekale.” A forest tree, a hundred feet high
    and over, with buttresses.

    ANACARDIACEÆ.

    Mangifera indica. L.? vulgo “Faise.” Mango tree, growing in
    plantations. Fruit ripens in August. Height, thirty feet.

    LEGUMINOSÆ.

    Crotalaria quinquefolia, L.: vulgo “Kokila.”

    Desmodium umbellatum, D.C., vulgo “Meki,” forma stenocarpa.

    Desmodium ormocarpoides, D.C.?

    Desmodium polycarpum D.C.

    Erythrina: flowers only. E. monosperma perhaps, or E. indica.

    Mucuna gigantea, D.C.? vulgo “Faso-gasuga.”

    Mucuna sp. . . vulgo “Wassa-wassawa.”

    Mucuna sp. . .

    Papilionacea (dub); vulgo “Droau.” A stout climber on forest trees,
    with large purple flowers.

    Canavalia turgida, Grah.

    Vigna lutea, A. Gray.

    Pongamia glabra, Vent.? vulgo “Ansapo.”

    Sophora tomentosa, L.

    Cæsalpinia Nuga, Ait.

    Adenanthera Pavonina, L. (probably). Seeds only obtained.

    Leucæna sp. . .?? vulgo “Gehala.” A tree thirty to forty feet high.

    CHRYSOBALANEÆ.

    Parinarium laurinum, A. Gr.: vulgo “Tita.” A tree about sixty feet
    high. From the fruit is obtained a resin used by the natives for
    caulking the seams of their canoes.

    ROSACEÆ.

    Rubus tilaceus, Sm.

    COMPRETACEÆ.

    Terminalia Catappa, L.: vulgo “Saori.” Seeds eaten by the natives.

    Lumnitzera coccinea, W. and Arn.

    MYRTACEÆ.

    Eugenia sp. . . vulgo “Pakuri.” A tree thirty feet high, growing
    1600 feet above the sea.

    Eugenia clusiæfolia, A. Gray (allied to E. Jambolana).

    Eugenia sp. . . vulgo “Tsugi.” A littoral tree.

    Eugenia, aff. E. Richii, A. Gr.: vulgo “Malapo.” A tree eighty feet
    high, with buttresses, growing on coral islets.

    Barringtonia speciosa, F.

    Barringtonia cf. B. edulis, Seem. and B. excelsa, Huds. (New
    Hebrides): vulgo “Borolong.” A tree thirty to thirty-five feet in
    height, growing in plantations. Flowers gathered into very
    conspicuous pendent yellow spikes, two and a half feet long. Kernel
    of fruit edible.

    Barringtonia aff. B. racemosæ, Bl.: vulgo “Misioko.” A tree forty
    feet high, growing near coast.

    Barringtonia?? vulgo “Sioko.” A tree fifteen to twenty feet high,
    growing in plantations. Fruit edible.

    MELASTOMACEÆ.

    Medinilla sp. . . A climbing plant around the trunks of trees.

    LYTHRACEÆ.

    Pemphis acidula, Forst.

    CUCURBITACEÆ.

    Cucumis Melo, L., forma?

    ARALIACEÆ.

    Panax fruticosum, L.

    Plerandra, near Pickeringii, A. Gray: vulgo “Fo.”

    Araliacea (dub?): vulgo “Bubolio.” A littoral tree, fifteen feet
    high.

    RUBIACEÆ.

    Hedyotis Auricularia, L.

    Ophiorrhiza aff. O. cantonensis, Hance.

    Ophiorrhiza sp. . .

    Dolicholobium aff. D. longissimo an D. longissimum, Seem. forma
    macranthus: vulgo “Lowasi.” A tree fifty feet high and under, common
    along the sides of streams.

    Geophila reniformis, C. and S.

    Morinda citrifolia, L.: vulgo “Urati.”

    Guettarda speciosa, L.: vulgo “Orgoi.”

    Myrmecodia salomonensis, Becc. A new species separated from M.
    samoensis, Becc. Noticed commonly on tall mangrove trees bordering
    the sides of streams in the lower part of their courses. The swollen
    tuberous stem measures as much as one and a half feet in length, and
    is usually occupied by many ants.

    Hydnophytum longistylum, Becc. Found on coast trees. Those I
    examined contained no ants, but, instead, a few cockroaches. On the
    outside of one of them I found a crab.

    Hydnophytum Guppyanum, Becc. A new species. Noticed commonly on the
    tall mangrove trees bordering the sides of streams in the lower part
    of their courses. The swollen tuberous portion of the stem has a
    characteristic scaphoid form; those I examined being nearly full of
    dirty rain-water, and almost free from ants; a few cockroaches
    occurred in all; some of them are one and a half feet in length.

    (Hydnophytum inerme, a specimen I obtained from Ugi Island, at the
    east end of the group in 1882, and identified by Mr. C. Moore of
    Sydney.)

    Psychotria sp. . . vulgo “Popotu.”

    Psychotria, aff. P. Forsterinæ, A. Gr.

    Bikkia sp. . . A littoral tree, twenty feet high, with large
    handsome white flowers.

    COMPOSITÆ.

    Vernonia cinerea, Less

    Adenostemma viscosum, Forst.

    Blumea aft. B. glandulosæ, D.C.

    Eclipta alba, Hassk.

    Bidens pilosa, L.

    Wedelia biflora, D.C. A very common littoral plant, but in one
    instance I found it 1600 feet above the sea.

    GOODENIACEÆ.

    Scævola Kœnigii, Vahl. vulgo “Nano.” A very common littoral shrub.

    SAPOTACEÆ.

    Sapotacea? Seeds only obtained.

    Sapotacea (dub): vulgo “Maranato.” A forest tree, a hundred feet
    high with large plank-like buttresses.

    APOCYNEÆ.

    Ochrosia parviflora, Hensl: vulgo “Pokosola.”

    Ochrosia aff. 0. (Lactaria) calycarpæ (Miq.). Tree 30 feet high.

    Ochrosia sp. . . vulgo “Bararai.” A tree 30 to 40 feet high.

    Cerbera Odollam, Gærtn: vulgo “Lukapau.”

    Cerbera sp. . . vulgo “Anoumi.” A tree about 50 feet high, growing
    away from the coast.

    Lyonsia??: vulgo “Awi-sulu.” A stout climber: its bark supplies the
    fibres used for making fishing-lines.

    ASCLEPIADEÆ.

    Hoya australis, Br.? (H. bicarinata, A. Gr.) forma: vulgo “Alulu.”

    Hoya sp. . . (narrow-leaved species).

    Hoya Guppyi, Oliv. sp. nov. Ramulis ultimis parce hirtellis dense
    glabratis, foliis petiolatis coriaceis late ellipticis breviter
    acuminatis cuspidatisve base late rotundatis subcordatisve supra
    glabris, subtus præcipue versus basin plus minus hirtellis, umbellis
    pedunculatis, pedunculis pedicellisque glabris, calyce parvo tubo
    corollæ 2-4-plo breviore 5-partito lobis ovatis obtusis ciliolatis,
    corolla rotata lobis patentibus ovatis v. late ovato-lanceolatis
    acutatis medio depressis intus hirtellis extus glabris sinubus
    reflexis, coronæ foliolis cartilagineo-incrassatis disco ovato
    lanceolatis concavis obtusis basi angustatis dorso profunde
    excavatis marginibus lateralibus utrinque carinatis, folliculis
    subteretibus parce hirtellis.

    Folia 3½-4½ poll. longis, 2¼-2½ poll. latis; petiolo hirtello ½-¾
    poll. longo; umbella 10-14 flora; pedunculo 2 poll. longo,
    pedicellis 1½ poll. longis. Corolla 1½ poll. diam. rubro-purpurea.
    Follicula 8-9 poll, longa.

    Faro Island: Bougainville Straits: “A climber on coast trees.”

    LOGANIACEÆ.

    Couthovia, nearly allied to C. Seemanni A.Gr., if not a variety with
    inflorescence throughout tawny-puberulous. Vulgo “Palinoromus.” A
    forest tree 70 feet high.

    Fagræa Berteriana A.Gr.? vulgo “Bubulata.”

    Fagræa morindæfolia, Bl. forma. Vulgo “Kirofe.”

    Fagræa sp. . . vulgo “Mamuli.” A tree twenty-five feet high.

    BORAGINEÆ.

    Tournefortia argentea, L. f. vulgo “Diave.”

    Cordia subcordata, Lam.

    Cordia? (Corollas picked off ground.)

    CONVOLVULACEÆ.

    Ipomœa denticulata, Chy.

    Ipomœa (Calonyction) grandiflora, Lam?

    Ipomœa pes-capræ, Roth.

    Ipomœa sp. . .

    SOLANACEÆ.

    Solanum repandum, F? vulgo “Kirkami.” }

    Solanum repandum, F? vulgo “Kobureki.”}

    Natives distinguish these two plants, which grow in their
    plantations, as shrubs 4 to 6 feet high. Fruits edible when cooked.

    Solanum vitiense, Seem. vulgo “Koriele.”

    Physalis angulata, L.

    SCROPHULARINEÆ.

    Vandellia Crustacea, Bth.

    CYRTANDREÆ.

    Cyrtandra v. gen. nov. aff.

    ACANTHACEÆ.

    Adenosma cærulea, R.Br.?

    Bæa Commersoni, R.Br. fide F. von. Mueller.

    Hemigraphis reptans, T. And.

    Hemigraphis reptans, forma.

    Ruellia sp. R. arvensis. S. Moore var? v. sp. nov. aff. Growing
    beside a stream, 1½ feet high, with light-yellow flowers.

    Acanthus ebracteatus, V.

    Eranthemum variabile, Br. var.? Very common in the waste ground of
    plantations and by the sides of paths: 1½ to 2 feet in height.

    VERBENACEÆ.

    Premna obtusifolia, R.Br. an P. taitensis Schr? vulgo “Demoko.” A
    littoral tree 12 to 15 feet in height.

    Vitex an V. acuminata, Br.? vulgo “Fasala.” A large forest tree, a
    hundred feet and over in height, with small buttresses, supplying
    wood for paddles and canoes.

    Clerodendron inerme, Br.

    Verbenacea dubia? vulgo “Au-au.” A tree fifty to sixty feet high.

    LABIATÆ.

    Moschosma polystachyum: Bth: vulgo “Pipituan.”

    Ocymum sanctum, L: vulgo “Kiramma.”

    Plectranthus v. Coleus? vulgo “Momauri.” Leaves, when crushed, give
    a reddish-brown stain, and used for staining the skin. Height 1½
    feet.

    Plectranthus parviflorus, W.

    AMARANTACEÆ.

    Amarantus melancholicus, L.

    Cyathula prostrata, Bl.

    PIPERACEÆ.

    Piper Betel var. (Chavica Siriboa, Miq.) vulgo “Kolu.”

    MYRISTICACEÆ.

    Myristica sp. . . vulgo “Ito-ito.” Coast tree fifteen feet in
    height.

    Myristica sp. . . vulgo “Baimoloi.” A tree fifty feet high, growing
    1600 feet above the sea.

    LAURACEÆ.

    Litsea sp. . . vulgo “Pitoponkano.” A tall forest tree.

    HERNANDIACEÆ.

    Hernandia peltata, Meiss: vulgo “Koli.”

    EUPHORBIACEÆ.

    Euphorbia pilulifera, L.

    Euphorbia Atoto, Forst.

    Phyllanthus (§ Emblica) sp., allied to P. bæobotryoides, Wall? vulgo
    “Mefuan.” A tree 15 to 20 feet high.

    Mallotus tiliæfolius, M. Arg. M. acuminatus, Juss? Tree twenty feet
    high, growing at the coast on the border of swampy ground.

    Macaranga sp. . . vulgo “Balako.” A tree forty to fifty feet high,
    with ringed trunk.

    Aleurites? vulgo “Aligesi.” A stout climber on forest trees. Kernels
    of fruit edible.

    Sapium indicum, Willd? vulgo “Aligesi.” A tree seventy feet high,
    growing on the verge of a mangrove swamp.

    Excæcaria Agallocha, L.

    Codiæum sp. . . (♂)

    Codiæum variegatum. A. Juss: vulgo “Tiatakush.”

    URTICEÆ.

    Trema (Sponia) sp. . .: vulgo “Kio.” A tree seventy to eighty feet
    high.

    Ficus nr F. theophrastoides. Seem? vulgo “Tutubolo.” Growing in
    plantations. Probably 10 to 12 feet high.

    Ficus sp. . . vulgo “Uri.” A tree eighty to ninety feet high, with
    buttress roots. Growing on coral islets.

    Ficus sp. . . vulgo “Sii.” A banyan growing at or near the coast and
    on coral islets. Multiple trunks, some cylindrical and erect, others
    plank-like and arching. Height eighty or ninety feet and over.

    Ficus sp. . . vulgo “Chim.” A banyan often growing on the crest of
    inland ridges. The multiple trunks are all cylindrical and erect,
    and individually smaller than in the case of the Sii: they are also
    more closely arranged. Height a hundred and fifty feet and over.

    Ficus? vulgo “Ilimo.” A tall forest tree over a hundred feet in
    height, with magnificent buttresses.

    Artocarpus incisa, L. There appears to be but one variety of the
    Bread-fruit tree in the islands of Bougainville Straits. The fruit
    is stalked, seedless, and rough externally, the leaves pinnatisect,
    with smooth surfaces. Fruit ripens in August. Vulgo “Balia.”

    Artocarpus sp. . . vulgo “Tafati.” Perhaps a variety of the
    Jack-fruit Tree (A. integrifolia). Sixty feet high. Fruit larger
    than the common bread-fruit, but more irregular in shape: seeded:
    edible.

    Fleurya interrupta, Gaud. (F. spicata, var.)

    Elatostemma integrifolium, Wedd.?

    Elatostemma? vulgo “Obu-obu.”

    Procris integrifolia, Don??

    Pellionia sp. . .

    Leucosyke an L. corymbulosa? Coast tree fifteen feet high.

    Pipturus velutinus, Wedd? v. P. argenteus? vulgo “Dilipoa.” A tree
    thirty to fifty feet high; trunk partially ringed; aerial roots.

    CONIFERÆ.

    Gnetum Gnemon, L. vulgo “Mariwa.”

    Gnetum sp. . .: vulgo “Kunuka.” A tree sixty feet high, prominently
    ringed. Kernels of fruits eaten by the natives.

    CASUARINEÆ.

    Casuarina angustifolia F.

    ORCHIDEÆ.

    Dendrobium hispidum, Rich. (fide F. v. Mueller).

    Dendrobium sp. . . near D. dactylodes, R. fil?

    Cœlogyne sp. . .

    Cleisostoma sp. . .

    SCITAMINEÆ.

    Alpinia sp. . . vulgo “Karu.”

    Alpinia sp. . . vulgo “Vitoko.”

    Alpinia sp. . . vulgo “Konkoku.”

    Costus or Alpinia sp. . . vulgo “Makisa.”

    Alpinia Boia, Seem? v. sp. aff. vulgo “Pai-yang-pipiula.”

    Riedelia curviflora, Oliv? vulgo “Kokuru.”

    Canna indica, L.? vulgo “Sati.”

    Marantacea aff. Phrynio? vulgo “Sinoili.” Flowers in two collateral
    pairs in each spathe with linear bracts between the pairs. Ovary
    shortly stipitate, ovule erect. Fruit 3-locular, cells 1-seeded,
    seeds with crustaceous muricate testa.

    Heliconia? vulgo “Kiari.” Clinogyne grandis Bth and Hook? (near C.
    dichotoma and affs) vulgo “Nini.”

    Scitaminea (dub): vulgo “Temuli.” A plant 1 to 1¼ feet high growing
    in the waste ground of plantations. The roots have medicinal
    properties, according to the accounts of the natives, and they have
    a yellow juice which is used for staining.

    Scitaminea (dubia): vulgo “Nakia:” a wild ginger.

    AMARYLLIDEÆ.

    Crinum sp. . . vulgo “Papau.” Grows near the beach. Height four
    feet.

    Curculigo sp. . . vulgo “Bulami.” Growing 2 to 2½ feet high on the
    banks of streams.

    LILIACEÆ.

    Cordyline sp. . . vulgo “Dendiki.” Tree twenty feet high; growing
    near the coast.

    COMMELYNACEÆ.

    Commelyna nudiflora, L.

    DIOSCOREÆ.

    Dioscorea sativa, L.? vulgo “Alapa.”

    JUNCACEÆ.

    Flagellaria indica, L. var.

    TACCACEÆ.

    Tacca pinnatifida, Forst.: vulgo “Mamago.” The natives do not appear
    to make use of the arrowroot-like starch obtainable from the tubers.

    PANDANACEÆ.

    Pandanacea: genus novum,[434](♀ flowers only and leaf collected).
    The only locality where I found it was the summit of Faro Island,
    where it grows to a height of fifty feet, and has a long white
    female branching spadix, three to four feet in length. The same, or
    a near ally, was obtained by Signor Beccari in Jobi Island, off New
    Guinea. (_Vide_ page 289.)

    [434] I learn from Professor Oliver that Count Solins confirms the
    generic distinctness.

    The natives distinguish several species of Pandanus trees, of which
    I was only able to obtain the fruit. The “darashi” “sararang,” and
    “pota,” grow at the coast, and have a height of from thirty to forty
    feet. The “darashi” has narrow leaves, and, if the ground is not
    rocky, aerial roots are often absent: the fruit is smaller than that
    of the two other littoral pandanus trees. The “sararang” has broad
    leaves, and always aerial roots: the fruit is often more than a foot
    in diameter. The “pota” has broad leaves, with contracted acuminate
    apices, two inches long: the fruit is about a foot in diameter:
    aerial roots are always present, and rise often fifteen feet from
    the ground. The segments of these pandanus trees all contain edible
    kernels. The broad leaves of the “pota” are employed in making
    mats. . . . There is another pandanus tree, the “samala” of the
    natives, which often grows away from the coast, as on the banks of
    streams: it has an erect, stout trunk, thirty-five to forty feet
    high, without aerial roots, and does not branch.

    Freycinetia sp. . .

    Freycinetia sp. . .

    Nipa fruticans.

    PALMACEÆ.

    Cyrtostachys sp. . . vulgo “Sensisi.” Growing up to fifty feet high
    on the banks of streams.

    Palmacea dub. (cf. Drymophloeus): vulgo “Kisu.” Growing seventy to
    eighty feet high. The tough sheathing at the bases of the branches
    is employed for making the native dishes.

    Pinanga sp. . . vulgo “Kisu”: conf. the “Kisu” above. Growing up to
    seventy or eighty feet high.

    Caryota sp. . . vulgo “Eala.” Growing up to fifty feet high.

    Licuala sp. . . vulgo “Firo.” Grows up to thirty-five or forty feet
    in height. More common on volcanic soils. Absent from Treasury
    Island, with the exception of one imported tree. Said to be very
    numerous in the large adjacent island of Bougainville, the leaves
    being there used in making conical hats.

    Palmacea dub.: vulgo “Poamau.” Grows up to seventy or eighty feet
    high. Its fruit, which is eaten by the women, is said to have a
    stimulant effect like the betel-nut. Its wood supplies the material
    for spears.

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Momo.” Grows up to thirty-five or forty feet
    high. Small fruits (½ inch) sessile on a branching stalk.

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Niga-torulo,” or “Torulo.” Grows up to
    thirty-five or forty feet high. Fruits larger (1-1½ inch) sessile,
    and gathered thickly together on an undivided stalk.

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Niga-solu.” Grows up to fifty feet high. Fruits
    (1-1½ inch) sessile, gathered thickly together on an undivided
    stalk.

    [_Note._--The three kinds of areca palms just mentioned are very
    common on the low ground at the foot of hills. They all have a
    general resemblance, and their fruits are often chewed in lieu of
    “betel-nuts.” They are distinguished from each other readily by the
    size and mode of attachment of the fruits, and by the number of ribs
    on the lateral pinnæ.]

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Poamau.” Growing up to eighty feet high.

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Au-Au.” Grows up to twelve feet high. Aerial
    roots rising from stem 1½ feet above the ground.

    Areca sp. . . vulgo “Olega.” The betel-nut palm of the Solomon
    Islands. Planted by the natives in the vicinity of their villages.
    Height up to thirty feet.

    Sagus sp. . . vulgo “Bia,” “Nami.” Height up to sixty feet. Dry
    situations.

    AROIDEÆ.

    Schizmatoglottis sp. . . vulgo “Kuraka.” Growing wild along the
    banks of streams. The natives make a savoury vegetable broth of the
    leaves and unopened spathes.

    Epipremnum cf. E. mirabile, Sch. Found on trees.

    Scindapsus sp. . . vulgo “Kurricolo.” Grows on sandy soil near the
    coast. Pothos?

    CYPERACEÆ.

    Cyperus (Mariscus phleoides, Nees). Height two to two and a half
    feet.

    Cyperus canescens, Vahl. Height two feet.

    Cyperus (Mariscus umbellatus, V.). Height one foot.

    Kyllinga monocephala, Rottb. Six to eight inches high.

    Mapania sp. . . Three feet high.

    GRAMINEÆ.

    Eleusine indica, Gærtn.

    Panicum (Digitaria) sanguinale, L.

       „    radicans, Retz?

       „    carinatum, Presl.

       „    neurodes, Sch.

    Pennisetum (Gymnothrix Thouarsii Beauv.?). Also

    Pennisetum macrostachys, Trin. (fide F. v. Mueller): vulgo “Orsopa.”

    Growing in waste ground of plantations to a height of eight or nine
    feet.

    Coix Lachryma, L.: vulgo “Ken-ken.” The natives do not appear to
    make use of the seeds as beads. Growing in the waste ground of
    plantations.

    Pollinia obtusa, Munro? Schizostachyum?? A bamboo usually found at
    elevations of 1000 or 1100 feet above the sea. The canes grow to a
    length of thirty-five to forty feet, and are used as fishing-rods.

    MUSCI.

    Octoblepharum (Leucophanes) squarrosum, Brid.

    HEPATICÆ.

    Marchantia linearis, L. and L.?

    FUNGI.

    Agaricus (perhaps mollic, Schff.).

       „     (Inocybe) maritimus, Fr.

    Hygrophorus metapodius, Fr. prox.

    Lentinus submembranaceus, B.

       „     dactyliophorus, Lev.

       „     velutinus, Fr.

    Polyporus (Mes.) xanthopus, Fr.

       „      (Pleur.) affinis, Nees.

       „      (Pleur.) luteus, Nees.

       „      (Pleur.) lucidus, Fr.

       „      (Placo.) australis Fr.

    Hexagona apiaria, Fr.

       „     similis, B.

    Cladoderris dendritica, Fr.

    Thelephora lamellata, B.

    Hirneola auricula-judæ, Fr.

    Lycoperdon gemmatum, Fr.

    Bovista sp. . . (uncertain).

    Wynnea macrotis, Berk.

       *       *       *       *       *

_The Flotation of Fruits in Sea-Water._--I made a few experiments on the
fruits of this region, the results of which I here append. The fruits
were all ripe and not dried.


(1.) Fruits that _float_ in sea-water.[435]

  Cocos nucifera
  Areca catechu (Betel-nut).
  Cycas circinalis.[436]
  Pandanus (three littoral species).
  Nipa fruticans.
  Barringtonia speciosa.
  Calophyllum inophyllum.
  Calophyllum sp. (katari).
  Ochrosia parviflora.
  Heritiera littoralis.
  Cerbera odollam.
  Harpullia cupanioides.
  Myristica sp. (ito-ito).
  Riedelia curviflora.?
  Thespesia populnea.
  Gomphandra sp. (ningilo).

    [435] The following fruits and seeds, taken from my dried collection
    of plants, float in sea-water. I did not experiment on them in the
    green condition. . . . Pongamia glabra: Coix Lachryma: Scævola
    Kœnigii: Tournefortia argentea.

    [436] Out of ten fruits experimented on, only one floated.


(2.) Fruits that _sink_ in sea-water.

  Parinarium laurinum.[437]
  Licuala sp. (firo).
  Areca sp. (torulo).
  Areca sp. (momo).
  Caryota sp. (eala).

    [437] This tree is widely distributed throughout the group, which
    may be due to the circumstance of its resin being generally employed
    in caulking canoes.

       *       *       *       *       *

_The weeds, rubbish-plants, and shrubs, commonly found in old clearings
and in the waste-ground of the cultivated patches in Bougainville
Straits._

One of the commonest plants in the islands of Bougainville Straits is
the _Eranthemum variabile_, which is frequently found growing at the
sides of the paths. The spurges, _Euphorbia pilulifera_ and _E. Atoto_,
are usually found in the waste-ground around villages. In the cultivated
patches clumps of the handsome flowering reed, _Pennisetum macrostachys_
(“orsopa”), which grows to a height of nine or ten feet, are often
conspicuous. In one place may be seen the tall shrub, _Kleinhovia
Hospita_ (“lafai”), the inflated fruits of which are eaten by the
cockatoos. In another place the botanist may recognise the _Canna
indica_ (Indian Shot: “sati”), and near by perhaps _Coix Lachryma_
(Job’s tears: “ken-ken”), both of which plants have been probably
introduced originally from the Malay Archipelago. Solomon Islanders
occasionally wear the seeds of _Coix Lachryma_ as a personal ornament.
They are also used for this purpose by the Admiralty Islanders, and by
the natives of some parts of New Guinea. Scented labiate plants are very
frequent in the waste-ground of the plantations, and the natives are
fond of wearing them in their armlets. Amongst them I may mention
_Moschosma polystachyum_ (“pipituan”) and _Ocymum sanctum_ (“kiramma”).
The “luk-a-luk” (_Evodia hortensis_), which is a favourite scented
plant, is commonly found in the same situations. The tiny plant, _Oxalis
corniculata_, may clothe a bare patch of ground; whilst in another part
of the plantation, _Commelyna nudiflora_ may similarly be observed.
Numerous composite plants, such as _Vernonia cinerea_, _Adenostemma
viscosum_, etc., form a conspicuous feature among the rubbish-plants in
these cultivated patches. The _Codiæum variegatum_ (“tiatakush”), with
its very singularly-shaped leaves, is also to be seen: and, amongst
other plants, I should refer to _Solanum vitiense_ and _Crotalaria
quinquefolia_. Tall sedges, such as _Cyperus canescens_ and _Mariscus
phleoides_, are to be commonly observed. Lastly, I should notice two
small scitamineous plants, the “nakia,” a wild ginger, and the “temuli,”
the root of which has medicinal properties, whilst its yellow juice is
used for staining purposes.


_A species of Pachyma??_

Whilst at the island of Santa Anna in October, 1882, my attention was
directed by Mr. William Macdonald and Mr. Heughan to a curious vegetable
substance, not unlike a yam in appearance, which is found _lying loose
on the soil_. The specimens I obtained varied between one and five
pounds in weight, but much larger examples have been obtained. The
interior of the substance is white in colour, and sometimes has a waxy
look. A large slab which had been whittled out by a native resembled a
cake of compressed flour. There were many curious speculations as to the
nature of these growths. In the estimation of the inhabitants of the
island, they are poisonous, and they have received from them the name of
“testes diaboli;” but I could gather but little information from the
natives on the subject except to the effect that they are also commonly
found on St. Christoval.[438] However, some time later I was informed by
Mr. Stephens of Ugi that some mushroom-like growths were borne by a
specimen that he kept, which after a few weeks fell away. I subsequently
gave some of these singular masses to Mr. Charles Moore, the Director of
the Sydney Botanic Gardens.

    [438] In the event of it proving edible, Mr. Heughan cooked a
    specimen, but only a tasteless substance resulted.

Three years passed away and I had almost forgotten about the matter,
when I accidentally came upon some substances, closely resembling these
masses, which are exhibited in the Botanical Department of the British
Museum. They are labelled _Pachyma Cocos_ (Fries) from China. On my
asking Mr. George Murray concerning their nature, I was pleased to learn
that he had been taking a special interest in these growths; and he
showed me a specimen obtained by the Rev. Mr. Whitmee in Samoa, from
which a funnel-shaped fungus, about six inches high, was growing. This
specimen was very similar to those of the Solomon Islands.

Very recently, Mr. G. Murray has embodied the results of his
investigations of these growths in a short paper read before the Linnean
Society, in which Mr. Whitmee’s specimen is figured (Trans. Linn. Soc.,
2nd ser. Bot., vol. ii., part 11). From this source I learn that
Rumphius was the first to describe these tuberous masses and their
associated fungi from Amboina. The former, which he named _Tuber
regium_, were stated to afford remedies useful in diarrhœa, fevers, &c.
The fungi were said to shoot out from them during showers of warm rain
on a fine day, or when there was thunder in the air. From the
description and illustration given by Rumphius, Mr. Fries regarded the
growth as a fungus belonging to the genus _Lentinus_, springing from a
_Pachyma_ (of which the Indian Bread of North America, _Pachyma cocos_,
is an example). Strange to say, however, these tubers, which are found
also in China and other parts of the world, have never been found with a
fungus attached since the time of Rumphius. Mr. Whitmee’s specimen,
therefore, had considerable interest. It is shown by Mr. Murray to
correspond strikingly with _Tuber regium_ and to have the structure of a
true “sclerotium” (not of _Pachyma_), with a fungus of a species of
_Lentinus_ growing from it. All the facts go to prove that the fungus
and the tuberous mass do not form part of the same growth, but are
distinct organisms. A spore having germinated on the surface of the
mass, its mycelium penetrates the interior, and becoming perennial,
produces successive crops of fungi.

Residents in the Indian Archipelago and in the Pacific Islands might
throw considerable light on the subject of these growths by careful
notes and collections. It is important to discover the origin of the
tuberous mass which becomes, so to speak, a convenient nidus for the
fungus. How do such masses perpetuate themselves? A considerable number
should be kept under observation, and the mode of appearance of the
fungus carefully noticed. Experiments might be made with the spores of
the fungus by dusting them over the surface of the masses. Such notes
and collections should be forwarded to Mr. Murray, at the British Museum
of Natural History.




CHAPTER XIV.

REPTILES AND BATRACHIANS.


IN a memoir on the Reptiles and Batrachians of the Solomon Islands,
which was read before the Zoological Society, on May 6th, 1884,[439] Mr.
Boulenger remarked that very little was known about the herpetology of
these islands until two important collections, which I sent to the
British Museum in 1883 and 1884, brought to light several new and
interesting forms, such as could hardly have been expected from this
region. “The position of this group of islands on the limits of two
great zoological districts,”--this author proceeded to observe--“renders
the study of its fauna of special interest, as it is the point where
many of the Papuasian and Polynesian forms intermingle. Curiously, all
the Batrachians belong to species not hitherto found elsewhere, and one
of them is even so strongly modified as to be the type of a distinct
family.”

    [439] Published in the Transactions of the Society; vol. xii., part
    i., 1886. The diagnoses of most of the new species in my collections
    were given in the Proceedings for 1884: p. 210. Vide also “Annals
    and Magazine of Natural History” (5) xii., 1883.

According to Mr. Boulenger, the Reptiles may be grouped under four
headings, viz.:--

1. Species belonging to both the Papuasian and Polynesian districts.

2. Indo-Malayan or Papuasian species, not extending further east or
south-east.

3. Polynesian species, not extending further north and west than New
Ireland.

4. Species not hitherto found elsewhere than in the Solomons (and New
Ireland.)


1

  Gymnodactylus pelagicus
  Gehyra oceanica
  Mabuia cyanura
  Platurus fasciatus.


2

  Crocodilus porosus
  Gecko vittatus
  Varanus indicus
  Keneuxia smaragdina
  Enygrus carinatus
  Dipsas irregularis.


3

  Gonyocephalus godeffroyi
  Mabuia carteretii
     „   nigra
  Enygrus bibronii.


4

  Lepidodactylus guppyi, _n. sp._
  Lipinia anolis, _n. sp._
  Corucia zebrata
  Dendrophis solomonis
  Hoplocephalus par, _n. sp._

All of these 19 Reptiles were included in my collection, with the
exception of _Corucia zebrata_, which, however, came under my
observation. I will now proceed to refer more particularly to the
Reptile-fauna of this region.

CROCODILES.--The species of Crocodile (_Crocodilus porosus_, Schneid),
which is so common in the Solomon Group, ranges from India and South
China through the Malay Archipelago and Papuan Islands to North
Australia. In these islands crocodiles appear to frequent in greatest
numbers the swamps and sandy shores of uninhabited coral islands, such
as those of the Three Sisters, and the coasts of the larger islands in
the vicinity of the mouths of the streams and rivers. I frequently
surprised them basking on the sand under the shade of a tree. On one
occasion I was standing on the spreading roots of a tree that were
exposed on the beach, when one of these reptiles darted out from under
my feet and dived into the sea. Of the marks that they make on the sand
when lying at rest, an oblong shallow impression corresponding to the
head, and a curved well-defined grove caused by the tail are alone
specially recognisable. When they are not alarmed and move leisurely
along, they leave a double row of footprints on the sand, with a narrow
median furrow produced by the weight of the tail; but when they have
been disturbed and make a rush to escape, they raise their tail and
leave only the tracks of their feet on the sand. These crocodiles are
equally at home in salt and fresh water. I have frequently passed them
in my Rob Roy canoe when they have been floating as though asleep at the
surface of the sea; and it was always in the sea that they found a
refuge when my little craft intruded itself within their haunts. They
came under my notice in the fresh-water lakes of Santa Anna and Stirling
Island, and in the lower courses of the streams in several localities.
They are apparently in no uncongenial conditions in the salt-water
lagoon of Eddystone Island, although its waters receive the hot
sulphureous vapours of submerged fumaroles.

These crocodiles do not apparently attain a greater length than 12 or 13
feet. Mr. Sproul shot one at Santa Anna which measured 9½ feet. A female
that I shot in the Shortland Islands, measured 11 feet. One of the
seamen of the “Lark,” named Prior, obtained from the natives the skull
of a rather larger specimen. Out of half-a-dozen individuals seen on the
Three Sisters, not one measured more than 7 or 8 feet.[440] Mr. Bateman,
a trader resident at Ugi, told me that at Wano on the St. Christoval
coast he saw a very large crocodile which, from his description, appears
to have been twice as long as any that I saw. It was, however, dusk at
the time; and in connection with this circumstance I should add that I
have found actual measurement to reduce the apparent length of a
crocodile from 14 to 11 feet.

    [440] A skull given to me by Mr. Nisbet, the government-agent of the
    “Redcoat,” at Ugi, was 12 inches long. It was obtained from the
    natives of Guadalcanar.

Natives are rarely attacked by these reptiles, and they show little or
no fear of them. I have seen a full-grown crocodile dart under a line of
swimmers without causing any dismay. Of the numbers I saw, all were but
too anxious to get out of my way; and their cowardly nature is well
shown in the account of my capture of a specimen which is given below.
However, I came upon a man of Santa Anna who had had his leg broken by
one of these reptiles. The natives of Rubiana hold the crocodile in
veneration and work without fear in the places which it frequents. They
believe that only faithless wives are seized and carried off by the
monster. Pigs are occasionally the prey of the crocodile; but its usual
diet appears to be opossums (_Cusci_), large lacertilians, and fish.

The following account of the capture of a crocodile may interest some of
my readers. It was effected by no more formidable weapons than by a
number of long staves and a small “bull-dog” revolver. Accompanied by
six natives I was making the ascent of a large stream on the north-west
side of Alu, when some of my companions espied a large crocodile at the
bottom of a deep pool about 200 yards from the mouth of the stream. In
setting to work to effect its capture my men proceeded very methodically
to work, and evidently knew the tactics which the creature would employ.
Standing in the water just below the pool, we stood awaiting the descent
of the crocodile down the stream, whilst one of the natives was rousing
it up with a long pole to make it leave its hiding-place. After a little
time it began to get uneasy, and leaving the pool began to descend the
stream. Where we were standing, the stream was only knee-deep, and as
the reptile passed us in the shallow water some natives hit it on the
head with their poles, whilst others hurled their poles sharpened at the
ends, striking it in several places, and I planted a bullet behind its
neck. The creature showed no fight and immediately hid itself in the
pools near the mouth of the stream. During two hours, after we had been
driving it from one pool to another by means of our pointed poles and
staves, we seemed no nearer to its capture. At length there was a loud
out-cry from the natives. The crocodile was making a final rush for life
to cross the bar at the mouth of the stream and escape into the sea. We
all followed, some in the canoe and some through the water; and for a
short time I thought that the creature would escape. But being a little
disabled by our previous attacks, its progress across the bar was
somewhat checked; and the foremost of my men caught hold of its tail
just as it was getting into deep water. Very quickly we all came up, and
assisted in drawing it high and dry on the beach; and whilst two of our
number kept hold of its tail, the remainder belaboured its neck with
rocks and sticks until it died.[441] Its length proved to be 11 feet.
Throughout the whole chase the reptile made no outcry, and even when we
were belabouring it to death it only gave a kind of growl. In its
stomach I found a large quantity of partially digested food with the
remains of an opossum (_Cuscus_) and a large lizard 1½ feet long
(probably _Corucia zebrata_). It was a female, and, in the oviduct I
came upon an egg, which my natives appropriated, saying that it was very
good food; but they do not usually eat the flesh. I was unable from want
of space to keep more than the head of the animal, which I cut off and
carried back in my canoe to the ship. The skull is now in the British
Museum.

    [441] An illustration in Mr. Bates’ “Naturalist on the Amazons”
    represents a very similar scene.

LIZARDS. The Lacertilians are well represented in these islands. Those
at present described are given in the subjoined list.


_Geckonidæ_

  Gymnodactylus pelagicus
  Gehyra oceanica
  Lepidodactylus guppyi. _n. sp._
  Gecko vittatus
    „   var. bivittatus.


_Agamidæ_

  Gonyocephalus godeffroyi.


_Varanidæ_

  Varanus indicus.


_Scincidæ_

  Mabuia carteretii
    „    cyanura
    „    nigra
  Keneuxia smaragdina
  Lipinia anolis _n. sp._
  Corucia zebrata.

The lizards, which most frequently meet the eyes of the visitors in the
vicinity of the beaches, are the two skinks, _Mabuia nigra_ and
_cyanura_. As a rule those species that are common at the coast have a
wide range, extending either into Polynesia or Papuasia or into both
these regions (_vide_ page 307). The species peculiar to these islands
came less frequently under my observation. Thus, that of _Lepidodactylus
guppyi_, is founded on a single (female) specimen I found in Faro or
Fauro Island in Bougainville Straits. _Corucia zebrata_ never came under
my notice alive; it is said at Ugi to find its home in the foliage of
the higher trees. Doubtless if I could have penetrated to the higher
regions of the large islands, I should have obtained a large number of
new species. My collections refer for the most part to the sea-border
and its vicinity. In the elevated interior of such an island as
Guadalcanar there is _a region of great promise_ for the collector; but
I shall have a further occasion to refer to this topic.

The Monitor, _Varanus indicus_, may be often seen at the coast, basking
in the glare of the mid-day sun on the trunks of prostrate trees or on
the bare rocks. It is considered edible by the natives of Bougainville
Straits. Whilst we were anchored at Oima Atoll, Lieutenant Leeper
captured a very large specimen (5 feet 7¾ inches long)[442] on the rocks
close to the sea, and towed it off alive to the ship. After we had tried
in vain to strangle it by a cord, a lead was fastened to it and it was
sunk overboard, but an hour passed before we could say that the reptile
was really dead. This Monitor is probably able to swim considerable
distances. It very likely owes its wide range (from Celebes to the
Solomon Group including Cape York) to the agency of floating trees. On
examining the stomach and intestines, I found them empty. An enormous
quantity of fat, developed in two large lobes in connection with the
_omentum_ or some other part of the _peritoneum_, almost filled the
abdominal cavity. With this store of sustenance and heat, these reptiles
must be able to live without food for a long time.[443]

    [442] A specimen shot in the Florida Islands measured 3 feet 8
    inches.

    [443] As an instance of the tenacity of life that some reptiles
    possess, I may refer to the case of a young terrapin which I kept
    inadvertently for nearly five months on the coast of China without
    any sustenance except the dry rust of a tin can.

SNAKES. Hitherto, the following six species of Ophidians have been found
in the Solomon Group. All of them were included in my collection and one
of them has been described by Mr. Boulenger as a new species.


_Boidæ_

  Enygrus carinatus
     „    bibronii


_Colubridæ_

  Dendrophis solomonis
  Dipsas irregularis


_Elapidæ_

  Hoplocephalus par _n. sp._


_Hydrophiidæ_ (_Water-snakes_)

  Platurus fasciatus[444]

    [444] I was indebted to Lieutenant Symonds of H.M.S. “Diamond” for
    this snake.

One of the commonest of snakes throughout these islands is _Enygrus
carinatus_, a harmless species of the Boa family. It often possesses
considerable bulk in proportion to its length. One specimen which I
obtained in Treasury Island measured 3½ feet in length and 6 inches in
girth. I handled a good many living snakes whilst in these islands,
since the natives used to bring them in numbers to me both on board and
on shore. The statements of the natives and of the white men resident in
this region and the general appearance of the snakes had led me to
believe that there were no poisonous species in the group. I was
therefore somewhat surprised when, on my arrival in England, I learned
from Dr. Günther that I had found a new species as poisonous as the
Cobra. On being shown the specimen by Mr Boulenger, I at once recognised
an old friend which had been brought on board in a bamboo by the natives
at Faro Island and had got loose on the deck. Whilst the men standing
round were preparing to kill it with more regard for their own safety
than for my feelings, I caught it quickly around the neck and held it
under water until it was dead. The natives certainly were not aware of
its venomous character, nor was Mr. Isabell, who was my right-hand man
in these matters, and used to manage the ticklish progress of removing
the snakes from their bamboo-tubes in a manner only suitable in the case
of harmless species. I only obtained one specimen of this snake, which
was about 2½ feet in length. It is named _Hoplocephalus par_ and belongs
to the _Elapidæ_, a family of poisonous colubrine snakes which possess
the physiognomy of the harmless snakes of the same sub-order, and
include the Indian and African Cobras with other well known venomous
species. In the footnote I have quoted Mr. Boulenger’s description of
its general appearance for the information of those who visit the
group.[445]

    [445] The upper surface of the head is uniform blackish brown. The
    body is crossed above by broad red-brown bands separated by narrow
    white interspaces. The lower surface of the head and body are
    uniform white, except on the posterior extremity of the body where
    the red and black extend as lines along the sutures of the ventral
    shields. On the tail the red forms complete rings. Nearly every one
    of the dorsal scales have a blackish brown border. The head is
    depressed, moderately large, and slightly widened posteriorly. The
    eye has a vertical pupil.

BATRACHIANS.--The Spanish discoverers in 1567 remarked that the natives
of Isabel worshipped the toad (_vide_ page 203), and one of the officers
of Surville’s expedition in 1769, described in his journal a remarkable
toad from the same island;[446] yet it is only within recent years that
any Batrachians have been collected in this region. Before I arrived in
the group only two species were known to science, and to this number my
collections, which were made in the islands of Bougainville Straits,
have added seven new species, including a type of a new family. The
following list represents the Batrachian fauna of the Solomon Islands,
as far as it is at present known:

    [446] “Discoveries of the French in 1768 and 1769,” &c., by M.
    Fleurieu: London, 1791; p. 134.


_Ranidæ._

  Rana buboniformis, _n. sp._
  Rana guppyi, _n. sp._
  Rana opisthodon, _n. sp._
  Rana krefftii.
  Cornufer guppyi, _n. sp._
  Cornufer solomonis, _n. sp._


_Ceratobatrachidæ._

(New family characterised by both jaws being toothed, and by the
diapophyses of the sacral vertebra not being dilated.) Ceratobatrachus
guentheri, _n. sp._


_Hylidæ_ (Tree-frogs.)

  Hyla macrops, _n. sp._
  Hyla thesaurensis.

The natives of the islands of Bougainville Straits, where, as I have
just remarked, my batrachian collection was chiefly made, have given
frogs the general name of “appa-appa” in imitation of their noise, just
as they have named the smaller lizards “Kurru-rupu” for the same reason.
Amongst the particular species of frogs, I may refer to the large
toad-like _Rana buboniformis_, which I found in Treasury Island, and on
the highest peak of the island of Faro. _Rana guppyi_, according to Mr.
Boulenger’s report, attains a larger size than any other species of the
genus, with the exception of the Bull-Frog of North America. _Rana
opisthodon_ affords an instance of a Batrachian[447] which dispenses
with the usual larval or tadpole stage, “the metamorphoses being hurried
through within the egg.” On this subject I made the following notes.
Whilst descending from one of the peaks of Faro Island, I stopped at a
stream some 400 feet above the sea, where my native boys collected from
the moist crevices of the rocks close to the water a number of
transparent gelatinous balls rather smaller than a marble.[448] Each of
these balls contained a young frog about 4 lines in length, apparently
fully developed, with very long hind legs and short fore legs, no tail,
and bearing on the sides of the body small tufts of what seemed to be
branchiæ. On my rupturing the ball or egg in which the little animal was
doubled up, the tiny frog took a marvellous leap into its existence and
disappeared before I could catch it. When I reached the ship an hour
after, I found that some of the eggs which had been carried in a tin had
been ruptured on the way by the jolting, and the liberated frogs were
leaping about with great activity. On placing some of them in an open
bottle 8 inches high, I had to put the cover on as they kept leaping
out. Mr. Boulenger remarking on this observation says, that there are no
gills, but that on each side of the abdomen there are regular transverse
folds (with an arrangement like that of the gill-openings of
Plagiostomous Fishes), the function of which probably is that of
breathing-organs. The tip of the snout is, he says, furnished with a
small conical protuberance, projecting slightly through the delicate
envelope of the egg, and evidently used to perforate that covering. In
the instance also of _Cornufer solomonis_, another new species included
in my collection, Mr. Boulenger remarks that there is every reason to
believe that the young undergo the metamorphoses within the egg.

    [447] Hylodes martinicensis affords another instance. Mon. Berl.
    Ac., 1876, p. 714.

    [448] According to Mr. Boulenger, they measure from 6 to 10 mm. in
    diameter.

With regard to the interesting species, _Ceratobatrachus guentheri_,
which forms the type of a new family, _Ceratobatrachidæ_, the same
writer observes that it is remarkable for the numerous appendages and
symmetrical folds which ornate its skin. It is, in fact, “all points and
angles,” and may be truly termed a horned frog. There is great variation
both in the coloration and in the integuments. “Out of the twenty
specimens before me,” thus Mr. Boulenger writes, “no two are perfectly
alike.” The development is presumed to be of the type in which the
metamorphoses are hurried through within the egg. These horned frogs are
very numerous in the islands of Bougainville Straits, and so closely do
they imitate their surroundings, both in colour and pattern, that on one
occasion I captured a specimen by accidentally placing my hand upon it
when clasping a tree.

It is particularly important to notice not only that the Batrachians of
the Solomon Islands, as far as we at present know, do not occur
elsewhere, but also that in this region a distinct family has been
produced. These facts support the conclusions deducible from the
geological evidence that these islands are of considerable geological
age (_vide_ page x.). The insular and isolated conditions have been
preserved during a period sufficiently extended for the development of a
peculiar Batrachian fauna.

The modes of dispersal of frogs and toads, and, in truth, of the whole
Batrachian class, are matters of which we are to a great extent
ignorant. Frogs are usually stated to be absent from oceanic islands, a
peculiarity of distribution which apparently accords with the
circumstance that neither they nor their spawn can sustain submersion in
sea-water. The occurrence, however, of three species of _Cornufer_ in
the Caroline and Fiji Islands, and of a species of _Bato_ in the
Sandwich Islands,[449] affects the general application of this
conclusion. It may be suggested that these exceptions are due to human
agency; but if so, it is difficult to understand why they have not been
found in such a well explored island as New Caledonia.[450]

    [449] Boulenger’s “Catalogue of the Batrachia Gradientia,” &c., 2nd
    edit., 1882.

    [450] Perhaps the peculiar geographical distribution of the
    Batrachia may throw light on this subject. _Ibid._

In concluding this chapter I will refer to the circumstance that my
collections of the Reptiles and Batrachians of this large group have
only in a manner broken ground in a region which promises the richest
results to the collector. It cannot be doubted that in the elevated
interiors of the large islands, such as those of Bougainville and
Guadalcanar, there will be found a peculiar Reptilian and Batrachian
fauna, the study of which will be of the highest importance for the
furtherance of our knowledge of these geologically ancient classes of
animals. I believe I am correct in stating that it was on account of the
highly interesting Batrachian collections I sent to the British Museum,
that I received a grant for further exploration from the Royal Society,
which, however, I was unfortunately prevented from turning to account.
The work has yet to be done, and there can be little doubt that the man
who is first able to examine the lofty interior of such an island as
Guadalcanar will bring back collections, the importance of which will
amply recompense him for any hardship or personal risk he may have
endured. My experience was confined to the sea-border and its vicinity.
The future explorer will find his field in the mountainous interiors and
on the highest peaks.

    NOTE (April 19th, 1887).--Since I penned the above, further
    collections of reptiles and batrachians, made in these islands by
    Mr. C. M. Woodford, have been described by Mr. Boulenger at a recent
    meeting of the Zoological Society. I had the pleasure of meeting Mr.
    Woodford before he left England, and I hope that he has been able to
    accomplish his purpose of penetrating into the interior of one of
    the larger islands of the group.




CHAPTER XV.

GENERAL NATURAL HISTORY NOTES.


AMONGST the numerous strange acquaintances which I made in the Solomon
Islands, was that of the well known cocoa-nut crab, or _Birgus latro_;
and I take this opportunity of giving my evidence towards the
establishment of the fact of its cocoa-nut-eating propensity, for the
following reason. When I read my notes on the subject before the Linnean
Society of New South Wales on Dec. 27th, 1882,[451] I was surprised at
the incredulity shown with reference to this extraordinary habit; and on
inquiry, I learned that the evidence on the subject was deficient in one
vital point, viz., the production of the writer who had witnessed this
habit of the Robber Crab. Accordingly I referred to the various authors
who have recorded this habit of the _Birgus_, and in no single account
could I find that the writer had witnessed what he described. Neither
Mr. Darwin, Dr. Seemann, Messrs. Tyerman and Bennet, Mr. T. H. Hood, the
Rev. Wyatt Gill, nor the numerous authors whose accounts I also
examined, seem to have actually witnessed the _Birgus_ opening and
eating a cocoa-nut. Herbst[452] was among the first to refer to this
habit; whilst, long ago, M. M. Quoy and Gaimard[453] asserted, from
their own observation, that the crab was fond of cocoa-nuts, and could
be supported on them alone for many months, but they made no allusion to
its capability of husking and opening them. The evidence on this point
appears to have been always tendered by natives, excepting the account
given to Mr. Darwin by Mr. Liesk, which is conclusive in itself.[454]
Yet, credulous persons had fair grounds to retain their doubts, although
in various works on natural history, popular and otherwise, this habit
of the _Birgus_ was described as an undoubted fact. I therefore submit
my evidence; leaving to my reader to reply to the query--Can there be
any reasonable doubt on the subject?

    [451] Proc. Lin. Soc. N.S.W.

    [452] Proc. Zool. Soc, 1832, p. 17.

    [453] Freycinet’s “Voyage autour du Monde,” 1817-20: Zoologie, p.
    536. (Paris, 1824.)

    [454] “Journal of Researches,” p. 462.

The _Birgus_ was to be found in most of the islands we visited. It is to
be usually observed at or near the coast; but on one occasion, in St.
Christoval, I found an individual at a height of 300 feet above the sea.
Whilst traversing, in September, 1882, the belt of screw-pines, which
borders the beach on the east coast of Malaupaina, the southern island
of the Three Sisters, I came upon one of these large crabs, ensconced in
the angle between the buttressed roots of a tree, with a full sized
cocoa-nut within the reach of its pair of big claws. From the
fresh-looking appearance of the shell, it had been evidently, but
recently, husked, which operation had been performed more cleanly than
if a native had done it. There was an opening at the eye-hole end of the
shell of a somewhat regular oblong form, which measured 2 by 1½ inches,
and was large enough to admit the powerful claws of the crab.[455] The
white kernel, which had the firm consistence of that of the mature nut,
had been scooped out to the extent of from 1 to 1½ inches around the
aperture; small pieces of the kernel lay on the ground outside the nut,
and others were floating about in the milk inside, of which the shell
was about a fourth-part full.

    [455] This shell was presented to the Australian Museum, Sydney.

I had, without a doubt, disturbed the _Birgus_ in the middle of its
meal; but, curiously enough, there were no cocoa-nut palms to be seen
within fifty paces of the spot where the crab was found in its retreat.
Not only had the shell been very recently husked, but it was evident,
from the fresh condition of the milk and kernel, that an interval of
less than a couple of hours had elapsed since the opening had been made.
There was no possible explanation of the crab having got at the edible
portion of the cocoa-nut, except through its own agency. The island is
uninhabited, being only occasionally visited by fishing-parties of
natives from St. Christoval, none of whom were on the island during the
ship’s stay. There was, therefore, the strongest presumptive evidence
that the _Birgus_ had not only husked the cocoa-nut, but had also broken
the hole at the end, in order to get at the kernel.

I kept the crab alive on board on a diet of cocoa-nuts for three weeks,
when, one morning, to my great disappointment, I found it dead. Other
foods, such as bananas, were offered to it but were left untouched, and
its appetite for cocoa-nuts continued unimpaired to the last day of its
life. Being desirous of observing the manner in which the husk was
removed, I had a cocoa-nut with its husk placed in the coop in which the
crab was kept. On one occasion the _Birgus_ was surprised with the nut
between its large claws; but, notwithstanding that no other food was
offered to it for a day and a half, it did not attempt to strip off the
husk. So the operation was done for it, and a small hole was knocked in
the top of the shell. On the following day I found the shell--a young
and somewhat thin one--broken irregularly across the middle, with the
soft white kernel already removed and eaten. It was afterwards found
necessary to break the nuts for its daily food.

In 1884, when the “Lark” was in Bougainville Straits, three of these
crabs were kept on board with the intention of taking them down to
Sydney. Mr. W. Isabell, leading-stoker of the ship, looked well after
them, as he had also done in the case of the previous crab, but within
three or four weeks they had all died. The cocoa-nuts had to be husked
and broken for them, as they were in vain tempted to do it for
themselves. One crab, however, was frequently observed clasping between
its claws a full-grown unhusked nut, the upper end of which showed deep
grooves and dents from the blows of its claws; and Mr. Isabell and I
came to the conclusion that the coop, in which these crabs were placed,
was too low to allow of the free play of the great claws.

My evidence alone would be sufficient to convict the _Birgus_ of this
offence: for an offender it would certainly be in the eyes of the owner
of a plantation of cocoa-nut palms. I learned from Mr. Isabell that the
first crab we had on board consumed, on the average, two cocoa-nuts in
three days. A number of these crabs in a cocoa-nut plantation, might
therefore prove a considerable pest: for, if this betokens the quantity
of food which the _Birgus_ consumes in a state of nature, a single crab
in the course of twelve months would dispose of about 250 cocoa-nuts,
which represent the annual production of three palms and between 20 and
30 quarts of oil.

As these crabs disliked observation, I was unable to gain much knowledge
of their habits by watching. During the day-time they were sluggish, did
not eat, and kept themselves in the further corner of the coop, as far
from the light as possible. At night they moved about very actively and
fed vigorously on the cocoa-nuts. The natives of the Shortlands, who
were well-acquainted with the cocoa-nut eating habit of the _Birgus_,
described to me the mode of husking and breaking the nut, just as Mr.
Liesk described it to Mr. Darwin. They esteem as an especial luxury the
fat which gives the chief bulk to the abdomen of the crab.

The habit of the _Birgus_, when surprised away from its burrow, is not
to turn round and run away, but to retreat in an orderly manner with its
front to the foe. Having reached some root or trunk of a tree which
protects in the rear its less perfectly armoured abdomen, it makes a
regular stand, waves one of the long second pair of claws in the air,
and courageously awaits the attack. The attitude of defence is worthy of
remark. The two large claws are held up close together to defend the
mouth and eyes, but with the pincers pointing downward--the posture
reminding me of the guard for the head and face in sword-exercise. One
of the long second pair of claws is planted firmly on the ground to give
the crab additional support; whilst the other claw is raised in the air
and moved up and down in a sparring fashion. The whole attitude of the
_Birgus_, when on the defensive, is one of dogged and determined
resistance. The big pincers that point downward are ready to seize
anything which touches the unprotected under surface of the abdomen; but
on account of the position of these claws in front of the eyes, it can
only foresee attacks from above, and it therefore cannot ward off a
sudden thrust directed against the abdomen, although it may afterwards
inflict severe injuries on the aggressor.

There seems to be some doubt whether the _Birgus_ ascends the tree to
get the cocoa-nuts or whether it contents itself with those that have
fallen. Almost every author who refers to this crab alludes to its
climbing the tree, and it is also said to climb the pandanus. The
testimony in support of its climbing powers is almost conclusive, yet
Mr. Darwin was informed by Mr. Liesk that in Keeling Atoll the _Birgus_
lives only on the fallen cocoa-nuts, and Mr. H. O. Forbes,[456] who has
recently visited this island, confirms this statement.

    [456] “A Naturalist’s Wanderings,” etc.: London, 1885, p. 27.

My readers, after perusing the foregoing remarks, will agree with me
that from the lack of actual observation on the part of the authors, who
describe the cocoa-nut eating habit of this crab, there has been fair
grounds for scepticism. Even now, we are but imperfectly acquainted with
the mode of life of the _Birgus_, which is a subject I would commend to
the attention of residents in the Indian and Pacific Oceans.

I may add that the _Birgus_ is partial to other kinds of fruits beside
cocoa-nuts. Different writers mention candle-nuts, nutmegs, figs, and
other rich and oily nuts and fruits. In some islands it would seem that
the Pandanus fruit is its only diet; and for breaking open these tough
fruits, its heavy claws are well adapted, though from personal
experience, I should remark that the crab would have its strength and
ingenuity taxed almost as much as in the case of the cocoa-nut.

[Illustration]

The handsome ground-pigeon, known as the Nicobar pigeon (_Geophilus
nicobaricus_), is commonly observed in the wooded islets on the coral
reefs of the Solomon Group. As I have remarked on page 293, this bird is
probably instrumental in transporting from one locality to another the
small hard seeds and fruits which the common fruit-pigeon (_Carpophaga_)
refuses. That it is able to crack such hard seeds as those of the
leguminous plant _Adenanthera pavonina_,[457] is shown by the fact that
I have found these seeds cracked in the cavity of the gizzard, which is
in its structure and mechanism _a veritable pair of nutcrackers_. In
this bird the muscular stomach or gizzard is of a surprising thickness,
and is provided with a very singular mechanical contrivance to assist
its crushing power. As shown in the accompanying diagram, it is composed
of two muscular halves, each having a maximum thickness of five-eighths
of an inch and united with each other in front and behind by a stout
distensible membrane, which is the proper wall of the organ. Developed
in the horny epithelial lining membrane there are two cartilaginous
bodies of hemispherical shape, one in each muscular segment of the
gizzard, which measure about one-third of an inch in thickness and
three-fourths of an inch in diameter. The outer or convex surface of
each cartilaginous body fits into a cup-shaped cavity which is lined by
a semi-cartilaginous membrane, the whole constituting a
“ball-and-socket” joint with well lubricated surfaces. The two surfaces
of this pseudo-articulation are capable of easy movement on each other,
being retained in close apposition by the attachment to the subjacent
tissues of the horny epithelial lining membrane in which the
cartilaginous body is developed. The inner or free surface of each
hemispherical body, that which looks into the gizzard cavity, is
somewhat concave, and projects a little above the surface of the lining
membrane; it is much harder than the opposite convex side of the
cartilage and has almost the consistence of bone, the arrangement of the
cells into densely packed rows with but little intervening matrix
indicating an approach towards ossification.

    [457] The Kuara tree of India, of whose hard seeds necklaces are
    made.

The firm consistence of these hemispherical cartilages combined with the
mechanism of a moveable articulation must greatly assist the already
powerful muscular walls of the gizzard; but there is an additional
factor in the crushing power in the constant presence of a small quartz
pebble, usually about half-an-inch across. With such a apparatus, I can
well conceive that very hard seeds and nuts may be broken, as in the
case of the seeds of _Adenanthera pavonina_ already alluded to. The
Nicobar pigeon is in fact possessed of a nut-cracking mechanism in its
gizzard, by which nuts like those of our hazel tree would be cracked
with comparative ease.

With reference to the small quartz pebbles found in the gizzards of
these birds, I should remark that there is usually only one present, and
that it varies in weight between 30 and 60 grains. I was sometimes able
to say where the pigeon had obtained its pebble. Thus, in Faro Island
the bird often selects one of the bipyramidal quartz crystals, which
occur in quantities in the beds of the streams in the northern part of
the island, where they have been washed out of the quartz-porphyry of
the district. In other instances the pebble seems to have been
originally a small fragment of chalcedonic quartz, such as composes some
of the flakes and worked flints that are found in the soil which has
been disturbed for cultivation. Sometimes the pebble is of greasy
quartz; and now and then in the absence of quartz the bird has chosen a
pebble of some hard volcanic rock. It is a singular circumstance that
although these pigeons frequent coral islets where they can easily find
hard pebbles of coral-rock, they prefer the quartz pebbles which are of
comparatively rare occurrence. I never found any calcareous pebble in
their gizzards, and was often at a loss to explain how the bird was able
to ascertain for itself the different degree of hardness between the two
pebbles, when the quartz was of the dull white variety. . . . . I learn
from a recent work on New Guinea by the missionaries, Messrs. Chalmers
and Gill, that inside the gizzard of each Goura pigeon there is a
good-sized pebble much prized by the natives as a charm against
spear-thrusts and club blows.[458] The Goura pigeon resembles the
Nicobar pigeon in habits; and I think it probable that its gizzard will
be found to present a similar structure and mechanism for cracking nuts
and hard seeds. The common fruit pigeons (_Carpophaga_) of the Solomon
Islands, living as they do on soft fleshy fruits, and rejecting the hard
seeds and kernels, have no peculiar structure of the gizzard, the walls
of which are comparatively thin, and are thrown into permanent rugæ
somewhat warty oh the surface.

    [458] “Work and Adventure in New Guinea” (p. 317): London, 1885.

One of the most familiar birds in these islands is the “bush-hen,” which
belongs to the family of the mound-builders (_Megapodiidæ_). They bury
their eggs in the sand at a depth of between three and four feet. On one
occasion in the island of Faro, Lieutenant Heming and his party found
eight eggs, in different stages of hatching, thus buried: they were
scattered about in the sand; and according to the account of the natives
only one egg was laid by each bird. The eggs are sometimes found on the
surface of the sand. The young birds are able to fly short distances
soon after they are hatched. One that was brought on board astonished us
all by flying some thirty or forty yards from the ship and then
returning to the rigging.

The account recently published by Mr. H. Pryer of his visit to the
birds’ nest caves of Borneo[459] has opened up the discussion as to the
nature of the substance of which the edible bird’s nest is composed.
Many and varied have been the surmises as to the source of this
material; but nearly all of them have been based on mere speculation,
and have been relegated to the limbo of sea-tales. Amongst the earlier
explanations, I may allude to those which have been given by early
writers. The swiftlets (_Collocalia_), which build their nests in this
extraordinary fashion, were considered to gather a gelatinous material
from the ocean-foam, or from the bodies of holothurians, or from the
skin of the sun-fish. The Chinese fishermen assured Kæmpfer that their
nests were composed of the flesh of the great poulpe. A more probable
explanation, however, was found by Rumphius in the occurrence on the
sea-coasts of a soft almost cartilaginous plant which he with confidence
asserted was the material from which these swiftlets constructed their
nests; but subsequently this naturalist inclined to the opinion that the
substance of which the edible birds’ nests are composed is merely a
secretionary product. In these two views of Rumphius we have the two
sides of the controversy very much as it at present stands. On the one
hand, there are those who hold that this substance is a secretionary
product: on the other hand, the opinion is held that the nest is
constructed of a vegetable matter, usually resulting from the growth of
a microscopic alga, which is found in the caves and on the faces of the
cliffs where the nests occur. All the weight of experiment and of actual
observation tends to negative the view of the vegetable origin of this
substance. Sir Everard Home in 1817 declared his opinion that certain
peculiar gastric glands, which he found in one of these birds, secreted
the mucus of which the nest was formed. In 1859, Dr. Bernstein[460],
after having carefully studied the habits of the birds in question, came
to the conclusion that their nests are formed from the secretion of
certain salivary glands which are abnormally developed during the
nest-building season. M. Trécul, who held the same opinion, showed that
the bird constructs its nest by means of a mucus which flows abundantly
from its beak at the pairing time.[461] This last view is strongly
supported by Mr. Layard, who unhesitatingly pronounces his opinion that
these swiftlets build their nests from the secretionary products of
their own salivary glands.[462] However, when Mr. Pryer visited in
March, 1884, the birds’ nest caves in British North Borneo, he
considered that he had found the source of the material of which the
nests were composed in the occurrence of a “fungoid growth,” which
incrusted the rock in damp places, and which, when fresh, resembled
half-melted gum tragacanth. Without at present expressing an opinion as
to the validity of the inference Mr. Pryer drew from his observations in
these caves, I may observe that the “fungoid growth” has been determined
by Mr. George Murray,[463] of the Botanical Department of the British
Museum, to be the result of the growth of a microscopic alga, a
species, probably new, of _Glœocapsa_; whilst the edible nests from
these caves, according to a chemical and microscopical examination made
by Mr. J. R. Green,[464] have been shown to be formed in the great mass
of _mucin_, which is the chief constituent of the mucous secretions of
animals. After examining various specimens of edible nests from other
localities, Mr. Green subsequently confirmed the results of his first
experiments. The nest-substance, as he unhesitatingly states, is
composed of _mucin_, or of a body closely related to it.[465] So far,
therefore, there would appear to be but little evidence to support the
view of Mr. Pryer that the species of alga, which he found incrusting
the rock in the vicinity of the Borneo caves, supplied the material for
the construction of the nests of the swiftlets. However, before
proceeding to state my own opinion on the matter, I will refer briefly
to my observations in the Solomon Islands relating to this question.

    [459] Proceedings of the Zoological Society for 1884: p. 532.

    [460] Journ. für Ornithologie, 1859, pp. 112-115; also Proceed.
    Zoolog. Soc., 1885, p. 610.

    [461] “A General System of Botany,” by Le Maout and Decaisne:
    London, 1873, p. 983.

    [462] “Nature,” Nov. 27th, 1884.

    [463] Proc. Zoolog. Soc., 1884: p. 532.

    [464] Proc. Zool. Soc., 1884, p. 532.

    [465] “Nature,” Dec. 11th, 1884 and May 27th, 1886.

A species of _Collocalia_, which usually frequents inaccessible
sea-caves and cliffs, is frequently to be observed on the coasts of the
islands of this group. The natives of Treasury Island call this bird
“kin-kin;” but they have no knowledge of the nutrient qualities of the
substance of which it builds its nest, and they were much amused when I
told them of its being a Chinese luxury. I only came upon the nests of
this bird on one occasion, and that was in some caves on Oima Atoll in
Bougainville Straits. A description of these caves will be here
unnecessary. As in the instance of the birds of the Borneo caverns,
these swiftlets shared their retreats with a number of large bats, the
accumulation of whose droppings had produced a thick reddish-brown
deposit on the floors of the caves. The nests, which were formed for the
most part of fibres derived evidently from the vegetable drift[466] at
the mouths of the caves, were thickly incrusted with the gelatinous
incrustation which projected as winglets from the sides and fastened
them to the rock.

    [466] The husks of pandanus seeds more particularly.

A reddish soft gelatinous incrustation occurred on the faces of some of
the cliffs in the vicinity of the caves. It was composed of an
aggregation of the cells of a microscopic unicellular alga which measure
1/2500 of an inch in diameter. Unfortunately the specimens of this
growth which I collected have been mislaid, but there can be little
doubt that it is similar to the “fungoid growth” which Mr. Pryer
describes in connection with the Borneo caves, and which, through the
kindness of Mr. George Murray, I had the opportunity of seeing at the
British Museum. On the faces of the coral limestone cliffs of some
islands, such as on the east coast of Santa Anna, a like growth occurs
in considerable quantity. In its freshest condition, it may be described
as a reddish-yellow, gum-like substance forming a layer ¼ to ⅛ of an
inch in thickness. Where it incrusts the overhanging face of a cliff, it
is more fluid in consistence and sometimes hangs in little pendulous
masses, one to two inches in length, the extremities of which are often
distended with water. This alga decomposes the hard coral limestone,
making the surface of the rock soft and powdery. All stages in the
growth of this substance may be observed. The older portions are very
dark in colour and have a tough consistence; and in the final stage it
occurs as a black powder covering the rock surface. On examining this
alga with the microscope, I found it to be formed almost entirely of
granular matter apparently resulting from the death of the cells; whilst
the presence of a few cellular bodies alone gave me an indication of its
true nature.

From my observations relating to the subject of the edible bird’s nest,
it may be therefore inferred that in the Solomon Islands, as in Borneo,
the occurrence of these nests is associated with the presence of a
protophytic alga, which incrusts the rocks of the locality as a
gelatinous or gum-like substance. Whether or not the birds employ this
material in forming their nests, is a question which would appear to
have been already answered in the negative; but it seems to me that
those who hold that this material is used for this purpose might justly
claim that the final judgment should be suspended, until a chemical
examination of this vegetable substance has been made with the object of
determining whether it might not yield a material closely resembling
_mucin_. Amongst the nitrogenous constituents of plants occurs the
so-called _vegetable albumen_, which in its chemical composition and in
its behaviour with re-agents does not differ materially from the
_blood-albumen_ of the animal organism, of which in fact it is the
source. In suggesting, therefore, that a _vegetable mucin_ may be found
in this low plant-growth, I do not pass beyond the bounds of
probability.[467]

    [467] _Vide_ a letter by the writer in “Nature,” June 3rd, 1886.

Small scorpions came under my notice in Faro Island. They are not
usually more than 1½ in length and occur in narrow clefts of rocks and
in the crevices of trees. I was stung by one on the thumb, but the pain
was trifling and soon passed away.[468]

    [468] Specimens of these scorpions were given by me to the
    Australian Museum, Sydney.

A species of _Iulus_ or Millipede, which attains a length of from 6 to 7
inches, is commonly found in the eastern islands of the Solomon Group on
the trunks of fallen trees and amongst decaying vegetable débris. It is
often to be seen amongst the rotting leaves that have gathered inside
the bases of the fronds of the Bird’s-nest Fern (_Asplenium nidus_).
These Myriapods seem to be less frequent in the islands of Bougainville
Straits towards the opposite end of the group, as I do not remember
seeing any large _Iuli_ in that locality: their place appears to be
taken by another Myriapod, apparently a _Polydesmus_, growing to a
length of 2½ inches, which I found amongst decaying vegetation at all
elevations up to 1900 feet above the sea, as on the summit of Faro
Island. But to return to the _Iuli_, I should remark that this genus of
Myriapods evidently possesses some means of transportal across wide
tracts of sea, since, amongst other islands similarly situated, it is
found in Tristan da Cunha,[469] in the South Atlantic Ocean, and I have
found it in the Seychelles, in the Indian Ocean. The habits of these
Millipedes would render it highly probable that they have reached the
oceanic islands on vegetable drift, such as floating logs. It is,
however, a noteworthy circumstance that they do not seem to be able to
withstand immersion in sea-water for any length of time. In
experimenting on the Solomon Island species, I found that they were able
to survive an hour-and-a-half’s complete immersion in sea-water, but
that an immersion of three hours killed them. One individual, out of
several experimented on, survived for twelve hours after it was taken
out, but only in a half lifeless condition.[470] It may, therefore, have
been that the _Iulus_ has been transported to oceanic islands by such
agencies as canoes and ships, rather than by means of floating
trees.[471]

    [469] Moseley’s “Naturalist on the Challenger,” p. 134.

    [470] This species of _Iulus_ was able to sustain a longer
    submersion in fresh-water, without apparently any injurious effects.
    Those experimented on recovered after being kept under water for
    four hours, but died after a submersion of six hours.

    [471] As bearing on this point, it might be interesting to determine
    whether these large _Iuli_ occur on islands far from land which are
    believed never to have been inhabited.

Like other species of the genus, the Solomon Island _Iulus_ exhales a
very pungent and disagreeable odour, which is caused by an acrid fluid
secreted by small vesicles, of which each segment of the body contains
a pair.[472] On holding my nose for a moment over the mouth of a bottle,
containing two of these large Millipedes, I experienced a strong
sensation in the nasal passages, reminding me much of the effects of an
inhalation of chlorine gas. I had previously learned from resident
traders that these Millipedes have a habit of ejecting an acrid fluid
when disturbed, which, if it entered the eye, was liable to cause acute
inflammation; and the instance was related to me of the captain of some
ship, trading in these islands, who lost the sight of one of his eyes
from this cause. Mr. C. F. Wood learned from the natives of St.
Christoval, in 1873, that these Myriapods “could squirt out a poisonous
juice, which was dangerous if it happened to touch one’s eye;” but he
adds, “there seemed no great probability of their doing this.”[473]
However, I usually found that native testimony, in such matters, was
very reliable; and in the instance of this reputed habit of the _Iulus_,
my personal experience has convinced me of its reality. Whilst handling
one of these Millipedes as it lay on the trunk of a fallen tree in Ugi
Island, I felt a sudden smarting sensation in the right eye, caused
apparently by some fluid ejected into it. Remembering the injurious
effect attributed to this habit of the _Iulus_, I at once plunged my
head under the water of a stream, in which I happened to be standing up
to my waist, and I kept my eye open to wash away the offending fluid.
During the remainder of the day, there was an uncomfortable feeling in
the eye and somewhat increased lachrymation; but on the following
morning these effects had disappeared. At the time of this occurrence,
my face was removed about a foot from the Millipede; and, although I was
uncertain from what part of the body the fluid was ejected, I did not
care, under the circumstances, to continue the inquiry.

    [472] Hoeven’s Zoology. (Eng. edit.) Vol. I., p. 291.

    [473] “A Yachting Cruise in the South Seas,” p. 131. (London, 1875.)

       *       *       *       *       *

Amongst the first living creatures to greet the visitor as he lands on
the beach of a coral island in the Pacific, is a small species of
Hermit-Crab, belonging to the genus _Coenobita_, which frequents the
beach in great numbers. The crab withdraws itself just within the mouth
of the shell, where it forms a perfect operculum, by means mainly of the
large flattened _chelæ_ of the left great claw which is arched over by
the left leg of the third pair, whilst the right claw and the right leg
of the second pair serve to complete the shield The most plucky and
pugnacious of these little crabs are those which occupy cast-off
_Nerita_ shells, a character which probably arises from their
consciousness of the solid strength of the home they have chosen: and,
strange to say, the tiny bosses on the surfaces of the large pincers,
which are outermost in the improvised operculum, resemble similar
markings on the outer side of the operculum of the _Nerita_ (_N.
marmorata_, Hombr and Jacq), whose shell they often inhabit. Mr.
Darwin[474] observed that the different species of hermit-crabs, which
he found on the Keeling Islands in the Indian Ocean, used always certain
kind of shells; but I could not satisfy myself that such was the case in
the instance of the Solomon Island hermit-crabs. In the case of the
common beach species of _Coenobita_, I found, after carefully examining
a number of individuals to satisfy myself of their being of the same
species, that shells of the genera _Turbo_, _Nerita_, _Strombus_,
_Natica_, _Distorsio_, Truncatella, _Terebra_, _Melania_, &c., &c.,
contained the same species of _Coenobita_, whether the individual was
large enough to occupy a _Turbo_ shell of the size of a walnut or
sufficiently small to select the tiny shell of the _Truncatella_ for its
home. Another species of the same genus prefers usually the vicinity of
the beach; but it may occur at heights up to 200 feet above the sea. It
is rather larger than the beach species, and differs amongst other
characters in the more globose form of the large claws and in the
greater relative size of the left one. It occupies shells of different
kinds, such as those of _Nerita_, _Turbo_, &c. A still larger species,
which frequents the vicinity of the beach, usually selects _Turbo_
shells, apparently because of their larger size. All the other species
of _Coenobita_, which I met with, used, when I touched them, to withdraw
themselves within their shells and close them up at once with their
claws; but this kind, when I caught hold of the _Turbo_ shell that it
carried, left the shell behind in my fingers with apparent unconcern and
crawled leisurely away, displaying, somewhat indecorously, the
rudimentary plates on the back of its abdomen. These are the plates that
attain their greatest development in the Cocoa-nut Crab (_Birgus
latro_), which is thus able to dispense with a shell altogether. The
greatest heights at which I found hermit-crabs were in the island of
Faro on the two highest peaks, which are elevated respectively 1600 and
1900 feet above the sea. In both these localities, the crab had reached
the very summit and could not have climbed higher. The species was
apparently different from, though closely allied to, the common beach
species, and frequented the shells of a land-snail (_Helix_). I was
indebted to Lieutenant Heming for directing my attention to the
hermit-crab, found 1900 feet above the sea. It appears to me likely that
these hermit-crabs will be found at much greater heights in this group,
since, in this island, their ambition to rise had carried them up as far
as they could go.

    [474] “Journal of the Beagle,” p. 457.

Other species of hermit-crabs, that are common in these islands, belong
to the genus _Pagurus_. They are conspicuously distinguished from the
species of _Coenobita_, above described, by their first pair of claws,
which are small and weak and ill-adapted for defensive purposes. For
this reason, these species are less able to look after themselves; and
since they cannot form the operculum-like shield with their claws at the
mouth of the shell, they always choose shells which will permit of their
retiring well within it, so as to be out of the reach of their enemies.
Some species are found in the stream-courses and in the brackish water
near their mouths, when they often frequent cast-off _Melania_ shells.
Other species (?) prefer the sea-water on the reef-flats. I noticed one
individual that displayed its eccentricity of disposition, in selecting,
as its abode, the hollow tube of a small water-logged stick, about six
inches long, which it dragged about after it during its peregrinations,
and into which it retreated when alarmed. On one occasion, I observed a
large _Dolium_ shell, moving briskly about in a pool of salt-water,
which, on picking up, I found to be tenanted by a _Pagurus_, so
ridiculously small, in comparison with the size of the shell, that when
frightened it retreated to the very uppermost whorl, and,
notwithstanding the wide mouth of the shell, could not be seen. So light
was the weight of the crab, that, on account of the buoyancy of its
shell, it floated lightly on the surface of the water, on which I had
placed it with the mouth of the shell uppermost, and was blown by a
slight breeze across a pool of water, some twenty yards in width. While
it was afloat, the shrewd little occupant retired to the innermost
recess of its home; but as soon as the shell had grounded, it protruded
its head and pincers and endeavoured to overturn the shell, which it
finally succeeded in accomplishing.

In the case of these two genera of hermit-crabs, _Coenobita_ and
_Pagurus_, it was interesting to notice the relation existing between
the defensive capabilities of the crab, and the relative size of the
shell it selected as its home. The _Pagurus_, with its weak slender
pincers, chooses large shells within which it can retire well out of
reach when alarmed. The _Coenobita_, with its stout pincers, prefers
shells much smaller, relatively speaking, and ensconces itself snugly in
the body whorl, forming an operculum with its claws. As the hermit-crab,
_Coenobita_, crawls along the dry sand of a beach, it leaves behind it
characteristic pinnate tracks which may be often traced for several
feet. The lateral markings are produced by the claws and legs working on
each side of the shell; whilst a central groove is formed by the weight
of the shell itself. As shown by the arrow in the diagram, the lateral
markings point in the direction of the course which the hermit-crab has
taken. Sometimes only a single row of lateral tracks accompanies the
grooves produced by the shell. Such markings were produced by a
hermit-crab when frightened by my approach. It turned its front towards
me, and crawled backwards, by working most of his claws and legs on one
side of the shell. In the case of the larger hermit-crabs, which are
much less frequent on the beach, each limb produces a distinct print on
the sand; but with the small species of _Coenobita_ which infests the
beach, each lateral marking, as shown in the diagram, is produced by a
single movement of the claws situated on the same side of the shell. The
hermit-crabs only leave their tracks on the dry loose sand. One
individual, that I placed on sand, still wet from the retreating tide,
crawled along without leaving any impression. I have described these
impressions with some care, as they bear on the origin of the
surface-markings of rocks of shallow-water formation, a subject recently
discussed in the geological world. It is highly probable that some of
the larger and heavier forms of the Anomura (and, in fact, of the
Decapoda generally) would produce prints such as I have here described,
both on mud-flats left dry by the tide, and on the soft bottom in
shallow depths. A cast of the impressions thus produced would have an
unmistakeable plant-like form.

[Illustration]

Whilst examining the island of Simbo, I noticed some singular Medusæ in
a small mangrove-swamp, which is inclosed in the low point that forms
the south shore of the anchorage. Numbers of these organisms of a large
size (8 or 9 inches across the umbrella), and of a dirty-white colour,
were lying on the mud with their tentacles, uppermost in depths of from
one to three feet of water. I was struck by the handsome mass of
arborescent tentacles which they displayed, and by the peculiarity of
their lying upside-down. The dark mud which formed the bottom of the
swamp was composed of decayed vegetable matter, confervoid growths,
diatoms, and a few infusoria: but when I raised up these Medusæ, I found
underneath each a patch of white sand corresponding with the outline of
the organism, but completely concealed by the umbrella when the Medusa
lay in its usual position. The sand was derived from corals, shells, and
the volcanic rocks of the island; and the light patches formed a marked
contrast with the dark mud around. I was unable to find any satisfactory
explanation of these curious patches of sand; and I, therefore,
proceeded to interrogate the Medusæ on the subject by watching them, but
to no purpose. So I had my revenge by turning them all over on their
tentacles, when each one immediately began to contract its umbrella in a
most methodical fashion, and, after swimming a short distance,
deliberately resumed its former position of tentacles upward. I had an
extensive experience of mangrove-swamps after we left Simbo; but these
self-willed Medusæ never came under my notice again.[475]

    [475] I referred to the habits of these Medusæ in “Nature,” Nov.
    9th, 1882.

With regard to these Medusæ, I should remark that they belong to a
species of _Polyclonia_, and are classed amongst the Scypho-Medusæ.[476]
Two species of _Polyclonia_ seem to be known, _P. frondosa_ (Agassiz)
and _P. Mertensii_(Brandt), the first found in the Florida seas, and the
latter in the Carolines. I am inclined to think that the Solomon Island
species is more nearly allied to _P. Mertensii_. Both species, however,
have similar habits, lying on the mud of mangrove-swamps, with their
tentacles uppermost.

    [476] I compared my notes with the description and figures given by
    Agassiz in his “Contrib. Nat. Hist. U.S.A.” (1862: vols. iii. and
    iv.). In the Solomon Island species, the dendriform mass resolves
    itself into 8 principal branches, each ramose, and all united at
    their bases by a common membrane. The umbrella, which was finely
    lobed or crenulated at its margin, displayed about 40 radiating
    canals, each communicating by an anastomosing network with the canal
    on either side of it.

The singular habits of these Scypho-Medusæ were noticed by Brandt in
1838. They have since been remarked by Mosely[477] in the Philippines,
and by Archer[478] in the West Indies. L. Agassiz in his “Contributions
to the Natural History of the United States,” describes and figures the
Florida species (_Polyclonia frondosa_); and some additional notes on
its habits have been made by A. Agassiz, to whose communication in
“Nature” (Sept. 29th, 1881) I have been much indebted.

    [477] Mosely’s “Notes by a Naturalist,” p. 404.

    [478] “Nature” Aug. 4th, 1881.

Whilst we lay at anchor in Treasury Harbour, in April, 1884, a cetacean,
unknown to the natives and to ourselves, got partly stranded in the
shallow water, and was captured by the villagers. It was nine feet long,
and possessed this remarkable character that, although no teeth showed
through the gums, each lower jaw possessed a short, conical, hollow
tooth an inch long, placed at the anterior extremity. I obtained the
head from the natives, and placed it in a safe place, as I thought; but
when we returned to Treasury a few weeks after, I found only portions of
the skull with the lower jaw-bones, the wild pigs having held a feast
over it. The remains, however, together with my notes and a sketch by
Lieutenant Leeper were sent to the British Museum. I there learned that
it is a species of Ziphius, probably unknown.

The Solomon Islanders believe in the existence of anthropoid apes in the
interiors of the large islands, regarding them, however, like the Dyaks
of Borneo in the case of the Orang-utan, as “wild men of the woods.” In
Malaita they are said to be 4½ to 5 feet high, and to come down in
troops to make raids on the banana plantations. Captain Macdonald
informed me that the natives allege that one of these apes was caught,
and, after being kept for some time, escaped. Taki, the St. Christoval
chief, told Mr. Stephens that he had seen one of these apes, and pointed
out the locality. Tanowaio, the Ugi chief, also made a similar
statement. In Guadalcanar, they are believed to live in the trees, and
to attack men. Dr. Codrington refers to the prevalence of these beliefs
throughout Melanesia (Journ. Anthrop. Inst., vol. x. p. 261). Such
beliefs, as experience has shown in the case of the Gorilla and other
anthropoids, have undoubtedly some foundation; but whether these
mysterious animals are apes is quite another question.




CHAPTER XVI.

LAND AND FRESH-WATER SHELLS.


DURING my numerous excursions in these islands, I had in the majority of
instances to follow up the stream-courses in order to examine their
geological structure. I had therefore good opportunities in these
regions of making a collection of the fresh-water shells, which,
together with the land shells I collected, formed a total of between
sixty and seventy species, amongst which there were 11 new species and
at least 5 new varieties, whilst about 14 would appear to have been
never previously recorded from the Solomon Islands, and there were in
addition several from new localities in the group. The collection was
sent to the British Museum and was examined and described by Mr. E.
Smith, to whose paper on the subject[479] I am indebted for my
acquaintance with the shells in question, and through whose kindness I
have been thus enabled to supplement my other observations in these
islands. A list of the shells with the descriptions of the new species
is given on page 344. For its size, my collection presented a large
amount of novelty, coming as it did from a region the land and
fresh-water shells of which were previously considered to be fairly
known. There can be no doubt, however, that in the Solomon Islands the
conchologist has much work that remains to be done. Not only are the
higher regions of the larger islands, entirely unexplored, but it would
appear from the collections made up to the present date in this large
group, that particular species may be not only confined to a special
sub-group of islands but may be restricted to a single island, and that
other species more widely distributed through the group may be
represented in each island and in different districts of the larger
islands by different varieties. Had I been aware of the extent of the
influence of locality in this region, I might have made my collection of
greater value. It would therefore seem necessary for future collectors
in this group to make in every small island and in different districts
of the larger islands special independent collections, disregarding the
fact that they may have apparently met with the same shell very
frequently before, because many of the varieties and some of the species
can only be distinguished by the practised eye of the specialist, and a
new locality for a previously well-known species may be often
unwittingly found.

    [479] “On a collection of shells from the Solomon Islands” by Edgar
    A. Smith. (Proceedings of the Zoological Society: June 2nd, 1885.)
    This paper is illustrated with two coloured plates of the new
    shells.

As an instance of the unexpected results, which may fall to the lot of
others in this group, I may here add, that out of eleven land and
fresh-water shells that I collected in the small island of Santa Anna,
which is only 2½ miles in length, four were new species, and besides
there were some new varieties. The stations of these four species may be
suggestive. Two of them--_Helix_ (_Videna_) _sanctæ annæ_ and _Helix_
(_nanina_) _solidiuscula_--were generally found on the trunks of the
cocoa-nut palms at the coast; whilst the other two occurred in
situations far more likely to yield new species, _Melania sanctæ annæ_
being obtained from a small stream in the interior of the island, and
_Melania guppyi_ being found dead in the stomach and intestines of a
fish that frequents the fresh-water lake of Wailava. This last shell
would appear to live in the deeper parts of the lake, as I only found
one living specimen, all the others being obtained from the stomach and
intestines of these fish. Mr. Smith describes it as “a very remarkable
and distinct species.” Its length is about 1⅕ inches; and its
sharp-pointed spire was to be sometimes seen protruding through the vent
of the fish, which evidently digests the animal and ejects the shell.
These fish were usually 9 or 10 inches long; but the full-grown shells
were found also in fish half this size, when the relation between the
length of the shell and the size of the fish was truly alarming. Since
the little fish actually swallow sharp pointed shells measuring a fifth
of their own length and pass them out through the vent after they have
digested the animal, we must credit them with a remarkable capacity for
adapting their diet to circumstances.

To exemplify the variation which some species of shells display in this
group, I will take the instance of _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _cleryi_,
Récluz. This species is probably distributed through the whole group;
but considerable variation prevails in different islands. Amongst the
several forms which I obtained, three were named as new varieties, var.
_meridionalis_ from Santa Anna, var. _simboana_ from Simbo or Eddystone
Island, and var. _septentrionalis_ from the islands of Bougainville
Straits, the localities of the two last varieties being only 80 miles
apart. Mr. Smith remarks that this species is “subject to considerable
variation in size, colour, and form, apparently resulting from
difference of habitat. . . . . . . . . Whether these several varieties
should take specific rank is questionable, for, although there is a
considerable difference between the extreme forms, even in the series of
nearly one hundred specimens under examination, the gradual transition
from one form to another is observable.”

Amongst the more singular in appearance of the land shells, I may refer
to the large _Bulimus_ (_B. cleryi_) which I found on the north coast of
St. Christoval. It attains a length of four inches. I was never able to
get a living specimen, as they are said by the natives to live in the
foliage of the high trees. The specimens which I obtained were empty
shells which the natives of the Koofeh district on the north coast of
St. Christoval are in the habit of throwing into heaps, each man when he
picks up a shell throwing it into the next heap he passes. I was unable
to learn the reason of this practice and the natives did not seem
willing to tell me. . . . Two other _Bulimi_ I commonly met with. One
was the pretty _Bulimus miltocheilus_ (Reeve), which, when the animal is
young and the shell delicate, has a greenish-yellow hue resembling the
colour of the leaves it feeds upon: as it grows older the shell becomes
thicker and stronger, and in proportion as there is less need for
protective resemblance, the greenish-yellow hue fades away, leaving a
dull white colour behind. This species is found in St. Christoval and
the adjacent islands. The other _Bulimus_ (_B. founaki_, Homb. Jacq.)
which I found in Faro Island, Bougainville Straits, and which had been
only previously obtained at Isabel Island, attains a length of rather
under three inches.

I come now to refer to the fresh-water shells of these regions. Stated
in their order of frequency, the _Neritinæ_, _Melaniæ_, and _Navicellæ_
are the common fresh-water shells of these islands. The _Neritinæ_ were
especially interesting to me. They abound in the streams: some of them
preferring the moist rocks above the water, others finding their home in
the waters of a quiet pool, whilst others, like the _Navicellæ_, prefer
to buffet the full rush of the torrent. An important feature with
reference to these fresh-water Nerites or _Neritinæ_ is their wide
dispersal. “Some of these species”--as Mr. Smith remarks in respect of
those in my collection--“range not only through most of the islands of
the Solomon Group, but have a considerably wider distribution.” Thus,
_Neritina subsulcata_ (Sowerby) and _N. cornea_ (Linné), are not only
found in the Solomon Islands, but also occur in the Philippines: _N.
macgillivrayi_ (Reeve) and _N. petiti_ (Récluz) alike exist in the Fiji
and in the Solomon Groups; while _N. porcata_ (Gould) has been found in
Samoa and in Fiji as well as in the opposite extremities of the group
with which I am at present concerned. Being interested in the question
of the mode of dispersal of these Nerites, I made the following
experiment to test their powers of sustaining submersion in salt-water.
One individual belonging to the species _Neritina subsulcata_[480]--a
species which is also found as above stated in the Philippines, and at
the same time is the most widely dispersed fresh-water Nerite in the
Solomon Group--survived a submersion of twelve hours; but not one out of
a dozen individuals was found alive after a submersion of five days,
although the water was changed from time to time. The result was a
surprise to me, as I inferred from the result of Baron Aucapitaine’s
experiments as related by Mr. Darwin,[481] that their close-fitting
stony _opercula_ would have enabled them to resist the action of
salt-water. Their death could have been scarcely due to want of food,
since I have kept shells of this species for several months on a very
scanty diet, and since the powers of endurance of other fresh-water
shells are well known. The matter passed out of my mind until after my
arrival in England, when Mr. Smith put the question to me, as to their
mode of dispersal. I then remembered that their calcareous egg-capsules,
which are so commonly seen on the rocky sides of the streams, are in all
probability sufficiently thick to resist the action of salt-water. Here
is therefore a probable mode of dispersal, and I see it is one which Mr.
Smith refers to as such in his paper. These egg-capsules “if attached to
floating timber, might be carried to considerable distances.” They are
often to be observed on the outside of the shells of living _Navicellæ_,
and I have seen them on the backs of the valves of a _Unio_ which I
discovered in the Shortland Islands.

    [480] In his paper Mr. Smith refers to the species experimented on
    as _N. cornea_: but in my own list he named a shell belonging to one
    of the _Neritinæ_ in question as _N. subsulcata_.

    [481] _Cyclostoma elegans_ was the species tested: _vide_ “Origin of
    Species,” p. 353, 6th edit.

One common feature of these fresh-water shells, whether _Neritinæ_,
_Navicellæ_, or _Melaniæ_, is the extensive erosion of the apices and
surrounding parts of the shells. In some instances I have noticed that
almost the entire exterior of the shell has been extensively eroded,
particularly in the case of _Neritina subsulcata_, but I always found
that the erosion was greatest in non-calcareous districts, where the
free carbonic acid in the water is not all consumed in the solution of
the limestone rocks. In volcanic islands the erosion of the fresh-water
shells is greater than in islands of calcareous formation; and in
streams, which, like those of the north coast of St. Christoval, flow in
the upper portion of their course through a district of volcanic rocks
and in the lower portion through a district of calcareous rocks, the
same difference in the degree of erosion may be observed. I learn from a
recent work by Professor Semper[482] that it is the boring of a minute
fungus which first exposes the calcareous substance to the action of the
carbonic acid, and that the mechanical action of the stream in forming
tiny whirl-pools in the cavity probably assists in the erosion.

    [482] “The Natural Conditions of Existence, etc:” London 1881: p.
    212, circâ.

There are two common species of _Neritina_ in these islands which I
often confounded, viz., _N. subsulcata_ and _N. cornea_; and I learn
from Mr. Smith’s paper that these two species very closely approach each
other. They, however, are usually to be found in different stations, _N.
cornea_ occurring on the trunks of palms and other trees away from the
streams,[483] and _N. subsulcata_ preferring the moist rocky sides of
the streams a foot or so above the water.[484] Now and then they may be
found encroaching on each other’s domain; for I have found them together
on the trunks and branches of areca palms and tree-ferns in low lying
moist districts, whilst, as at Choiseul Bay, I found them together in
the streams.[485] Now it is a significant circumstance, that the
specimen of _N. cornea_ in my collection which was found by Mr. Smith to
make the nearest approach to _N. subsulcata_ was one which I obtained
from a stream in Choiseul Bay. It had, in this case, not only intruded
on the station of _N. subsulcata_, but had also assumed some of the
distinctive characters of that species. It, therefore, seems to me
probable that a graduated series of the shells of these two species
might be formed, which would present the stages of transition from the
one species to the other. If this be possible, then I would suggest that
the fresh-water Nerite (_Neritina subsulcata_) may have been transformed
into the tree Nerite (_Neritina cornea_) in the following manner.

    [483] In St. Christoval I found this species on one occasion 150
    feet above the nearest stream.

    [484] This species often takes to the water. Some individuals that I
    kept alive on board used to spend a quarter of an hour at a time in
    the water eating voraciously all the while.

    [485] According to Prof. Semper, these two species in the
    Philippines live a large portion of the year high up on the trees in
    mangrove swamps. (Ibid.)

I have already referred to the circumstance that in the higher portions
of the St. Christoval streams, where the rocks are entirely volcanic,
the fresh-water shells--and I may here add, especially those of
_Neritina subsulcata_--suffer much more erosion than do shells of the
same species in the lower parts of the streams where they flow through
calcareous districts. Now, the geological structure of this island being
mainly ancient volcanic rocks incrusted near the coast by recent
calcareous formations, the time will come when these calcareous
envelopes will have been entirely stripped off by denudation. How this
will influence the Nerites of the streams may be thus explained. At
present the normal characters of the species are preserved in the
calcareous portions of the streams; but when all the calcareous rocks
have been stripped off by denudation, the Nerite through its whole
lifetime will be subjected to that extensive process of erosion, which
now often denudes almost the entire surface of the shells of those
individuals that live in the volcanic portion of the stream’s course.
Here, Natural Selection may step in to favour the survival of any slight
variation that makes the Nerite more suited to lead an entirely arboreal
existence. Such a geological agency may in truth lead finally to the
expulsion of the Nerite from the stream’s course. Varieties will survive
only in proportion to their capability of adapting themselves to the new
condition; and they alone will perpetuate their kind until a tree Nerite
of distinct specific character is produced. . . . . On this reasoning,
tree Nerites ought to be more numerous in islands of volcanic formation;
but this is a point on which I cannot pronounce from the lack of
sufficient evidence.[486]

    [486] Prof. Semper’s observations in the Philippines bear on this
    matter. (“Natural Conditions of Existence,” &c., p. 188.)

According to Professor Semper, we have in _Navicella_ “a modified form
of _Neritina_,” which genus it resembles in all essential anatomical
characters, but “by long inurement to living in rushing mountain
streams, it has had its shell modified in the way most suited to those
conditions, while the _operculum_, in consequence of long disuse, has
become a peculiar degenerate or rudimentary organ.”[487]

    [487] Ibid, p. 212.

The growth of the fresh-water Nerites would appear to be slow. I kept a
young individual of _Neritina subsulcata_ for seven months in a bottle
partly filled with rain-water, and supplied it with decaying leaves for
food which it used to eat. Its weight was 37 grains both at the
beginning and the end of the experiment, having only varied half a grain
during the whole time; and its dimensions, as determined by measurement,
were unaltered. This species, when it is first picked off the rock,
ejects a watery fluid with a powerful musky odour, which effect
accompanies the closure of the shell by the _operculum_. I kept some
individuals of this species in rain-water, containing varying
proportions of lime-water, for about three months. The lime-water was of
the medicinal strength of the British Pharmacopeia. I began with water
containing 64 parts of rain-water to one part of the lime-solution. By
the end of the first month the proportion was increased to 32 to 1; by
the end of the second month it was 16 to 1; towards the end of the third
month the Nerites, having lived for over three weeks in the last
solution, began to die; the survivors were placed in a solution
containing the proportion of 8 to 1, but this amount of the
lime-solution proved too much for them. It should be remarked that
throughout the experiment, the Nerites used to descend to the water to
get their food just as frequently as in the state of nature: they did
not avoid the water; and after the experiment was over, there was no
apparent alteration in the appearance of the shells. These observations
were made in the north part of New Zealand during the latter part of the
summer and the beginning of the autumn, a circumstance which may
partially explain the death of the shells. The temperature there was
about 20° below the temperature they are accustomed to in the Solomon
Islands; this difference is of interest when it is remembered that
_Neritinæ_ are mostly found in the streams of tropical regions; and I
may, therefore, infer that this species is capable of adapting itself to
temperatures much lower than that to which it is accustomed, since some
individuals survived the voyage to New Zealand from the Solomon Islands
and lived in the climate of the former region for three months under
very unfavourable conditions.

Professor Semper[488] remarks that some _Neritinæ_ have the habit of
detaching themselves from rocks on the slightest touch, by this means,
as he considers, escaping the pursuit of their enemies. Some of them,
however, as I observed, detach themselves spontaneously and
independently of any alarm. The individuals of _Neritina subsulcata_
that I kept in a large bottle in my cabin, used frequently in the course
of a night to detach themselves from the sides and drop down into the
water below. On one occasion when the noise woke me up, I found the
culprit voraciously eating a portion of decayed leaf. In the daytime
they sometimes dropped, and at other times crawled, down to the water.
. . . . . It is probable that the musky water, which this Nerite ejects
when it is picked off a rock, may cause a bird to drop it from its beak
and thus save its life.

    [488] Ibid, p. 210.

Amongst the new fresh-water shells that I found in this group was a
species of _Unio_, to which Mr. Smith did me the honour of attaching my
name, it being the first species of this genus of river-mussels that has
been found in the Solomon Group. But its occurrence there means
something more than a new locality, since, as I believe, I am correct in
asserting, we have in it the first record of this widely distributed
genus having reached the Pacific islands. I do not think that this
species can be generally spread through the Solomon Group. I only found
it in one locality, namely the Shortland Islands, near the western end
of the group.

A very familiar shell, in low-lying moist and marshy situations
throughout the Solomon Islands, is that of the auriculoid, _Pythia
scarabæus_, Linné. Being usually accustomed to find it in the low-lying
districts, I was surprised on one occasion to find it in the higher
parts of Faro Island, which attains an elevation of 1,900 feet above
sea. In the mangrove swamps and in the lower parts of the streams at
Choiseul Bay, I found a species of _Cyrena_ which has not yet been
described, together with _Cerithidea cornea_ (A. Adams: var.) and
_Pyrazus palustris_, the last species occurring also in India. On the
moist ground of the taro patches in the islands of Bougainville Straits
thrives a species (_S. simplex_, var.) of that ubiquitous genus
_Succinea_. The operculated land-snails, of which the _Helicinæ_ are the
most numerous, are found more frequently in calcareous districts.

LIST OF LAND AND FRESH-WATER SHELLS COLLECTED IN THE SOLOMON
ISLANDS[489] DURING 1882 AND 1883. (EXTRACTED FROM MR. E. SMITH’S PAPER
IN THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON, JUNE, 2ND,
1885.) THE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE NEW SPECIES AND VARIETIES FOLLOW:

    [489] The habitats given are confined to the Solomon Group. I have
    added the new habitats of species in my collection to those
    previously ascertained from the collections of Brenchley,
    Macgillivray, Hombron and Jacquinot, etc.

    (1) _Helicarion planospira_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Santa Anna, Ugi, St.
    Christoval, Guadalcanar.

    (2) _Helix_ (_Nanina_) _nitidissima_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Treasury
    Island, a variety in Guadalcanar.

    (3) _Helix_ (_Nanina_) _solidiuscula_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Santa
    Anna, found generally on the trunks of cocoa-nut palms.

    (4) _Helix_ (_Corasia_) _tricolor_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ St. Christoval,
    Ugi, Santa Anna.

    (5) _Helix_ (_Corasia_) _anadyomene_, A (Adams & Angas) _Hab._
    Guadalcanar, Ugi.

    (6) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _acmella_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Faro Island,
    Bougainville Straits; Florida Islands, _vide_ original paper.

    (7) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _gamelia_ (Angas) _Hab._ Isabel, Stephen
    Island, Shortland Islands, Treasury Island, Choiseul Bay.

    (8) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _hargreavesi_ (Angas) _Hab._ Faro Island
    in Bougainville Straits.

    (9) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _mendana_ (Angas) _Hab._ Shortland
    Islands, _vide_ original paper.

    (10) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _motacilla_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Simbo or
    Eddystone Island, also called Narovo.

    _Note._--In the original paper, Simbo and Eddystone are referred to
    as two different islands. This mistake arose from the omission of
    the name of Simbo in the latest charts; it is, however, the name
    usually employed.

    (11) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _guppyi_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Faro Island
    in Bougainville Straits.

    (12) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _dampieri_ (Angas) var. _Hab._ Choiseul
    Bay.

    (13) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _eros_ (Angas) _Hab._ Isabel, Stephen
    Island, Shortland Islands.

    (14) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _cleryi_ (Récluz) _Hab._ Santa Anna,
    Ugi, St. Christoval, Guadalcanar, Rua Sura Islets, New Georgia,
    Simbo or Eddystone, Treasury, Shortlands, Choiseul Bay. Three new
    varieties, var _meridionalis_ (Santa Anna), var _simboana_ (Simbo or
    Eddystone), var _septentrionalis_ (Shortlands, Treasury, Choiseul
    Bay.)

    (15) _Helix_ (_Videna_) _merziana_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ St. Christoval,
    New Georgia, Ugi; _vide_ original paper.

    (16) _Helix_ (_Videna_) _sanctæ annæ_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Santa
    Anna, living on the trunks of cocoa-nut palms.

    _Note._--This species, or a closely similar form, was observed by me
    in many other islands; but I neglected to collect it in any other
    locality than Santa Anna.

    (17) _Helix_ (_Rhytida_) _villandrei_ (Gassies) _Hab._ St.
    Christoval, Ugi.

    (18) _Helix_ (_Camæna_) _hombroni_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Shortland and
    Faro Islands in Bougainville Straits, Isabel.

    (19) _Helix_ (_Chloritis_) _eustoma_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ New Georgia,
    Ugi, Faro Island (Bougainville Straits.)

    (20) _Bulimus_ (_Placostylus_) _cleryi_ (Petit) _Hab._ St.
    Christoval.

    (21) _Bulimus_ (_Placostylus_) _founaki_ (Hombron and Jacquinot)
    _Hab._ Isabel, Faro Island (Bougainville Straits).

    (22) _Bulimus_ (_Placostylus_) _miltocheilus_ (Reeve) _Hab._ St.
    Christoval (S.E. part), Ugi, Santa Anna: _vide_ original paper.

    (23) _Partula_, spec. _Hab._ Guadalcanar, Ugi, Treasury Island,
    Choiseul Bay: _vide_ original paper.

    (24) _Succinea simplex_ (Pfeiffer) var. _Hab._ Treasury Island,
    Shortland Islands: living on the moist ground in the taro patches.

    (25) _Cyclostoma_ (_Adelostoma_) _triste_ (Tapparone Canefri), var?
    _Hab._ Guadalcanar; Santa Anna; Faro and Shortland Islands and
    Choiseul Bay in Bougainville Straits.

    (26) _Leptopoma jacquinoti_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Rua Sura Islets off
    the north coast of Guadalcanar: _vide_ original paper.

    (27) _Leptopoma vitreum_ (Lesson) _Hab._ Santa Anna, Simbo or
    Eddystone; Shortland Islands.

    (28) _Omphalotropis nebulosa_ (Pease) _Hab._ St. Christoval,
    Guadalcanar, Ugi. I found this shell living on trees clothing a low
    tract of land skirting the beach.

    (29) _Pupina solomonensis_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Shortland and
    Treasury Islands in Bougainville Straits: living in the decayed
    trunks of fallen trees.

    (30) _Hargravesia polita_, H. (Adams), var. _Hab._ Faro Island in
    Bougainville Straits: _vide_ original paper.

    (31) _Helicina moquiniana_ (Récluz) _Hab._ St. Christoval,
    Guadalcanar, Ugi.

    (32) _Helicina egregia_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Guadalcanar, Florida
    Islands.

    (33) _Helicina modesta_ (Pfeiffer) _Hab._ Guadalcanar, Shortland
    Islands, Treasury Islands, Choiseul Bay.

    (34) _Helicina solomonensis_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ The Islands of
    Bougainville Straits (Faro, Shortlands, Treasury).

    (35) _Pythia scarabæus_ (Linné) _Hab._ Santa Anna, St. Christoval,
    which were the localities of my specimens; but I observed this
    species and its varieties in every island I visited. _Stat_: Moist
    ground usually near the sea.

    (36) _Melampus fasciatus_ (Deshayes) _Hab._ Isabel, Rua Sura Islets
    off the north coast of Guadalcanar. I found these shells in the
    crevices of a log on the beach.

    (37) _Melania amarula_ (Linné) _Hab._ Ugi, in the streams.

    (38) _Melania scabra_ (Müller) _Hab._ Ugi, in a stream.

    (39) _Melania salomonis_ (Brot.) _Hab._ Ugi, in a stream.

    (40) _Melania fulgurans_ (Hinds) _Hab._ Ugi, in a stream.

    (41) _Melania fastigiella_ (Reeve) _Hab._ Imbedded in a dark
    calcareous loam exposed in the banks of a large stream near its
    mouth at Sulagina, on the north coast of St. Christoval. I could not
    find any living specimens.

    (42) _Melania_ spec. _Hab._ The same as _Mel. fastigiella_.

    (43) _Melania verrucosa_ (Hinds) _Hab._ The same as _Mel.
    fastigiella_.

    (44) _Melania subgradata_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ The same as _Mel.
    fastigiella_.

    (45) _Melania ugiensis_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ From a stream in Ugi.

    (46) _Melania sanctæ annæ_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ A stream in the
    interior of Santa Anna.

    (47) _Melania guppyi_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ From the stomach and
    intestines of a fish living in the fresh-water lake of Wailava in
    the island of Santa Anna. This species probably frequents the deeper
    parts of the lake, as I only found one living individual.

    (48) _Cerithidea cornea_ A. (Adams) var. _Hab._ Mangrove swamps in
    Choiseul Bay.

    (49) _Pyrazus palustris_ _Hab._ Mangrove swamps in Choiseul Bay.

    _Note._--Not referred to in original paper.

    (50) _Nerita marmorata_ (Hombron and Jacquinot) _Hab._ Living just
    above high-water level on the surface of the coral-limestone coast,
    St. Christoval.

    (51) _Neritina cornea_ (Linné) _Hab._ Star Harbour, St. Christoval,
    on the trunks of trees 150 feet above the nearest stream; Choiseul
    Bay, from a stream; Shortland Islands, on the stems of tree-ferns
    and areca palms in a marshy district. I found this species in many
    other islands; but did not collect it except in the above three
    localities.

    (52) _Neritina subsulcata_ (Sowerby) _Hab._ Streams in St.
    Christoval and in the islands of Bougainville Straits. In the
    Shortland Islands I found this species on the stems of tree-ferns
    and areca palms in a marshy district. I only collected it in these
    localities; but I found it in many other islands. When first picked
    off the rock, it ejects a watery fluid possessing a powerful musky
    odour.

    (53) _Neritina dubia_ (Chemnitz) _Hab._ Shortland Islands, in a
    stream.

    (54) _Neritina adumbrata_ (Reeve) _Hab._ A stream in Choiseul Bay,
    and the rocky sides of a stream-course in Ugi.

    (55) _Neritina pulligera_ (Linné) _Hab._ Guadalcanar, St.
    Christoval, Ugi, Choiseul Bay, in the streams.

    (56) _Neritina petiti_ (Récluz) _Hab._ Treasury and Faro Islands, in
    the streams.

    (57) _Neritina olivacea_ (Le Guillou) _Hab._ Streams in Treasury
    Island and at Sulagina, St. Christoval.

    (58) _Neritina macgillivrayi_ (Reeve) _Hab._ Streams in Guadalcanar
    and in Faro Island, Bougainville Straits.

    (59) _Neritina asperulata_ (Récluz) _Hab._ Rocky sides of a
    stream-course in Ugi.

    (60) _Neritina porcata_ (Gould) _Hab._ St. Christoval, and Faro
    Island, Bougainville Straits, in streams.

    (61) _Neritina variegata_ (Lesson) _Hab._ St. Christoval, Ugi; Simbo
    or Eddystone; Faro Island, Bougainville Straits; Choiseul Bay; in
    streams.

    (62) _Neritina turtoni_ (Récluz) _Hab._ A stream in the Shortland
    Islands; streams in Guadalcanar; imbedded in a dark calcareous loam
    exposed in the banks of a large stream near to its mouth at Sulagina
    on the north coast of St. Christoval.

    (63) _Neritina brevispina_ (Lamarck) _Hab._ Streams in Shortland,
    Treasury, and Ugi Islands. The specimens from Treasury Island were
    destitute of spines.

    (64) _Neritina squarrosa_ (Récluz) _Hab._ Streams in Treasury
    Island.

    (65) _Navicella sanguisuga_ (Reeve) _Hab._ Streams in Faro Island,
    Bougainville Straits.

    (66) _Navicella suborbicularis_ (Sowerby) _Hab._ Guadalcanar, St.
    Christoval, Ugi, Treasury and Faro Islands in Bougainville Straits.

    (67) _Unio guppyi_ (nov. spec.) _Hab._ Streams in the Shortland
    Islands.

    (68) _Cyrena_, spec. _Hab._ In the lower parts of streams and in
    mangrove swamps, Choiseul Bay. _Note._--This species is not referred
    to in the original paper.


_Descriptions of the new species and varieties_,[490] by Mr. E. Smith.

    [490] The numbers refer to the plates in Mr. Smith’s paper (Proc.
    Zool. Soc., June 1885).

    (2) _Helix_ (_Nanina_) _nitidissima._ (Plate XXXVI. figs. 1, 1 _b_.)
    Shell thin, transparent, very glossy, depressed, narrowly perforate,
    pale brownish horn-colour above, whitish towards the umbilicus,
    sculptured with very faint lines of growth. Whorls 4-5, slightly
    convex, impressed and marginate above at the suture; last whorl
    large, rounded at the periphery. Aperture obliquely lunate;
    peristome simple, thin, slightly thickened and reflexed partly over
    the perforation. Spire low, but very little raised above the last
    whorl, obtuse at the apex. Greatest diameter 14 millim., smallest
    12; height 9.

    (3) _Helix_ (_Nanina_) _solidiuscula._ (Plate XXXVI., figs. 2, 2
    _b_.) Shell very narrowly perforate, depressed, somewhat solid, dark
    chestnut-brown and a little glossy above, more shining and paler
    beneath, becoming almost white at the umbilical region; whorls 6½,
    convex, separated by a deepish suture, and, with the exception of
    two or three at the apex which are smooth, sculptured with strong,
    close-set, arcuate, and oblique striæ on the upper surface, crossed
    with a few more or less distinct spiral lines. Body-whorl rounded at
    the periphery, or sometimes with the faintest indication of an
    angle, convex, and only exhibiting fine lines of growth below.
    Aperture obliquely semi-lunate; peristome simple, but, owing to the
    solidity of the shell, seeming slightly thickened, especially on the
    very oblique columellar margin, which is shortly reflexed above over
    the perforation. Spire depressed-conoid, having the least convex
    outlines and an obtuse apex. Greatest diameter 18 millim., smallest
    16½, height 12; aperture 8 long, 4½ wide.

    This species is well distinguished by its comparative solidity and
    strong sculpture on the upper surface.

    (4) _Helix_ (_Corasia_) _tricolor_ (Pfeiffer). (Plate XXXVI., figs.
    3, 3 _b_.) A specimen obtained on the north coast of the same island
    of St. Christoval, by Mr. Guppy, is worthy of special mention, and
    may be termed var. _picta_, on account of the undulating
    reddish-brown stripes which ornament both the upper and lower
    surfaces.

    A similar example was also collected by Dr. A. Corrie and presented
    to the Museum. The markings on these two shells are very striking
    and distinctly visible within the aperture.

    (11) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _guppyi._ (Plate XXXVI. fig. 4.) Shell
    elevately conical, thin, pale yellow, ornamented with conspicuous
    nearly black or black-brown spiral bands, one above and one below
    the sutures of the upper whorls, and three upon the last, one
    sutural, the second peripheral, and the third basal. Volutions 6,
    rather slowly enlarging, a little convex, sculptured with fine
    oblique striæ of growth, not glossy. Three first whorls livid
    purplish, the last rather sharply angled at the middle, not
    descending in front, having the basal band broad around the almost
    concealed perforation, and obsolete within the aperture. The latter
    is oblique, somewhat narrowed and pouting in front, banded within
    with three almost black and two white bands, the central one of the
    former being squarely truncate at the end, only the lower corner of
    it touching the margin of the lip, which is pale oblique, receding,
    a little expanded and reflexed in front and at the columellar
    margin, the upper end of which is spread over and nearly conceals
    the small umbilicus. Height 22½ millim., greatest diameter 19,
    smallest 16.

    This species is remarkable for the striking contrast of its
    colour-bands and the angular character of the last whorl.

    (12) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _dampieri_, Angas, var. (Plate XXXVI.
    fig. 5.) Shell imperforate, subglobose, conoid, light brown or
    fawn-colour, here and there minutely dotted with dark-grey specks,
    with a broad white band around the middle of the penultimate whorl
    and two upon the last, one above and the other below the middle,
    also a narrow white line revolving up the spire beneath the suture,
    and a dark brown zone surrounding the pale or yellowish umbilical
    region. Whorls 5, a little convex above, somewhat glossy, obliquely
    and very finely striated by the lines of growth, the last more or
    less concentrically striated beneath, shortly descending at the
    aperture which is white within. Lip a little thickened, edged with
    reddish brown, only slightly expanded on the right side, more
    dilated below, produced into a thin transparent callosity over the
    umbilical region, united above to the upper extremity of the
    peristome. Columellar margin oblique, white or partly tinged with
    reddish brown, thickened and terminating below within the edge of
    the lip. Height 19 millim., greatest diam. 22, smallest 19.

    The specimens from the Solomon Islands are smaller than the type
    with which, through the kindness of Mr G. F. Angas, I have compared
    them. They also have the peristome brown, and the basal band is
    darker.

    (14) _Helix_ (_Geotrochus_) _cleryi_, Récluz (Plate XXXVI. figs 6, 6
    _b_). The specimens from Santa Anna (var. _meridionalis_ fig. 6 _b_)
    are smaller than the type, pale brown above, with a white
    thread-like line at the suture, and the acutely keeled periphery,
    paler beneath, especially towards the centre, and have the aperture
    particularly acuminate at the termination of the keel.

    The specimens from Simbo (var. _simboana_, fig. 6 _a_) are uniformly
    pale horn-colour, rather sharply carinate at the middle, and have
    the peristome white, considerably thickened and almost notched at
    the upper end of the columella, and the body-whorl is more
    contracted than in the typical form. The examples from Choiseul Bay,
    Shortland and Treasury Islands (var. _septentrionalis_, fig. 6) are
    all alike, of smaller dimensions than the normal form, thin pale
    brownish horn-colour, with rather more convex whorls than usual, the
    carina at the periphery being acute and thread-like as in the
    variety _simboana_.

    Whether these several varieties should take specific rank is
    questionable, for, although there is considerable difference between
    the extreme forms even in the series of nearly one hundred
    specimens under examination, the gradual transition from one form
    to another is observable.

    (16) _Helix_ (_Videna_) _sanctæ annæ._ (Plate XXXVI. figs. 7. 7
    _b_.) Shell depressed-conoid, deeply umbilicated, very acutely
    keeled at the periphery, light brown, sometimes with a few radiating
    pale streaks on the upper surface, sculptured with oblique lines of
    growth. Whorls 5, rather slowly increasing, slightly convex,
    depressed and margined above the suture, last not descending,
    compressed above and below the keel, a little convex towards the
    umbilicus, which is moderately large. Aperture transverse,
    flesh-tinted within. Peristome simple, a little thickened along the
    basal margin, with the extremities united by a thin callus. Height 7
    millim.; greatest diameter 17, smallest 15.

    (25) _Cyclostoma_ (_Adelostoma_) _triste_, Tapparone Canefri, var.?
    Dr. Tapparone Canefri has kindly compared specimens from these
    islands with his _C triste_, and is of opinion that they may be
    considered a variety of it; and observes that the New-Guinean form
    is a little smaller, its spire a little more slender, its surface
    more glossy, the colour redder, and the apex of the spire darker.

    The shells under examination are clothed with a very thin epidermis
    when in a fresh condition, exhibiting numerous very fine spiral
    thread-like lines, which entirely disappear in worn shells and can
    easily be rubbed off with a brush. For several species having a
    similar epidermis and an incomplete peristome, Dr. Tapparone Canefri
    has proposed the subgenus _Adelostoma_.

    (29) _Pupina solomonensis._(Plate XXXVI. fig. 9, 9 _a_.) Shell small
    and very like _P. difficilis_, Semper, and _P. keraudreni_, Vignard.
    It is of a reddish tint, especially the body-whorl; consists of 5½
    whorls, which are the least convex and exhibit a pellucid line,
    frequently brown, immediately beneath the suture. Last whorl very
    obliquely descending behind, narrowed below, and flattened somewhat
    above the aperture. Columella thickened with callus, white, parted
    off from the whorl above by an oblique circumscribing red line,
    truncated rather low down. Outer lip slightly thickened and effuse,
    and a little paler than the rest of the whorl, produced somewhat at
    its junction with the body-whorl, which in consequence has the
    appearance of rising suddenly after an oblique descent. Length 7
    millims., diam. 3⅔, aperture 2 long and wide.

    (34) _Helicina solomonensis._ (Plate XXXVI. figs. 11, ll _b_.) Shell
    small, globose-conical, reddish or yellowish, pale at the apex.
    Whorls 4--4½, the least convex above, sculptured with lines of
    growth and fine spiral striæ both on the upper and lower surfaces,
    very faintly margined above at the suture; last whorl rounded at the
    periphery, obsoletely angled near the junction of the outer lip and
    the least descending in front, so that the faint angulation is
    visible for a short distance above the sutural line. Aperture
    somewhat semicircular and oblique, small; peristome slightly
    expanded; umbilical callosity yellowish or pellucid whitish, defined
    towards the base of the columellar margin. Greatest width 4⅔
    millim., smallest 4; height 3½.

    (44) _Melania subgradata._(Plate XXXVII. fig. 3, 3 _a_). Shell
    elongate, turreted, rather solid, covered with an (olive?)
    epidermis, and marked with fine longitudinal oblique red lines which
    extend from suture to suture. Whorls probably about 10, flat or even
    a little concave at the sides, shouldered above, usually with a
    spiral shallow groove and a few striæ near the shoulder, and marked
    with fine incremental striæ. Suture deep, slightly oblique. Last
    whorl long, finely transversely striated, most distinctly at the
    base. Aperture elongate-pyriform, acute above, effuse at the base.
    Outer lip thin, sharp, accurate, and prominent at the middle.
    Columellar margin rather thickly covered with callus, united above
    to the outer lip. Length of two specimens, consisting of five whorls
    30 and 25 millim.; diameter 11 and 10½; aperture 14 and 12 long, 6
    and 5 wide.

    (45) _Melania ugiensis._ (Plate XXXVII. fig. 4.) Shell subulate,
    acuminate, beneath the epidermis (which is wanting in the specimens
    at hand), of a dirty, pale, livid, or purplish tint. Whorls probably
    about 14 in number; the eleven remaining are a little convex, rather
    slowly enlarging, and sculptured with close-set, obliquish, fine
    riblets, which are crossed by crowded spiral striæ. Last whorl
    large, with the riblets rather obsolete below the middle, and very
    close together, much more numerous than those upon the upper whorls.
    Aperture obliquely pear-shaped. Length 25 millim., diameter 8;
    aperture 8½ long, 4½ wide.

    (46) _Melania sanctæ annæ._ (Plate XXXVII. figs. 5, 5 _a_.) Shell
    small, acuminately pyramidal, somewhat eroded towards the apex,
    covered with a yellowish-olive epidermis, and sometimes marked with
    a few indistinct, reddish, irregular spots, and lines near the
    middle of the body-whorl. Whorls 5-6 remaining, flattish at the
    sides, divided by a slightly, oblique, distinct suture, all with the
    exception of the last one or two more or less distinctly,
    longitudinally, finely plicate; the plicæ are more conspicuous in
    some specimens than in others, being at times entirely eroded. The
    other sculpture consists of fine lines of growth, and a few rather
    distant spiral striæ, which cut across the incremental lines and
    produce a puckered appearance. Aperture elongate, pyriform, pale
    bluish within. Length of specimen consisting of six whorls 13
    millim., diameter 5; aperture 5 long and 2½ wide.

    (47) _Melania guppyi._ (Plate XXXVII. figs. 6, 6 _a_.) Shell
    slenderly acuminate, covered with an olive-brown epidermis. Whorls
    about 14, divided by a very oblique, deepish suture, concave above
    the middle and somewhat convex below it, and then contracted;
    ornamented with a few spiral series of nodules (about five on the
    upper whorls) and rather indistinct, very oblique and flexuous,
    longitudinal ridges, upon which the nodules rests, also exhibiting
    very sloping and flexuous lines of growth; the most conspicuous rows
    of granules are near the middle of the whorls. Aperture pyriform.
    Outer lip thin, remarkably sinuated above towards the suture, and
    arcuately prominent below. Columellar margin oblique, straightish,
    covered with a callus, curving into the broad basal sinus. Length 31
    millim., diameter 7; aperture 9 long, 4 wide.

    This is a very remarkable and distinct species, with a very
    drawn-out spire, peculiar granuled sculpture, and a deeply sinuated
    labrum. I have much pleasure in naming it after Mr. Guppy.

    (66) _Unio guppyi._ (Plate XXXVII. figs. 8-8 _b_.) Shell elongate,
    very inequilateral, usually a little longer than twice the height,
    compressed, covered with a blackish-brown epidermis, exhibiting
    strong lines of growth, and very faint radiating substriation, and
    marked with fine wrinklings at the eroded beaks, which are small and
    placed quite near the anterior extremity. Dorsal margin behind the
    umbones almost straight or the least excurved for some distance,
    then at an obtuse angle becoming oblique before rounding into the
    extremity, which is a little more sharply curved than the anterior
    end. Ventral outline either faintly excurved, straight, or the least
    concave. Interior bluish-white, most iridescent at the hinder
    extremity, generally stained in parts with olive-brown. Cardinal
    tooth of the right valve moderately large, four or five-lobed at the
    top, situated just in front of umbo. Between it and the outer margin
    is a short ridge, the space between the tooth and the ridge
    receiving the single, smaller, roughened, and striated tooth of the
    left valve. Lateral tooth of the right valve long, obliquely
    truncate behind, fitting in between two teeth in the opposite valve.
    Anterior adductor scar deep, posterior superficial, squarish in
    front. Pedal scar in both valves under the cardinal tooth very deep.
    Ligament elongate, prominent.

  Length 80 mm.; height 38; diameter 21.
     „   70 mm.;   „    35;    „     18.

    This species recalls to mind some of the forms from Australia and
    New Zealand. Its principal features are the elongate compressed
    form, dark brown colour, wrinkled apices, and coarse incremental
    lines. It is the only species as yet recorded from the Solomon
    Islands.


ADDITIONAL NOTE. (H. B. GUPPY.)

A species of the _Litoritinidæ (Littorina scabra)_ is commonly found in
this group on the leaves and trunks of mangroves, Barringtonias, and
other littoral trees, the branches of which overspread the rising tide.
These molluscs occur at heights varying from one or two feet to eight or
nine feet above the high-water level; and they possess an unusually
delicate operculum as compared with those of other species of the same
family. They do not seem to be able to withstand immersion in salt water
for any length of time, since out of six individuals kept submerged for
twenty-four hours, three died. When first placed in the water, they were
evidently very much out of their element, and tried in vain to creep out
of the vessel. The delicate character of the operculum indicates a
transitional stage between marine and terrestrial molluscs; and the
experiment above referred to, throws a little light on this subject,
since only the younger of the six individuals survived. One would have
expected that the younger individuals would have been less able to
withstand immersion in sea-water, but such was not the case, since they
recovered from an immersion which killed the older individuals. In
explanation of this unexpected result, I would infer that, on the theory
of the inheritance of peculiarities at corresponding ages, the younger
individuals would retain more of the marine habits of the original
parent of the species, because in the first place only the adults of
this parent species would have been modified to suit the new condition.




CHAPTER XVII.

THE CLIMATE OF THE SOLOMON ISLANDS.


AMONGST the matters to which I devoted some attention in this group of
islands, was the annual rainfall. As far as I know, there have been no
continuous observations previously made there; and the only record of
rain-measurement, which I have been able to find referring to this
region, was an observation made on board the Austrian frigate “Novara”
in the middle of October, 1858, whilst to the northward of St.
Christoval, when three inches of rain were registered in five
hours.[491] I therefore set myself to work to do what I could in this
matter, making rain-gauge stations at Santa Anna and Ugi and keeping a
register myself on board. Mr. Fred Howard undertook to make these
observations at Ugi, and I supplied him with a rain-gauge for this
purpose. His register, which extended over a period of fifteen months
from October, 1882, to the end of the following year, was kept with
great regularity; and as I was able to compare his observations with my
own on board for a few days, I have every confidence in the accuracy of
his observations. At Santa Anna, Mr. William Henghan, to whom I had
supplied a gauge, undertook at first to keep the record, beginning in
the last week of October, 1882; but he left the island two months after,
when Mr. Charles Sproul voluntarily undertook to measure the rainfall,
which he did with great regularity until the end of the following year.
I regret to learn that Mr. Sproul has recently died at Sydney. He was
one of those men who in a quiet inoffensive way have done much towards
preparing the way for future settlers in this group. I have the greatest
confidence in his observations, since for a few days at Santa Anna we
were able to compare our daily measurements.

    [491] Scherzer’s “Voyage of the ‘Novara,’” Eng. edit., 1861.

Before proceeding to consider the results of these rain-measurements, I
will endeavour to convey to the mental eye of my readers a general idea
of the most striking atmospheric phenomenon in connection with the
rainfall of these regions. I refer to the oncoming of the _black
squall_.

A clear and serene sky at first gives no token of the sudden change that
is to quickly follow; but the stillness of the air and its increased
dryness, together with the consequent greater scorching power of the
sun’s rays and the apparent nearness of surrounding shores, give
sufficient warning of the onset of the rain squall to those acquainted
with these seas. In a short time a low black arch appears above the
horizon, often in an unexpected quarter, and rising rapidly it sweeps
majestically with great swiftness until it appears to span the heavens.
Onward it rushes, quicker far than one imagines; and now must the
navigator beware. Under yonder advancing arch a white line of foam marks
its van. There, away towards one of its corners, a waterspout rises in
fantastic shape; sea and cloud meet in mid-air and become intermingled
in the whirling column. Lightning plays about beneath the arch and
within its black mass, illuming for the moment its dark recesses and
leaving it in the next far blacker than before. Peals of thunder herald
on the advance of the black squall.

“Clear lower deck!” “Hands aloft!” “Shorten sail!” Such were the words
of command which were almost daily issued during our cruises in these
islands. In a few brief minutes, the ship is prepared to meet the
squall. The temperature falls very perceptibly, and the officer of the
watch gives a slight shiver as he dons his oilskins. The wind is
freshening, a few large drops of rain fall, the men crouch under the
bulwarks, and now the arch is overhead and we are in the thick of the
squall. Down comes a deluge of rain which in less than a minute wets all
who are unprotected through and through. The ship heels well over, even
with her scanty canvas. There is nothing more to be done. We listen to
the whistling of the wind in the rigging and patiently wait until the
weather clears. In half-an-hour the arch has swept over us, and is
pursuing its rapid course towards the neighbouring mountain-peaks,
perhaps of Bougainville or it may be of Guadalcanar. The blue sky begins
to show itself; and in less than an hour all is as before. With reefs
shaken out and more sail made, the ship proceeds, plunging cheerily on
under a fresh breeze as though glad to shake herself clear of the
squall. The sea losing its murky colour reflects the bright hue of the
sky now serene; and its white-topped waves sparkle in the sun. The
wizard of the storm has shaken his wand, and the scene is changed, as
though by magic.

All nature seems invigorated by this short battle of the elements and to
be indebted to the bounty of the black squall. Whilst everything before
was depressed and lowering, all is now bright and cheerful. Nature has
in truth had its accustomed shower-bath, and the reaction that ensues
does good to all; makes men the happier and the stronger, elicits a loud
chorus from the lower creation in which bird, reptile, and insect,
before hushed in the depressing gloom, now combine in strange medley;
and the inanimate world shares in the bright change which has followed
the storm.

If it be night, the increased luminosity of the sea may be the warning
of the arched squall. The ship throws off a bright wave of
phosphorescence on either side of the bow, and leaves a luminous track
in her wake. Overhead the cloudless star-lit sky conveys _its_ warning;
for the stars shine with increased brilliancy, those of less magnitude
usually invisible with the naked eye are now distinctly seen; and if the
navigator, who has often tried in vain to count the six stars in the
Pleiades, can do so now, let him look out for the black squall. Such are
the warnings. Then sweeps along the lowering arched mass with its rain
and its waterspouts, its wind and its thunder and lightning. On it
comes, looking all the blacker as it spreads athwart the heavens and
turns the star-lit night into a lightless gloom. Overtaken in the night
by such a squall, unable to see more than half a cable’s length on
either side, and perhaps in the vicinity of sunken reefs the position of
which is uncertain, a sailor has need of all his wits. On one occasion,
when in this situation, we came unexpectedly in soundings, whilst, as we
thought, a hundred good fathoms and more lay beneath our keel. The time
was anxious, but nothing could be done until the squall was over. When
the arch has passed, the stars begin to show themselves, and in a short
time they shine out with all their lustre.

With this description of the rain-squall, or black-squall, or
arched-squall, as it may be also conveniently termed, I return to the
consideration of the rainfall of this region; and first with regard to
the observations at the east end of the Solomon Group. During 1883,
125·03 inches of rain were measured at Santa Anna, a small island lying
at the extreme eastern limit of these islands. Two-thirds of the total
amount fell in the live months between the beginning of April and the
end of August. At Ugi, which lies nearly 60 miles north-east of Santa
Anna, 146·24 inches of rain were registered during the same year. About
one-third of the total rain for the year fell in the two months of April
and July. On comparing the totals for each month at these two
localities, there will be found to be but little agreement, which is due
to the circumstance that the daily rainfalls of these two places have
little relation one with the other, a heavy fall at one island being
often only indicated by a slight fall of rain at the other. It is thus
evident that locality has a great influence on the rainfall in this part
of the group; and probably Ugi owes its greater rainfall to the
proximity of the high land of St. Christoval. Here, as in other parts of
this group, I often had opportunities of observing how the contiguity of
land affected the rainfall in a single shower. I might have been in the
interior of an island exposed to a deluge of rain for a couple of hours,
and have found, as I did once in the Shortland Islands, that there had
been very little rain on board. Another time, when in my Rob Roy canoe
on the south side of Treasury harbour and not more than a mile from the
ship, a rain-squall passed over me leaving scarcely a drop behind; but
as it swept over the ship and was approaching the steep slopes of the
island, a smart shower of 20/100 of an inch fell on the deck.

I cannot gather from the observations made in this eastern part of the
group, that one season of the year has a heavier rainfall than another.
On comparing the two records for 1883 of Ugi and Santa Anna, it might be
thought that the closing months of the year would usually prove to be
the driest; but on referring to the register kept on board the ship in
this locality in the latter part of 1882 (page 365), which is one of the
heaviest records we had in the Solomon Group, such an inference would be
negatived. Nor do I find from these registers of rainfall that there
appears to be any relation between the amount of rain and the prevalence
or non-prevalence of the south-easterly trade, which usually becomes
well established in May and lasts till the end of November or the
beginning of December, when the north-westerly and westerly winds set
in. These observations point towards the inference, therefore, that the
distribution of rain through the seasons in this part of the group is
capricious; and they do not warrant the conclusion that one season is
wetter than another.

Perhaps a comparison of the number of rainy days, or days on which not
less than 2/100 of an inch of rain were measured, may help us to form a
more definite conclusion. It will be seen that at Santa Anna and Ugi
there were much the same number of rainy days, 182 in the former island
and 178 in the latter, or in round numbers about half the total number
of days in the year were rainy.[492] At Santa Anna, during the
prevalence of the trade wind, there were on the average 15 rainy days
per month, and at Ugi 13 per month; whilst during the months from
December to April inclusive, when westerly and variable winds prevailed,
there were 18 rainy days per month at Santa Anna, and 19 per month at
Ugi; so that we may infer that in this year of 1883 there were fewer
rainy days per month during the prevalence of the south-east trade,
_i.e._, from May to November, than during the period of westerly and
variable winds, _i.e._, from December to April.

    [492] From the record of the rainy days during the six months from
    June to November of the previous year (1882), it appears that at
    least 110 days were rainy. During the same months of the following
    year, only 84 days were rainy.

I come now to the subject of the greatest daily fall of rain in this
eastern end of the group. On the 13th of June, 1883, 7·73 inches were
registered at Santa Anna; whilst at Ugi on the same day only an inch and
a half of rain fell, a circumstance showing how confined in their areas
some heavy rainfalls may be. At Ugi the heaviest daily fall of 5·75
inches was recorded on the 28th of January of this same year; whilst at
Santa Anna only a little more than two inches fell on this day; and here
is another proof of the restricted locality of heavy rainfalls. On the
20th of November, 1882, when H.M.S. “Lark” was off the east end of St.
Christoval, 5·74 inches of rain fell on the ship; whilst only a small
amount of rain was measured at Santa Anna and Ugi. . . . . . With
reference to the character of the rain in this part of the Solomon
Group, I may remark that as in other tropical regions it is very heavy.
A fall of an inch in an hour is very frequent during a rain-squall; but
not uncommonly the rain falls far more heavily. Thus, on one occasion on
board H.M.S. “Lark,” when in this part of the group, 2·90 inches fell in
an hour; and at another time 1·03 inches fell in 25 minutes, and on
another occasion an inch fell in half-an-hour.

But inasmuch as heavy falls of rain are not peculiar to the tropics,
since far greater falls than those above named have occurred in
temperate Europe, we can only judge of the character of the rainfall in
this region by the total annual fall and by the frequency of heavy
falls. Thus we find that at Ugi, in 1883, on 56 days the fall exceeded
an inch; and that at Santa Anna, more than an inch of rain fell on 41
days. At Ugi, the daily records on eighteen occasions exceeded two
inches; at Santa there was a lesser number of falls of over two inches,
viz. 11.

If I were to estimate the probable annual rainfall at the _coast_ in
this part of the Solomon Group, I should place it at not far under 150
inches. Although only possessing the rain-register for a small portion
of 1882, I am of the opinion, from having spent a large part of the year
in this eastern end of the group, that the fall for 1882 was heavier
than the rainfall actually registered for 1883;[493] although this is
but a conjecture, it enables me to estimate the probable annual fall
with some confidence at about 150 inches at the _coast_ in this eastern
end of the group.

    [493] _Vide_ footnote referring to number of rainy days in 1882 on
    p. 356.

The observations made on board the ship amongst the islands of
Bougainville Straits (Treasury, Shortlands, Faro, etc.) during portions
of the year 1883 and 1884 now claim our notice. As shown on page 365,
60·43 inches of rain fell in the five months from June to October of
1883, this amount being a little under that which fell at Ugi (65·70
inches) and at Santa Anna (67·72 inches) in the same period, the two
regions lying towards the opposite ends of the group. During the same
period of the following year, we measured 67·66 inches of rain in
Bougainville Straits, an amount a little in excess of that of the
previous year. During the same periods, _i.e._, from June to October
inclusive, in 1883 and 1884, there were the following number of rainy
days, 120 in the one year and 118 in the other. At Santa Anna and Ugi,
at the opposite end of the group, the total of rainy days for the same
period in 1883, numbered only two-thirds of the amount in Bougainville
Straits. During these five months in 1883 there were 16 daily records of
over an inch of rain in Bougainville Straits; at Santa Anna and Ugi, in
the same period, there were 23 and 26 daily records exceeding an inch.
In the same period of 1884, in Bougainville Straits, there were 22 such
daily records, but the total fall was about 7 inches greater than in the
previous year.

I may now draw some inferences from the above observations. In the first
place, it is probable that the annual coast rainfall of Bougainville
Straits and that of the eastern end of the Solomon Group are much about
the same, viz., about 150 inches: the chief difference between the two
regions being, that in the former region, there are a greater number of
rainy days and fewer heavy falls. The heavy falls, when they do occur,
are not easily forgotten; thus, at Treasury we measured, in July, 1884,
11 inches of rain in 10 successive hours; but the daily record was only
8·09 inches, since the rain began in the evening of one day and lasted
well into the following morning.

During the heavy rainfalls in these regions the streams swell in an
astonishingly quick manner. Rivulets become turbid streams, the whole
hill-slope discharges a continuous sheet of water, and the water rushes
down the permanent stream-courses with the roar of a mountain-torrent.
Large blocks of stone are swept some distance along the lower courses of
the streams; and the trunks of trees are carried by each successive
flood further and further towards the mouth of the stream.

It should be now remarked that the average rainfall for the year, which
I have estimated from observations made in different parts of the
Solomon Group at about 150 inches, only applies to the _coast_. It is
probable that this estimate is generally applicable to the coasts of
these islands, except on the lee sides of the loftier islands.[494]

    [494] By the lee sides, I mean those sheltered from the prevailing
    S.E. trade.

This brings me to the question of the rainfall in the higher regions.
The rainfall will increase with elevation until a certain height is
reached, where the clouds attain their maximum density; at such a level
the greatest rainfall will occur. I learn from an interesting paper by
Mr. Bateman on this subject,[495] that it may be inferred that in the
Lake District of England the greatest rainfall occurs at an elevation of
2,000 feet, which is the level of maximum cloud density. In India, an
elevation of 4,500 feet represents the level at which the greatest
rainfall occurs. In the Solomon Islands, a greater height will have to
be attained before the level of maximum cloud density or that of the
greatest rainfall will be attained. Probably I shall not greatly err if
I assume it to be between 5,000 and 6,000 feet. I have already observed
that the south-east trade, subject to its usual variations, is the
prevailing wind in the eastern part of the group for nearly two-thirds
of the year. Coming laden with its watery burden, it first strikes the
eastern slopes of St. Christoval; but although the higher regions of
this island must cause the rain-clouds to precipitate a large amount of
their moisture, the higher peaks do not rise in sufficient mass to a
height that would receive the greatest rainfall, the extreme height
being 4,100 feet. The rain-clouds, with the bulk of their moisture,
would therefore be driven over the higher regions of this island, and
would deposit the greater part of their burden on the higher slopes of
the mountainous eastern portion of Guadalcanar. Since this island, in
its eastern portion, rises in mass to a height of some 5,000 feet and
attains a maximum elevation of 8,000 feet, it does not seem probable
that, during the prevalence of the trade for nearly two-thirds of the
year, a considerable quantity of rain would be deposited on the western
side of the island; and, that such is the case, is shown in the fact
that the dense forest-growth that clothes the steep eastern and southern
slopes of the island gives place, on the lee or west side of the
mountains, to a vegetation which gives to the western portion of
Guadalcanar, when viewed from seaward, the appearance of a savannah or a
prairie.

    [495] Journal of the Victoria Institute. Vol. XV. No. 59.

The lofty mountain-masses of the east end of Guadalcanar, which forms
one of the finest specimens of coast-scenery in the world, are usually
enveloped in rain-clouds at their summits. But occasionally one of the
peaks is visible above the thick cloud-covering, marking by its
elevation, as it were, the line of greatest rainfall lying below. In the
same manner the high peaks at the east end of Bougainville, which have
an elevation of between 7,000 and 8,000 feet, may be seen occasionally
to project above the rain-clouds; but there is, probably, a smaller
quantity of rain deposited on the higher slopes of this island than on
those of Guadalcanar, because the mountains are more isolated, possess
for the most part the tapering volcanic profile, and do not rise “en
masse,” as in the case of the high lands of Guadalcanar. The greatest
rainfall in the Solomon Group takes place on the steep southern and
eastern slopes of this island of Guadalcanar. Huge mountain-masses
appear to rise directly from the sea to a height of some 5,000 feet,
ultimately attaining a height of 8,000 feet. The fall there must be
tremendous, especially when, as is frequently the case, the land of St.
Christoval does not interpose itself in the path of the moisture-laden
trade-wind. Then, loaded with vapours after its passage across a wide
expanse of ocean, and with but a thin tract of intervening lowland to
rob it of its moisture, the trade strikes at once upon the precipitous
mountain-slopes as against some Cyclopean rampart. There is no ravine or
breach in the mountain-mass to ease the tension. There, on those
mountain-slopes, a terrific precipitation must occur, which, if the
annual rainfall of the coast is 150 inches, will here be three or four
times that amount. This is no exaggerated language, but is the opinion I
have formed, after having carefully considered the physical geography of
these regions.

The subjoined rainfalls of a few localities in other parts of the world
may be interesting to compare with that of the Solomon Group:[496]

    [496] Somerville’s “Physical Geography,” 7th edit. pp. 331-334.

  England                                     32  inches.
  Singapore                                   97     „
  Atlantic Doldrums                          225     „
  Western Ghats                              302     „
  Cherraponjee                                10     „


SOLOMON ISLANDS.

  (_a._) at the coast                        150     „
  (_b._) on the higher slopes of Guadalcanar 400 to 500 inches probably.

Comparing the rainfall of the Solomon Islands with some results obtained
in other parts of the Pacific, I would draw attention to the small
rainfall of Port Moresby on the south-east coast of New Guinea, where
34·44 inches were registered at the Mission Station in 1875.[497] In
Fiji the rainfall appears to vary between 60 and 250 inches per annum,
according to the degree of elevation above the sea, and to the position
of the station on the lee or weather sides of the islands, the greatest
annual falls occurring in the interior of the large islands.[498] In
Oahu, one of the Sandwich Islands, during 1873, the rainfall at the
coast was 37·85 inches; whilst at a distance of 2¾ miles in the
interior, it was 134·06 inches, the elevation being only 550 feet above
the sea.[499]

    [497] Stone’s “A Few Months in New Guinea,” p. 143.

    [498] Rain-gaugers have been numerous in this colony, and their list
    would extend beyond the limits of a foot-note. (Vide Home’s “Year in
    Fiji,” &c., &c.)

    [499] Mosely’s “Naturalist on the ‘Challenger,’” p. 497.

I will now make a few remarks on the barometric pressure, temperature,
and other features of the meteorology of this group. They are based on
the results of the observations made by Lieutenant Leeper on board the
ship, and by Mr. F. Howard at Ugi. (Tables appended.)

As is usual in these regions of the Pacific, the fluctuation of the
barometer, whether daily, yearly, or monthly, is very small. Thus, the
range during the 22 months we passed in the group, was from 29·83 to
30·18 inches, or about a third of an inch; whilst the average monthly
range was rather under a quarter of an inch, and the usual diurnal
variation about ·04 of an inch.

Whilst endeavouring to compare the temperatures of the different
seasons, I have mainly used the Ugi register, since it gives a
continuous record for more than a year. At Ugi in 1883, the portion of
the year from June to September inclusive was slightly the coolest, but
the difference in the means was not 2°; and, in truth, taking all the
thermometric observations into consideration, the seasons are scarcely
distinguished by their temperatures. As Lieutenant Leeper[500] remarks
in his report, the temperature varies but little all the year round, the
monthly mean varying between 80° and 85°. The annual mean temperature
may be placed at 82° to 83°, and the range from 75° to 95°. The daily
variation is considerably affected by the exposed or protected position
of any locality at the coast. Judging, however, from the data at my
disposal, it is usually less than 10°, _e.g._, 79° at night, and 88° at
mid-day.

    [500] _Vide_ Quart. Journ. Roy. Met. Soc. vol. XI., p. 309. The
    instruments used on board were previously verified at Kew. From want
    of leisure, Lieut. Leeper was unable to do much more than tabulate
    his observations. I have therefore extracted from them such general
    facts and inferences as they sustain.

From the hygrometrical observations, it may be inferred that the climate
of these islands is generally very moist. The _relative humidity_,
taking 100 as saturation, ranged at Ugi in 1883 from 54 to 100; but the
monthly range was usually from 72 to 95, the mean for the year being
83.[501] This mean degree of relative humidity is much greater than that
of Levuka in Fiji which would seem to average about 70;[502] but in
truth there is little necessity for me to remark further on this
well-known feature of the climate of these islands. Yet, I should add
that this proportion of aqueous vapour would not necessarily be
oppressive in a temperate latitude. In a tropical climate, however, any
influence that retards the evaporation from the skin of the normally
excessive perspiration, is a cause of personal discomfort, such as would
not be experienced in a drier locality lying in the same latitude. The
effects of this combination of heat and moisture are to be seen in the
rankness of the vegetation, and in the rapid rusting of steel. Although
the foregoing remarks may be taken as generally applicable to the group,
it should be stated that on the lee side of a mountainous island, such
as the western end of Guadalcanar, there is a comparatively dry
atmosphere, and the difference is also shown in the character of the
vegetation.

    [501] There are no observations for January, but since the mean
    relative humidity varies with the rainfall, I have approximately
    estimated that for January to be 83.

    [502] Lieut. Lake’s observations for 1876 and 1877. (Quart. Journ.
    Met. Soc.)

The moderate intensity of the sun’s rays in these islands is to be
ascribed to the presence of aqueous vapour in quantity in the
atmosphere. When, however, a thunderstorm and its accompanying
rain-squall are portending, the air is unusually dry, and the sun’s rays
are very fierce. At such times it often happens that the sky is
overcast; and thus it comes about that the unwary traveller, by rashly
baring his legs and arms, suffers severe sun-burns when he least expects
it. Waterton and other travellers have, through ignorance of this fact,
been laid up for several days, and even weeks. I was unable to walk any
distance for about ten days, after experiencing a severe sun-burn of the
legs as the result of baring them during an overcast day. The affection
is peculiarly painful, though it often excites but little sympathy.

My remarks on the meteorology of this group will not be complete without
a short reference to the prevailing winds. The South-east Trade Wind and
the North-west Monsoon carry on a continual struggle for the mastery in
these islands. However, for two-thirds of the year the Trade prevails,
viz., from April to November. The appended record of winds, which
extends over a considerable period, I have prepared from the
observations made on board H.M.S. “Lark” in different parts of the
group, and from the registers kept by Mr. Sproul and Mr. Howard at Santa
Anna and Ugi. It will be there seen that at the eastern extremity of
these islands, viz., in the vicinity of St. Christoval, the Trade
announces its onset in April by unsettled weather, and frequent
thunderstorms. In May, it becomes established, but, as Lieutenant Leeper
remarks, it blows in fits and starts, is interrupted by calms, variable
winds, and heavy rain-squalls, and does not blow home as in Fiji and the
groups to the eastward. At the opposite end of the group, in
Bougainville Straits, the Trade appears a month later, and does not
become established until June. In this locality, however, it is more
fitful than in the eastern islands, blows lighter, and is less to be
depended on by the navigator.

It may be generally stated that the north-west and west winds set in
about the end of November or the beginning of December, and prevail
until the end of March. Although heavy gales accompany the frequent
shiftings of the wind, especially when it is from the S.W., these
islands are beyond the sweep of the hurricanes which in this season of
the year occasionally devastate the groups to the eastward. The period
of the westerly winds in the Solomon Islands is also characterised by
calms and variable winds. The exhilarating freshness of the Trade then
gives place to the enervating influence of the Monsoon; and, in
consequence, the period of westerly winds is the sickly season.


RAIN-REGISTER AT SANTA ANNA.

    (Kept by Mr. Charles Sproul[503] between October 25th, 1882, and
    December 31st, 1883.)

    [503] I am indebted to Mr. William Heughan for commencing this
    register.

The rain-gauge used was of the common round funnel pattern (5·7 inches).
The observations were made at Port Mary on the west side of the island.
The elevation of the guage was some four or five feet (or less) above
the high tide level.

  +------------------+---------------+-------------+-----------+
  |      MONTH.      |   Total in    |  Number of  | Greatest  |
  |                  |  inches and   |    rainy    |  daily    |
  |                  |  hundredths.  |  days.[504] |  fall.    |
  +------------------+---------------+-------------+-----------+
  |      1882.       |               |             |           |
  |October, 25th-31st|          3·06 |          5  |    1·70   |
  |November          |          7·06 |         15  |    1·97   |
  |December          |         13·96 |         24  |    2·24   |
  |                  |         ----- |         --  |           |
  |                  | Total,  24·62 | Total,  44  |           |
  |      1883.       |               |             |           |
  |January           |          5·23 |         12  |    2·03   |
  |February          |          9·63 |         20  |    2·00   |
  |March             |          4·40 |         13  |     ·84   |
  |April             |         14·96 |         24  |    3·22   |
  |May               |         11·28 |         16  |    3·33   |
  |June              |         26·88 |         19  |    7·73   |
  |July              |         18·61 |         23  |    3·45   |
  |August            |         11·74 |         15  |    2·02   |
  |September         |          4·81 |         12  |    2·52   |
  |October           |          5·68 |          9  |    1·67   |
  |November          |          6·57 |         11  |    1·20   |
  |December          |          5·24 |          8  |    1·68   |
  |                  |        ------ |        ---  |           |
  |                  | Total, 125·03 | Total, 182  |           |
  +------------------+---------------+-------------+-----------+

    [504] By _rainy days_ are meant those days on which not less than
    2/100 of an inch of rain were measured.

_Results for 1883._--_Total rainfall_ for 1883; 125·03 inches.
Two-thirds of the total fall, _i.e._, 83·47 inches, were recorded during
the five months from April to August. _Greatest daily fall_, 7·73
inches. _Total number of rainy days_ 182, _i.e._, one half of the year.
On 41 days, more than an inch of rain fell.


RAIN-REGISTER AT UGI.

    (Kept by Mr. Fred Howard between October 1st, 1882, and December
    31st, 1883.)

The rain-gauge used was of the round funnel pattern (about 5½ inches).
The observations were made at the residence of Mr. John Stephens at
Selwyn Bay on the west side of the island. The elevation of the gauge
was from four to six feet above the high-tide level.

  +-----------+---------------+-------+----------+---------------+
  |           |               |       |          |   Relative    |
  |           |               | Number|          |   humidity    |
  |           |   Total in    |  of   | Greatest | taking 100 as |
  |  MONTH.   |  inches and   | rainy |  daily   |  saturation   |
  |           |  hundredths.  | days. |  fall.   |  (see table,  |
  |           |               |       |          |    p. 367)    |
  +-----------+---------------+-------+----------+---------------+
  |   1882.   |               |       |          |               |
  | October   |         10·68 |   18  |    2·45  |               |
  | November  |         10·16 |   16  |    4·60  |               |
  | December  |          9·57 |   21  |    1·36  |               |
  |           |        ------    ---  |          |               |
  |           |  Total, 30·41 |   55  |          |               |
  |           |               |       |          |               |
  | 1883.     |               |       |          |               |
  | January   |         13·46 |   16  |    5·75  |      (83)     |
  | February  |         13·89 |   17  |    4·00  |       82      |
  | March     |         10·02 |   16  |    3·00  |       83      |
  | April     |         23·28 |   26  |    3·00  |       88      |
  | May       |          6·39 |    9  |    1·65  |       83      |
  | June      |         12·83 |   12  |    3·70  |       84      |
  | July      |         24·60 |   25  |    2·85  |       89      |
  | August    |         15·76 |   15  |    4·75  |       83      |
  | September |          7·36 |   14  |    1·50  |       81      |
  | October   |          5·15 |   7   |    1·75  |       76      |
  | November  |          5·30 |   11  |    1·10  |       79      |
  | December  |          8·20 |   10  |    1·30  |       83      |
  |           |        ------ |  ---  |          |               |
  |           | Total, 146·24 |  178  |          |               |
  +-----------+---------------+-------+----------+---------------+

_Results._--During the last quarter of 1882, the rainfall was 30·41
inches; and the number of rainy days was 55.

During 1883, the _total rainfall_ was 146·24 inches. The greatest
monthly records were those of April and July: during these two months
47·88 inches fell, or about one-third of the total fall for the year.
The _greatest daily fall_ was 5·75 inches. The _total number of rainy
days_ was 178, or about one half of the number of days in the year. On
56 days more than an inch of rain fell; and in 18 days more than two
inches fell.


RAIN-REGISTER KEPT ON BOARD H.M.S. “LARK.”

(I am indebted to Lieutenant Leeper for assistance in keeping this
register.)

The rain-gauge was raised about eleven feet above the water-level. I did
not commence these observations until towards the close of the first
season; and since, during the two following years, we spent about
two-thirds of each year in this region, the record is, in consequence,
not continuous.


(_A_) OFF THE NORTH COAST OF ST. CHRISTOVAL AND THE NEIGHBOURING ISLANDS
IN 1882.

                          Total in     Number   Greatest
                         inches and   of rainy   daily
      1882.              hundredths.   days.     fall.

  Sept. (from the 9th),     18·40        15      3·32
  October,                  10·84        21      2·38
  Nov. (to the 21st),       18·31        12      5·74
                           ------        --
                     Total, 47·55        48

_Results._--_Total Rainfall_ for this interval of 74 days from Sept. 9th
to Nov. 21st, 1882, was 47·55 inches. The _greatest daily fall_ was 5·74
inches. The _number of rainy days_ was 48, or about two-thirds of the
whole. On 17 days, more than an inch of rain fell; and on 8 days, more
than two inches fell.


(_B_) OFF THE NORTH COAST OF ST. CHRISTOVAL AND THE NEIGHBOURING ISLANDS
IN 1883.

                          Total in     Number   Greatest
                         inches and   of rainy   daily
      1883.              hundredths.   days.     fall.

  April 13th-30th,          10·43        15      1·62


(_C_) BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS IN 1883.

                          Total in     Number   Greatest
                         inches and   of rainy   daily
      1883.              hundredths.   days.     fall.

  June,                    16·32         26      2·23
  July,                    10·25         24      2·12
  August,                   7·78         23      1·10
  September,               15·07         22      2·20
  October,                 11·01         25      2·10
                           ------       ---
                    Total, 60·43        120

_Results._--During these 153 days, there fell 60·43 inches of rain. The
greatest fall in one day was 2·23 inches. The total number of rainy days
was 120, or about four-fifths of the whole. On 14 days, more than an
inch of rain fell; and on 7 days, more than two inches fell.


(_D_) BOUGAINVILLE STRAITS IN 1884.

                          Total in     Number   Greatest
                         inches and   of rainy   daily
      1884.              hundredths.   days.     fall.

  April (from the 8th),    7·82          12      4·32
  May,                     4·02          17      1·02
  June,                    9·22          22      1·58
  July,                   18·16          19      8·09
  August,                 11·87          21      2·58
  September,              17·46          23      3·76
  October,                10·95          23      1·84
                         ------         ---
                   Total, 79·50         137

_Results._--During these 207 days, there fell 79·50 inches of rain. The
greatest daily fall was 8·09 inches. The total number of rainy days was
137, or about two-thirds of the whole. On 24 days, more than an inch of
rain fell; and on 7 days, more than two inches fell.


OBSERVATIONS[505] OF THE BAROMETER AND THERMOMETER IN THE SOLOMON GROUP,
BY LIEUT. LEEPER, R.N.

(Taken on board H.M.S. “Lark.”)

    [505] The observations were taken at 4 a.m., 8 a.m., 4 p.m., and 8
    p.m.


  +-------------------+-----------------------+-----------------------+
  |                   |      THERMOMETER.     |       BAROMETER.      |
  |                   +--------+-------+------+--------+-------+------+
  |                   |Highest.|Lowest.| Daily|Highest.|Lowest.| Daily|
  |                   |        |       | Mean.|        |       | Mean.|
  |MONTH.             |        |       |      |        |       |      |
  +-------------------+--------+-------+------+--------+-------+------|
  |1882               |    °   |    °  |   °  |   In.  |  In.  |  In. |
  |April,             |   94   |   74  | 84·4 |  30·09 | 29·88 |30·041|
  |May,               |   94   |   78  | 84·5 |  30·09 | 29·89 |29·994|
  |June,              |   92   |   77  | 83·7 |  30·18 | 29·86 |30·013|
  |July,              |   90   |   75  | 81·8 |  30·14 | 29·92 |30·05 |
  |August,            |   94   |   75  | 81·1 |  30·16 | 29·96 |30·067|
  |September,         |   92   |   76  | 80·9 |  30·14 | 29·93 |30·041|
  |October,           |   89   |   77  | 81·4 |  30·18 | 29·88 |30·021|
  |Nov. 1st to 22d,.  |   88   |   78  | 81·5 |  30·13 | 29·84 |29·981|
  +-------------------+--------+-------+------+--------+-------+------+
  |1883               |        |       |      |        |       |      |
  |April 14th to 30th,|   92   |   75  | 82·1 |  30·08 | 29·86 |29·974|
  |May,               |  ...   |  ...  | ...  |   ...  |  ...  | ...  |
  |June,              |   93   |   78  | 81·8 |  30·08 | 29·91 |29·99 |
  |July,              |   94   |   75  | 82·3 |  30·12 | 29·88 |29·96 |
  |August,            |   92   |   78  | 83·5 |  30·08 | 29·92 |29·992|
  |September,         |   95   |   76  | 82·6 |  30·10 | 29·91 |29·992|
  |October,           |   95   |   75  | 83·3 |  30·12 | 29·86 |29·993|
  |Nov. 1st to 12th,  |   90   |   76  | 81·5 |  30·08 | 29·91 |29·982|
  +-------------------+--------+-------+------+--------+-------+------+
  |1884               |        |       |      |        |       |      |
  |April 5th to 30th, |   90   |   76  | 82·2 |  30·15 | 29·83 |29·984|
  |May,               |   95   |   78  | 84·5 |  30·13 | 29·86 |29·992|
  |June,              |   94   |   77  | 82·2 |  30·14 | 29·93 |30·023|
  |July,              |   87   |   76  | 81·5 |  30·10 | 29·87 |29·985|
  |August,            |   87   |   76  | 81·0 |  30·15 | 29·85 |30·009|
  |September,         |   90   |   75  | 82·3 |  30·15 | 29·92 |30·025|
  |October,           |   96   |   75  | 81·1 |  30·12 | 29·85 |30·007|
  +-------------------+--------+-------+------+--------+-------+------+

    Results calculated from observations of the temperature in the
    shade, and of the wet and dry bulb thermometers taken at Ugi at 9
    a.m., by Mr. F. Howard.[506]

    [506] The instruments were supplied by me. The Thermometer was by
    Negretti and Zambra: and the wet and dry bulbs were good reliable
    instruments. They were all first compared with the ship’s
    instruments, which were supplied by the Meteorological Office after
    being verified at Kew.

  +--------------------------------++
  |     THERMOMETER IN SHADE.      ||
  +---------+--------+-------+-----++
  |         |        |       |     ||
  |  MONTH. |Highest.|Lowest.|Mean.||
  |         |        |       |     ||
  +---------+--------+-------+-----++
  |  1882.  |        |       |     ||
  |October  |   87   |  76   | 81·7||
  |November |   84   |  78   | 80·5||
  |December |   84   |  80   | 81·4||
  |  1883.  |        |       |     ||
  |January  |   86   |  79   | 82·0||
  |February |   85   |  79   | 81·5||
  |March    |   86   |  78   | 81·8||
  |April    |   83   |  76   | 80·0||
  |May      |   85   |  78   | 81·6||
  |June     |   84   |  77   | 80·6||
  |July     |   83   |  77   | 80·2||
  |August   |   84   |  77   | 80·3||
  |September|   84   |  77   | 80·9||
  |October  |   85   |  76   | 82·0||
  |November |   86   |  77   | 82·0||
  |December |   84   |  79   | 81·3||
  +---------+--------+-------+-----++
  81·2--Mean for 1883.

  +---------++--------------------------------------------------+
  |         ||                HYGROMETER.[507]                  |
  +---------++-----+-----+------+---------------+---------------+
  |         ||Mean |Mean |Mean  | Mean Elastic  |Mean Relative  |
  |  MONTH. || Dry | Wet | Dew  |   Force of    |   Humidity,   |
  |         ||Bulb.|Bulb.|Point.|Aqueous Vapour.|Saturation 100.|
  +---------++-----+-----+------+---------------+---------------+
  |  1882.  ||     |     |      |               |               |
  |October  || ... | ... |  ... |      ...      |      ...      |
  |November || ... | ... |  ... |      ...      |      ...      |
  |December || ... | ... |  ... |      ...      |      ...      |
  |  1883.  ||     |     |      |               |               |
  |January  || ... | ... |  ... |      ...      |      ...      |
  |February || 81·6| 78·0| 75·6 |      ·885     |       82      |
  |March    || 81·7| 78·3| 76·0 |      ·898     |       83      |
  |April    || 80·1| 77·8| 76·2 |      ·904     |       88      |
  |May      || 81·6| 78·2| 75·9 |      ·895     |       83      |
  |June     || 80·6| 77·5| 75·4 |      ·880     |       84      |
  |July     || 80·2| 78·0| 76·4 |      ·912     |       89      |
  |August   || 80·3| 76·9| 74·6 |      ·857     |       83      |
  |September|| 80·9| 76·9| 74·2 |      ·846     |       81      |
  |October  || 82·0| 77·0| 73·6 |      ·830     |       76      |
  |November || 82·0| 77·8| 74·9 |      ·867     |       79      |
  |December || 81·4| 78·0| 75·7 |      ·891     |       83      |
  +---------++-----+-----+------+---------------+---------------+

    [507] Calculated from Glaisher’s Tables.


WIND-RECORD FOR EACH MONTH.

    Prepared from the observations taken on board H.M.S. “Lark,” and by
    Messrs. Sproul and Howard, at Santa Anna and Ugi.


_January._

    1883. At Ugi, S.W. to W. in first half; variable in latter half;
    S.E. 1 day. At Santa Anna, N.W. and W.; S.E. 5 days; occasional
    squalls.


_February._

    1833. At Ugi and Santa Anna, N.W. to S.W.; no S.E.; latter part,
    fresh winds and squalls.


_March._

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, N.W. to W. in first half, with strong
    winds and thunderstorms; latter part variable; S.E. 4 days at Ugi,
    none at Santa Anna.


_April._

    1882. Amongst the eastern islands (east of Florida); first part,
    calms and light northerly winds; latter part, calms and light S.E.
    winds; thunderstorms frequent.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, first part, N.W. and S.E.; latter part,
    calms and E. to S.E.; S.E. for 7 days at Ugi; heavy rain; squalls in
    middle of month.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits, light northerly and westerly winds,
    with calms; easterly during the last few days.


_May._

    1882. Between Bougainville Straits and west end of Guadalcanar,
    numerous calms and light winds from N.W. through S. to S.E.;
    thunderstorms frequent.

    1883 At Ugi and Santa Anna, E. to S.E.; usually strong.

    1884 In Bougainville Straits, light N.E. and easterly winds, with a
    great deal of calm weather.


_June._

    1882. At the north coast of St. Christoval, Ugi, and Santa Anna;
    calms, N.N.E. and easterly winds; average force 2.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna. S.E. often strong, with variable winds.

    In Bougainville Straits; first part light E. and S.E. winds; latter
    part, S.E.; very squally; frequent thunderstorms.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits; first half, light E. and E.S.E.
    winds; latter half, light S.E. and S.S.E.


_July._

    1882. At the north coast of St. Christoval and Ugi, first part S.E.,
    with frequent heavy squalls; latter part, light S.E. and S.W. winds,
    though squally.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, E.S.E. to S.E.; fresh and squally,
    sometimes blowing hard, interrupted by calms and varying winds.

    In Bougainville Straits, light varying winds from N.E. to S.E.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits, first part light S.E. winds and
    calms; latter part fresh easterly winds and bad weather.


_August._

    1882. At the north coast of St. Christoval and Ugi, E.N.E. to S.;
    average force, 3 to 4; frequent rain-squalls.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, S.E. strong; in latter part heavy
    squalls, interrupted by calms.

    In Bougainville Straits, E.N.E. to S.E.; force 2 to 3.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits, S.S.E. to S.; thick weather with
    rain-squalls in first part.


_September._

    1882. At Ugi and the Three Sisters, S.E. and S.S.E.; in latter part
    of month heavy, and accompanied by thick weather and violent
    squalls.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, E.S.E. to S.E. strong. In Bougainville
    Straits, calms, and light E. to S.E. winds.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits, first part light S.E. winds and heavy
    rain-squalls from N.E.; latter part fresh S.S.E. and dirty weather,
    followed by light N. to E. winds.


_October._

    1882. At Ugi, Santa Anna, and off the north coast of Guadalcanar; in
    first part, strong S.E.; in latter part, easterly winds with calms.
    At Ugi, S.E. in first half, variable with calms in latter half.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, S.E., fresh. In Bougainville Straits,
    first part S.E. to S.; latter part N.E. to S.E., squalls and
    thunderstorms.

    1884. In Bougainville Straits; first week, light N.E. to S.E. winds;
    second week, S.S.E. to S., force 2 to 4; third week, N.W. to N.N.E.,
    force 3 to 8, rain-squalls and thunderstorms; last part, variable
    and E.S.E. winds.


_November._

    1882. At Ugi and Santa Anna; first half, N.W. and S.E.; latter half,
    S.E. and variable.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna, fresh E.S.E. to S.E; northerly towards
    end of month with squalls and thunderstorms.


_December._

    1882. At Ugi and Santa Anna, westerly and variable; S.E. for 6 days:
    latter part, squally.

    1883. At Ugi and Santa Anna; in first half, E. to S.E.; in latter
    half, N.W. to S.W. and squally.


THE EFFECTS OF THE CLIMATE ON THE WEIGHT OF THE BODY.

During the last two surveying-seasons in these islands, the officers and
crew were weighed with the object of determining the effect of service
in this climate on the body-weight. The period spent in this region
during each year extended from April to November.

After eliminating various sources of error, such as sickness,
immaturity, etc., I find that during the surveying-season of 1883, which
occupied between 6½ and 7 months, eighteen out of twenty persons lost
weight, the average loss being 6¾ lbs., and the range of the loss 1 to
12 lbs. Of the two exceptions, one gained 3 lbs. and the other
experienced no change. On returning to the colonies, we spent between 3
and 4 months in the genial climate of northern New Zealand, at the end
of which period I find that the average gain of weight was about 6½ lbs.
In other words, the loss was regained.

During the season of 1884, which lasted 7 months, eleven out of the
twenty persons weighed in the previous year were alone available for
these observations. All of them lost weight, the average loss being 5¾
lbs., and the range 1 to 8 lbs. This diminution in the average loss of
weight during this season should be noted. . . . . I should add that
five individuals, who had not been on board in the previous year, lost
during this season on the average 5 lbs. per man.

I may therefore conclude that the effect of seven months’ service in
this region on the body-weight is, on the average, a loss of from 6 to 7
lbs. Although this loss of weight is mainly attributable to the climate,
it is evident that the character of the diet has an important influence
in the matter. For the greater part of the time spent in these islands,
the crew were on preserved and salt rations, a diet which reduces the
weight of the body. One of the results of an elaborate series of
observations made by Dr. A. Rattray of H.M.S. “Salamander,” whilst
serving in the Western Pacific from 1864-67, was to show that salt diet
in a tropical climate is an important factor in reducing weight, and
that other influences, such as that of hard work, increase the loss.
During various cruises in the tropics, usually lasting about three
months, he weighed between 70 and 100 men with the following results.
The effect of a tropical climate alone was to reduce the weight of 64
per cent., the average loss being 5 lbs. When the unfavourable
conditions of a wet season and salt diet were added, 76 per cent. lost
weight, the average loss being 7 lbs. By the further addition of hard
work, 91 per cent. lost weight, the average loss being about the same.
The loss of weight after each cruise was regained in 7 or 8 weeks during
the stay in Sydney.[508]

    [508] Proc. Roy. Soc., vol. XIX., p. 295 (1870-71). In this paper
    Dr. Rattray treats at length of the effects of a tropical climate on
    the various organs and functions of the body.




GENERAL INDEX.


  A.

  Achras, 293.
  Acosta, 255.
  Adenanthera pavonina, 293.
  Agassiz, A., on scypho-medusæ, 335.
  Agassiz, L., on scypho-medusæ, 334.
  Aleurites, 88.
  Algæ, edible, 89; microscopic, on cliffs, 327.
  Alpinias, 283, 288, 294.
  Alu, _see_ Shortland Islands.
  Angiopteris, 283, 294.
  Annexation in the Western Pacific, remarks upon, xi.
  Anoga resin, 66.
  Anson Island, 259.
  Anumi, 25.
  Apes, anthropoid, legends of, 335.
  Archer, H., 334.
  Areca palms, their frequency, 294; their station, 283, 285, 287;
    growing tops, edible, 88; fruits substitutes for betel-nuts, 95;
    trunks used for beds, 61; dispersal of fruits, 293, 305; list of
    palms, 303.
  Arias, Dr. J. L., 254.
  Armlets, 132, 133.
  Arracises Island, 211, 275.
  Arrowroot, South Sea, 89.
  Arrows, 72.
  Asclepiads, 289, 290, 298.
  Asplenium nidus, 285, 329.
  Assent, gesture of, 126.
  Astonishment, gesture of, 125.
  Atkin, Rev. J., 15.
  Australia del Espiritu Santo, 252.
  Awi-sulu, 154, 285.


  B.

  Bagana, volcano of, vii, 39, 53.
  Baker, J. G., on the fungi, 294.
  Balalai Island, 53.
  Baldness, 119.
  Ball, Lieut., 266.
  Bamboos, brakes of, 288.
  Bananas, _see_ Plantains.
  Banyans, 284, 285, 286, 290, 293, 294, 301.
  Barometrical observations, 361, 366.
  Barringtonia edulis, 85.
  Barringtonia speciosa, 101, 156, 158, 188, 290, 291, 292, 305.
  Bateman, Mr., 18.
  Batrachians, 308; new family of, 315; dispersal of, 317.
  Bats, 82, 211.
  Bauro, St. Christoval, 100, 229, 252, 277.
  Béa 37.
  Beaumont, Dr., R.N., 114.
  Beccari, Signor, 289, 295.
  Beckoning, mode of, 125.
  Beds, 61.
  Begonia, 288.
  Behrens, 257.
  Belcher, Capt. Sir E., R.N., 269.
  Beliefs, religious, 53.
  Bennet, Mr. G., 71, 319.
  Bennet, Dr. G., 187.
  Bernstein, Dr., 326.
  Betagh, Capt, 256.
  Betel-chewing, 95.
  Betel palm, 81, 95.
  Betel-pepper plant, 95.
  Bikkia, 289.
  Bird’s-nest, edible, 325.
  Bird’s-nest fern, 285, 329.
  Birgus latro, 92, 319.
  Bita, sister of Gorai, 23, 31, 50.
  Biu Island, 222.
  Blanche, H.M.S., 23.
  Boar’s tusks, 76.
  Bond, Captain, 275.
  Botanical notes, 280.
  Bougainville, M., 26, 38, 149, 259, 269.
  Bougainville Island, vi., 21, 27, 34, 39, 53, 91, 120, 136, 138.
  Bougainville Straits, Islands of, 38, 56, 94, 123, 124, 139; chiefs,
    20, 27; position of women, 44; modes of burial, 51; dwellings, 58;
    pottery, 62; tambu-houses, 71; weapons, 72, 74; cultivation, 81, 84;
    modes of cooking, 86; physical characters of natives, 103, 113, 114,
    118-120; dress, &c., 130, 133; cicatrices, 136; tunes and songs,
    141; canoes, 147; modes of fishing, 155; vocabulary, 180; botany,
    280; geological characters, vi., vii., 280.
  Bouka Island, 34, 118, 138, 259, 260.
  Boulenger, Mr., on the reptiles and batrachians, 308, 313, 316.
  Bouro Island, 100, 277.
  Bow-drill, 76.
  Bowen, Captain, 154, 266.
  Bower, Lieut., R.N., murder of, 11, 17.
  Bows, 72.
  Boyd, Mr. B., murder of, 270.
  Brachycephaly, 111, 114.
  Brady, Mr. H. B., on the Solomon Island deposits, ix.; on the New
    Ireland chalk, 79.
  Brains, human, as food, 224.
  Brandt on scypho-medusæ, 334.
  Breadfruit trees, 81, 82, 84, 190.
  Brenchley, J. L., 16, 36, 70, 75, 79, 344.
  Broca, M., 111, 114, 118, 120.
  Broth, vegetable, 25.
  Bua tree, 188.
  Buache, M., 192, 234, 255, 263.
  Buenavista Island, 207, 274.
  Bulimus cleryi, 338.
  Burial, modes of, 51.
  Burney, 234, 273, 274.
  Burning-glasses, 66.
  Bush-hens, 325.
  Bush-men, 14, 32, 91, 120.
  Buttress-trees, 285, 286, 290, 294.
  Byron, Commodore, 258.


  C.

  Cabbage, mountain, 88, 90.
  Cabo de Cruz, 237.
  Cabo de Fortunas, 239, 241.
  Cacones, Isles of, 243.
  Cæsalpinia nuga, 289.
  California, Old, 243.
  Calophyllum, 66, 189, 287, 295, 305.
  Calophyllum inophyllum, 290, 291, 292, 305.
  Calvert, Rev. J., 63.
  Canarium, 85, 87, 189, 285, 287, 291, 293, 295.
  Canarium commune, 85, 189.
  Candelaria Shoals, 199, 262, 273, 275.
  Canna indica, 305.
  Cannibalism, 35, 260.
  Canoes, 67, 71, 146; canoe-deities, 149.
  Cap Oriental, 262.
  Cape Prieto, 206.
  Cape Satisfaction, 278.
  Capron, Mr. Rand, on the visual powers of savages, 123.
  Careri, Gemelli, 257.
  Carter, Mr. Brudenell, on the visual powers of savages, 122.
  Carteret, Captain, 80, 258.
  Cartographers, the early, 255.
  Caryota, palm, 284, 285, 287, 305; edible top or cabbage, 88;
    sago-yielding, 91.
  Casuarina trees, 290, 292.
  Catarrhal diseases, 176.
  Caulerpa, 89.
  Cerbera, 25, 288.
  Cerbera odollam, 289, 290, 292.
  Ceratobatrachidæ, 315.
  Cetacean, a rare, 335.
  Chalcedony, 78.
  Chalk, 79.
  Chalmers, Rev. J., 325.
  Chamisso, 90; on the Radack Islanders, 128.
  Chest-girth, 105.
  Chevron-line pattern, 139.
  Cheyne, Capt., 16, 39, 185, 269.
  Choiseul Island, viii, discovery of, 212, 275; native shields, 75.
  Choiseul Bay, visit of Bougainville to, 260; physical characters of
    natives, 103; chiefs, 26; cannibalism, 38.
  Cicatrices, 136.
  Circumcision, 137.
  Clerodendron inerme, 289.
  Climate, xi, 352; rainfall, 355; temperature, 361; winds, 362;
    humidity, 361; influence on body-weight, 369.
  Clothing, 130.
  Clubs, 73.
  Cocoa-nut palms, 84, 305, 321; mode of climbing, 82; dwarf trees, 52.
  Cocoa-nut Crab, 92, 319.
  Codiæum variegatum, 305.
  Codrington, Rev. Dr., 53, 71, 137, 335; on the Solomon Island
    languages, 185; on head-hunting raids, 16.
  Cœnobita, 330, 333.
  Coix lachryma, 131, 305.
  Collocalia, 325.
  Colours, names of, 124.
  Colour-sense, 123.
  Combs, 137.
  Comrie, Dr., R.N., on Tokelau ringworm, 173.
  Conches, 143.
  Constellations, names of, 56.
  Contrarieté Island, 221, 261, 275.
  Cook, Capt., on the supposed position of the Solomon Islands, 264.
  Cooking, modes of, 86, 92; cooking-stones, 56, 86; cooking vessels,
    62, 86.
  Coral islet, vegetation of, 289.
  Coral reefs, viii.
  Cord, knotted for recording time, 56.
  Cornelian, 78.
  Corucia zebrata, 312.
  Couches, 61.
  Crawfurd, Mr., 88, 189; on the introduction of tobacco, 95.
  Crinum, 290.
  Crocodiles, 6, 9; habits of, 309; captures of, 91, 311; impressions on
    sand, 309.
  Cucumis melo, 84.
  Cultivation, 81.
  Cumming, Miss Gordon, on Fijian pottery, 63.
  Curacoa, H.M.S, 16.
  Cuscus, 91, 92, 311; habits, 161; hunting, 160.
  Cycas circinalis, station of, 287, 290, 292; sago yielding, 90; edible
    top or cabbage, 90; fruits edible, 90; medicinal use, 169; dispersal
    of fruits, 292, 305.
  Cyrenæ, 76, 91.
  Cyrtostachys, 88, 283.


  D.

  D’Albertis, Signor, 76, 141.
  Dalrymple, 192, 234, 263, 274.
  Dampier, 264.
  Dances, 48, 143.
  Danville, 256.
  Darwin, 179, 319, 331, 339.
  Davies, Mr. T., on the rocks of St. Christoval, vi.
  Davis, Dr. Barnard, on the hair of Papuans, 117.
  De Brosses, 257.
  Decaying flesh, taste for, 92.
  Deformities, spinal, 175; of feet, 177; hare-lip, 177.
  Delight, gesture of, 125.
  Delisle, 256.
  Délivrance, Iles de la, 262.
  Denham, Capt., R. N., 271.
  Dentrecasteaux, 149, 174, 260, 266, 269, 278.
  Deposits, deep-sea, upraised, viii., ix.
  Dillon, Capt. P., 266.
  Dioscorea sativa, 84.
  Diseases, 163; epidemics, 176.
  Dispersal of plants, 291, 305; of batrachians, 317; of Iuli, 329; of
    Neritinæ, 339.
  Disposition, 127.
  Dogs, 159, 191.
  Dolichocephaly, 111, 114.
  Dolicholobium, 283, 288.
  Domestic utensils, 62.
  Drake, Sir Francis, 244, 247.
  Dress, 130.
  Drinking-vessels, 62.
  Drums, 143.
  Dudley, 256.
  Duff Group, 251.
  Dugongs, 6.
  Dug-out canoes, 146, 150.
  D’Urville, 16, 103, 265, 268, 269; his opinion of the Solomon
    Islanders, 129.
  Dutaillis, M., 270.
  Dyed Grass, 74, 132, 138.
  Dynamite, use of, in fishing, 158.


  E.

  Ear ornaments, 133.
  Earl, G. W., 189; on the hair of Papuans, 117; on the prevailing skin
    eruption, 172.
  Echoes, superstition concerning, 54.
  Eddystone Island, _see_ Simbo Island.
  Elæocarpus, 287, 293.
  Elephantiasis, 176.
  Elevation, see Upheaval.
  Ellis, 153, 175; on the deification of sharks, 71.
  Emerald, H.M.S., 26.
  Emotions, expressions of, 125.
  Epalle, Monsignor, murder of, 270.
  Epidemic diseases, 176.
  Epiphytes, 282, 285, 289.
  Epilation, 118.
  Eranthemum variabile, 305.
  Erosion of freshwater shells, 340.
  Erythrina, 289.
  Escondido Harbour, 219.
  Espiritu Santo, 252.
  Estrella Harbour, 202.
  Eugenia, 291, 293.
  Eugenio, Point, 243.
  Evered, Mr., 106.
  Evodia hortensis, 135, 305.


  F.

  Facial angle, 115.
  Fagræa Berteriana, 188, 288.
  Fanarite, district of St. Christoval, 19.
  Fan-palms, _see_ Licuala.
  Fans, 66.
  Faro Island, _see_ Fauro Island.
  Farquhar, Dr., on Tokelau ringworm, 171.
  Fat, fondness of, 92.
  Fauro Island, chiefs of, 25, 46; villages, 60, 82; tambu-houses, 71;
    canoes, 149; physical characters of natives, 103, 113; vegetation,
    287, 289; geology, vii, 280.
  Feasts, 50, 68, 93.
  Features, 115.
  Female sex, their drudgery, 41; their chastity, 43; polygamy, 44.
  Ferguson, Captain, murder of, 21, 54.
  Ferns, 283, 294; edible, 89.
  Ficus, 190, 301.
  Figueroa, Dr., 192, 234, 254, 272, 274.
  Figure-heads of ships, probable origin of, 150.
  Filet, G. J., on the Malay names of plants, 186.
  Fire, mode of producing, 65.
  Fishing, 151; nets and lines, 154; hooks, 156; snares, 157;
    fish-spear, 153.
  Flagellaria indica, 290.
  Fleurieu, M., 192, 234, 262, 265, 273, 274, 278.
  Flints, worked, 77.
  Florida Islands, discovery of, 208, 274; natives, 114, 119, 130;
    head-hunting, 17; dances, 143; pile-dwellings, 60; weapons, 73, 75;
    geological structure of, vii.
  Flotation of fruits and seeds, 292, 305.
  Flower, Prof., on the varieties of the human species, 98.
  Flowers, used in decorating the person, 134; rare in the forests, 284;
    conspicuous at the coast, 289.
  Flying-fish, superstitions concerning, 153; wounds caused by, 153.
  Fonfono Island, 277.
  Food, vegetable, 84; animal, 91.
  Forbes, H. O., on ringworm in the Malay Archipelago, 172; on
    Myrmecodia, 282; on the Birgus, 322.
  Forrest, Captain, on Port Dory pottery, 64; on pig-hunting in New
    Guinea, 159.
  Forster, J. R., 87.
  Forster, G., 135.
  Fox, Dr. Tilbury, on Tokelau ringworm, 171.
  Freycinetia, 289.
  Fries, Mr., on Pachyma, 306.
  Frogs, 8, 190, 308; new family of, 315; development of, 316.
  Frontlets, 131.
  Fruits, 84, 87, 89.
  Fumaroles, vii., 66, 86.
  Fungi, 89, 285, 304.


  G.

  Galera Island, 207, 274.
  Gallego, suggested compliment to, 234; supposed discoverer of the
    Southern Continent, 248; error in latitudes, 274.
  Gallego’s journal, 192; unpublished, 247; compared with Figueroa’s
    account, 272.
  Galvano, 275.
  Games, boyish, 76, 145.
  Gar-fish, superstition concerning, 153; wounds caused by, 153.
  Gâtah, 189.
  Geological structure of the Solomon Islands, general remarks upon, vi.
  Gestures, 125.
  Gill, Rev. Wyatt, 187, 319, 325.
  Ginsima Island, 257.
  Glæocapsa, 327.
  Gleichenia, 5, 95, 132, 281, 288.
  Gnetum, 88, 288.
  Gnetum gnemon, 89, 288.
  Gomphandra, 295, 305.
  Gorai, the Shortland chief, 6, 27, 28, 47; his power, 14, 21; his
    wives, 44; his residence, 59.
  Goura pigeon, pebbles in gizzard, 325.
  Gourds for betel-lime, 95.
  Government, system of, 13.
  Gower Island, 80, 259, 261.
  Graves, 51.
  Green, Mr. J. R., on edible birds’ nests, 327.
  Grinding-stones, 6, 77.
  Groningen Island, 257.
  Guadalcanar, discovery of, 210, 214, 220; reported mineral wealth,
    247; excessive Spanish estimate of its size, 275; characters of
    natives, 104, 120; weapons, 74, 75; head-hunting and cannibalism,
    18, 35; murder of Mr. Boyd, 270; legends of apes, 335; fine coast
    scenery, 359; heavy rainfall, 359; probable geological structure,
    vi.
  Guadalupe Island, 209.
  Guali, 210; _see_ Sesarga.
  Guantopo (Guaytopo) Island, 276.
  Guettarda speciosa, 289, 290.
  Gulf Island, 262, 267; _see_ Ugi Island.
  Gums, _see_ Resins.
  Günther, Dr., 314.


  H.

  Hair, characters of and mode of wearing, 116, 137; cut in mourning,
    49; staining, 118.
  Hakluyt, Richard, 254.
  Hale, Mr., on the Pouro of Quiros, 100, 277.
  Hare-lip, 177.
  Harpullia cupanioides, 289, 305.
  Hats, 138.
  Head-hunting, 16, 27.
  Head-money, 17, 20.
  Height, _see_ Stature.
  Heliconias, 283, 294.
  Heming, Lieut., R.N., 25, 28, 114, 294, 332.
  Hemsley, Mr. Botting, on the dispersal of plants, 291, 293.
  Herbst, on the Birgus, 319.
  Heritiera littoralis, 290, 292, 305.
  Hermit-Crabs, 330.
  Hernandia peltata, 289.
  Herrera, 192, 235, 254, 273, 274.
  Heughan, Mr. W., 306, 352.
  Hibiscus tiliaceus, 134, 289, 290, 292.
  Hombron, Dr., vi.
  Home, Sir E., on the edible birds’ nests, 326.
  Home-sickness, 167.
  Honey, wild, 93.
  Hood, Mr. T. H., 319.
  Hoplocephalus par, 314.
  Hornbills, 191, 284.
  Horne, Mr., 83, 87; on South Sea arrowroot, 89.
  Hot-stone treatment for injuries, 166.
  Houses, dwelling, 57; on piles, 60.
  Howard, Mr. F., 77, 352, 360; meteorological register, 364, 367.
  Howe, Hon. J. Curzon, 113, 158.
  Hoya, 289, 290; H. guppyi, 298.
  Human sacrifices, 33, 35, 67.
  Humidity of climate, 361, 367.
  Hunger, gesture indicating, 125.
  Hydnophytum guppyanum, 282; H. inerme, 282.
  Hydrographical features, ix.
  Hygrometrical observations, 367.


  I.

  Ill-wishing, 54.
  Impressions on sand; of crocodiles, 309; of hermit-crabs, 333.
  Inattendue Island, 261: _see_ Gower Island.
  Infanticide, 35, 42.
  Injuries, treatment of, 165; wonderful recoveries from, 165.
  Insanity, 179.
  Ipomœa, 289, 290.
  Isabel Island, discovery of, 202, 211, 213, 275; visit of Surville,
    261; visit of D’Urville, 269; murder of Monsignor Epalle, 270;
    characters of natives, 103, 129; slavery, 33; tattooing, 136;
    canoes, 149.
  Isabell, Mr. W., 24, 141, 314, 321.
  Iulus, 329; singular habit of, 330; means of dispersal of, 329.


  J.

  Jacobs, Mr., 267.
  Jesus, Isle of, 199, 273.
  Jews, island inhabited by, 261.
  Jew’s harps, 142.
  Judd, Prof., vii.


  K.

  Ka-i (Canarium), 85, 87, 189, 285, 291, 293.
  Kaika, wife of Gorai, 23; her death, 47.
  Kæmpfer, 326.
  Kalikona, 17.
  Kanary-nut, 85, 87, 189.
  Katari (Calophyllum), 189, 295; resin of, 66.
  Kauri pine, origin of name, 190.
  Kava plant, 96.
  Keane, Prof., on the Pacific races, 99; on a vocabulary of
    Bougainville Straits, 186.
  Kennedy Island, 273.
  Kermadec, Capt. Huon, 269.
  Kinsima Island, 257.
  Kite-fishing, 151.
  Kleinhovia hospita, 305.
  Kopana, 28; fate of his wives, 30.
  Kotzebue, 128.
  Krepas, chief of Choiseul Bay, 26.
  Krusenstern, 265, 273.
  Kurra-kurra, Faro chief, 25.


  L.

  Labillardière, 86, 118, 125, 260, 278.
  Labour-trade, 42.
  Lammas, Mount, 263.
  Lane Fox, _see_ Pitt-Rivers.
  Languages of Solomon Islands, 185.
  Latitudes of Gallego, 274.
  Lawa, St. Christoval, 14, 39, 68.
  Lawes, Rev. Mr., 139.
  Layard, Mr. 326.
  Leeper, Lieut., R.N., 48, 114, 125, 180, 294, 335; meteorological
    observations, 360, 361.
  Leprosy, 176.
  Licuala, 283, 287, 288, 303, 305.
  Limbs, measurements of, 106.
  Lime, for betel-chewing, 95; for the hair, 118; for sickness, 163; as
    a token of mourning, 48.
  Lime-tree, 81, 85.
  Litsea, 293.
  Littoral trees, 289; native names widely spread, 101, 186.
  Littorina scabra, experiment on, 351.
  Liversidge, Prof., on the worked flints, 78, 79.
  Lizards, 8, 191, 312; monitors, 91, 313.
  Lomlom Island, 277.
  Longmore, Prof., on testing vision, 122.
  Lopez Vaz, 246, 247.
  Lumnitzera coccinea, 292.
  Luther, Dr., R.N., 158.
  Lycopods, 285.
  Lygonia, 148, 285.
  Lyonsia, _see_ Awi-sulu.


  M.

  Macaulay’s Archipelago, 266.
  Macdonald, Capt. J., vii., 15, 17, 36, 79, 131, 163, 335.
  Macdonald, Mr. W., 42, 70, 306.
  Macgillivray, Mr., 135, 344.
  Maclay, Miklouho, 86, 97; anthropological observations and
    measurements, 105, 111, 116, 118; on the introduction of tobacco,
    94.
  Maclay Coast, 86, 94, 105, 111, 189.
  Mai, Santa Anna chief, 17-20, 36, 39.
  Maize, 84.
  Makira, 36, 147, 277; cannibalism, 36; murder of missionaries, 270.
  Malaita, head-hunting, 18; characters of natives of north coast, 103,
    113, 114, 120, 136; legends of apes, 335; first discovery of the
    island, 205, 219, 220, 274, 275.
  Malan, Lieut., R.N., 24, 52, 53, 180.
  Mallicolo Island, 277.
  Man, Mr., on the Andaman pottery, 64.
  Mana, supernatural power, 16.
  Mango, 85.
  Mangrove swamps, 282.
  Manicolo Island, 277.
  Manning, Capt., 266.
  Maramasiki Passage, discovery of, 220.
  Marau Sound, discovery of, 219.
  Markham, Commander, R.N., 235.
  Marquesas Group, discovery of, 249.
  Marsden, Mr., 88, 90, 172.
  Marshall Group, discovery of, 238, 275.
  Matches, wax, 65.
  Mate, 210.
  Matema Islands, 277.
  Mats, 58; making mats, 61.
  Matthews, Mr., 281.
  Maurelle, 262.
  Mayer, on the height of Papuans, 105.
  Meals, 93.
  Mécaraylay Island, 277.
  Medicine-men, 55, 163.
  Medusæ in mangrove-swamps, 333.
  Megapodiidæ, 191, 216, 325.
  Melanesian Mission, 15, 140, 271.
  Melanesians, _see_ Papuans.
  Melaniæ, 338, 345; Melania guppyi, 337, 350.
  Mendana, his first expedition, 195, 235, 275; his second expedition,
    246, 248.
  Mesocephaly, 111, 114.
  Meta Island, 204, 205.
  Meteorology, chapter on, 352.
  Migration of Pacific races, lines of, 99, 101, 186.
  Millipedes, 329.
  Missionaries, murder of, 270; _see_ Melanesian Mission.
  Mollusca, land and fresh water, 336; list of, 344.
  Monitor lizards, 91, 313.
  Moon, eclipse of, in 1568, 244.
  Moore, Mr. C., 293, 306.
  Morinda citrifolia, 89, 124, 188, 290.
  Morrell, Capt., 267.
  Morse, Prof., on arrow-release, 73.
  Mosely, Mr. H. N., 73, 137, 334.
  Motuiti Island, 273.
  Mourning customs, 48, 69, 133, 137.
  Mueller, Baron F. von, 289, 294.
  Mule, the Treasury chief, 27, 28, 55, 76; his power, 23; his wives,
    45; his residence, 59.
  Mullen, Dr., R.N., on Tokelau ringworm, 171.
  Mumps, 176.
  Murders: of Mr. Boyd, 270; of Monsignor Epalle, 270; of Lieut.
  Bower, R.N., 11, 17; of Captain Ferguson, 21, 54; of Roman Catholic
    missionaries, 270; of the crew of the Superior, 23, and the Zephyr,
    26.
  Murray Island, vii., 16.
  Murray, Mr. G., on Tuber regium, 306; on Glæocapsa, 326.
  Murray, Dr. John, on the Solomon Island deposits, ix.
  Muskets, introduction of, 75.
  Musquillo Islands, discovery of, 238, 275.
  Myristica, _see_ Nutmeg-tree.
  Myrmecodia salomonensis, 282.


  N.

  Names of men, 184; of women, 184; curious custom concerning the names
    of the dead and of women, 47, 49.
  Narovo Island, _see_ Simbo.
  Natica mamilla, 132, 147.
  Nautical surveying, nature of the work, 11.
  Navicellæ, 338, 341.
  Necklaces, 131.
  Negrito race, 79, 99.
  Neritinæ, 338, 346; dispersal of, 339; origin of tree-nerites, 341.
  Nets, fishing, 154; netting-stitch, 154.
  New Georgia, vi., 120; head-hunters of, 16; cannibals, 39; discovery
    by the Spaniards, 211, 275; Shortland’s visit, 262.
  New Guinea, flints in, 80; reference by Gallego to its first
    discoverer, 237, 275; _see_ Maclay Coast.
  Nicobar pigeon, 293, 323.
  Nipa fruticans, 87, 282, 291, 305.
  Nisbet, Mr., 168.
  Nito paitena (evil spirit), 50, 53.
  Nixon, Mr. L., 35.
  Nombre de Dios Island, 273.
  Nose ornaments, 133.
  Nostalgia, 167.
  Nouma-nouma, 21, 54.
  Numerals, 183.
  Nupani Island, 277.
  Nutmeg-tree, 288, 289, 293, 305.
  Nuts, edible, 85, 87.


  O.

  Ochre, red, for staining hair, 118.
  Ochrosia parviflora, 87, 292, 305.
  Ocymum sanctum, 135, 305.
  Oima Island, 52.
  Oldham, Lieut., ix., 24, 29, 36, 55, 279, 291.
  Oliver, Prof., 289, 294.
  Onomatopœia, 190.
  Ontong-Java, 92, 200, 262, 273, 275.
  Opossums, _see_ Cuscus.
  Orchids, 285, 289.
  Orika Island, _see_ Santa Catalina.
  Orion’s Belt, 56.
  Ornaments, personal, 131.
  Ortega, 195, 203.
  Outrigger-canoes, 146, 147, 149.
  Ovulum ovum, 131, 147.


  P.

  Pachyma, 306.
  Pacific races, _see_ Polynesians.
  Paddles, 150; modes of paddling, 150.
  Pagurus, 332.
  Palms, 285, 303; palm-tops as food, 88.
  Pandanus trees, 290, 291, 292, 305; different species, 302; native
    names widely spread, 101, 186; new genus, 289, 302; fruits eaten by
    natives, 87, and by the Birgus, 323; leaves made into mats, 61.
  Pandean-pipes, 141.
  Papal Bull, 255.
  Papaw-tree, 84.
  Papuans, 98, 105, 117.
  Parinarium laurinum, 62, 146, 148, 296, 305.
  Parrot, M, on syphilis in prehistoric times, 178.
  Path-finding, 162.
  Patterns, decorative, 139.
  Patterson, Bishop, 15, 148.
  Paubro, St. Christoval, 100, 229, 252, 277.
  Pérouse, 128, 155, 178, 264, 266, 269.
  Phalangers, _see_ Cuscus.
  Phosphorescence, as a guide to coral reefs, 205.
  Physical characters of Solomon Islanders, chapter on, 98.
  Pigeons, Fruit, 85, 292, 293, 325; Nicobar pigeon, 293, 323.
  Pigments, 124.
  Pigs, 7; hunting wild pigs, 159; jaws hung inside dwellings and
    tambu-houses, 58, 68; pork eaten, 91, 92, 93.
  Pile-dwellings, 60.
  Pileni Island, 277.
  Pingré, M., 234, 257, 274.
  Piper Betel, 95.
  Pipes, tobacco, 94.
  Pitt-Rivers, Major-Gen., 73, 74.
  Plantains, 82; mountain, 89.
  Plants, dispersal of, 291; list of, 294; rubbish-plants, 305.
  Pleiades, 56.
  Plerandra, 283.
  Poisoned arrows, 73.
  Poisonous snake, 314.
  Polyclonia, 334.
  Polygamy, 44.
  Polynesians, source of, 99; line of migration, 101.
  Pongamia glabra, 289, 290, 305.
  Port La Palma, 232.
  Port Praslin, 33, 56, 66, 75, 80, 149, 261.
  Potato, sweet, 82, 84.
  Pottery-making, 62.
  Pouro, St. Christoval, 100, 229, 252, 277.
  Powell, Mr. Wilfred, 173, 191.
  Prichard, Mr., on the hair of Papuans, 117.
  Pritchard, Mr., 90.
  Protective resemblances, 317, 338.
  Pruner-Bey, Dr., on the hair of Papuans, 117.
  Pryer, Mr. H., on edible birds’ nests, 325.
  Puerto de la Cruz, discovery of, 214; massacre at, 224, 235.
  Puerto de Nuestra Senora, 232.
  Pumpkins, 84.
  Pustular disease of children, 175.
  Pyrazus palustris, 91, 343.
  Pythia scarabæus, 343.


  Q.

  Quipu, elementary, 56.
  Quiros, 100, 248, 251, 253, 276.
  Quoy, M., 319.


  R.

  Races, Pacific, 98.
  Rainbow, superstition concerning, 124.
  Rainfall, 355; registers of, 363.
  Ramos, Isle of, 205, 219, 274, 275.
  Rana guppyi, 315.
  Ratonia, 285.
  Rayleigh, Lord, on the visual powers of savages, 122.
  Redcoat, labour-vessel, 39.
  Redlich, Capt., 36.
  Religion, 53.
  Reptiles, 308.
  Resins, 66, 78; native names of resin-yielding trees widely spread,
    189.
  Retes, Inigo Ortez de, 237, 275.
  Riedelia curviflora, 305.
  Ringworm, _see_ Tokelau ringworm.
  Rio Gallego, 214.
  Rio Ortega, 210, 214, 216.
  Rio San Bernardino, 216.
  Rio Santa Elena, 217.
  Rob Roy canoe, 9.
  Roberts, Mr. C., on the visual powers of savages, 121.
  Rochon, Abbé, 261.
  Rocks, volcanic, vi.; calcareous, vii.; of deep-sea formation, viii.,
    ix.
  Roggewein, Admiral, 256.
  Rollin, M., 178.
  Romilly, Mr. H., 167, 168.
  Roncador Reef, 199, 262, 273.
  Ronongo Island, viii., 278.
  Rora, chief of Ugi, 20.
  Rubbish-plants, 305.
  Rubiana, _see_ New Georgia.
  Rumphius, on Tuber regium, 306; on edible birds’ nests, 326.
  Russell Islands, 266.


  S.

  Sabo, Guadalcanar, 215.
  Sago palms, station of, 83; native names of, 189; leaves for
    thatching, 58, 71; extraction and preparation of sago, 83, 87, 90;
    sago also yielded by the Cycas, 90, and Caryota, 91.
  St. Christoval, discovery of, 222, 227, 229, 248, 275; native names of
    island, 100; physical character of natives, 103, 112, 114, 118, 119,
    120; bush-tribes, 14; head-hunting, 15, 18; cannibalism 35-38;
    female chastity, 43; dwellings, 57; tambu-houses, 67-69; weapons,
    72-75; worked flints, 77; cooking, 86; vegetable food, 84; legends
    of apes, 335; geological structure, vi.
  St. George’s Island, 211, vi.
  San Bartolomeo Islands, 238, 275.
  Sandfly, H.M.S., 11, 17.
  San Francisco, Isle of, 239, 276.
  San German Island, 209.
  San Juan Island, 222, 227, 275.
  San Lucas, Cape, 243.
  San Marcos Island, 212, 275.
  San Nicolas Island, 211, 275.
  Santa Anna Island, discovery of, 231, 262, 266; physical characters of
    natives, 103, 112; chiefs, 19; villages at war, 18; trading in human
    flesh, 36; mode of burial, 53; tambu-house, 70; grinding slabs, 77;
    crocodiles, 91; land and freshwater shells, 337; geological
    structure, viii.
  Santa Catalina Island, discovery of, 230, 262, 266; physical
    characters of natives, 103, 112, 120; chiefs, 42; tambu-house, 69.
  Santa Cruz Islands, discovery of, 249; lost, 252; re-discovered, 259.
  Santiago Island, 222, 227, 223.
  San Urban Island, 222, 223.
  Sapium indicum, 88.
  Sapuna, village of, 18, 53, 67, 70, 93.
  Savo Island, 73, 132; identical with Sesarga, 209, 215, 268, 274, 275;
    language, 185; geological characters, vii.
  Scævola Kœnigii, 290, 305.
  Schizmatoglottis, 25, 88.
  Scitamineæ, 283, 288, 294.
  Scorpions, 328.
  Seasons, temperature of, 361.
  Sebastian Vizcaino, Bay of, 243.
  Seemann, Dr., 90, 91, 319.
  Selaginellæ, 285.
  Selwyn, Bishop, 15, 141.
  Semper, Prof., on erosion of fresh-water shells, 340; on Neritinæ,
    341.
  Serpentines, vi., vii.
  Sesarga, 209, 210, 215, 268, 274, 275.
  Sham fight, 75.
  Sharks, 9; deification of, 70; carved figures of, 53, 68, 70.
  Shell-fish as food, 91.
  Shell-money, 38, 134.
  Shells, land and fresh-water, _see_ Mollusca.
  Shields, 75.
  Shortland Islands (_see_ also under Gorai and Kaika), physical
    characters of natives, 103, 113; dwellings, 58; tambu-houses, 71;
    cultivation, 81; modes of burial, 51; pit containing flints, 80;
    canoes formerly with sails, 149; excursion to the north-west coast,
    6; geological structure, viii.
  Shortland, Lieut., 262, 278.
  Sick, treatment of, 164.
  Sikyana Islands, 187, 276.
  Simbo Island (Eddystone Island), 59, 66, 72, 86, 134; chief, 14;
    vocabulary, 185; head-hunting, 16; fish-hooks, 156; measurements of
    natives, 113; mode of burial, 52; misconception of the names
    Eddystone and Simbo, 278; fumaroles, 86; geological character, vii.
  Simpson, Capt, R.N., visit to Treasury Island, 23.
  Sinasoro, 4, 25, 59, 71.
  Sinimi, _see_ Gleichenia.
  Skin, colour of, 120; prevailing disease of, 169.
  Skull measurements, 111.
  Slavery, 32.
  Smith, Mr. E., on the land and fresh-water shells, 336, 344.
  Snakes, 313.
  Soil, characters of, x.
  Solomon Islander, typical characters of a, 102, 110.
  Songs, 140.
  Sorcery, 54, 163.
  Southern continent, supposed discovery by Gallego, 248; by Quiros,
    252; by Roggewein, 257.
  Span of arms, 109.
  Spears, 72.
  Spinal disease, 175.
  Spirits, evil, 50, 53.
  Sproul, Mr., 91, 310; his wind and rain records, 362, 363.
  Spurges, 305.
  Squall, black, 353.
  Stature, 104, 115.
  Stephens, Mr., 18, 37, 56, 92, 124, 157, 176, 306, 335.
  Stewart Islands, _see_ Sikyana.
  Stirling Island, viii.
  Stone, Mr. O. C, 80, 135.
  Stone-boiling, 86.
  Stone implements, polished, 76, 120.
  Stones, grinding, 6, 77; cooking-stones, 58, 77.
  Strabismus, 177.
  Submersion, experiments on, of Iuli, 329; of Neritinæ, 339; of
    Littorina scabra, 351; of a monitor-lizard, 313.
  Suenna, 57.
  Sugar-cane, 84.
  Sulagina Bay, 38.
  Sun-burns, 362.
  Sun-shades, 139.
  Superior, barque, massacre of crew of, 23.
  Superstitions, 53, 78, 124, 153, 165.
  Surville, 33, 56, 80, 149, 261, 269.
  Suspicion, an inherent quality, 31.
  Swallow Islands, 277.
  Symonds, Lieut., 314.
  Syphilis, 177.


  T.

  Taboo or Tambu ban, 32; tambu marks, 32.
  Tacca pinnatifida, 89, 290.
  Tactics in war, 75.
  Taki, the Wano chief, 15, 20.
  Tambu-house, 35, 53, 67.
  Taro, 82, 84.
  Tattooing, 135.
  Taucalo Island, 277.
  Taumaco Island, islands in the vicinity of, 251, 276.
  Temperature, 361, 366, 367; susceptibility of natives to slight
    changes, 178.
  Temples, _see_ Tambu-house.
  Terminalia catappa, 85, 87, 290, 292.
  Terre des Arsacides, 262, 265, 269.
  Thermometrical observations, 361, 366, 367.
  Thespesia populnea, 124, 289, 290, 292, 305.
  Thigh-twisting, 154.
  Three Sisters’ Islands, viii., 58; discovery of, 222, 261, 275.
  Tienhoven Island, 257.
  Tin, discovery of, vii.
  Tinakula Island, 277.
  Tita, _see_ Parinarium laurinum.
  Tobacco-smoking, 94; introduction of tobacco, 94.
  Tokelau Ringworm, 169; its distribution, 172.
  Toma, village of, 25, 59, 71.
  Tomahawks, 75.
  Tomimas, Faro chief, 25, 46.
  Tonali Harbour, 28.
  Topinard, M., 102, 105, 109.
  Torches, 66.
  Torre, Bernardo de la, 237, 275.
  Torres, 251, 252.
  Tournefortia argentea, 290, 305.
  Trading amongst natives, 27.
  Tragedy, a domestic, 28.
  Treasury Island, 53, 54, 56, 77, 78, 133, 144; _see_ also under Mule;
    excursion to the summit, 7; physical characters of natives, 103,
    113; change in their disposition, 23; dwellings, 58; tambu-houses,
    71; mode of burial, 51; slaves, 34; cultivation, 81, 83; geological
    structure of, viii.
  Tree-ferns, 283, 294.
  Treguada Island, 221, 261, 275.
  Tres Marias Islands, _see_ Three Sisters.
  Trichomanes, 283, 285.
  Tridacna gigas, 76, 91, 132.
  Trotter, Mr. Coutts, 275.
  Tuber regium, 306.
  Tucopia Island, 252, 277.
  Tuluba Islet, fighting at, 30.
  Turner, Rev. Dr. G., 76, 154, 171, 287.
  Turner, Rev. Dr. W., 64.
  Tyerman, Rev. D., 71, 319.
  Tylor, Dr., 49, 77, 171.


  U.

  Ugi Island, 52, 54, 55, 56, 124, 137, 139; discovery of, 222, 262,
    267, 275; physical characters of natives, 103, 112; cannibalism, 38;
    infanticide, 35, 42; dwellings, 57; tambu-houses, 68, 70; flints,
    77; geological structure, viii.
  Ulaua or Ulawa Island, 71; discovery of, 221, 261, 266, 275; flints,
    78, 79; probable geological structure of, viii.
  Ulcers, 168.
  Unio guppyi, 343.
  Unios as food, 91.
  Upheaval, evidence of great, ix., x.
  Uraba Island, 221; _see_ Ulaua.
  Uri, 190.


  V.

  Vanikoro Island, 277.
  Varanus indicus, 91, 313.
  Vegetable drift, 291.
  Vegetables, cultivated, 82, 84.
  Vegetation, of the stream-courses, 282; of the forest, 284; of the
    slopes of Faro Island, 287; of the coast, 289; of a coral islet,
    289; of waste ground and of old clearings, 305.
  Vella-la-vella, vii.
  Venereal diseases, 177.
  Venus, transit of, in 1769, 257.
  Veru Island, 210.
  Vision, powers of, 121.
  Vitex, 285, 287, 300.
  Vocabulary of Bougainville Straits, 180.
  Volcanoes, active, quiescent, and extinct, vii.


  W.

  Waitz, Prof., 165.
  Wake’s Island, 239, 276.
  Wallace, Mr. A., 172.
  Wallis, Capt., 258.
  Walsch, Capt., 24.
  Wanderer, yacht, 270.
  Wano, village of, 15, 36, 57, 68.
  Waterton, 362.
  Wax, 93.
  Weapons, 71.
  Wedelia biflora, 288, 290.
  Weeds of plantations, 305.
  Weight of body of Solomon Islanders, 106; influence of the climate on
    the weight of Europeans, 369.
  Wharton, Capt., R.N., 273.
  Wilkes, Commodore, 63, 76, 170, 173, 276.
  Williams, Mr., 63.
  Winchelsea Island, 259.
  Winds, 362; registers of, 367.
  Wind-prophets, 55.
  Withrington, Capt., 248.
  Women, measurements of, 102, 115.
  Wood, Mr. C. F., 69, 330.
  Wounds, _see_ Injuries.


  Y.

  Yams, 82, 84, 88.


  Z.

  Zephyr, massacre of portion of crew of, 26.


    _S. Cowan & Co., Strathmore Printing Works, Perth._




       *       *       *       *       *




Transcriber's note:

Remarks on the text:

Inconsistent spelling, lay-out, capitalisation, hyphenation,
punctuation, use of accents etc. and duplications in the text have been
left as in the original work, except as mentioned below.

Mendana (Álvaro de Mendaña de Neira) is consistently spelled without
tilde in the original work, this has not been changed; Curacoa is mostly
spelled without cedilla, this has not been changed.

In various places the author refers to snider; this is probably a
reference to the Snider-Enfield rifle.

Page 137, ... the engraving here given, ...: It is not clear which
illustration this refers to; none of the illustrations appear to show
the described cicatrices.

Page 138, ... as shown in one of the figures. It is not clear to which
illustration this refers; none of the illustrations appear to show the
described instrument.

Page 235: The full title of Pingré’s publication (abbreviated in the
text) is Mémoire sur le choix et l’état des lieux où le passage de Vénus
du 3. juin 1769 pourra être observé avec le plus d’avantage: et
principalement sur la position géographique des îles de la mer du Sud.

Page 256, Admiral Roggewein: Jacob Roggeveen (1659-1729).

Page 262, footnote “Discoveries of the French ...”: the last
digit of the last page number is missing from the original.

Page 268, footnote 386: fabricateur du contes, as printed in the
original, not changed.

Page 275, Bernaldo de la Torre: Bernardo de la Torre (Galvano refers to
him as Bernaldo de la Torre).

Page 276, footnote [416]: the last digit of the year is unclear in the
original; most likely the year is 1791, but it might also be 1797.

Page 328, they are not usually more than 1½ in length: the unit
(probably inches) is missing in the original work.

Page 367, Table: from the lay-out of the original page it is not
immediately clear to which column the Mean for 1883 refers. Numerically
it could be either the Mean Temperature or the Mean Dry Bulb
Temperature. The former seems more logical.


Changes made to the text:

Multi-page tables have been combined to single tables; “Carry
forward” and “Brought forward” have been deleted from
these tables.

Some minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
silently.

Footnotes have been moved to under the paragraph where they are
indicated.

Some illustrations have been moved.

Some tables have been re-arranged.

Throughout book the following words have been corrected or standardised:
Ipomæa to Ipomœa; Kænigii to Kœnigii; Scœvola to Scævola; palœolithic to
palæolithic; Elœocarpus to Elæocarpus; Gœrtn to Gærtn; Adenosma cœrulea
to Adenosma cærulea; guage to gauge; Labillardiére to Labillardière;
memoire(s) to mémoire(s); redigé to rédigé; Oceanie to Océanie.

The map (frontispiece) is not explicitly referred to in the text; where
the author refers to contemporary (Admiralty or English) charts, a
hyperlink to the frontispiece is provided, on the assumption that this
map gives a realistic impression of the knowledge of the Solomon Islands
at the time the work was published. Not all of the names the author
mentions are to be found on this map.


Other changes:

Page vii: calcareons changed to calcareous; Geologie changed to Géologie

Page ix: Bougain- changed to Bougainville

Page 19: thus dampened changed to this dampened

Page 73: agenerally changed to generally

Page 101, footnote [85]: page 185 changed to page 186

Page 104: Curzon Howe changed to Curzon-Howe

Page 113: extremely changed to extremity

Page 115, first table: ditto marks added to last column

Page 136: Pteropidae changed to Pteropidæ as elsewhere

Page 138: an instrument three prongs changed to an instrument of three
prongs

Page 141: ... sang with as true ... changed to ... sung with as true ...

Page 153: (p. 155) changed to (p. 74) (page 155 shows a fishing net)

Page 168: labour-scooner changed to labour-schooner

Page 187: Bataviasch changed to Bataviaasch; Hara-hagh changed to
Haragh-hagh as elsewhere

Page 201: rodoleros changed to rodeleros

Page 202: 7° 50″ changed to 7° 50′

Page 216: Megapodidæ changed to Megapodiidæ

Page 224: nãmes changed to ñames as elsewhere

Page 234: Contrariété changed to Contrarieté as elsewhere

Page 235: òu changed to où; Découvertes des François ou 1768 and 1769
changed to Découvertes des François en 1768 et 1769

Page 247: goe changed to go

Page 261: augmentee changed to augmentée

Page 262: Isles de la Déliverance changed to Iles de la Délivrance

Page 265: Decouvertes changed to Découvertes

Page 273: p. 202 changed to p. 205; p. 205 changed to p. 202

Page 274, Note V.: V. missing from original, added; óu changed to où

Page 278: à peu prés changed to à peu près

Page 292: Gomphranda changed to Gomphandra

Page 298: tubo corollœ changed to tubo corollæ

Page 300: Euphorbia Atota changed to Euphorbia Atoto; Litsæa changed to
Litsea

Page 303: Drymophlorus changed to Drymophloeus

Page 305: Cycas circinails changed to Cycas circinalis; Commelyne
nudiflora changed to Commelyna nudiflora; Erianthemum variabile changed
to Eranthemum variabile (Erianthemum is a mistletoe, which seems
improbable given the description)

Page 319: Dr. Seeman changed to Dr. Seemann as elsewhere

Page 327: fur changed to für

Page 337: Helix (nanina) solidiuscida changed to Helix (nanina)
solidiuscula

Page 347: collumellar changed to columellar

Page 349: Tapparone Canfri changed to Tapparone Canefri

Page 363: not less 2/100 changed to not less than 2/100.


Index entries changed to conform to the text:

Melaniaguppyi changed to Melania guppyi; Erianthemum variabile to
Eranthemum variabile; Maté to Mate; Mulé to Mule; Pitt Rivers to
Pitt-Rivers; Vella-la vella to Vella-la-Vella.