Mr. Chalmers asked by the natives to go to Elema—Native fears—Difficulties at the start—Namoa—Delena—A Motumotu trading canoe—Interview with Semese, chief of Lese—Christian natives—Friendly meeting with a war canoe—Arrival at Motumotu—Friendly reception—Viewing Mr. Chalmers’s feet—Natives in full dress—Sunday open-air service—Sago as an article of commerce—Peace agreed upon—Return to Boera.

When at Kabadi in 1880, the natives begged of me to endeavour to prevent the Elema natives paying them another visit, as they were now living in the bush near the hills. All along the coast the people were much afraid, expecting a raid, and at last news came in from Maiva that Motumotu and Lese were making great preparations that they would visit Motu, kill Tamate and Ruatoka, then attack right and left. Last year, when leaving, they said they would return and pay off accounts, kill the foreigners first, then all the natives they could get hold of.

Under these circumstances, I resolve to visit Motumotu, and beard the lion in his den. I did not believe they would touch me, but I feared they meant mischief to Kabadi and the coast villages. No time could be lost, as we were in a bad month for rain and storms, and the coast line is long and bad. The natives said it was too late, yet I resolved to try it.

On the 5th January, 1881, we opened the new church at Port Moresby, and baptised the first three New Guinea converts. The church was crowded, and all seemed interested. I arranged for Piri and his wife to accompany me to the Gulf, they taking the whale-boat. We cannot call at Kabadi on our way down, as we must hurry on, but our natives here were going to Kabadi, and gladly took the news.

On January 10, the flag flying on the boat told all that we were to start. Our leader ran off to Kaili last night, but Huakonio, one of the three baptised on the 5th, was willing to go. Our boat’s crew were considered fools, rushing into the arms of death. Wives, children, and friends were gathered round weeping. The men said, “Cannot you see that if Tamate lives we shall live, and if he is murdered we shall be murdered? It is all right; we are going with him, and you will see us back all right with sago and betel-nuts.” Huakonio told me in the boat that every means imaginable but physical force were used to prevent their accompanying me; and he added, “We know it is all right; the Spirit that has watched over you in the past” (naming the various journeys) “will do so now; and if we return safe, won’t the people be ashamed?”

We left Port Moresby about nine a.m. with a light head wind; outside found the current very strong, setting easterly. We arrived at Boera at four p.m., and found Piri and his wife ready to start at once. Piri has a Boera crew, and we increased ours here by two. Here the natives did not seem at all afraid, and many wished to accompany us.

On leaving Boera, it was a beautiful clear and moonlight night, and there was a light land breeze. Pulling brought us to Varivara Islands, in Redscar Bay, about two a.m., where we anchored until six when we tried to make Cape Suckling. As it was blowing hard from the north-west, we had to put into Manumanu. The Motu traders did all they could to persuade us to give up Motumotu, and to visit Kabadi. Both crews would gladly have given up; their friends told them to leave us, and return in the trading canoes. They came to me to say “the bad weather has set in, the winds and rains are here, we cannot go on.”

I replied, “Think, my children, of the disgrace. We started to go to Motumotu, and at the first breath of contrary wind we put back. It must not be. Let us try it a little longer, and if the wind increases we can put back, and not feel ashamed.”

“You are right,” they rejoined; “we will go on with you.”

At sunset we all got into our boats, and were ready for a start. A fellow who has just returned from Kabadi thought to get over me by saying, “Tamate, Kabadi are looking daily for you, and they have a large present ready; feathers in abundance and sago; your two boats cannot take half.”

“I am going to Motumotu, and not all the feathers in Kabadi, nor all the sago they can prepare, will turn me now, until I have made a fair trial, and then, if driven back, I will visit Kabadi.”

I believe our crew had had a talk with that man before he came to me.

It was five o’clock on January 12th before we got to Namoa, near Cape Suckling. Maiva canoes passed with wallaby from Namoa. When ashore, cooking breakfast, Koloko and her husband, with uncles and aunts, and men and women from the village, came down. The two former were going to Maiva, and the crowd followed to see them embark in one of the large Maiva canoes. After the bamboo pipe had been passed all round, the embarkation took place, men and women weeping as if taking a final farewell.

When they had gone, we told the people we wished to sleep, and they left us undisturbed. In the afternoon we came to Delena, where we had right hearty welcome. They are truly glad we are going to Motumotu, as they fear an attack, and hope our visit will benefit them. They feel sure Motumotu will receive us well, and seeing that I specially visit them, they say it will be all right. The crews feel encouraged, and are at present ashore feasting on dugong, sago, and betel-nuts. Some have been off for tobacco, and are now laughing at the folly of their friends. The sorcerer is not in Delena; but even he would do nothing to prevent our going on. We are all ready to start with a land breeze. The crews have sent us word, “When you wish to start, call out; you will see us gladly spring into the water.”

On leaving Delena with a light breeze and pulling, we reached the Kaveri beach near Cape Possession, about eight a.m. When near Maiva, we met a Motumotu canoe. At first they were afraid to come alongside of us, but after a little talk we got near them, exchanged presents, and were soon friends. They seem glad we are going to their home; they say peace will be arranged. The Motumotu have said that if we only were to visit them, they would gladly make peace.

It seems that they are very badly off for uros (earthenware pots), and the native tribes along the coast to the west of them are crying out and blaming them for the scarcity. They are certainly blaming the right party; but for Motumotu, the Pari, Vapukori, Port Moresby, Boliapata, and Boera trading canoes would all have been down the coast last season. The principal man in the canoe, knowing that all, except our boatman, Bob Samoa, had friends at Motumotu, made friends with him, rubbing noses and handing his lime gourd, which is to be shown on arrival, and his father and friends will receive Bob as his friends. They go on to Lolo in quest of uros.

We landed to cook food. On awaking from a sleep, I was astonished to find a crowd of natives close by, and my friend the Kaveri chief, Arana, sitting near me. Two boys, who were on the beach fishing, seeing us land, ran inland and reported, and he, with two of his wives carrying food, followed by men and women from the villages, came down. His two wives are now busy cooking, and he is trying to persuade me to call on our return and get his present of sago and food. I could not promise, and he seemed disappointed.

We left the Kaveri beach and pulled round Cape Possession, passing close in by Oiapu. A heavy sea was rolling in, and a canoe putting off to us was swamped. People running along the beach called on Piri and me by name to land and feast, but our crews were too frightened, and we went on. When off Jokea, men, women, and children all came on to the beach, and also by name begged of us to land. We would have done so here, but the sea was too high, breaking with great force on the fringing reef. Several canoes put off, but only one succeeded in reaching us. They begged of us to call on our return, and let them know the result of our visit, and said we had better also visit Lese. They think our visit will put all straight. Motumotu, they say, is very undecided as to what to do, but having heard that I was to visit them, put off the decision for some time, saying, “If he comes, it will be all right, and we shall have peace, but—” Well, they did not know. They rub noses all round, and make for the shore, we for the harbour at the mouth of Coombes River, but a very heavy sea running in, we prefer anchoring outside at midnight.

By five a.m. up anchor, and away to Lese. Two Naima canoes returning from Lolo, where they had been trying to get uros, passed close to us. They also are glad of the likelihood of peace and uros. At seven, we got to Lese, and were met by an excited crowd, the majority armed. We anchored a little out, and would allow no canoes alongside. I called out for Eeka, and a very old man walked into the sea, when I went ashore and took him by the hand. Piri and his wife followed, with part of the crew and the Boera and Port Moresby chiefs. We were led to the village, the crowd increasing as we went along. Piri noticing an enclosed place, went in to see what it was, and called me to have a look. I went in, but no women or youths followed. Inside were two large houses, with rows of masks and hats, the latter like small canoes, about ten feet long, made with very light wood and native cloth. On coming out I was seized by the hand by an elderly man, who, in a towering passion, drew me on. All I could make out was that somebody was a thief and a liar. The Boera chief ran up, and I asked him what was wrong. “Oh, this is your friend, Semese, the chief you gave the present to when you were last here, and he is angry with Eeka for taking you away.”

“Tell Piri to come up quickly.”

“Piri, go with Eeka as your friend; give him a present as such; it is all right. I go with Semese.”

Soon squatting on the platform, wrath fled, and I had to wait to be fed.

“But, Semese, I want to press on to Motumotu and see them. I am afraid of the weather coming on bad.”

“Motumotu to-morrow, Lese to-day; you must have a pig.”

“Leave the pig for another visit.”

All was of no avail. A fine pig was speared, brought and laid at my feet. Semese and the people were in the very best humour. Eeka was delighted with Piri, and the latter had a pig presented to him. We gave our presents, and, feeling tired, I suggested to our friends that we had better take the pigs to the other side of the entrance, to Macey Lagoon. Semese is quite agreeable, now the peace is made, and it was arranged that he and his party should visit me with sago at Port Moresby. Both pigs, ready for cooking, were carried into the boat, and the excited crowd, this time all unarmed, were on the shore to see us off. They promised not to molest Kabadi again, and that they considered our visit as peace with all the coast villages.

Macey Lagoon would make a splendid harbour for small vessels, very large vessels not being able to cross the bar. On the eastern side, a bank runs out for nearly a mile, on which the sea breaks; close in by western shore is a good passage. The great work of the day was feasting and sleeping. There were two Lese men with us, and they said that the Motumotu have been talking of war, not of peace; but now it may be different. To get into Motumotu in the morning, we had come to within two miles of the village, and we anchored off. Notwithstanding some anxiety, soon all were asleep. The natives were astonished at the beautiful weather, and said they felt as if all would be right—the great and good Spirit who had led us so far and safely would not leave us now or on the morrow. At every meal on board or ashore they asked a blessing, and our old friend Hula prayed with real earnest feelings. He was certainly in earnest to-night when he prayed for the Motumotuans, and that our visit might be blessed to them. I was charmed with his simplicity, fervour, and expectancy.

This old man, a few weeks before, at the close of a meeting at Port Moresby, said, addressing us—

“Listen, you think we Motumotuans are not attending to your words; but you are mistaken. Before you came here, we were always fighting and were a terror to all, east and west, but now it is different. We are at peace all round; we go about unarmed, and sleep well at night. Soon our fathers’ ancient customs will be given up, and you will see us, old and young, coming to be taught the word of the great and good Spirit.”

I was aroused about two a.m. by shouting, and, looking over the gunwale, saw a large double fighting canoe alongside of Piri’s boat, in which all were sound asleep. On awaking, they were startled by the appearance. They were asked by those on the bridge—

“Who are you?”

“Tamate and Piri going to Motumotu.”

Soon all were friends, chewing betel-nut and smoking tobacco. On each canoe with paddles were over thirty men, and on the bridge adjoining the canoes were armed men and a large supply of sago and betel-nuts. They were going to Lese to purchase uros. They came alongside of our boat, received and gave presents, and then an order was given by one from the bridge, and away they went at full speed. It was a pretty sight in the moonlight to see the canoe move swiftly on, when nearly eight paddles as one touched the water. We rolled ourselves up again for another hour or two’s sleep.

At sis a.m. we weighed anchor, and were off to Motumotu. There was a great crowd on the beach; but it was all right, as boys and girls were to be seen there, as noisy as the grown-up folks. A chief rushed into the water, and called on us to come. “Come, with peace from afar; come, friends, and you will meet us as friends.” We went round and entered the river in deep water, close to eastern bank near to the village. Until we had a talk, I would allow none but Piri’s friend and my friends, Semese and Rahe, near the boats. They had been told that we were going to fight if they visited us, and that all women and children were to be sent back to the Keiara, and the Keiari fighting men were to be in league with all the foreigners about. Then they heard that I had been murdered, and were terribly sorry; but now they saw I was alive, and had come a long way in a “moon” in which neither they nor their forefathers had ever travelled. So now they must make peace.

I said, “You must not again go near Kabadi, and all along the coast we must have peace.”

“It is right, we shall not again visit Kabadi. Lealea feasted us with pigs, and pressed us to attack Kabadi, to pay off an old attack on them. It suited us, because Kabadi thought themselves strong; but now it is peace.”

I landed with them, and went up through the villages, then returning to the boats we were told to remain there. Shortly three pigs were brought, and our return presents of uros, etc., were carried off. Bob’s calabash has brought him a host of friends. Piri is with his friends at one end of the village, and in the opposite I am to reside in my friend Rahe’s dubu. Semese is his father, and a very old man. The number of old men and old women and children is astonishing. No enemy dare come near their villages, and their houses have never been burnt down. The Boera chief—a capital fellow to have—speaks this dialect very fluently. Our people at first were very much afraid, but soon settled down, and are now roving about.

Suddenly the war-horn was heard blowing—not the pig-horn, so often heard on the coast. I wondered what was up, but it turned out to be only the youth training. Two new double canoes came down the river with large complements of paddles, all young lads, gaily dressed. A number of young men, painted and extravagantly dressed, have been here; they lately killed some Moveavans, and are hence greatly admired by old and young.

I had to take off my boots and socks, and allow my feet to be admired, also to show off my chest. All shout with delight, and every new arrival must have a look. The sun was frightfully hot. Some men were fishing on the breakers; they had a long post, with a cross-bar, on which they stand, fixed in the sand, head covered with native cloth, and bow and arrow ready.

A number of people came in from Vailala. They wish I would go down with them, but it is too late to go so far in an open boat. I have had another meeting with the leading men, and I think all is now peace. My friend Rahe seems a great personage, with relatives innumerable. He wants to know if I would like to be alone in the dubu; only say it, and all the men will leave. I prefer them remaining, and I will make myself comfortable on the front platform.

In the evening, men and women—I suppose they would say “elegantly dressed”—bodies besmeared with red pigment, croton and dracÆna leaves, and feathers of various birds fixed on head, arms, and legs, paraded the villages. At present all move about armed, and in this establishment bows, bent and unbent, and bundles of arrows are on all sides.

Rahe has just been to me to ask for boat medicine.

“What do you mean, Rahe?”

“I want you to give me some of that medicine you use to make your boat sail.”

“I use no medicine, only Motu strong arms.”

“You could never have come along now without medicine.”

“We use no medicine, and have come along well.”

I had a splendid night’s rest. My mosquito-net and blanket caused great amusement. My attendants are innumerable and attentive, and will allow no noise near. Our service in the morning was very noisy—everybody anxious for quiet must needs tell his neighbour to be quiet. Our old Port Moresby chief prayed in the Motumotu dialect. The Boera chief translated for Piri and me. They are very anxious to know of the resurrection and where Beritane spirits go after death.

In the afternoon we held service in the main street. The singing attracted a very large and noisy crowd but when our old friend began to pray it was as if a bomb-shell had exploded, men, women, and children running as for dear life to their homes. Another hymn brought them back, armed and unarmed. We had a long talk on peace, and they wished I would go with them to Moveave, and make peace. One division of these villages they have simply wiped out. I asked them to leave Moveave alone, and when a fit season comes I will ascend the river with them, and make peace.

I have visited the party who last week killed several of the Moveavans, and they promised not to attack them again. The Kaback jewellery is about in abundance.

Semese spoke nearly all the night through, exhorting all to peace, and that now we had visited them they ought no more to go about exalting themselves, fighting with their neighbours, and speaking evil of their friends, the Motuans. Rahe has brought his son, whom he has named Tamate. I have no doubt he will be an expensive honour.

We went up the William River to-day. At mouth, on the west side, are two islands, viz., Iriho and Biaveveka. Between the latter and the mainland is an entrance into Alice Meade Harbour. The river is broad and deep. Both banks are lined with sago palms.

When a young man marries a young woman, the custom here is to pay nothing for her; but for a widow something very great. The people live chiefly on sago. Sago is cooked with shell-fish, boiled with bananas, roasted on stones, baked in the ashes, tied up in leaves, and many other ways. We have received large presents of sago, both boats bearing as much as is safe to carry. We leave in the morning. At present a man is going through the streets in great wrath, having been to his plantation and missed a bunch of bananas. As he moves along he shouts out his loss, and challenges the thief.

We had a gathering of old men until late into the night, and they closed with a wail, chanted, with drums keeping time. Hours before daylight Semese was up, waiting for me to turn out.

We had a fine run back to Yule, where, at sunset, we were met by a terrific gale of wind and a thunderstorm. We had to put in close to the land, and for four hours sit it out in a deluge of rain. It was soon inky dark, the lightning very vivid, and the thunder deafening. Piri’s boat anchored close alongside. On the weather clearing up a little, we crossed Hall Sound to Delena, where we were soon met by natives carrying torches, and were led to their houses. A change of clothing, and we were all as comfortable as possible.

We spent the hour of midnight with Kone and Levas, chiefs of Delena, telling them of our visit to the west, and its success in establishing peace. They were greatly delighted, and will do me the honour of visiting me at Port Moresby, that is, will relieve me of some tomahawks. With a light wind and a smooth sea, we had a pleasant run to Boera, where we arrived at sunset. There was great joy in the village at our arrival.

We reached Port Moresby on the 20th, and on March 6th we baptized Kohu and Rahela, the first two women of New Guinea converted to Christianity. May they be kept as true ministering women for Christ!