A canoe is an item of material culture, and as such it can be described, photographed and even bodily transported into a museum. But—and this is a truth too often overlooked—the ethnographic reality of the canoe would not be brought much nearer to a student at home, even by placing a perfect specimen right before him.

The canoe is made for a certain use, and with a definite purpose; it is a means to an end, and we, who study native life, must not reverse this relation, and make a fetish of the object itself. In the study of the economic purposes for which a canoe is made, of the various uses to which it is submitted, we find the first approach to a deeper ethnographic treatment. Further sociological data, referring to its ownership, accounts of who sails in it, and how it is done; information regarding the ceremonies and customs of its construction, a sort of typical life history of a native craft—all that brings us nearer still to the understanding of what his canoe truly means to the native.

Even this, however, does not touch the most vital reality of a native canoe. For a craft, whether of bark or wood, iron or steel, lives in the life of its sailors, and it is more to a sailor than a mere bit of shaped matter. To the native, not less than to the white seaman, a craft is surrounded by an atmosphere of romance, built up of tradition and of personal experience. It is an object of cult and admiration, a living thing, possessing its own individuality.

We Europeans—whether we know native craft by experience or through descriptions—accustomed to our extraordinarily developed means of water transport, are apt to look down on a native canoe and see it in a false perspective—regarding it almost as a child’s plaything, an abortive, imperfect attempt to tackle the problem of sailing, which we ourselves have satisfactorily solved.1 But to the native his cumbersome, sprawling canoe is a marvellous, almost miraculous achievement, and a thing of beauty (see Plates XXI, XXIII, XL, XLVII, LV). He has spun a tradition around it, and he adorns it with his best carvings, he colours and decorates it. It is to him a powerful contrivance for the mastery of Nature, which allows him to cross perilous seas to distant places. It is associated with journeys by sail, full of threatening dangers, of living hopes and desires to which he gives expression in song and story. In short, in the tradition of the natives, in their customs, in their behaviour, and in their direct statements, there can be found the deep love, the admiration, the specific attachment as to something alive and personal, so characteristic of the sailors’ attitude towards his craft.

And it is in this emotional attitude of the natives towards their canoes that I see the deepest ethnographic reality, which must guide us right through the study of other aspects—the customs and technicalities of construction and of use; the economic conditions and the associated beliefs and traditions. Ethnology or Anthropology, the science of Man, must not shun him in his innermost self, in his instinctive and emotional life.

A look at the pictures (for instance Plates XXI, XXIV, XXXIX, or XLVII) will give us some idea of the general structure of the native canoes: the body is a long, deep well, connected with an outrigger float, which stretches parallel with the body for almost all its length (see Plates XXI and XXIII), and with a platform going across from one side to the other. The lightness of the material permits it to be much more deeply immersed than any sea-going European craft, and gives it greater buoyancy. It skims the surface, gliding up and down the waves, now hidden by the crests, now riding on top of them. It is a precarious but delightful sensation to sit in the slender body, while the canoe darts on with the float raised, the platform steeply slanting, and water constantly breaking over; or else, still better, to perch on the platform or on the float—the latter only feasible in the bigger canoes—and be carried across on the sea on a sort of suspended raft, gliding over the waves in a manner almost uncanny. Occasionally a wave leaps up and above the platform, and the canoe—unwieldy, square raft as it seems at first—heaves lengthways and crossways, mounting the furrows with graceful agility. When the sail is hoisted, its heavy, stiff folds of golden matting unroll with a characteristic swishing and crackling noise, and the canoe begins to make way; when the water rushes away below with a hiss, and the yellow sail glows against the intense blue of sea and sky—then indeed the romance of sailing seems to open through a new vista.

The natural reflection on this description is that it presents the feelings of the Ethnographer, not those of the native. Indeed there is a great difficulty in disentangling our own sensations from a correct reading of the innermost native mind. But if an investigator, speaking the native’s language and living among them for some time, were to try to share and understand their feelings, he will find that he can gauge them correctly. Soon he will learn to distinguish when the native’s behaviour is in harmony with his own, and when, as it sometimes happens, the two are at variance.

Thus, in this case, there is no mistaking the natives’ great admiration of a good canoe; of their quickness in appreciating differences in speed, buoyancy and stability, and of their emotional reaction to such difference. When, on a calm day, suddenly a fresh breeze rises, the sail is set, and fills, and the canoe lifts its lamina (outrigger float) out of the water, and races along, flinging the spray to right and left—there is no mistaking the keen enjoyment of the natives. All rush to their posts and keenly watch the movements of the boat; some break out into song, and the younger men lean over and play with the water. They are never tired of discussing the good points of their canoes, and analysing the various craft. In the coastal villages of the Lagoon, boys and young men will often sail out in small canoes on mere pleasure cruises, when they race each other, explore less familiar nooks of the Lagoon, and in general undoubtedly enjoy the outing, in just the same manner as we would do.

Seen from outside, after you have grasped its construction and appreciated through personal experience its fitness for its purpose, the canoe is no less attractive and full of character than from within. When, on a trading expedition or as a visiting party, a fleet of native canoes appears in the offing, with their triangular sails like butterfly wings scattered over the water (see Plate XLVIII), with the harmonious calls of conch shells blown in unison, the effect is unforgettable.2 When the canoes then approach, and you see them rocking in the blue water in all the splendour of their fresh white, red, and black paint, with their finely designed prow-boards, and clanking array of large, white cowrie shells (see Plates XLIX, LV)—you understand well the admiring love which results in all this care bestowed by the native on the decoration of his canoe.

Even when not in actual use, when lying idle beached on the sea front of a village, the canoe is a characteristic element in the scenery, not without its share in the village life. The very big canoes are in some cases housed in large sheds (see Plate XXII), which are by far the largest buildings erected by the Trobrianders. In other villages, where sailing is always being done, a canoe is simply covered with palm leaves (see Plates I, LIII), as protection from the sun, and the natives often sit on its platform, chatting, and chewing betel-nut, and gazing at the sea. The smaller canoes, beached near the sea-front in long parallel rows, are ready to be launched at any moment. With their curved outline and intricate framework of poles and sticks, they form one of the most characteristic settings of a native coastal village.

A few words must be said now about the technological essentials of the canoe. Here again, a simple enumeration of the various parts of the canoe, and a description of them, a pulling to pieces of a lifeless object will not satisfy us. I shall instead try to show how, given its purpose on the one hand, and the limitations in technical means and in material on the other, the native ship-builders have coped with the difficulties before them.

A sailing craft requires a water-tight, immersible vessel of some considerable volume. This is supplied to our natives by a hollowed-out log. Such a log might carry fairly heavy loads, for wood is light, and the hollowed space adds to its buoyancy. Yet it possesses no lateral stability, as can easily be seen. A look at the diagrammatic section of a canoe Fig. I (1), shows that a weight with its centre of gravity in the middle, that is, distributed symmetrically, will not upset the equilibrium, but any load placed so as to produce a momentum of rotation (that is, a turning force) at the sides (as indicated by arrows at A or B) will cause the canoe to turn round and capsize.

If, however, as shown in Fig. I (2), another smaller, solid log (C) be attached to the dug-out, a greater stability is achieved, though not a symmetrical one. If we press down the one side of the canoe (A) this will cause the canoe to turn round a longitudinal axis, so that its other side (B) is raised, Fig. I (3). The log (C) will be lifted out of the water, and its weight will produce a momentum (turning force) proportional to the displacement, and the rest of the canoe will come to equilibrium. This momentum is represented in the diagram by the arrow R. Thus a great stability relative to any stress exercised upon A, will be achieved. A stress on B causes the log to be immersed, to which its buoyancy opposes a slight resistance. But it can easily be seen that the stability on this side is much smaller than on the other. This asymmetrical3 stability plays a great part in the technique of sailing. Thus, as we shall see, the canoe is always so sailed that its outrigger float (C) remains in the wind side. The pressure of the sail then lifts the canoe, so that A is pressed into the water, and B and C are lifted, a position in which they are extremely stable, and can stand great force of wind. Whereas the slightest breeze would cause the canoe to turn turtle, if it fell on the other side, and thus pressed B—C into the water.

Another look at Fig. I (2) and (3) will help us to realise that the stability of the canoe will depend upon (i) the volume, and especially the depth of the dug-out; (ii) the distance B—C between the dug-out and the log; (iii) the size of the log C. The greater all these three magnitudes are, the greater the stability of the canoes. A shallow canoe, without much freeboard, will be easily forced into the water; moreover, if sailed in rough weather, waves will break over it, and fill it with water.

(i) The volume of the dug-out log naturally depends upon the length, and thickness of the log. Fairly stable canoes are made of simply scooped-out logs. There are limits, however, to the capacity of these, which are very soon reached. But by building out the side, by adding one or several planks to them, as shown in Figure I (4) the volume and the depth can be greatly increased without much increase in weight. So that such a canoe has a good deal of freeboard to prevent water from breaking in. The longitudinal boards in Kiriwinian canoes are closed in at each end by transversal prow-boards, which are also carved with more or less perfection (see Plates XXIV c, XLVII).

(ii) The greater the distance B—C between dug-out and outrigger float, the greater the stability of the canoe. Since the momentum of rotation is the product of B—C (Fig. I), and the weight of the log C, it is clear, therefore, that the greater the distance, the greater will be the momentum. Too great a distance, however, would interfere with the wieldiness of the canoe. Any force acting on the log would easily tip the canoe, and as the natives, in order to manage the craft, have to walk upon the outrigger, the distance B—C must not be too great. In the Trobriands the distance B—C is about one-quarter, or less, of the total length of the canoe. In the big, sea-going canoes, it is always covered with a platform. In certain other districts, the distance is much bigger, and the canoes have another type of rigging.

(iii) The size of the log (C) of which the float is formed. This, in sea-going canoes, is usually of considerable dimensions. But, as a solid piece of wood becomes heavy if soaked by water, too thick a log would not be good.

These are all the essentials of construction in their functional aspect, which will make clear further descriptions of sailing, of building, and of using. For, indeed, though I have said that technicalities are of secondary importance, still without grasping them, we cannot understand references to the managing and rigging of the canoes.

The Trobrianders use their craft for three main purposes, and these correspond to the three types of canoe. Coastal transport, especially in the Lagoon, requires small, light, handy canoes called kewo’u (see Fig. II (1), and Plates XXIV, top foreground, and XXXVI, to the right); for fishing, bigger and more seaworthy canoes called kalipoulo (see Fig. II (2), and Plates XXIV, and XXXVI, to the left, also XXXVII) are used; finally, for deep sea sailing, the biggest type is needed, with a considerable carrying capacity, greater displacement, and stronger construction. These are called masawa (see Fig. II (3) and Plates XXI, XXIII, etc.). The word waga is a general designation for all kinds of sailing craft.

Only a few words need to be said about the first two types, so as to make, by means of comparison, the third type clearer. The construction of the smallest canoes is sufficiently illustrated by the diagram (1) in Fig. II. From this it is clear that it is a simple dug-out log, connected with a float. It never has any built-up planking, and no carved boards, nor as a rule any platform. In its economic aspect, it is always owned by one individual, and serves his personal needs. No mythology or magic is attached to it.

Type (2), as can be seen in Fig. II (2), differs in construction from (1), in so far that it has its well enclosed by built-out planking and carved prow-boards. A framework of six ribs helps to keep the planks firmly attached to the dug-out and to hold them together. It is used in fishing villages. These villages are organised into several fishing detachments, each with a headman. He is the owner of the canoe, he performs the fish magic, and among other privileges, obtains the main yield of fish. But all his crew de facto have the right to use the canoe and share in the yield. Here we come across the fact that native ownership is not a simple institution, since it implies definite rights of a number of men, combined with the paramount right and title of one. There is a good deal of fishing magic, taboos and customs connected with the construction of these canoes, and also with their use, and they form the subject of a number of minor myths.

By far the most elaborate technically, the most seaworthy and carefully built, are the sea-going canoes of the third type (see Fig. II (3)). These are undoubtedly the greatest achievement of craftsmanship of these natives. Technically, they differ from the previously described kinds, in the amount of time spent over their construction and the care given to details, rather than in essentials. The well is formed by a planking built over a hollowed log and closed up at both ends by carved, transversal prow-boards, kept in position by others, longitudinal and of oval form. The whole planking remains in place by means of ribs, as in the second type of canoes, the kalipoulo, the fishing canoes, but all the parts are finished and fitted much more perfectly, lashed with a better creeper, and more thoroughly caulked. The carving, which in the fishing canoes is often quite indifferent, here is perfect. Ownership of these canoes is even more complex, and its construction is permeated with tribal customs, ceremonial, and magic, the last based on mythology. The magic is always performed in direct association with Kula expeditions.

After having thus spoken about, first, the general impression made by a canoe and its psychological import, and then about the fundamental features of its technology, we have to turn to the social implications of a masawa (sea-going canoe).

The canoe is constructed by a group of people, it is owned, used and enjoyed communally, and this is done according to definite rules. There is therefore a social organisation underlying the building, the owning, and the sailing of a canoe. Under these three headings, we shall give an outline of the canoe’s sociology, always bearing in mind that these outlines have to be filled in in the subsequent account.

(A) Social organisation of labour in constructing a Canoe.

In studying the construction of a canoe, we see the natives engaged in an economic enterprise on a big scale. Technical difficulties face them, which require knowledge, and can only be overcome by a continuous, systematic effort, and at certain stages must be met by means of communal labour. All this obviously implies some social organisation. All the stages of work, at which various people have to co-operate, must be co-ordinated, there must be someone in authority who takes the initiative and gives decisions; and there must be also someone with a technical capacity, who directs the construction. Finally, in Kiriwina, communal labour, and the services of experts have to be paid for, and there must be someone who has the means and is prepared to do it.4 This economic organisation rests on two fundamental facts—(1) the sociological differentiation of functions, and (2) the magical regulation of work.

(1) The sociological differentiation of functions.—First of all there is the owner of the canoe, that is, the chief, or the headman of a village or of a smaller sub-division, who takes the responsibility for the undertaking. He pays for the work, engages the expert, gives orders, and commands communal labour.

Besides the owner, there is next another office of great sociological importance, namely, that of the expert. He is the man who knows how to construct the canoe, how to do the carvings, and, last, not least, how to perform the magic. All these functions of the expert may be, but not necessarily are, united in one person. The owner is always one individual, but there may be two or even three experts.

Finally, the third sociological factor in canoe-building, consists of the workers. And here there is a further division. First there is a smaller group, consisting of the relations and close friends of the owner or of the expert, who help throughout the whole process of construction; and, secondly, there is, besides them, the main body of villagers, who take part in the work at those stages where communal labour is necessary.

(2) The magical regulation of work.—The belief in the efficiency of magic is supreme among the natives of Boyowa, and they associate it with all their vital concerns. In fact, we shall find magic interwoven into all the many industrial and communal activities to be described later on, as well as associated with every pursuit where either danger or chance conspicuously enter. We shall have to describe, besides the magic of canoe-making, that of propitious sailing, of shipwreck and salvage, of Kula and of trade, of fishing, of obtaining spondylus and Conus shell, and of protection against attack in foreign parts. It is imperative that we should thoroughly grasp what magic means to the natives and the rÔle it plays in all their vital pursuits, and a special chapter will be devoted to magical ideas and magical practices in Kiriwina. Here, however, it is necessary to sketch the main outlines, at least as far as canoe magic is concerned.

First of all, it must be realised that the natives firmly believe in the value of magic, and that this conviction, when put to the test of their actions, is quite unwavering, even nowadays when so much of native belief and custom has been undermined. We may speak of the sociological weight of tradition, that is of the degree to which the behaviour of a community is affected by the traditional commands of tribal law and customs. In the Trobriands, the general injunction for always building canoes under the guidance of magic is obeyed without the slightest deviation, for the tradition here weighs very heavily. Up to the present, not one single masawa canoe has been constructed without magic, indeed without the full observance of all the rites and ceremonial. The forces that keep the natives to their traditional course of behaviour are, in the first place, the specific social inertia which obtains in all human societies and is the basis of all conservative tendencies, and then the strong conviction that if the traditional course were not taken, evil results would ensue. In the case of canoes, the Trobrianders would be so firmly persuaded that a canoe built without magic would be unseaworthy, slow in sailing, and unlucky in the Kula, that no one would dream of omitting the magic rites.

In the myths related elsewhere (Chap. XII) we shall see plainly the power ascribed to magic in imparting speed and other qualities to a canoe. According to native mythology, which is literally accepted, and strongly believed, canoes could be even made to fly, had not the necessary magic fallen into oblivion.

It is also important to understand rightly the natives’ ideas about the relation between magical efficiency and the results of craftsmanship. Both are considered indispensable, but both are understood to act independently. That is, the natives will understand that magic, however efficient, will not make up for bad workmanship. Each of these two has its own province: the builder by his skill and knowledge makes the canoe stable and swift, and magic gives it an additional stability and swiftness. If a canoe is obviously badly built, the natives will know why it sails slowly and is unwieldy. But if one of two canoes, both apparently equally well constructed surpasses the other in some respect, this will be attributed to magic.

Finally, speaking from a sociological point of view, what is the economic function of magic in the process of canoe making? Is it simply an extraneous action, having nothing to do with the real work or its organisation? Is magic, from the economic point of view, a mere waste of time? By no means. In reading the account which follows, it will be seen clearly that magic puts order and sequence into the various activities, and that it and its associated ceremonial are instrumental in securing the co-operation of the community, and the organisation of communal labour. As has been said before, it inspires the builders with great confidence in the efficiency of their work, a mental state essential in any enterprise of complicated and difficult character. The belief that the magician is a man endowed with special powers, controlling the canoe, makes him a natural leader whose command is obeyed, who can fix dates, apportion work, and keep the worker up to the mark.

Magic, far from being a useless appendage, or even a burden on the work, supplies the psychological influence, which keeps people confident about the success of their labour, and provides them with a sort of natural leader.5 Thus the organisation of labour in canoe-building rests on the one hand on the division of functions, those of the owner, the expert and the helpers, and on the other on the co-operation between labour and magic.

(B) Sociology of Canoe Ownership.

Ownership, giving this word its broadest sense, is the relation, often very complex, between an object and the social community in which it is found. In ethnology it is extremely important not to use this word in any narrower sense than that just defined, because the types of ownership found in various parts of the world differ widely. It is especially a grave error to use the word ownership with the very definite connotation given to it in our own society. For it is obvious that this connotation presupposes the existence of very highly developed economic and legal conditions, such as they are amongst ourselves, and therefore the term “own” as we use it is meaningless, when applied to a native society. Or indeed, what is worse, such an application smuggles a number of preconceived ideas into our description, and before we have begun to give an account of the native conditions, we have distorted the reader’s outlook.

Ownership has naturally in every type of native society, a different specific meaning, as in each type, custom and tradition attach a different set of functions, rites and privileges to the word. Moreover, the social range of those who enjoy these privileges varies. Between pure individual ownership and collectivism, there is a whole scale of intermediate blendings and combinations.

In the Trobriands, there is a word which may be said approximately to denote ownership, the prefix toli—followed by the name of the object owned. Thus the compound word (pronounced without hiatus) toli-waga, means “owner” or “master” of a canoe (waga); toli-bagula, the master of the garden (bagula—garden); toli-bunukwa, owner of the pig; toli-megwa (owner, expert in magic, etc.) This word has to be used as a clue to the understanding of native ideas, but here again such a clue must be used with caution. For, in the first place, like all abstract native words, it covers a wide range, and has different meanings in different contexts. And even with regard to one object, a number of people may lay claim to ownership, claim to be toli—with regard to it. In the second place, people having the full de facto right of using an object, might not be allowed to call themselves toli—of this object. This will be made clear in the concrete example of the canoe.

The word toli—in this example is restricted to one man only, who calls himself toli-waga. Sometimes his nearest maternal relatives, such as his brothers and maternal nephews, might call themselves collectively toli-waga, but this would be an abuse of the term. Now, even the mere privilege of using exclusively this title is very highly valued by the natives. With this feature of the Trobriand social psychology, that is with their characteristic ambition, vanity and desire to be renowned and well spoken of, the reader of the following pages will become very familiar. The natives, to whom the Kula and the sailing expeditions are so important, will associate the name of the canoe with that of its toli; they will identify his magical powers and its good luck in sailing and in the Kula; they will often speak of So-and-so’s sailing here and there, of his being very fast in sailing, etc., using in this the man’s name for that of the canoe.

Turning now to the detailed determination of this relationship, the most important point about it is that it always rests in the person of the chief or headman. As we have seen in our short account of the Trobrianders’ sociology, the village community is always subject to the authority of one chief or headman. Each one of these, whether his authority extends over a small sectional village, or over a whole district, has the means of accumulating a certain amount of garden produce, considerable in the case of a chief, relatively small in that of a headman, but always sufficient to defray the extra expenses incidental to all communal enterprise. He also owns native wealth condensed into the form of the objects of value called vaygu’a. Again, a headman will have little, a big chief a large amount. But everyone who is not a mere nobody, must possess at least a few stone blades, a few kaloma belts, and some kuwa (small necklets). Thus in all types of tribal enterprises, the chief or headman is able to bear the burden of expense, and he also derives the main benefit from the affair. In the case of the canoe, the chief, as we saw, acts as main organiser in the construction, and he also enjoys the title of toli.

This strong economic position runs side by side with his direct power, due to high rank, or traditional authority. In the case of a small headman, it is due to the fact that he is at the head of a big kinship group (the totemic sub-clan). Both combined, allow him to command labour and to reward for it.

This title of toliwaga, besides the general social distinction which it confers, implies further a definite series of social functions with regard to its individual bearer.

(1) There are first the formal and ceremonial privileges. Thus, the toliwaga has the privilege of acting as spokesman of his community in all matters of sailing or construction. He assembles the council, informal or formal as the case may be, and opens the question of when the sailing will take place. This right of initiative is purely a nominal one, because both in construction and sailing, the date of enterprise is determined by outward causes, such as reciprocity to overseas tribes, seasons, customs, etc. Nevertheless, the formal privilege is strictly confined to the toliwaga, and highly valued. The position of master and leader of ceremonies, of general spokesman, lasts right through the successive stages of the building of the canoe, and its subsequent use, and we shall meet with it in all the ceremonial phases of the Kula.

(2) The economic uses and advantages derived from a canoe are not limited to the toliwaga. He, however, gets the lion’s share. He has, of course, in all circumstances, the privilege of absolute priority in being included in the party. He also receives always by far the greatest proportion of Kula valuables, and other articles on every occasion. This, however, is in virtue of his general position as chief or headman, and should perhaps not be included under this heading. But a very definite and strictly individual advantage is that of being able to dispose of the canoe for hire, and of receiving the payment for it. The canoe can be, and often is, hired out from a headman, who at a given season has no intention of sailing, by another one, as a rule from a different district, who embarks on an expedition. The reason of this is, that the chief or headman who borrows, may at that time not be able to have his own canoe repaired, or construct another new one. The payment for hire is called toguna, and it consists of a vaygu’a. Besides this, the best vaygu’a obtained on the expedition would be kula’d to the man from whom the canoe was hired.6

(3) The toliwaga has definite social privileges, and exercises definite functions, in the running of a canoe. Thus, he selects his companions, who will sail in his canoe, and has the nominal right to choose or reject those who may go on the expedition with him. Here again the privilege is much shorn of its value by many restrictions imposed on the chief by the nature of things. Thus, on the one hand, his veyola (maternal kinsmen) have, according to all native ideas of right and law, a strong claim on the canoe. Again, a man of rank in a community could be excluded from an expedition only with difficulty, if he wished to go and there were no special grievance against him. But if there were such a cause, if the man had offended the chief, and were on bad terms with him, he himself would not even try to embark. There are actual examples of this on record. Another class of people having a de facto right to sail are the sailing experts. In the coastal villages like Sinaketa there are many of these; in inland ones, like Omarakana, there are few. So in one of these inland places, there are men who always go in a canoe, whenever it is used; who have even a good deal to say in all matters connected with sailing, yet who would never dare to use the title of toliwaga, and would even definitely disclaim it if it were given to them. To sum up: the chief’s privilege of choice is limited by two conditions, the rank and the seamanship of those he may select. As we have seen, he fulfils definite functions in the construction of the canoe. We shall see later on that he has also definite functions in sailing.

(4) A special feature, implied in the title of toliwaga, is the performance of magical duties. It will be made clear that magic during the process of construction is done by the expert, but magic done in connection with sailing and Kula is done by the toliwaga. The latter must, by definition, know canoe magic. The rÔle of magic in this, and the taboos, ceremonial activities, and special customs associated with it, will come out clearly in the consecutive account of a Kula expedition.

(C) The Social Division of Functions in the Manning and Sailing of the Canoe.

Very little is to be said under this heading here, since to understand this we must know more about the technicalities of sailing. We shall deal with this subject later on (Chap. IX, Div. II), and there the social organisation within the canoe—such as it is—will be indicated. Here it may be said that a number of men have definite tasks assigned to them, and they keep to these. As a rule a man will specialise, let us say, as steersman, and will always have the rudder given to his care. Captainship, carrying with it definite duties, powers and responsibilities, as a position distinct from that of the toliwaga, does not exist. The owner of the canoe will always take the lead and give orders, provided that he is a good sailor. Otherwise the best sailor from the crew will say what is to be done when difficulties or dangers arise. As a rule, however, everyone knows his task, and everyone performs it in the normal course of events.

A short outline of the concrete details referring to the distribution of canoes in the Trobriands must be given here. A glance at the map of Boyowa shows that various districts have not the same opportunities for sailing, and not all of them direct access to the sea. Moreover, the fishing villages on the Lagoon, where fishing and sailing have constantly to be done, will naturally have more opportunities for cultivating the arts of sailing and ship-building. And indeed we find that the villages of the two inland districts, Tilataula and Kuboma, know nothing about ship-building and sailing, and possess no canoes; the villages in Kiriwina and Luba, on the east coast, with indirect access to the sea, have only one canoe each, and few building experts; while some villagers on the Lagoon are good sailors and excellent builders. The best centres for canoe-building are found in the islands of Vakuta and Kayleula and to a lesser degree this craft flourishes in the village of Sinaketa. The island of Kitava is the traditional building centre, and at present the finest canoes as well as the best canoe carvings come from there. In this description of canoes, this island, which really belongs to the Eastern rather than to the Western branch of the N. Massim, must be included in the account, since all Boyowan canoe mythology and canoe industry is associated with Kitava.

There are at present some sixty-four Masawa canoes in the Trobriands and Kitava. Out of these, some four belong to the Northern district, where Kula is not practised; all the rest are built and used for the Kula. In the foregoing chapters I have spoken about “Kula communities,” that is, such groups of villages as carry on the Kula as a whole, sail together on overseas expeditions, and do their internal Kula with one another. We shall group the canoes according to the Kula community to which they belong.

To this number, the canoes of the Northern district must be added, but they are never used in the Kula. In olden days, this figure was, on a rough estimate, more than double of what it is now, because, first of all, there are some villages which had canoes in the old days and now have none, and then the number of villages which became extinct a few generations ago is considerable. About half a century ago, there were in Vakuta alone about sixty canoes, in Sinaketa at least twenty, in Kitava thirty, in Kiriwina twenty, and in Luba ten. When all the canoes from Sinaketa and Vakuta sailed south, and some twenty to thirty more joined them from the Amphletts and Tewara, quite a stately fleet would approach Dobu.

Turning now to the list of ownership in Kiriwina, the most important canoe is, of course, that owned by the chief of Omarakana. This canoe always leads the fleet; that is to say, on big ceremonial Kula sailings, called uvalaku, it has the privileged position. It lives in a big shed on the beach of Kaulukuba (see Plates XXII, XXX), distant about one mile from the village, the beach on which also each new canoe is made. The present canoe (see Plates XXI and XLI) is called Nigada Bu’a—“begging for an areca-nut.” Every canoe has a personal name of its own, sometimes just an appropriate expression, like the one quoted, sometimes derived from some special incident. When a new canoe is built, it often inherits the name of its predecessor, but sometimes it gets a new name. The present Omarakana canoe was constructed by a master-builder from Kitava, who also carved the ornamental prow-board. There is no one now in Omarakana who can build or carve properly. The magic over the latter stages ought to have been recited by the present chief, To’uluwa, but as he has very little capacity for remembering spells, the magic was performed by one of his kinsmen.

All the other canoes of Kiriwina are also housed in hangars, each on a beach of clean, white sand on the Eastern coast. The chief or headman of each village is the toliwaga. In Kasana’i, the sub-village of Omarakana, the canoe, called in feigned modesty tokwabu (something like “landlubber”), was built by Ibena, a chief of equal rank, but smaller power than To’uluwa, and he is also the toliwaga. Some other characteristic names of the canoes are:—Kuyamataym’—“Take care of yourself,” that is, “because I shall get ahead of you”; the canoe of Liluta, called Siya’i, which is the name of a Government station, where some people from Liluta were once imprisoned; Topusa—a flying fish; Yagwa’u—a scarecrow; Akamta’u—“I shall eat men,” because the canoe was a gift from the cannibals of Dobu.

In the district of Luba there are at present only three canoes; one belongs to the chief of highest rank in the village of Olivilevi. This is the biggest canoe in all the Trobriands. Two are in the village of Wawela, and belong to two headmen, each ruling over a section of the village; one of them is seen being relashed on Plate XXVII.

The big settlement of Sinaketa, consisting of sectional villages, has also canoes. There are about four expert builders and carvers, and almost every man there knows a good deal about construction. In Vakuta the experts are even more numerous, and this is also the case in Kayleula and Kitava.