Since my first arrival at Cape Nelson, three months had gone by, during which period the Kaili Kaili and my men had become sworn friends and allies. The Station was nearly finished, and we began to look anxiously for the return of the Merrie England; more especially so, as our stores were running very low and a drought was preventing our purchasing very much in the way of provisions from the natives. The drought brought another complication: for the missionary at Cape Vogel sent me a letter, stating that the women of the villages were killing their infants. The practice of abortion and infanticide is always common among the weaker non-warlike or non-cannibal tribes of New Guinea, though unknown among the head hunters or cannibals. I accordingly went hurriedly to Cape Vogel by boat, and threatened and bullied the people on the subject of infanticide, and sent five women, who had murdered their babies, to gaol; later, I had these women transferred to Port Moresby to serve their time, as there was better accommodation for female prisoners at Headquarters than at Cape Nelson. Some months afterwards, I received an indignant letter from the gaoler, asking whether I thought the Port Moresby gaol was a lying-in hospital, as all the imprisoned ladies had either added to the population or were about to do so.

At Mukawa, I found that, a day or so before my arrival, a large fleet of Maisina canoes had put in an appearance, bullying and blackmailing the inhabitants; but upon hearing that I was hourly expected with the police, they had departed to raid elsewhere. Running up the coast before a fair wind, I sighted the fleet of canoes leaving a small island, but as they ran inshore I did not bother to follow them; later, I found that an old chief, named Bogege, had been down the coast with a party of raiders, generally raising sheol. At the island, where I had sighted the canoes, he had landed and discovered a bÊche-de-mer trader’s house and Station, occupied by a man, his native wife, and a dozen Suau natives. The owner was away fishing; but Bogege’s men had outraged the women, beaten the boys, stolen everything they could lay their hands upon, and would probably have wound up their performances with murder, but for my boat heaving in sight. I sent Bogege a polite message to the effect, that when I had time to attend to the Maisina, they would have something to remember; to which he replied, “My people have taken the feathers off their spears.” A civil Papuan declaration of war. The fight between Bogege and myself, however, came sooner than he expected, though, for the present, being delayed by pressure of more urgent work.

Briefly, the following required my immediate attention. Firstly, a tribe named the Mokoru, lying to the north of Cape Nelson, captured and ate a number of runaway Mambare carriers: they calmly told me that they would do the same to the police, if I interfered with them, but added, that I myself was so repulsively coloured that they would not dream of eating me, but would feed me to the pigs instead! “Pigs having stronger stomachs than men!” Next, the Arifamu, to the south, ate some carriers and snapped up one of my constabulary; he, however, escaped from them and was rescued by us. Then the Winiapi tribe, also in the south, plundered a trader’s vessel and defied me. “The police are but women, and go clothed like women,” was their reply to my demand that they surrender the offenders.

I fell upon the Mokoru first, and with good result. One dark night, Seradi piloted the whaler up a creek leading to the house of the principal chief, and we collared him and his son at dawn. The Mokoru, who lived in hamlets scattered over the grassy ridges, attempted to attack and ambush my force; but in half an hour they had learnt so much about the effect of rifle fire in the open as to compel them to decide that eating carriers did not pay, and also, that they had better join the Kaili Kaili by throwing in their lot with the Government. The Mokoru chief we caught was named Paitoto; he later turned out to be an excellent man, and I made him Government chief and village constable for his tribe. He told me one tale, however, that rather sickened me. “You remember,” said Paitoto, “the morning you caught me, you were very bad and sick from fever?” “Yes,” I replied. “Poruta made you some soup in one of my small pots, from a pigeon he shot,” he went on, “and you complained about the pot being greasy and made him scrub it very clean.” “Well, what of it?” I asked. “That was the pot in which my wife had made a stew of carriers’ hands.”

Paitoto only did about a fortnight’s gaol, and was then released to take up his duties as v.c. Afterwards, he did a very plucky thing, when securing a sorcerer whom I badly wanted: having made the arrest, he locked one ring of the handcuffs on to the sorcerer and the other on to his own wrist; and for fear that the sorcerer, on the journey, might over-awe him, he threw the key of the handcuffs over a precipice. Unfortunately, he then told the sorcerer such dreadful tales of what I should do to him, that the man hurled himself over a small cliff, carrying Paitoto with him; with the result, that Paitoto’s handcuffed arm was badly smashed, and I had an awful job repairing it.

At last the Merrie England turned up, weeks overdue, and renewed my supplies. She also brought Richard De Molynes, a brother-in-law of the then Governor-General of Australia, who was engaged hunting for lands suitable for sugar growing, on behalf of some syndicate or other: I believe the De Molynes brothers had previously gone in extensively for sugar planting in Queensland. He remained with me, as a guest, after the departure of the ship, in order to pursue his search throughout the north-east. The Merrie England also brought me old Bushimai and his son Oia, from the Mambare; they had been sentenced to gaol for murder by the Central Court, but were now to be held by me at Cape Nelson on a sort of parole, during the Governor’s pleasure. Bushimai had already broken out of the Port Moresby gaol, with five companions, and crossed the island to his home; but of his five companions, only one remained, when he reached the Mambare; and the fate of the others has always been shrouded in mystery. Bushimai said they died of exposure and cold on the high mountains; but when I asked him what they had found to eat on the way, he told me that they had caught an alligator! He may have caught an alligator; but if so, it is the first alligator I have ever known or heard of as having its habitation on the side of a bleak mountain range! Subsequently, after having been re-arrested, he also succeeded in escaping from the gaol at Tamata.

Bushimai was sent to my care at Cape Nelson at his own request. I now had one of his sons, Oia, in prison for manslaughter; and Poruta (who was another) serving as a private in my detachment of constabulary. Bushimai, by all conventional rules, should have been my mortal enemy, as I had once flogged him for mutiny, and he had killed my brother magistrate; but, as a matter of fact, we were always rather dear friends. He was allowed to bring one wife, and a small son, with him to Cape Nelson; I made his wife matron to the gaol, and general over-looker of the wives of the police. Bushimai, on his first day at the Station, began by sitting on the steps of my house; on the second day, he had oiled himself into my office, where he sat upon the floor, whilst I did my work or heard native cases, throwing in a little advice at intervals; on the third day, he had made up his bed in my room; and on the fourth day, he had picked out the largest axe on the Station, and was acting as general overseer and adviser. “The master,” said Poruta, “gives an order, and hits us if we are not quick; my father hits us first to make us quick.” I now found that a gold-prospecting party of miners had set their hearts on penetrating into the country to the south of Collingwood Bay, up a stream named the Laku, their cupidity having been excited by a tomahawk stone, which had been purchased by a trader in the Bay, and which was shot through with veins of gold. I knew quite well that if they went in alone among the uncivilized tribes they would only end in stirring up a lot of trouble for me; I therefore decided to escort them beyond the range of the coastal people. Accordingly I left for the Laku, accompanied by my police, De Molynes, the miners and their Suaus.

Arriving there, we camped on a low-lying sandy beach at the mouth of the river, in the midst of heavy rain. The stream rose and rose in height, until I became anxious as to the safety of my camp; and in order to make it quite secure, shifted, late in the evening, some four miles up stream on to higher and more solid country, and among the Kuveri people. The Kuveri were at first much alarmed at our incursion into their territory, and inclined from fear to be hostile; but at last, finding that we intended no harm, and instead of interfering with them, paid them well for any assistance they gave us, they became very friendly. They told us that they were shut in between the Maisina on one side, and the hostile Kikinaua tribe on the other: the former descended periodically upon them, and carried off all their best-looking young women, as well as levying a blackmail of pigs; while the latter tribe constantly swooped down on their villages, murdered and carried off—for culinary purposes—any one they could lay hands on. Our advent they had at first regarded as their crowning misfortune, thinking that we were yet another enemy. As they put it to me afterwards, they would have “run away at sight of my force, but had nowhere to run to.” I told the poor devils that, instead of adding to their woes, we would protect them from their enemies—a promise they at first apparently regarded as mere words. “The Maisina,” they said in awed accents—“the Maisina are very brave and very numerous.” Old Bushimai, who was sitting in my tent during the discussion and listening to it with growing impatience, got up and, leaving the tent, soon returned with his hand covered with biting crawling ants. “Look at this,” he said to the trembling deputation through the interpreter; “these things are even as the Maisina, and thus will we treat them.” Then with a couple of sharp smacks he smashed the ants, and sat down to smoke. That deputation left much impressed; meanwhile my sentries were being posted for the night.

We had a fine, clear, starry night, and the whole camp of tired men settled down for a comfortable rest. Bushimai slept under my hammock. An hour before dawn, I awoke in a jumpy state of nerves, and called to Bushimai but got no reply. More and more jumpy, I got out of my hammock, buckled on my belts and revolver and, taking my rifle, walked out through the sleeping camp to the sentries; as I did so, I met Bushimai walking slowly backwards and forwards with his axe on his shoulder. “Why don’t you sleep?” I asked him. “I felt danger in my sleep,” he answered; “did you too?” “Yes,” I replied, “I fear I don’t know what.” We both walked towards the sentries and met the sergeant. “Sergeant, why are you not asleep?” I asked; “the corporal is in charge of the sentries.” “I cannot sleep, sir,” he answered, “I woke feeling trouble; I should like to turn out the men, but there is no reason.” Bushimai, the sergeant and I waited until dawn, roosting round a small fire, and watching the different men being relieved by a puzzled corporal; then, yawning, we went off to bed again.

Later, I learnt that the Maisina had heard I was camped at the mouth of the Laku—the camp I had vacated a few hours before—and had flung three separate bodies of men upon it just before dawn, only to find my expiring fires. Had we been in that camp, I am convinced that they would have smashed us, as we should have been taken by surprise. I leave it, however, to the psychologist to say why an attack upon a vacated camp should affect the nerves of men four miles distant, and why it should only affect the nerves of three men out of over one hundred.

The following morning we marched inland into uninhabited country. The three miners I was taking in and protecting were named Driscoll, Ryan, and Gallagher; three wild Irishmen, whose sole topic of conversation was the wrongs of Ireland, as extracted by them from a Fenian “History of Ireland” which they carried. De Molynes was fool enough to argue with them; but, after the first day, I confined myself to the society of my police and Bushimai, in consequence of being asked: “Phwat is the —— Government making out of us?” I felt annoyed, as, at the time, I was feeding the men from my personal stores, and the Government was incurring considerable expense in protecting them during a search for gold for their own private benefit. “Blank, purse-proud Englishman, too stuck up to speak,” I was then termed. As a matter of fact, I happened to have been born in New Zealand, and my pay was considerably less than that of any working miner in New Guinea.

We marched inland on a straight compass line, through jungle and forest, cutting a track as we went; De Molynes, some police and I were ahead, then followed a long line of carriers, then the miners and their boys, all brought up by a rear-guard of police. At last we struck an extensive plain, covered with wild sugar-cane from ten to twelve feet high, through which we began to bore our way; the stuff grew as closely together as raspberry canes, was as dry as tinder, and as tough to cut as galvanized wire rope, the knives of the men rebounding from it like peas off a drum. We cut our tunnel through it for about a mile; then, noticing how extremely dry and inflammable it looked, I asked De Molynes how sugar-cane burnt. “Like a Jew dealer’s over-insured second-hand old clo’ shop,” he remarked; “if this catches fire, we shall have less chance than a snowball in hell.” I halted the line, called back to the rear-guard that there was to be no smoking, and any tinder carried by the carriers was to be put out at once; and again we went on. Suddenly, I heard an ominous crackling sound from behind and, gazing back, saw a black pall of smoke rising over the rear of the line; fortunately, there was little or no wind.

At once the long line of men in single file began to press hard on our heels, screaming with fright: frantic with rage, I joined the police in a solemn oath that, if we escaped, we would kill without mercy the man or men responsible for the fire. Then in frenzied haste we cut on, two men chopping until they fell from heat and exhaustion, then others dashing over their prostrate bodies, seizing their tools and taking their places, while behind came the ever-increasing roar of the fire. Old Bushimai toiled like a man possessed of devils, dashing repeatedly at the wall in front, and smashing with his axe, whenever the two choppers slacked for a moment in their efforts. At last, when the situation was apparently desperate, I sent word along the line to the constabulary to blow out their brains as the flames reached them, after shooting any carriers within their reach, who might prefer a bullet to roasting. Suddenly we cut into a cabbage tree, up which one of the men climbed. “Master,” he yelled, “the fire comes fast and the cane extends for miles, but I see a green swampy patch with trees on the left, close to us.” Magi, the man up the tree, extended his arm in the direction of the wet patch, and by it I took a compass bearing, along which we cut, emerging after about two hundred yards into an oasis formed by springs, of about two acres of green swampy land. Man after man struggled through by the cut track, until all were there; then, with our clothes saturated with water and plastered with mud, we buried our faces in moss and wet plants, and that stifling fire rolled past and over our sanctuary.

Once safe, I inquired into the cause of the fire: as I held the inquiry with my revolver pouch opened, and Bushimai standing alongside me fingering the edge of his axe, it was sufficiently impressive. “It was no fault of ours,” said the corporal in charge of the rear-guard, “it was these fools of white men, they lit it.” I then found that, as my order that there should be no fire or smoking had been passed back in the vernacular, the white men had asked what was happening, and had been told in pidgin English, “It is about fire”; whereupon they had concluded that the advance was out of the cane on the far side, and wished the patch burned to make the homeward march easier, and had accordingly fired the cane before the police could prevent them.

At last we left the miners to their prospecting, in uninhabited country, and retraced our steps to the Laku camp among the Kuveri. These people told me that, during my absence, the Kikinaua had swooped upon them and killed several of the villagers, whilst at the same time the Maisina had sent in demanding the usual tribute of pigs and young women; the Kuveri, however, had declined to pay, relying upon the support of myself and the police. The Maisina, receiving no response to their demands, had then changed their tactics; professing extreme friendship towards the Kuveri, they suggested, that as the latter were on terms of friendship with me, they should humbug us and join with the Maisina in making a sudden attack upon my unsuspecting camp; a proposition that the Kuveri had the good sense to decline, and to report to me. I now had a very large bone to pick with the Maisina; but before I could do that, I had to break the Kikinaua, and render the Kuveri safe from inland attack by them. Accordingly, accompanied by many Kuveri, I marched on the first Kikinaua village.

After leaving the Kuveri district, I discovered that the Kikinaua lived across and in the midst of some particularly vile swamps, full of plants which possessed extremely long and sharp thorns. After passing the first swamp, we came to a strongly stockaded village named Aparu, which, I was informed by the Kuveri, was a colony pushed out by the Kikinaua, who appeared to be conquering and holding the country as they advanced. This village we passed, as it had been abandoned; we soon, however, approached a large village named Bonarua, the action of whose inhabitants did not leave much room for doubt as to the reception with which we were to meet at their hands. Yells of defiance were set up as soon as our approach was perceived, and preparations for a fight made by the natives. The village of Bonarua was one splendidly designed for defence, being approached through a long tunnel cut through dense undergrowth for about one hundred yards, down which one had to crawl bent nearly double, and up to one’s knees in an unusually sticky mud: the tunnel ended at a strong stockade, behind which was a small square courtyard, backed by a second and much stronger stockade, flanked by houses from which spears could be thrown on the heads of an enemy attempting to force the gate.

Finding that it was impossible to go round the stockade owing to the dense undergrowth, we rushed and carried the first one, the defenders hastily falling back on the second and stronger one of the two. The first attempt to take the second stockade failed, owing to some of the police being delayed at the first one. On the whole of the men, however, making a second rush at it, and Bushimai chopping away with his axe the plaited rope hinges of the heavy wooden stockade door, it was also carried, the defenders losing three men killed and two or three wounded. Four prisoners were taken. News of our coming had plainly been sent to the village, as no women or children were in it, nor any articles such as natives value; while large quantities of food were stacked inside the stockade, and many spears in the village itself. There were also many more men engaged in the fight than could have been furnished by the one village. The prisoners, upon being questioned, admitted having constantly raided in the Kuveri district; but pleaded in extenuation, that they themselves were constantly being raided and murdered by a mountain tribe at the back of the Kikinaua country, by whom they (the Kikinaua) were being driven in upon the Kuveri. Two of the prisoners were released to carry a message to their tribe, explaining why the visit had been made, and pointing out that the punishment received by them was the result of their own action in receiving us in an unfriendly manner. They were also informed that the two men taken away would be returned, as soon as friendly relations had been established between them and the Kuveri tribe. From what I could gather from the prisoners later on, it appeared that the Kikinaua were only attacked at long intervals of time by the Doriri mountaineers, and that they could then generally manage to defend their villages. Some time afterwards, the remaining two prisoners were returned, and a promise of Government assistance made to their tribe, should they in future be attacked by the Doriri. After this the Kikinaua and the Kuveri were the best of friends and allies.

Returning to the coast after dealing with the Kikinaua, I found that the Maisina bucks, and about a hundred of the Winiapi, had been raiding and generally playing hell on the coast as far south as Cape Vogel, though they had all now returned to their homes. I accordingly at once went to Uiaku, their chief village, where I succeeded in surprising them and grabbing half a dozen men concerned in the raiding. Whilst I was engaged in securing these men, however, I nearly lost one of my police, who incautiously ventured some distance from our main body and got cut off by the Maisina; fortunately, he managed to get his back against a tree, and to defend himself until we rescued him. We had hardly saved this man, before the sound of firing from the whaleboat told me that the privates I had left in charge of her were in trouble; rushing back, we found that they had been attacked by a strong force of Maisina; they had immediately pushed out to sea, and from there, were firing upon their assailants. One of the arrested men was released and sent back to his friends, with a demand that the chiefs and others concerned in the recent raid should be surrendered to Government, and that the remainder of the tribe should at once lay down their arms; also, with an intimation, that obedience to this order would be compelled by force if necessary. No notice whatever was taken of this message, nor were any natives visible on the beach on the following morning. On proceeding down a bush track, two of the police were again attacked, and a general fight ensued; this fight continued for three days, with endless manoeuvres on their part and counter-moves on mine: it ended in the hostile Maisina being driven through and out of a large swamp, which they evidently regarded as their great stronghold, with the loss of three killed and several wounded, they finally fleeing in a state of utter panic.

A second prisoner was then released and sent with a message to our late opponents, pointing out the futility of attempting to resist arrest by force of arms, as they had been doing; and allowing them a week in which to send in the offenders wanted in the matter of the coastal raid. Again no notice was taken by the Maisina people of the message. From the prisoners, I learnt later on, that Bogege, their principal chief, was mainly responsible for the raiding at Kuveri, and had personally conducted the party by whom the Station of the trader Clancy had been looted and his wife subjected to ill-usage. It was palpable that little could be done towards establishing order at Maisina, so long as Bogege went unpunished, and was at large to influence his people in resistance to Government authority. “Well,” I thought, “in the meantime I’ll cripple the raiding powers of the villains as much as I can,” and, accordingly, destroyed every large canoe belonging to them that I could find.

Some little time later, I caught Bogege by a very lucky chance. He always knew when I was moving with anything like a force in his vicinity, and skipped for the sago swamps, where I could not find him; he was too strong for a village constable to arrest, or for me to do so, for that matter, except in strength. Bogege’s capture came about in this way. A steamer came in from the Mambare, and the captain told me that a launch was coming up from Samarai in a couple of days. “Ah!” I thought, “as there are a number of petty cases of theft, assault, and that sort of thing, to attend to at the Mission Station at Cape Vogel, I’ll run down there in this vessel, clean up the work, and come back by the launch; that will save me a good fortnight.” Accordingly off I went, taking with me only a corporal, my orderly, and a private whom I had recruited at Cape Vogel as interpreter.

We arrived at Cape Vogel: I finished my work there, and at the end found myself with two men and three women prisoners, the latter for infanticide. The beastly launch never put in an appearance, and later I learnt she had broken her shaft. At last I went to the Rev. Samuel Tomlinson and borrowed his whaleboat; it was the South-East season, and consequently a fair wind from Cape Vogel to Cape Nelson, so that my crew of three constabulary would be ample. “Who is going to look after the women?” asked my corporal. “We may have to camp for two or three nights on the way.” Private Agara, the Cape Vogel recruit, suggested that he should take his wife for that pleasant task, she being then in her village. This was really rather artful on the part of Agara, it being one for me and two for himself, as first year’s men, such as he was, lived in the barracks, and were not allowed to have their wives with them; while the married men of longer service lived in separate houses, and had altogether a better time. Agara knew that if he once got his wife landed into married quarters, the chances were that I could be persuaded into allowing her to remain. “Very good, bring your wife; but remember she must return by the first vessel,” I replied. Accordingly Mrs. Agara came with us.

We set sail, my argosy’s complement consisting of myself, three constabulary, one acting wardress, two men and three women prisoners. While running up the coast, just off the Lakekamu River, as night was closing in, we met a Kuveri canoe, which Agara hailed; he spoke to them for a few minutes, then turned to me and, with his eyes bulging with excitement, said, “They say Bogege is camped on a small island close to Uiaku, fishing; he thinks you went to Samarai in the steamer.” I sat and thought: months might elapse before I got such a chance again; but then, only three fighting men with me, and a small whaleboat already cluttered up with prisoners! Prudence told me to go on to Cape Nelson and get the detachment, common sense told me that by the time I had done that, Bogege would probably have heard of my return and retreated to a safer spot. “Ask them, Agara, if they know how many men he has with him.” The reply came that, with the exception of two minor chiefs whom they named, they had not heard who was with him. The two men they mentioned I also wanted badly for certain devilries; they acted as Bogege’s lieutenants in most of his villainies. “Any women or children with him?” I asked next. “We are not certain, but don’t think so,” was the reply. “Canoes?” I next queried. “Yes, some new big ones he has built, how many we don’t know.” “Hm!” I thought, “it may be a peaceful fishing party, but Bogege, his two chief scoundrels and new canoes, looks more like fresh devilment; especially as he thinks I am out of the way, and knows the police are all at Cape Nelson.”

I looked at my men. “Well, shall we take Bogege? You have heard the tale; he may have fifty or he may have a hundred men with him, and we can’t find out until we are amongst them.” They looked at one another, then they looked at me; then Corporal Barigi said, “It is for you to say.” “Yes, you mutton head,” I snapped at him, “but what do you think?” “I don’t think,” he answered. “You say we are to try and take Bogege; all right, we try; you say Bogege too strong; all right, we go to Cape Nelson.” At last I decided that the chance of catching the old scorpion was too good to lose, and told the police we would make the attempt; clearly they thought we were taking on the devil of a tall order, but even so, the prospect of an uncommonly good scrap pleased them. The men prisoners were then taken into our council; their villages had frequently been raided by our quarry, and they both hated and feared him. My plan was to approach the island at about an hour before dawn, find out by the fires on which side the natives were encamped, and then sneak up on the other side. The police and I would land with handcuffs, while the prisoners looked after the boat; if anything happened to us, they were to bolt at once for Cape Nelson, and there tell the constabulary what had occurred.

We sneaked up to the island in the dark, feeling our way on a falling tide, over the deep patches and channels of a wide coral reef. Then the four of us crept slowly across the island, until we found ourselves in a large camp of mostly sleeping natives; to locate Bogege was the work of a moment, while the camp awoke with a clamour. Agara and I got up to him. “Up with your hands, Bogege! The Government has come for you!” said Agara. Bogege saw the uniforms and rifles, and promptly surrendered, with the sole remark, “Those lying Winiapi told me that ‘The Man’ had gone to Samarai.” (“The Man,” by the way, was my name amongst the natives.) We got five other offenders as well, Agara yelling all the time to the natives, that they were covered by the rifles of the police hidden in the scrub. Then we marched our handcuffed gang back to the whaleboat, and dumped them in, just as the remaining natives discovered our weakness and the bluff we had put up, and flew for their spears. The whaleboat was now so far aground that, with her increased load, we could not hope to get her off before dawn, which was fast approaching. Hastily pulling out my revolver, I handed it to Mrs. Agara, ordering Agara to tell Bogege and his fellow prisoners that Mrs. Agara would shoot them, and the Cape Vogel prisoners knock out their brains with tomahawks, if they attempted to escape or take part in the coming fight. As they were all linked together with handcuffs, they were fairly helpless.

The three police and I went ashore again, and took cover between the boat and the now thoroughly incensed natives; a scrappy, desultory fight then took place, lasting until daylight. Neither side could see the other; the scrub, the dark and general uncanniness of the thing, confused the natives and prevented them from charging. Spears thrown at random, or at our rifle flashes, rattled amongst us and the stones and bushes in which we were sheltering; whilst every now and then a yelp or a falling body told that some of our shots were taking effect. As soon as dawn broke the natives drew off a little; whereupon we rushed our whaler out a couple of hundred yards over the reef, Bogege and his fellows being made to wade and haul with the rest. We then hastily pulled round the island to where Bogege’s camp was situated; here, standing off in deep water, at about a hundred yards’ range, the police made such practice that, in a few minutes, the now thoroughly demoralized natives bolted across the island. Covered by our rifles, our two Cape Vogel prisoners then landed, and chopped holes with tomahawks in the bottoms of about a dozen large canoes. Then, very pleased indeed with ourselves, we hurried home as fast as sail and paddle could drive us to Cape Nelson; the two Cape Vogel prisoners had taken some paddles from Bogege’s canoes, so he and his friends had the pleasure of speeding their way to gaol with their own paddles.

On the way back, Agara thought he would take advantage of my pleased mood to broach the subject of his wife remaining permanently on the strength at the Station. “My wife was very useful last night,” he began, “she is a very clever, hard-working woman; she can wash clothes better than any of the wives of the police at the Station, white clothes and tablecloths and things like that. Mrs. Tomlinson taught her at the Mission.” “It must be very pleasant for you to have a wife like that,” I remarked, apparently not rising to the occasion. “Yes, sir! Yes, sir! But I thought perhaps you might like her to remain with me at the Station to wash your clothes.” “Yes, Agara, but you know ‘ten bobbers’ are not allowed on the strength.” (“Ten bobbers” are first year’s men at 10s. a month.) Agara’s face fell as he repeated this to his wife, who had been hopefully watching us, and trying to follow the conversation; great tears rolled down that lady’s face and fell splash on the gunwale. “Tell your wife, Agara, that if she howls now, I’ll put her with the sergeant’s wife, and you in barracks.” Agara, snuffling slightly himself, told her; whereupon she scandalized every one by hurling herself into the bottom of the boat and howling dismally. “Corporal, will you kindly tell this husband of a contumacious and mutinous wife, that though ‘ten bobbers’ are not allowed wives, full privates are; and that after last night he is a full private at a pound.” Mrs. Agara dried her tears, while Agara showed his gratitude by quite unnecessarily assisting my orderly to clean my belts and arms.

A few days after my return to the Station, a large number of Maisina canoes appeared and landed some minor chiefs, by whom I was informed that the Maisina desired to make peace with the Government, and would consent to the appointment of a village constable; they brought with them the son of a late very prominent chief as a candidate for the office. The man was given the appointment, and subsequently I had little trouble with that people; individual crime, of course, took place, but organized collective communal crime, such as raiding and plundering, became a thing of the past, and the coastal people enjoyed a security previously undreamt of by them.

Bogege and his friends were sentenced to six months’ imprisonment; after which, as he then saw the error of his ways, I made him also a village constable.