At the Trobriands we sighted our missing Ada at anchor and, upon the Mizpah running alongside, discovered that she was full of native women. At first ugly looks and hands upon knives were the reception accorded by the deserters, but that was soon altered by my New Guinea boys. The divers and tenders expected bribes, argument, and persuasion to be used in order to induce them to return to their work, the sort of thing they had been accustomed to in the Torres Straits; instead of which, they got a curt order to get into the hold, and the next minute found their toes being smashed and their heads bumped by the brass-heeled butts of heavy Snider carbines. The New Guinea boys had always been rather despised by the Malays, and therefore were only too glad to get a little of their own back when opportunity offered. Spitting, cursing, and threatening, the Malays were all bumped below, and the hatches clapped on.

The next operation on the part of my crew was to throw all the women overboard, and let them swim ashore as best they were able. I may remark that all the Trobriand women could swim like fishes. A nice state we found the Ada in: stores, coats, spare gear, everything portable and of any value had been given to the women, not even the cooking utensils were left. If we had not arrived when we did, even her sails would have been cut up and disposed of. After viewing our damage and loss, Billy and I held a parley with our men under hatches, and found the Malay dignity was hurt by the treatment our boys had accorded them; the result was, they said they had no intention of resuming duty. I plainly saw that if I gave in to the brutes I should be utterly undone, and my quest would become quite hopeless; at the same time, without them I could do nothing. Billy now suggested that if I could depend on my New Guinea boys, the best thing we could do was to lie at anchor where we were, and trade for pearls and bÊche-de-mer; in the meanwhile keeping our mutineers confined, until in a more reasonable frame of mind. This policy I adopted. Putting a couple of my boys on the Ada, we hauled her up and made her fast to the Mizpah, leaving her recalcitrant inhabitants still under hatches with neither food nor water. For twenty-four hours I kept the Malays below; and then, outside the sand-bank forming the harbour, we sighted Moreton’s patrol schooner, the Siai, signalling to me to come out. Whereupon we moved the Ada from alongside the Mizpah to alongside the Curlew. The clatter and row made by this operation excited the curiosity of our prisoners, who, questioning the boys on deck, were told that the Siai was in sight, and that the Mizpah was going off to ask that they be taken and tried as pirates or ship-stealers. Awful howls and yells then came from the hold begging for an interview with me. Upon my going to the hatch and ordering the removal of one plank in order that the imprisoned men might talk to me, frenzied petitions for mercy were put up, accompanied by all sorts of strange oaths that, if forgiven, they would be good and faithful men in the future. Billy said, “Let ’em off, they will be all right in the future, and we can’t afford to have them jugged; also we can’t keep ’em below with a Government ship in sight or we shall get into trouble.” I therefore accepted their promises of good behaviour; at the same time I pointed out how magnanimous I was, and ordered them to disperse to their several vessels.

Then I went out in the Mizpah to the Siai, where I found Moreton, R.M., and Judge Winter. The latter had come down to try a white man for murder. Moreton explained to me that there was a lot of sickness in Samarai gaol, beri beri and dysentery, and he wished to fill the Siai with yams. As her draught would not permit her to approach closely to the anchorage, he wanted me to act as tender with the Mizpah, and load the Siai. I jumped at the offer; my whole expenses at this time amounted to £5 a day, and, as Moreton offered me that sum, I was glad for a few days to leave my Malays and the conversation of Billy, for the cabin of the Siai and the company of Moreton and Winter. While the Mizpah was running yams to the Siai, she was steered by one or other of the Malay tenders, and the Judge complimented me upon their polite manners and civility. I grinned an internal grin as I told him they were really not bad people if treated in the right way.

The Trobriands are a great yam-growing district, the yams grown there running up to 150 lbs. in weight. Throughout New Guinea, the group was famous for three things: the cowardice of the men, the immorality—or rather I should put it the total unmorality—of the women, and the quality of its yams. The islands are all perfectly flat and the soil consists of decomposing coral and humus, and is wonderfully rich. One of the staple foods of the islanders consisted of the oyster contained in a small pearl shell, found in great quantities on the mud banks lying in the vicinity of the group, the oyster being termed by the natives “Lapi.” Out of this pearl shell, which, by the way, they opened by throwing it upon the fire, they obtained a large quantity of pearls which they sold to wandering traders; the shell, which would have otherwise have had a very considerable market value, being utterly ruined by the action of the fire.

Here I made the acquaintance of the Rev. —— Fellows of the Wesleyan Methodist Mission; a fine type of man who, with his equally devoted wife, was endeavouring to stay, with, as I could see, little hope of success, the rapid deterioration of the islanders. Mr. Fellows and I gave one another a mutual surprise, I think. I had mentally pictured him as a measly, psalm-singing hypocrite, using religion as a cloak for money-getting; he, I think, had assumed that all traders were drunken, debauched, pyjama-clad ruffians, whose main object in life was to destroy Mission work. Instead of which I found a splendid man, struggling under enormous difficulties, and at great personal sacrifice preaching to the natives a gospel of work and clean living. And he, for his part, discovered that a trader might be a clean-shaved person, who could employ his spare time quite happily in gossiping with the missionary and his wife about people and things far removed from New Guinea.

By the way, some time later Mr. Fellows got me into trouble with Sir William MacGregor, though quite unintentionally. I had relieved Moreton as Resident Magistrate at Samarai, and amongst the correspondence to be dealt with, were a host of complaints from Fellows about robberies by the natives from the Mission House, assaults upon Mission servants and natives, and threats of violence against himself. Moreton said, “Get down and settle this business as soon as you can, Monckton; you may have to burn some powder, but make Fellows safe, for he is a real good chap, as you know.” I went to the Trobriands as soon as I conveniently could; and after seeing Mr. Fellows and questioning the village constable, I came to the conclusion that a certain old chief, living some miles inland, was at the bottom of the trouble. Marching inland I collared him with several of his satellites, and hauled him to the coast. On being brought before my court the old chief fully confessed, informed me of all the men engaged in the various outrages, sent for them, and begged for mercy; promising amendment and good behaviour in future if forgiven. He then begged Mr. Fellows to intercede with me for them, which Mr. Fellows did. At his request, after I had convicted the men, I discharged them to their homes. About a month later I met Sir William MacGregor and, in the course of conversation about the Trobriands, told him what I had done in the matter of the offences against Mr. Fellows. His Excellency said, “You are like all young magistrates, a fool. Can you not see that, by your action in this case, you have given the natives the impression that the Mission can summon the Government forces, have people sent to gaol, and then have them released? Never in future allow any one to interfere with a sentence once passed; the Crown alone can pardon, you cannot, neither can the Mission.” A remark which I never forgot, and which stood me in good stead in after years.

The greater number of the pearls found at the Trobriand Islands are of a very pale golden or straw colour; and for this reason, though of perfect lustre, are not considered equal to those obtained from the larger mother-of-pearl shell found in the China or Torres Straits, or from Ceylon and West Australia. A certain proportion of the Trobriand pearls are, however, of the purest white colour; and these, if perfect in shape and lustre, are the equals of any pearls in the world. Some few black pearls are found in these islands, but not in any great number. There is a common and erroneous impression amongst people, only acquainted with pearls in jewellers’ shops, that black pearls possess a greater value than others. This is not the case. The most valuable pearls are those of a pure white, and perfectly round in shape, suitable for stringing as a necklace; the next a pure white pear-shaped pearl, sufficiently large to be used as a pendant or ear-drop; then come the button-shaped pearls, that is, pearls perfectly round with the exception of a slight flattening on one side, which can be concealed by setting in a bracelet, pin or ring. Black pearls in all these shapes are worth less than the corresponding shapes in white.

Pearls of a freak or fanciful and irregular shape, or fastened together in clusters, possess no commercial value; though in odd cases I have known enormous prices paid for them for sentimental reasons. For instance, a pearl-fisher in Torres Straits found a cluster of small and medium sized pearls in the shape of an almost perfect cross. This cluster, after passing through the hands of several dealers, was eventually sold, I was told, to some wealthy Roman Catholics for presentation to the Pope, the sum paid being £10,000; and the actual value of the pearls composing it, if separate and perfect, would certainly not have been £10. Pearls are sometimes found attached to the pearl shell, or bubbles of the pearly lining of the shell are blown out in such a way as to resemble pearls; these pearls are known as blisters, and are sawn out by the trader and sold for the making of brooches and the cheaper forms of jewellery. When mounted they are frequently passed off to the uninitiated as the real thing.

Large quantities of what are called seed pearls are found in nearly all the different varieties of pearl shell. They are about the size of small shot, and of irregular shape but good colour and lustre; these are mainly sold by the ounce or pound at the rate of from £2 10s. to £3 per ounce. Some of this seed goes to Paris, where it is used, I am told, by milliners for ornamenting ladies’ dresses; but by far the greater proportion goes to China, for what purpose I know not. The largest, most valuable and perfect pearls go to either Russia or America, those people valuing pearls apparently more than other races, and being prepared to pay more for really perfect specimens. Pink pearls occur very rarely, in fact I have never seen one. They are so rare as to have no fixed commercial value, though pearl-fishers say that, when any are found, the Indian Rajahs are always willing to pay enormous prices for them.

The greater portion of black pearls come from the black-lipped variety of shell, a much smaller shell than gold-lipped or mother-of-pearl. The latter shell averages about the size of a large dinner plate, and varies in colour from a pure white at the hinges to a golden colour at the lips. Gold-lip is only obtained in deep water and by means of diving dress; black-lip in shallow water and by naked natives, skin-divers as they are called. Black-lip is of much less value than gold, but, for some reason unknown to me, always jumps tremendously in price during periods of Court Mourning. Gold-lip is subject to attack by a worm, which sometimes bores holes all through the outer covering of the pearly part of the shell.

I believe that the same worm also attacks the spear of the great swordfish. For once, when sailing from the island of St. Aignan to Sudest in a whaleboat in very calm weather, I noticed a swordfish behaving in a most extraordinary manner. It was travelling at great speed on the surface of the water, sometimes straight forward, sometimes in circles, whilst at intervals it was leaping from the water and whirling rapidly round. I could see no sign of an enemy, but I could plainly see that the fish was in great agony. At last it leapt half a dozen times from the water to a great height, falling each time with a resounding splash, until at last its antics became feebler and it turned on its side and slowly sank. I caused the whaleboat to follow it for some distance, and could see through the clear water the almost dead fish drifting with no sign of external injury about its body anywhere.

My boys then told me that the swordfish frequently behaved in this manner, went “Kava Kava” or mad, and then died. They gave the cause as being a “small snake,” that is, a worm, which bored up through its sword into the bone of the skull and thence into the brain. This explanation accounted to me for the numerous well-authenticated cases of swordfish charging and breaking off their swords in ships’ hulls. I myself have seen the broken sword fast in the solid keel of a big sailing canoe; and natives have told me instances of the sword being driven through a canoe’s planking, and the fish being secured by first lashing the sword fast with cords and then spearing the fish. They too believed that the fish did not attack from malice prepense, but as an accident when driven mad and blind by pain. I have never heard of the swordfish, or its big cousin the sawfish, attacking naked men or clothed diver; though I fail to see how they could withstand or escape from the charge of either. Natives of fishing tribes are not in the least afraid of the swordfish, but they are to a certain extent of the sawfish. The latter has a shorter, broader, and altogether stronger beak than the former, blunt at the point instead of sharp, and studded down each side by villainous sharp and bony teeth. Its pleasing custom is to charge amongst a shoal of fish and frantically thrash from side to side among them with its beak, gathering up the slain and wounded at its leisure afterwards. This charming habit on its part sometimes leads it to follow a shoal of fish into the fishermen’s nets, where, getting its beak entangled, it will tear everything to pieces unless soon speared. The spearing of it is a work of difficulty and danger, as one blow from the violently thrashing beak will disembowel a man, or inflict wounds of a most ghastly nature.

On the same boat trip when I made the acquaintance of the swordfish with worm in his head, I also fell in with a most extraordinary fishing rat. We had landed and camped for the night upon a small coral island surrounded by submerged coral boulders and, but for a few stunted trees, bare of all vegetation. Shortly after dark I was disturbed by rats crawling over me, and at last in disgust went and slept in the whaleboat. In the morning I landed again and, while my boys were preparing breakfast, walked to the other side of the island; then sitting down I began my ante-breakfast pipe, whilst I pondered what on earth the rats on the island could find to live upon, as food there was apparently none. While sitting quietly there, I noticed some rats going down to the edge of the reef—lank, hungry-looking brutes they were, with pink naked tails. I stopped on the point of throwing lumps of coral at them, out of curiosity to see what the vermin meant to do at the sea. Rat after rat picked a flattish lump of coral, squatted on the edge and dangled his tail in the water; suddenly one rat gave a violent leap of about a yard, and as he landed, I saw a crab clinging to his tail. Turning round, the rat grabbed the crab and devoured it, and then returned to his stone; the while the other rats were repeating the same performance. What on earth those rats did for fresh water, though, I don’t know, as there was none on the island that I could see.