While we were at Samarai, I put Patten to work re-rigging the Siai. When Sir William MacGregor arrived, he gently hinted that he rather thought I must have caught Patten for the express purpose of refitting the Siai, a remark that I thought was better passed over in dignified silence!

Hardly had the Siai dropped her anchor, when in came a cutter owned by Thompson—the man owning the plantation on Goodenough Island—who reported that his Station had been surprised, and many of his native employees murdered by the islanders. Thompson himself only escaped by the accident of being engaged with some of his boys in night fishing on a reef when the attack occurred. Hastily, therefore, the Siai prepared for her departure to Goodenough Island once more; Thompson refused to accompany us, upon the ground that he had escaped once, and never wished to see the island or its inhabitants again.

Before leaving Samarai, I had to hear several cases set down for trial at the R.M.’s Court; among which were charges against Billy the Cook and Carruth of supplying natives with grog. The Ordinance, under which the cases were heard, was the first act passed by Sir William MacGregor, upon his Excellency assuming control of New Guinea, and was probably the most severe act of its kind in the world. It provided a minimum fine of £20 or two months’ imprisonment, and a maximum one of £200 and two years’ imprisonment, for any person convicted of supplying firearms, liquor or opium to a native. It defined a native, as any person other than of European parentage. The Emperors of China or Japan, or the Rajahs of India would be natives under the act; Sir William MacGregor was nothing if not thorough, and when he said that the natives should not have liquor, he left no loop-hole of escape for the person found guilty of supplying it.

Up to the time I left New Guinea, this act was always very strictly enforced; so much so, in fact, that hotel-keepers would not even supply ginger ale to a coloured man, for fear of having to defend themselves against a charge of liquor selling; and this is exactly what I found had occurred. Billy the Cook had imported a wife and a sister-in-law to help in the hotel; his sister-in-law, being ignorant of the local law, had sold a glass of something to a Malay over the bar, and a native boy passing, saw him drinking it and told Symons, who promptly charged Billy with a breach of the act. A nice time I had with this case; Billy, of course, swore he knew nothing about the matter, the girl and his wife wept and contradicted themselves half a dozen times over, and the Malay said he had bought ginger ale. My difficulty chiefly lay in the fact, that should I convict, the minimum penalty was too great for an innocent mistake; so at last I threw the case out of Court. Carruth’s case came on next. The evidence here was clear, but he tried to wriggle out of it, by saying that he had merely supplied the stuff for medicinal purposes; that was a little too thin, as the Malays all looked as tough as wire rope. I forget what I fined Carruth, but it was something heavy. “I am going to appeal,” he remarked; “I believe you think you are here to raise revenue for the Government.” “There is no appeal under this act,” I replied, “and if you are not careful you will get a little more; if, however, you are dissatisfied, you can petition his Excellency for a reduction or remission of the fine.” Carruth did petition the Governor, and I heard afterwards that the reply he got from the Government Secretary was, “I am directed to express his Excellency’s surprise at your petition and the leniency of the Magistrate.”

Under this act, a Resident Magistrate was empowered to issue an annual permit, to a “native,” to keep and use fire-arms; and in the case of a “native” possessing a greater proportion of white than coloured blood—in order to avoid individual hardship—a permit could be granted to purchase intoxicating liquors.

The Siai now sailed again for Goodenough Island, calling on the way for Satadeai, who was needed as an interpreter. Carefully picking our way among the shoals of the north-east coast of Goodenough, we at last dropped anchor abreast of Thompson’s Station and plantation. Here we found that the bodies of the murdered men had been buried by the natives, not eaten as I expected; and the house, though looted, had not been burnt. On this trip I had with me the Queensland boys—Billy, Harry, and Palmer—who had latterly formed the crew of the Guinevere, as I intended to use them as trackers. From the plundered house we found tracks of natives leading in a northerly direction; these we followed until we came to a village, the tracks leading into which were thickly sown with small sharpened foot spears, pointing in the direction from which we came; picking these out as we passed, we at last came to within a hundred yards of the village—apparently unperceived by the natives—and, rushing it, secured two men. The remainder bolted, and set up a clamour in the bush some distance away; dragging our two unwilling prisoners with us, we hastily returned to the Siai, reaching that vessel unattacked. Safely on board I examined the men, and found that the village from which we had captured them was innocent of complicity in the murders; they, however, were able to give me the names of the actual murderers and the inland villages from which they came.

Taking, therefore, ten men and Poruma, I left in the afternoon for the nearest village, swimming on the way a river in which alligators seemed to be disagreeably plentiful. Getting some miles inland, we ascended a ridge in a grassy pocket situated in the dense bush, and sighted the cocoanuts and gardens of a large village; at the same time, like quail, rose two scouts from the grass; these fled for the village, giving loud yells of warning, and were promptly pursued by four of my men. Shouts of defiance, mingled with the beating of drums and blowing of horns, answered the warning cries. “See, sir!” said Poruma, “the grass moves with spears.” Following his pointing hand, I looked and saw the tips of a long sinuous line of spears; hurriedly I whistled my men back, and ordered them to lie down in the long grass on the ridge. The line of spears came nearer, then the bearers broke into a trot and started up the hill; just behind them came a number of slingsmen, who were beginning to pelt the hill with sling-stones, which, however—concealed in the grass as we were—failed to do any damage. “Hold your fire, you blackguards,” I said to my men, as they began to flop home the breech blocks of their Sniders, and to whimper like a pack of eager hounds.

The sling-stones were now flying harmlessly over us; at about sixty yards I ordered the men to stand up and fire, the result being that several natives were knocked over, and for a minute their line reeled down the hill, allowing us to get in another telling volley. Reforming, they charged up the hill, only to be driven back again by a steady fire, I myself using a sixteen-shot Winchester repeater. Yelling with excitement, my men broke line in their impatience to charge after the Goodenough natives. “Don’t let them go,” said Poruma, “those bushmen are not beaten yet; Mr. Moreton, he——” “Shut up, Poruma,” I said, and then yelled at the men to lie down in the grass and crawl twenty yards downhill. It was well we did; for in a few minutes, the spot we had occupied was having chips knocked off it by sling-stones. “Oh, master, you know too much,” said my men as, in security, we watched the peppering of our late position. Then—sudden as a hail shower—the stones ceased, and again the islanders charged; only three, however, reached our line, the rest either dropping in the grass or turning and running away before our fire. By the time the three men reached us, the Snider rifles of the police were empty. I shot one man at about twelve yards, and hastily jerking at the lever of my Winchester threw it again to my shoulder, and pulled the trigger at a second man who was coming straight for me. The lock clicked, but no report followed, and dropping my rifle—as the man raised his spear to strike—I tried simultaneously to draw my revolver and squirm out of the way of the stab. Just in the nick of time, there came an appalling explosion close by my ear, nearly stunning me, and my enemy’s face seemed to go out at the back of his head; Poruma had fired both barrels of my shot gun into the man’s face. The order to charge was hailed by the police with a yell, and, using the butts of their rifles freely, they captured several prisoners from among the now flying islanders.

Then we returned to the Siai, dragging our prisoners with us, leaving the natives to bury their dead and succour their wounded: a small body of freshly arrived natives followed us, but a shot or two kept them at a distance. My men had only sustained a few bruises. I learnt that night from our prisoners, that we had rather taken the village by surprise, as a much larger body of men than we had yet encountered was available from some further back villages. I thanked my stars that we had not met their full strength, for it had been touch and go with us as it was.

The following morning—after letting go the Siai’s second anchor to render her doubly secure, and having chained all the prisoners in the hold—I landed every man on board, viz. fifteen fighting men, the three armed Queensland boys and Satadeai, for an attempt on the inland hill villages. Mesdames Sione and Warapas were left sitting on the hatch, with tomahawks in their hands, and instructions to crack any man on the head who attempted to break loose. We hid the Siai’s boats in the mangroves and struck inland, avoiding tracks in order to dodge ambushes, and marching silently in very extended order. Suddenly we came upon a point where half a dozen tracks from the mountains converged upon the main path to the coast; here I broke up my party into small bodies to explore the tracks, and all had orders to move at once towards any sound of rifle fire. I remained at the junction of the tracks with a lame boy, Giorgi, an ex-private of Constabulary, who, having injured his tendon Achilles in a fight, had been transferred to the Siai’s crew, as no longer fit for severe marches.

Giorgi knew a little of the Goodenough language, and as he and I sat and smoked our pipes—whilst I awaited a report from one or other of the scouting parties—we heard voices, and, secreting ourselves in the scrub, saw emerge from it half a dozen armed men only a few paces away. “Tell them to throw down their arms, or they die this instant,” I whispered. Giorgi yelled at them, and they stopped petrified by surprise; then—in response to a still more imperative roar from him—dropped the spears, clubs and slings, and stood still. Handing my Winchester to Giorgi, and taking his two handcuffs and my own pair, I walked up to the men, and, moving them together, handcuffed them one to another, Giorgi meanwhile uttering blood-curdling threats of what would happen to them if they moved. When I had secured them, Giorgi emerged; and great was the disgust of that six when they discovered that they had been taken by two men. Every one of these men, we afterwards found, had been concerned in the massacre of Thompson’s boys.

Shortly after this my scouting parties returned, and reported that the islanders were apparently in strong force in a village approached by a razor-backed spur, to which I at once proceeded. As we came to its foot, loud horn blowing and beating of drums showed plainly that our whereabouts was known; as I gazed at the spur, wondering how on earth I could storm the village without losing all my men, a party of natives suddenly emerged from the bush and, to our mutual surprise, walked right into us. A few hastily aimed shots on our part, and a few hurriedly thrown spears on theirs, ended the affair, the natives flying into the bush. They were evidently a party moving up to the assistance of the threatened village, quite unaware of our position.

This last encounter alarmed me exceedingly: for, when all was said and done, we only numbered fifteen rifles; and had that last party of islanders discovered us before we did them, or had they been more numerous, we should have been overwhelmed in the first rush. At close quarters an empty Snider is a no more efficient weapon than a club or spear, and numbers would tell: my revolver, at the most, would only last for a couple of minutes. Accordingly I summoned Sione, Warapas, and Poruma and put the case to them. “You have seen what happened just now,” I said; “shall we stop and fight the people ourselves, or shall we ask the Governor for help? I want your advice before we run away.” “The man who hunts the wild boar with a fish spear is not strong, only mad,” said Sione, “and we are but a fish spear.” “It has been a good fight,” said Warapas; “it will be a bad one for us if we stay.” “If Mr. Moreton were here,” said Poruma, “he would have had more men to begin with, and would not have run away.” Solemnly then I clouted Poruma’s head. “What do you mean by that, you young devil?” I asked. “We are far too few, and should bolt as fast as we can,” replied that injured individual.

Our course of action decided, I lost no time in putting it into effect; we therefore began our backward march. Yells of triumph from the natives told us clearly that our retreat was noted—though little cause for rejoicing had we given our opponents up to the present time. Shouts behind us and horns on either side, soon showed me that we were not out of the wood yet. For greater security, I marched my party along in the open grass patches, and kept them doubling like a hare from side to side, whilst occasionally a harmless volley shifted a too venturesome lot of natives out of our way; once or twice we faced about, and drove back the following body. The day wore on; and then I saw that unless I made the coast very quickly, dusk would be upon us, when, under its cover, the surrounding natives could come, unperceived, sufficiently near to shatter us with their sling-stones, while the flashing of our rifles would serve to keep them informed of our exact location. Hastily we made for the coast in a direct line by compass, plunging into and swimming a horrible alligator-infested stream on the way, and whacking along our reluctant prisoners. We struck the sea just at dusk, and marching out into it up to our middles—in order to prevent our figures showing prominently against the sky-line—waded along the coast, until opposite the point where we had hidden our boats, when once again we put off safely to the Siai. Mrs. Warapas and Mrs. Sione hailed their husbands with joy, and gladly handed over their watch.

At daybreak we sailed again for Samarai, on the way warning off a small trader bound for the disturbed district. On our arrival, I found the Merrie England at anchor with Sir William MacGregor on board, to whom I at once proceeded with my report. His Excellency listened to me and then asked, “Have you secured all the guilty men?” “No, sir, I have only nine of them.” “Why have you not arrested them all?” “Because, sir, they have taken refuge in a hill village, which is too strong for the Siai’s force to capture.” “I will give you Captain Butterworth and a detachment of Constabulary,” said his Excellency, “and you will go to Goodenough Island at once, returning here in two weeks with all the men wanted, in time for the return of the Merrie England from the Mambare; but see that there are no houses burnt and no trees cut down by your men. When will you be ready to sail?” “In half an hour, sir,” was my answer; “I only want time to water and provision the Siai.” “To-morrow will do very well,” the Governor told me; “now sit down and tell me about the rest of the district affairs.”

Sitting down, I unfolded my tale, getting approval here, remarks as to how I could have done better there, and so on, until I came to the gaol mutiny, and the flogging of Bushimai and Goria. Thunder of Heaven, as the Germans say, then did I catch the storm! “Mr. Monckton, I entirely disapprove of flogging under any circumstances; you have exceeded your powers and gone outside my known native policy.” In five minutes I was reduced to a very dismal state, though I don’t believe that any man other than Sir William MacGregor could have done it. At last I quacked out, “But, sir, I flogged under the authority of the Prisons Ordinance, and by the advice of such an experienced magistrate as Mr. Armit.” “It does not matter to me whose advice you acted upon, I expect my officers to act upon their own good judgment. Ask Mr. Winter to come to me, and come back yourself,” said Sir William. Glad to escape, I fled for the Chief Judicial Officer. “His Excellency wants you, sir; I’m in an awful mess, what shall I do?” “Don’t worry about it,” said that always sympathetic Judge; “go to my cabin, and bring up the volume of the Gazettes containing the Prisons Ordinance.” Finding that Ordinance, in desperate haste I tore after the C.J.O., arriving on the fore-deck close on his heels.

“Judge,” said Sir William, “under the Prisons Ordinance, has the R.M. power to flog prisoners without reference to me?” “Yes, your Excellency, I believe he has; though it has never been exercised by a magistrate in New Guinea before. Mr. Monckton, give me the Ordinance. Yes, sir, see, here is the section, the R.M. was within his powers.” “I still consider your action ill-considered and ill-advised,” remarked the Governor. I waited a few minutes, and finding Sir William continued to talk to Judge Winter, I said: “If, sir, you do not require me further, I will wish you good-night.” “Good-night,” was the gruff reply; and walking to the gangway, I whistled for my boat, which was waiting at the wharf. As I waited for her to come alongside—meditating the while on my iniquities—I heard a step behind me, and turning round saw the Governor. “Mr. Monckton,” said Sir William, “it is not late: I should like to present you to Lady MacGregor, and offer you a glass of wine in my cabin.”

After meeting Lady MacGregor and drinking my wine, I went ashore to my house and found there the Commandant, Private Secretary, the Commander of the Merrie England and several other officers, all sitting in solemn state discussing my fate. “They have drunk up all your whisky, sir,” said Poruma; “I told them you had only one bottle, and hid the glasses, but they took tea cups.” “Go to Billy’s pub and get me some more,” I said, to get rid of Poruma; I then unfolded to sympathetic ears my tale of woe. Poruma, the whisky and Armit arrived at the same time. “What is this mothers’ meeting about?” said Armit; “you all look as if you had dined on bad oysters!” “A bucket full of bad oysters would not have put me in the state I feel in now,” I said, “thanks partly to you: it’s that flogging business. I’m sending in my papers in the morning.” “Don’t be a damned fool,” said Armit; “I’ve just come from the Merrie England, and Jock never once used the word ‘reprimand,’ when he blew you up. You swallow your pride, and take the pricks as well as the plums; you ought to feel jolly proud of the position in which Jock has put a young man like you.”

The following morning I was up bright and early, and went off to the Merrie England, where I found that the Governor had risen still earlier and intended inspecting the gaol; accordingly, I departed to make all ready. At that time the whole Government reserve—included in which was my house, police quarters, the gaol compound and the cemetery—was surrounded by a high wooden fence, with a gate across the only street of Samarai, leading into it; at this gate there was a guard house, occupied by a married gate-keeper and a few police. As the gate-keeper admitted me, I called for the police, but found they were at a parade ordered by the Commandant; I then told the gate-keeper to close the gate, and ran to the gaol to tell the gaoler to keep in all his prisoners for inspection, instead of sending them to work as usual. Hardly had I reached my house, than, looking back, I saw Sir William arrive at the gate; the gate-keeper’s wife gazed at him, horror-stricken at the thought of the Governor waiting and her husband away, then—rising to the occasion—she rushed at the gate and, throwing it wide open, stiffened herself and flung her hand up to the salute. I met the Governor who, drily smiling, remarked, “I see, Mr. Monckton, ye drill the women as well as the men.” Crimson with shame, I dropped to the regulation half-pace behind his Excellency, and softly cursed to myself the misplaced zeal of the woman.

The Governor’s inspection over, the Siai was prepared for sea. In the evening she dropped down the harbour with the tide, and stood away to Taupota on the north-east coast, carrying, as well as her own complement, Butterworth and fifteen men of the constabulary. There she picked up some twenty natives, to act as carriers for the heavy luggage of the police, in order to allow the force freedom of action and mobility when camped away from the Siai.

With these men on board, we were badly crowded, and it accordingly behoved us to make a rapid passage to our anchorage at Goodenough; in our haste, Sione ran the Siai upon a shoal off the north-east of that island, where we apparently stuck hard and fast. Sending out a kedge anchor astern and lightening the vessel in every possible way had no effect; whereupon I recalled a story told me by my father, of an experience of his in the Baltic during the Crimean War, when Captain Fanshawe got the Hastings battleship off a shoal, by commanding her crew to stand at the stern and jump as one man to the sound of the bo’sun’s pipe. Accordingly I stationed six of the Siai’s crew at the windlass, to haul on the kedge at my whistle, and ordered the remainder of the crew, police and carriers, at the same sound to rush aft and jump violently. This was done, and worked like a charm; as the men jumped, the Siai’s bow flew into the air, the strain on the kedge caught her, and away she went into deep water again. A few hours after this we dropped anchor off Thompson’s plantation, and prepared for another attempt at the hill villages.

Our plan of campaign was this. First marched the Siai’s men, flung out as a screen of scouts, with myself as the centre pivot of the line; then came Butterworth and his men in support, about a hundred yards behind, followed by the carriers bearing camp equipment. Some miles inland we came upon a grass patch, not previously found by me, at the end of which was a stony hill topped by a village, which apparently was deserted. My line of scouts slowly converged upon the village, when suddenly—whilst still about fifty yards distant—a shower of sling-stones fell amongst us; to wait for the main body was practically impossible, therefore I gave the word to charge, and the Siai’s men rushed and carried the village, killing some of the defenders and taking several prisoners. Safely in occupation, I looked back for Butterworth and his men, thinking that they were close on my heels, and saw, to my amazement, that they were halted at the bottom of the hill. I called to them to come up and, upon their arrival, asked Butterworth why he had not followed in support. He explained that our arrangement was, that when we encountered hostile natives, I was to signal to him to close up; as I had not signalled, but gone on, he had halted his men to await developments. I thought myself that a sudden blaze of rifle fire, and the sight of my men at the charge, should have been a sufficient signal to any one that we were in action—and with very little warning.

Hardly had Butterworth brought his men into the village, than the dislodged inhabitants started pelting us with sling-stones from a high and commanding ridge; so much so, in fact, that we were obliged to take refuge in the houses, from which safe shelter, half a dozen of our best shots soon inflicted such loss upon them as to compel them to retire and, for the time being, leave us in peace. We stayed in the village to rest our men and eat our midday meal, and whilst so engaged, we were surprised to hear the voice of a man gaily singing and approaching us. On looking over the hill, we saw, to our amazement, a fully armed native walking up the track towards us. “Fire a couple of shots over that man’s head,” I said to the police; upon the shots being fired, the man looked up, gave a howl of surprise, and then fled. “What did you do that for?” asked Butterworth; “we might have caught him.” “It is an obvious thing,” I remarked, “that that man is ignorant of everything going on here, and therefore innocent of complicity in the murders; he is either a local native returning from a protracted visit to a distant tribe, or a stranger paying a visit here, otherwise he would not be walking about alone and announcing his whereabouts by song.” During the afternoon Butterworth’s men took possession of a higher ridge overlooking the razor-backed spurs, on which was situated the village I had previously failed to occupy, and, under cover of their fire, the Siai’s men entered and seized it without fighting. Here we camped for the night, and remained unmolested.

Then, for several days, the constabulary and my men searched the country and took several prisoners; we found that the fight had been taken out of the natives, and they were no longer massing to oppose us but scattering, taking refuge in every possible way. I now decided to return to Samarai, having captured most of the principal men concerned in the attack on Thompson’s plantation; the Goodenough Islanders, too, had learnt that the Government was something more than a name, and also more than their match at fighting.

Having an afternoon to spare on the day before we left Goodenough Island—while the police and the Siai’s men were engaged in chopping wood and carrying water to that vessel—I took the dingey, Poruma, Warapas, and Giorgi, and went shooting duck and pigeons up a small river. I got the most mixed bag I ever made in my life: pulling into the river, a hawksbill turtle suddenly rose about twenty feet in front of the boat; this I succeeded in shooting through the head, and Poruma retrieved it by diving; the turtle must have weighed about two hundred pounds when out of water. Then I got about a dozen duck and a score of pigeons, Warapas shot a wild pig, and Poruma killed a python fully fourteen feet in length with a half-axe (that is, a tomahawk with a long handle like an axe). After this, Giorgi discovered an alligator asleep on a bank some thirty yards away from the river; creeping up, I fired my gun into one of its eyes, and Giorgi gave a yell of joy and rushed at it; but the alligator, which was only blinded on one side and not disabled, pursued him, whilst I pursued the alligator, firing my revolver into its body, as opportunity offered. Poruma, however, gave it the coup-de-grÂce, by getting up on its blind side and belting it just behind the head with his half-axe. We returned to the Siai with the dingey’s gunwales nearly awash under the weight of game of sorts.

Whilst on the subject of alligators, I may remark an extraordinary peculiarity of these reptiles, and that is, that in some ports and rivers of New Guinea, they appear to be absolutely harmless, for instance, in the Eastern Division, Port Moresby, and the fiords of Cape Nelson: whereas in the mouths of the San Joseph, Opi, Barigi, and Kumusi Rivers, they are a malignant lot of man-eating brutes, neither hesitating to attack men in canoes, nor to sneak at night into the villages and seize people. The same thing, in a lesser degree, applies to sharks haunting Papuan seas; I have never known a man taken at Port Moresby or in the Mekeo district by a shark, nor do the natives there—who are at the best a cowardly lot—show fear of them; but on the bars of the Opi, Musa, and Kumusi Rivers, I have known the brutes swim alongside a whaleboat and seize the blades of the oars in their teeth. On one occasion, at the Kumusi River, my men caught a shark, the belly of which contained several human bones, a human head, the complete plates forming the shell of a large turtle, and the freshly torn-off flipper and shoulder of a large dugong or sea cow.

In relation to sharks and alligators, L.G.D. Acland—who afterwards got his arm chewed off by a tiger in India—Wilfred Walker, author of “Wanderings among South Sea Savages,” and myself, once got a bad shock at Cape Vogel. Both men were my guests, and at the time we were camped on the edge of a tidal creek, all of us occupying the same tent, at the door of which sat a sentry. The sentry had thrown out a strong cotton line, with an enormous hook at the end baited with a sucking pig, with the idea of catching a shark, and had tied his line to the upright pole of our tent; without warning, the whole tent vibrated violently, and the sentry, seizing the line, began to haul it in. Cursing him for disturbing our rest, we lay down and prepared for sleep again, when suddenly the sentry fell backwards into the tent, closely followed by the head of an alligator. Hastily we scurried under the canvas at the back of the tent, swearing hard; the alarm awoke the police who, running up, fired at the alligator, which promptly shuffled into the water, and went off carrying our line and tent pole with it.

The Rev. W.J. Holmes, of the London Mission, once told me an alligator story about one of his Mission boys; a story which the local natives confirmed as true. Holmes sent off one of his Mission boys to borrow some dozen six-inch wire nails from a trader, who lived some miles away; the boy was shortly to be married to a village girl, and she accompanied him on his message. On their homeward way it was necessary for them to ford a shallow river; the boy walked first, when suddenly, hearing a shriek, he turned round to find that an alligator had seized his sweetheart by the leg. Hastily running back, the boy grabbed his lady-love by one arm and, inserting his hand behind her leg, jambed his packet of nails down the reptile’s throat, thus forcing it to open its mouth and release the girl, whom he then dragged to the shore. The only remark the boy made about the incident, when he returned to Holmes, was to regret that the alligator had “stolen the missionary’s nails.”

From Goodenough, the Siai ran rapidly to Samarai, on the way landing our carriers at Taupota. Here I took the opportunity of visiting the Mission and its school for native children; to my amazement, I was received by the children all rising and singing the National Anthem. Standing with my escort at the salute, I waited until the end, and then explained to the Rev. —— Clark of the Anglican Mission, who was in charge, that ordinary people like myself should not be received in that manner, that they should only pay such compliments to the Queen’s representative, the Governor. “That’s all right,” said Mr. Clark; “but I have been rehearsing my children for months to receive the Governor, and he has never come, so, in order to avoid disappointing the children, I thought I would try it on you.” The main portion of the school consisted of girls under the care of two ladies of the Anglican Mission, and my embarrassment was great when the good ladies displayed for my judgment the articles made by their pupils; the garments were all of them white, and I did not know what the devil to say or do. At last I threw myself utterly upon the mercy of the ladies, and begged them to select the articles and girls I was to commend; having done this I departed, vowing to myself, that in the future, the inspection of missionary schools was a duty I should delegate to the Assistant R.M.

Leaving Taupota, I called at Wedau to inquire into the murder of a mother-in-law, that Moreton had told me about; I found the culprit safe in the custody of the village constable, and also that the calling of evidence was hardly necessary, as he made confession in this way. “Two years ago I married my wife, then my father-in-law died and my wife’s mother came to live with us. At early morning she got up and talked, when I came home at night, she talked; she talked, and talked, and talked, and at last I got my knife and cut her throat. What have I got to pay?” “Six months’ hard labour,” I replied, “when the Judge comes along; and many a white man would be glad to get rid of a talking mother-in-law at the price!”

On our arrival at Samarai I landed my prisoners, also Butterworth and his men, held a Court, and got everything in order for the Judge; two days latter the Merrie England came in, and the Governor was pleased to approve of what I had done. Then his Excellency pointed out that there was still a murder in Goodenough Bay undealt with by me—Goodenough Bay is in the mainland of New Guinea, and entirely distinct from Goodenough Island—and that it behoved me to get to work and clean that up. Sir William’s method of praise was always to pile on more work. Upon going into the matter I found that it was not one murder, but two, I had to deal with; one at Radava, and the other at Boianai.

There was no anchorage opposite either village, accordingly the Siai sailed up the coast and hove-to at night opposite Radava. Landing two boats’ crews just before dawn, we entered the first house and, seizing the inhabitants, asked the names of the murderers, which were at once given. I then detailed two men to go to each of the guilty men’s houses, the police being guided by the men and women we had picked out of the first house; Poruma and I then went on to the house of the chief, whom I also intended to arrest; my whistle was to be the signal to burst into the houses and secure the men. Just as Poruma and I walked, or rather sneaked, up to the chief’s house, we saw a man emerge and enter another house; whereupon I told Poruma to follow and catch him when I whistled. Then, looking in at a deep window in the chief’s house, I saw a man sleeping by the fire and—first blowing my whistle—leapt through the window and seized him; he fought like a wild cat, and together we rolled through the fire, my cotton clothes catching alight and burning me badly; I was still struggling with the man when Poruma and Warapas arrived and pulled us apart. Then I found that—with the exception of the chief—we had got all the men we wanted, and that the man I had been struggling with was the village lunatic.

It had been necessary for me to take the village by night surprise, otherwise the people would have taken one of two courses: either bolted into the bush of the rough mountains or resisted arrest. At Boianai they did bolt, having got tidings of the coming of the Siai; but here I was able to bring a peaceful method to bear, that resulted in the surrender of the guilty men. The Boianai natives have a very well-designed scheme of irrigation, and go in for a most intensive system of cultivation of their somewhat limited area of rich flat land. A portion of the irrigation scheme consisted of a wooden aqueduct, carrying water at a high level over a small river. Their main crops were of taro, a vegetable requiring a large amount of moisture in the soil.

Finding my birds at Boianai had flown, I seized the aqueduct and diverted the water from their gardens; then I told the people, that when they surrendered the men I wanted, their gardens should again have water, but until then, none. I thereupon sat down in the Siai and awaited developments, leaving most of my men camped at the aqueduct under Warapas. Upon the evening of the second day, I took my gun and went off on shore to shoot pigeons; Poruma, Sione, and Giorgi being at the time asleep in the forecastle. As the dingey returned alongside the Siai, pulled by the cook and a village constable, they clumsily contrived to bump her violently; the row woke up Sione, who, finding out that I had gone off alone, promptly sent Giorgi and Poruma after me—a very fortunate thing for me as it proved. I, meanwhile, had wandered down a path to seek for pigeons; Poruma and Giorgi, after some little time, discovered the track I was on and followed. As I peered into a tree, I suddenly heard a yell and a crashing blow behind me; turning round I saw Poruma and Giorgi astride of a fallen man. Whilst I had been stalking pigeons, they had discovered him stalking me, armed with a horrible-looking spear; whereupon they had stalked him, and cracked him on the skull, just as he poised his spear to launch it into my back. After Poruma and Giorgi had handcuffed the man, and I had examined his broken head and reproached Giorgi for cracking the stock of a good rifle, Poruma remarked, “It was a little hard that he could not have a few minutes’ sleep without some foolishness being done.” I got one home on to Poruma by telling him that it was the monotony of his cooking and the vileness of his curries that had sent me off in search of game.

Poruma then asked the prisoner why he had tried to spear me, to which he replied, that he had just been examining his garden and was annoyed at finding that the leaves of his taro were beginning to wilt, from lack of water: while so engaged, he had been seen by the watching police, who had chased him over the rough river-bed for a long distance; then, while lurking in the scrub, he had caught sight of me and thought that the opportunity was too good to lose. After a little more conversation, our new acquaintance resigned himself to his fate, and volunteered—as a sort of propitiatory measure—to take us to where pigeons were plentiful; he proved better than his word, for as well as pigeons, he showed me the haunts of wild duck, and I got a good bag.

Later, Judge Winter gave this gentleman six months for his attempt at bagging an R.M.; after serving which he enlisted upon the Siai, and then returned to his village as village constable—and a very good village constable he made.

The following day I again looked at the gardens, and made up my mind that if the people did not soon surrender the men I wanted, I should be obliged to turn on the water, for the simple reason that I really did not feel justified in destroying their whole food supply. Fortunately, the people did not know I was weakening, as that very night they sent a message to me that all the offenders—except one—were coming in, and that they would catch him as soon as they could; of course, the missing man was one of the most important of the lot. Sure enough the men were brought that night and a request made that they should be allowed to turn on the water. “Certainly,” I replied, “so soon as I have the missing man.” An hour later he was brought, and they got their water.

From Goodenough Bay I returned once more to Samarai, there to await the return of Moreton.