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Title: The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expedition
Author: Routledge, Mrs. Scoresby
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The mystery of Easter island: the story of an expedition" ***
ISLAND ***
THE MYSTERY OF
EASTER ISLAND
[Illustration]
THE MYSTERY OF EASTER ISLAND
THE STORY OF AN EXPEDITION
BY
MRS. SCORESBY ROUTLEDGE
HONOURS MOD. HIST. OXFORD; M.A. DUBLIN
JOINT AUTHOR OF
“WITH A PREHISTORIC PEOPLE: THE AKIKUYU OF BRITISH EAST AFRICA”
PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.
LONDON AND AYLESBURY
AND SOLD BY
SIFTON, PRAED & CO. LTD., 67 ST. JAMES’S ST.
LONDON, S.W.1
TO THE MEMORY
OF
MY MOTHER
TO WHOM THE LETTERS WERE WRITTEN WHICH
HAVE FORMED A LARGE PORTION OF THE
MATERIAL FOR THIS BOOK, BUT WHO
WAS NO LONGER HERE TO
WELCOME OUR RETURN
PREFACE
As I sit down to write this preface there rises before me, not the other
side of this London street, but the beautiful view over the harbour of
St. Vincent, Cape Verde Islands, as seen from the British Consulate. It
was a hot afternoon, but in that shady room I had found a fellow-woman
and sympathetic listener. To her I had been recounting, rather
mercilessly as it seemed, the story of our experiences in the yacht,
including the drowning of the tea in Las Palmas Harbour. When I had
finished, she said quietly, “You are going to publish all this I
suppose?” I hesitated, for the idea was new. “No,” I replied, “we had
not thought of doing so; of course, if we have any success at Easter
Island we shall make it known, but this is all in the day’s work.” “I
think,” she said, “that there are many who lead quiet stay-at-home lives
who would be interested.” Times have changed since 1913, there are now
few who have not had adventures, either in their own persons, or through
those dear to them, compared with which ours were but pleasant play; but
I still find that many of those who are good enough to care to hear what
we did in those three years ask for personal details. After a lecture
given to a learned society, which it had been an honour to be asked to
address, I was accosted by a lady, invited for the occasion, with the
remark, “I was disappointed in what you told us. You never said what you
had to eat.” This, and many similar experiences, are the apology for the
trivialities of this work.
No attempt has been made to write any sort of a guide book to the varied
places touched at by the yacht, neither space nor knowledge permitted;
all that has been done either by pen or pencil is to try to give the
main impression left on the mind of a passing dweller in their harbours
and anchorages. It has, however, been found by experience that, in
accounts of travel, the general reader loses much of the pleasure which
has been experienced by the writer, through knowledge being assumed of
the history of the places visited; a knowledge which the traveller
himself has absorbed almost unconsciously. Without some acquaintance
with past events the present cannot be understood; at the risk,
therefore, of interrupting the narrative, a few notes of such history
have been included.
In dealing with the main topic of the work, an endeavour has been made
to give some idea of the problem of Easter Island as the Expedition
found it, and also of its work there. With regard to this part, some
appeal is necessary to the understanding kindness of the reader, for it
has not been an easy tale to tell, nor one which could be
straightforwardly recounted. The story of Easter is as yet a tangled
skein. The dim past, to which the megalithic works bear witness—the
island as the early voyagers found it—its more recent history and
present state, all of these are intermingled threads, none of which can
be followed without reference to the remaining clues.
For those who would have preferred more scientific and fewer personal
details, I can only humbly say wait, there is another volume in prospect
with descriptions and dimensions of some two hundred and sixty
burial-places on the island, thousands of measurements of statues, and
other really absorbing matter. The numerical statements in the present
book, dealing with archæological remains, must be considered approximate
till it has been possible to go again through the large collection of
notes.
It is fairly obvious why the writing of this story has fallen to the
share of the sole feminine member of the Expedition. I had also, what
was, in spite of all things, the good fortune to be fourteen weeks
longer on the island than my husband. They were fat weeks too, when the
first lean ones, with their inevitable difficulties, were past; and the
unsettlement towards the end had not arrived. He has, I need hardly say,
given me every assistance with this work. Generally speaking, all things
which it is possible to touch and handle, buildings, weapons, and
ornaments, were in his department; while things of a less tangible
description, such as religion, history, and folk lore fell to my lot.
Those who know him will recognise his touches throughout, and the
account of the last part of the voyage, after my return to England, has
been written by him.
The photographs, when not otherwise stated, are by members of the
Expedition. The drawings are from sketches made by the Author; those of
the burial-places are from note-book outlines made in the course of
work. The diagrams of the houses and burial-places are by my husband.
We are deeply grateful, both personally and on behalf of the Expedition,
for all the aid, both public and private, extended to our work in the
interests of science. We hesitate to allude to it in detail in
connection with what may, it is to be feared, seem an unworthy book, but
we cannot refrain from taking this, the earliest, opportunity of
acknowledging our obligations. The Admiralty lent the Expedition a
Lieutenant on full pay for navigation and survey. The Royal Society
honoured it by bestowing a grant of £100, and the British Association by
appointing a committee to further its interests accompanied by a small
gift. Valuable scientific instruments were lent by both the Admiralty
and Royal Geographical Society.
We are indebted to Sir Hercules Read and Captain T. A. Joyce, of the
Ethnological Department of the British Museum, for the initial
suggestion and much personal help. In our own University of Oxford the
practical sympathy of Dr. Marett has been fully given from the time the
project was first mooted till he read the proofs of the scientific part
of this work; we owe more to such encouragement for any success attained
than perhaps he himself realises. Mr. Henry Balfour has placed us, and
all who are interested in the subject, under the greatest obligation for
his work on our results which has thrown a flood of light on the culture
of Easter Island, and has, in perhaps greater degree than anything else,
made the Expedition seem “worth while.” Dr. Rivers, of Cambridge, kindly
undertook the position of Correspondent in connection with the committee
of the British Association, and has put at our disposal his great
knowledge of the Pacific. Dr. Haddon has also been good enough to allow
us to avail ourselves of his intimate acquaintance with its problems.
Dr. Corney has rendered constant and unique assistance with regard to
the accounts of Easter Island as given by the early voyagers, a line of
research most important in its bearings. Our thanks are due to Dr.
Seligman for kind interest, to Professor Keith for his report on the two
Pitcairn Islanders who returned with the yacht, and his examination of
our osteological collection; to Dr. Thomas of the Geological Survey for
his report of the rocks brought back; and not least to Mr. Sydney Ray,
who has given most valuable time to our vocabularies of the language.
With regard to our journeyings and labours in the field, we are under
great obligation to Mr. Edwards, the Chilean Minister in London, through
whose representations his Government were good enough to grant us
special facilities in their ports. The Expedition owes much to Messrs.
Balfour & Williamson of London, and the firms connected with them in
Chile, California, and New York; most especially to Messrs. Williamson &
Balfour of Valparaiso for their permission to visit Easter Island and
help throughout. We are also very grateful to the manager of the ranch,
Mr. Percy Edmunds, for his practical aid on the island; since we left he
has obtained for us a skin of the sacred bird which we had been unable
to procure, and forwarded with it the negative of fig. 65, taken at our
request.
It has been impossible in the compass of this book to express our
gratitude to all those who gave help and hospitality on both the outward
and homeward voyage. We can only ask them to believe that we do not
forget, and that the friendship of many is, we trust, a permanent
possession.
For professional help in the production of this book it is a pleasure to
acknowledge the skill and patience of Miss A. Hunter, who has assisted
in preparing the sketches, and of Mr. Gear, President of the Royal
Photographic Society, who has worked up the negatives; also of Mr. F.
Batchelor, of the Royal Geographical Society, who has drawn all the
maps.
It has not, as will be readily understood, been always an easy matter to
write of such different interests amidst the urgent claims and
stupendous events since the time of our return; but if any soul rendered
sad by the war, or anxiously facing the problems of a new world, finds a
few hours’ rest surrounded by the blue of the sea or face to face with
the everlasting calm of the great statues, then it will give very real
happiness to
THE STEWARDESS OF THE _MANA_.
_February 1919._
[Illustration: Katherine Routledge]
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
The second edition of a book affords opportunity to tender grateful
thanks for the interest which has made it necessary. It is also one of
the occasions when fate allows, in some measure at any rate, a chance to
repair shortcomings.
It was felt in writing this volume that it was best to leave the work of
the Expedition to tell as far as possible its own tale. Life, however,
is short and books are many. Outside the circle of those with special
scientific knowledge, this method seems, in spite of Chapter XIX, to
have led too often, with even the kindest of readers and reviewers, to a
certain vagueness as to what has, after all, really been accomplished.
Some express disappointment that the problem is “unsolved if not
insoluble”; others state, not without lingering regret, that “there is
no longer any mystery.” Neither view is, of course, correct. It is,
therefore, perhaps worth while, even at the cost of repeating what may
be implicit elsewhere, to add a few more definite words.
It was never anticipated that any Expedition could settle once and for
all the past history of Easter Island. In dealing with any scientific
problem, the first step naturally is to find out all that can be
discovered about the material in question; while the second is to
co-ordinate that material with similar examples elsewhere, so that
knowledge which may fail from one source, can be supplied from another.
The Expedition, therefore, as one of its primary undertakings, made an
archæological survey of the island. It was a lengthy work, for not only
are the figures and ruins very numerous, but it was found that not till
after some six months’ study could they even be seen with intelligent
eyes. We believe the survey to be, however, as far as possible accurate
and complete. It is illustrated by some hundreds of sketches and
negatives.
The only account of this kind which has so far been available is the
rough, and naturally often erroneous, description given by the United
States ship _Mohican_ after a thirteen days’ examination in 1886.
Speaking of this part of our labours, a high authority has been good
enough to say, “We now know for the first time in what the remains on
the island really consist; its photographs alone would justify the
Expedition.” This record will, we venture to think, hold increased value
in the future, as there is a constant tendency for the remains to suffer
deterioration at the hands of nature and man.
The Expedition, however, found other and unexpected matter to secure
from oblivion—work which was of even greater, because of more pressing,
importance. We had been informed that not only had all knowledge of the
origin of the great works disappeared from the island, but that all
memory of the early native culture before the advent of Christianity,
which might possibly have thrown light upon them, was also gone. Happily
this proved to be not altogether the case. When we arrived, such
knowledge and tradition were expiring, but they were not altogether
dead. It was our good fortune, in spite of language and other
difficulties, to be able with patience to rescue at the eleventh hour
much of high value, more especially that which points to a connection
between the only recently expired bird cult and that of the images.
The facts now before us make clear that the present inhabitants of the
island are derived from a union of the two great stocks of the Pacific,
the Melanesian and Polynesian races, and that the Melanesian element has
played a large part in its development. All the evidence gathered,
whether derived from the stone remains, through the surviving natives,
or in other ways, points to the conclusion that these people are
connected by blood with the makers of the statues; this is, of course,
the crucial point.
Now that this stage is reached, the problem at once falls into its right
category; and we enter on the second phase of scientific quest. Easter
Island is no longer an isolated mystery, there is no need to indulge in
surmises as to sunken continents, it becomes part of the whole question
of the culture of the Pacific and of the successive waves of migration
which have passed through it.
On this large and difficult subject many able minds are at work, and
some striking results, already drawn from the labours of the Expedition,
are included in this volume. When we have more definite knowledge as to
the nature and date of these migrations which have come from the west by
such stepping-stones as Pitcairn Island, or by the Marquesas and Paumotu
groups, then we shall be able to deduce still further information about
Easter Island. When more is ascertained of the stone works scattered
throughout other islands, we shall speak with greater certainty as to
whether a first or second wave of immigrants, or both combined, are
responsible for its monoliths. We have a very fair idea now, when, and
perhaps why, the cult of the statues ended; even if there are no further
discoveries on the island, we hope in these ways to learn when and how
it began.
There is much we shall never know—the thoughts which passed through the
minds of those old image-makers as they worked at their craft, the
scenes enacted as their humbler neighbours toilsomely moved the great
figures to their place, the weird ceremonies which doubtless marked
their erection, not least the story of the persistence which erected and
re-erected the burying-places after again and yet again they had been
destroyed—such things are gone for ever. But the broad outlines and
events of the story, with their approximate dates, to these there is
every prospect we shall attain with reasonable certainty, and that
before very many years have elapsed.
K. R.
_April 1920._
CONTENTS
PART I
_THE VOYAGE TO EASTER ISLAND_
CHAPTER I
PAGE
THE START 3
Why we went to Easter Island—The Building and Equipping of
the Yacht—The Start from Southampton—Dartmouth—Falmouth.
CHAPTER II
THE VOYAGE TO SOUTH AMERICA 14
A Gale at Sea—Madeira—Canary Islands—Cape Verde
Islands—Across the Atlantic.
CHAPTER III
BRAZIL 34
Pernambuco—Bahia—Cabral Bay—Cape Frio—Rio de Janeiro—Porto
Bello—A Pampero.
CHAPTER IV
ARGENTINA 52
The River Plate—Buenos Aires, its Trade and People.
CHAPTER V
PATAGONIA 65
Port Desire—Eastern Magellan Straits—Punta Arenas—Western
Magellan Straits—Patagonian Channels.
CHAPTER VI
CHILE 99
Refitting at Talcahuano—Trip to Santiago and across the
Summit of the Andes—Valparaiso—To Juan Fernandez—Typhoid
on Board—Back to Chile—Juan Fernandez again.
CHAPTER VII
JUAN FERNANDEZ 111
The Island—Selkirk—Anson—Fate of the _Dresden_.
CHAPTER VIII
LIFE ON BOARD 115
PART II
_EASTER ISLAND_
CHAPTER IX
ARRIVAL AT EASTER ISLAND 124
First Impressions—The Story of the El Dorado—_Mana_
despatched.
CHAPTER X
CONDITIONS OF LIFE ON THE ISLAND 131
Description of the Island—Accommodation—Climate—Food—Labour.
CHAPTER XI
A NATIVE RISING 140
A Declaration of Independence—Cattle-raiding—A Mission which
failed—Bad to Worse—Arrival of a Chilean Warship.
CHAPTER XII
A GERMAN BASE 150
A Visit from Von Spee—First news of the War—S. R. goes to
Chile—The _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_—Return of
_Mana_—Departure of the Expedition.
CHAPTER XIII
PREHISTORIC REMAINS
AHU OR BURIAL-PLACES 165
Form of the Easter Island Image—Position and Number of the
Ahu—Design and Construction of the Image
Ahu—Reconstruction and Transformation—The Semi-pyramid
Ahu—The Overthrow of the Images and Destruction of the
Ahu.
CHAPTER XIV
PREHISTORIC REMAINS (_continued_)
STATUES AND CROWNS 175
Rano Raraku, its Quarries and Standing Statues—The
South-east Face of the Mountain—Isolated
Statues—Roads—Stone Crowns of the Images.
CHAPTER XV
NATIVE CULTURE IN PRE-CHRISTIAN TIMES 200
_Sources of Information_: History, Recent Remains, Living
Memory—_Mode of Life_: Habitations, Food, Dress and
Ornament—_Social Life_: Divisions, Wars, Marriages, Burial
Customs, Social Functions.
CHAPTER XVI
NATIVE CULTURE IN PRE-CHRISTIAN TIMES (_continued_) 236
Religion—Position of the Miru Clan—The Script—The Bird
Cult—Wooden Carvings.
CHAPTER XVII
CAVES AND CAVE-HUNTING 272
Residential Caves—Caves as Hiding-Places for Treasure—Burial
Caves.
CHAPTER XVIII
LEGENDS 277
First Arrival on the Island—The Long Ears exterminated by
the Short Ears—The Struggle between Kotuu and Hotu Iti.
CHAPTER XIX
THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE PROBLEM 290
PART III
_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE_
_EASTER ISLAND TO SAN FRANCISCO_
CHAPTER XX
PITCAIRN ISLAND 305
A Kind Welcome—Religion—Administration—Economic
Problems—Physique—Native Remains—A Glimpse of Rapa.
CHAPTER XXI
TAHITI, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS, SAN FRANCISCO 316
Tahiti—Voyage to Hawaiian Islands—Oahu, with its capital
Honolulu—Visit to Island of Hawaii—San Francisco—The
Author returns to England.
PART IV
_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE_—Continued
_SAN FRANCISCO TO SOUTHAMPTON_
BY S. R.
CHAPTER XXII
SAN FRANCISCO TO PANAMA 335
Catching Turtle—The Island of Socorro and what we found
there—The tale of a Russian Finn—Quibo Island—Suffering of
the Natives from Elephantiasis—A Haul with the Seine.
CHAPTER XXIII
PANAMA TO JAMAICA 359
Navigation of the Gulf of Panama—Balboa and the City of
Panama—Through the Canal—Cristobal—An Incapable Pilot—The
Education of a Cook—A Waterspout—A Further Exciting
Experience.
CHAPTER XXIV
JAMAICA TO SOUTHAMPTON 373
Jamaica, and the Bahamas—Bermudas—Azores—Preparing for
Submarines—Southampton once more.
EPILOGUE 389
ITINERARY OF THE EXPEDITION 392
INDEX 395
ILLUSTRATIONS
AN EASTER ISLAND IMAGE (_Photogravure_) _Frontispiece_
PAGE
PORTRAIT OF AUTHOR (_Photogravure_) x
PART I
FIG. PAGE
1. _MANA_ 3
1A. _MANA_, SECTION OF DECKHOUSE AND SALOON 6
2. PORTO SANTO 18
3. LAS PALMAS, GRAND CANARY 22
4. PORTO GRANDE, ST. VINCENT, CAPE VERDE ISLANDS 27
5. A GROUP ON DECK 32
6. BAHIA DE TODOS OS SANTOS 38
7. THE NATIVE CART, ACO COVE, PORTO BELLO 49
8. S. AND AN OSTRICH 71
9. PUNTA ARENAS 74
10. RIVER SCENE, ST. NICHOLAS BAY 79
11. CAPE FROWARD, MAGELLAN STRAITS 80
12. THE GLACIER GORGE, PORT CHURRUCA 81
13. MAP OF MANA INLET 85
14. CANOE CORDUROY PORTAGE 86
15. PATAGONIAN WATERWAYS 87
16. ENCAMPMENT OF PATAGONIAN INDIANS 90
17. INDIANS OF BRASSEY PASS 91
18. CANOE IN INDIAN REACH 91
19. HALE COVE 96
20. JUAN FERNANDEZ: AN IMPRESSION 111
21. CUMBERLAND BAY, JUAN FERNANDEZ 112
22. SELKIRK’S CAVE, JUAN FERNANDEZ 113
PART II
23. EASTER ISLAND FROM THE SOUTH (PANORAMIC VIEW) 122
24. EASTER ISLAND FROM RANO KAO (PANORAMIC VIEW) 123
25. MANAGER’S HOUSE, MATAVERI 128
26. A GROUP OF EASTER ISLANDERS 140
27. HANGA ROA VILLAGE 141
28. BAILEY, THE COOK, ON GUARD 144
29. EASTER ISLAND WOMEN 144
30. ANGATA, THE PROPHETESS 145
31. STATUE AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM 165
32. AKAHANGA COVE AND NEIGHBOURING AHU (PANORAMIC VIEW) 166
33. AHU TONGARIKI, SEAWARD SIDE (PANORAMIC VIEW) 166A
34. AHU TONGARIKI, LANDWARD SIDE (PANORAMIC VIEW) 166B
35. AHU VINAPU (PANORAMIC VIEW) 167
36. DIAGRAM OF IMAGE AHU 169
37. AHU TEPEU 170
38. METHOD OF EXPOSING THE DEAD 171
39. A SEMI-PYRAMID AHU 172
40. DIAGRAM OF SEMI-PYRAMID AHU 172
41. AHU MAHATUA, SEAWARD SIDE 173
42. AHU MAITAKI-TE-MOA, SEAWARD SIDE 174
43. AHU RUNGA-VAE 174A
44. PLAN OF RANO RARAKU 174C
45. RANO RARAKU FROM THE SEA 174D
46. „ „ FROM THE SOUTH-WEST .... 174E
47. „ „ INTERIOR OF CRATER (_line engraving_) 175
48. DIAGRAM OF RANO RARAKU 177
49. STATUE IN QUARRY, PARTIALLY SCULPTURED 178
50. STATUE IN QUARRY ATTACHED BY KEEL 179
51. „ „ „ READY TO BE LAUNCHED 179
52. STONE TOOL 180
53. „ „ 180
54. HEAD OF A STATUE AT MOUTH OF QUARRY 180
55. LARGEST IMAGE IN QUARRY 181
56. STATUE CARVED ON EDGE OF PRECIPICE 182
57. STANDING STATUES 183
58. STATUE SHOWING LOBE OF EAR AS A ROPE 184
59. „ „ „ „ „ CONTAINING A DISC 184
60. EXTERIOR OF RANO RARAKU (DIAGRAMMATIC SKETCH) 184B
60A. „ „ „ „ (KEY TO ABOVE) 184A
61. DIGGING OUT A STATUE 185
62. EXCAVATED IMAGE, PEG-SHAPED BASE 186
63. „ „ SHOWING SCAMPED WORK 186
64. BACK OF AN EXCAVATED STATUE 187
65. BACK OF STATUE AT ANAKENA 187
66. STATUE WITH UNMODELLED BACK 188
67. „ „ MODELLED BACK 188
68. „ „ BACK IN PROCESS OF BEING MODELLED 189
69. STATUE WEDGED BY BOULDERS 189
70. TWO IMAGES ERECTED IN QUARRY (FRONT VIEW) 190
71. „ „ „ „ „ (BACK VIEW) 191
72. STATUE SHOWING FORM OF HANDS 192
73. PROSTRATE STATUES, SOUTH-EAST SIDE, RANO RARAKU 193
74. MAP OF ANCIENT ROADS 194
75. STATUE ON SOUTH ROAD (UNBROKEN) 195
76. „ „ „ „ (BROKEN) 195
77. DIAGRAM OF CEREMONIAL AVENUE, HANGA PAUKURA 196
78. AHU PARO 197
79. CRATER FROM WHICH HATS OF IMAGES WERE HEWN 198
80. AN UNFINISHED HAT 199
81. A FINISHED HAT 199
82. MONUMENTS IN EASTER ISLAND—CAPTAIN COOK 204
83. PORTRAITS OF EASTER ISLANDERS 212
84. CANOE-SHAPED HOUSES, STONE FOUNDATIONS 215
84A. „ „ „ ENTRANCE AND PAVED AREA 215
85. „ „ „ DIAGRAM 217
86. HOUSE FOR CHICKENS 218
87. TOWER USED BY FISHERMEN 218
88. DESIGN USED IN TATTOOING 219
89. PORTRAIT OF MAHANGA OF PAUMOTU 220
90. AN OLD WOMAN, WITH DILATED EAR-LOBE 220
91. MAP OF EASTER ISLAND (POLITICAL) 222
92. OBSIDIAN SPEAR-HEADS 224
93. AHU, HANGA MAIHIKO, WITH PAVED APPROACH 229
94. DIAGRAM OF AHU POE-POE (CANOE-SHAPE) 230
95. AN AHU POE-POE (WEDGE SHAPE) 232
96. MIRU SKULL, WITH INCISED DESIGN 240
97. ANAKENA COVE 241
98. INCISED TABLET 244
99. tomenika’s script 252
100. CRATER LAKE, RANO KAO (PANORAMIC VIEW) 254
101. ANA KAI-TANGATA (CANNIBAL CAVE) 254A
102. PAINTINGS ON ROOF OF ANA KAI-TANGATA 254B
103. ORONGO, END HOUSES AND CARVED ROCKS 255
104. CENTRAL PORTION OF ORONGO VILLAGE 256
105. PAINTED SLABS FROM HOUSES AT ORONGO 257
106. BACK OF STATUE FROM ORONGO, AT BRITISH MUSEUM 258
107. CARVED DOOR-POST, ORONGO 259
108. RANO KAO FROM MOTU NUI 260
109. MOTU NUI AND MOTU ITI 261
110. ROCK AT ORONGO, WITH FIGURES OF BIRD-MEN 262
111. BOUNDARY STATUE FROM MOTU NUI 263
112. STONE, WITH FIGURE OF BIRD-MAN HOLDING EGG 263
113. POROTU 266
114. BIRD-CHILD IN CEREMONIAL DRESS 267
115. OBJECTS CARVED IN WOOD, “REI-MIRO” 268
116. „ „ „ „ “RAPA AND UA” 268
117. „ „ „ „ “MOKO-MIRO” 268
118. „ „ „ „ “AO” 268
119. WOODEN IMAGES (FRONT) 269
120. „ „ (BACK) 270
121. BIRD DESIGN ON WOODEN IMAGE 271
122. AHU OROI, FORMED OF OUTCROP OF ROCK 277
123. EASTERN HEADLAND AND ISLAND OF MAROTIRI 284
124. ANA HAVEA 285
125. BIRD AND HUMAN FIGURES IN THE SOLOMON ISLANDS AND
EASTER ISLAND 297
PART III
126. PITCAIRN ISLAND FROM THE SEA 306
127. „ „ CHURCH AND RESIDENCE OF MISSIONARIES 306
128. „ „ BOUNTY BAY 307
129. RAPA 315
130. A TAHITIAN PICTURE POST-CARD 319
131. MARAE MAHAIATEA, TAHITI 320
132. CHARLES AND EDWIN YOUNG 321
133. HEIAU PUUKOHOLA, HAWAII 327
134. SAN FRANCISCO 331
MAPS AND PLANS
MAGELLAN STRAITS AND PATAGONIAN CHANNELS 65
MANA INLET (FIG. 13) 85
EASTER ISLAND (PHYSICAL) 120A
PLAN OF RANO RARAKU (FIG. 44) 174C
EASTER ISLAND, ANCIENT ROADS (FIG. 74) 194
EASTER ISLAND (POLITICAL) (FIG. 91) 222
THE PACIFIC OCEAN 293
PANAMA 359
JAMAICA; CUBA AND BAHAMA ISLANDS 372
BERMUDA ISLANDS 378
PART I
_THE VOYAGE TO EASTER ISLAND_
[Illustration:
FIG. 1.
_MANA._
Charrua Bay, Patagonian Channels.
]
CHAPTER I
THE START
Why we went to Easter Island—The Building and Equipping of the Yacht—The
Start from Southampton—Dartmouth—Falmouth.
“All the seashore is lined with numbers of stone idols, with their backs
turned towards the sea, which caused us no little wonder, because we saw
no tool of any kind for working these figures.” So wrote, a century and
a half ago, one of the earliest navigators to visit the Island of Easter
in the South-east Pacific. Ever since that day passing ships have found
it incomprehensible that a few hundred natives should have been able to
make, move, and erect numbers of great stone monuments, some of which
are over thirty feet in height; they have marvelled and passed on. As
the world’s traffic has increased Easter Island has still stood outside
its routes, quiet and remote, with its story undeciphered. What were
these statues of which the present inhabitants know nothing? Were they
made by their ancestors in forgotten times or by an earlier race? Whence
came the people who reached this remote spot? Did they arrive from South
America, 2,000 miles to the eastward? Or did they sail against the
prevailing wind from the distant islands to the west? It has even been
conjectured that Easter Island is all that remains of a sunken
continent. Fifty years ago the problem was increased by the discovery on
this mysterious land of wooden tablets bearing an unknown script; they
too have refused to yield their secret.
When, therefore, we decided to see the Pacific before we died, and asked
the anthropological authorities at the British Museum what work there
remained to be done, the answer was, “Easter Island.” It was a much
larger undertaking than had been contemplated; we had doubts of our
capacity for so important a venture; and at first the decision was
against it, but we hesitated and were lost. Then followed the problem
how to reach the goal. The island belongs to Chile, and the only regular
communication, if regular it can be called, was a small sailing vessel
sent out by the Chilean Company, who use the island as a ranch; she went
sometimes once a year, sometimes not so often, and only remained there
sufficient time to bring off the wool crop. We felt that the work on
Easter ought to be accompanied with the possibility of following up
clues elsewhere in the islands, and that to charter any such vessel as
could be obtained on the Pacific coast, for the length of time we
required her, would be unsatisfactory, both from the pecuniary
standpoint and from that of comfort. It was therefore decided, as
Scoresby is a keen yachtsman, that it was worth while to procure in
England a little ship of our own, adapted to the purpose, and to sail
out in her. As the Panama Canal was not open, and the route by Suez
would be longer, the way would lie through the Magellan Straits.
Search for a suitable vessel in England was fruitless, and it became
clear that to get what we wanted we must build. The question of general
size and arrangement had first to be settled, and then matters of
detail. It is unfortunate that the precise knowledge which was acquired
of the exact number of inches necessary to sleep on, to sit on, and to
walk along is not again likely to be useful. The winter of 1910–11 was
spent over this work, but the professional assistance obtained proved to
be incompetent, and we had to begin again; the final architect of the
little yacht was Mr. Charles Nicholson, of Gosport, and the plans were
completed the following summer. They were for a vessel of schooner rig
and auxiliary motor power. The length over all was 90 feet, and the
water-line 72 feet; her beam was 20 feet. The gross tonnage was 91 and
the yacht tonnage was 126.
The vessel was designed in four compartments, with a steel bulkhead
between each of the divisions, so that in case of accident it would be
possible to keep her afloat. Aft was the little chart-room, which was
the pride of the ship. When we went on board magnificent yachts which
could have carried our little vessel as a lifeboat, and found the
navigation being done in the public rooms, we smiled with superiority.
Out of the chart-room were the navigator’s sleeping quarters, and in the
overhang of the stern the sail-locker. The next compartment was given to
the engines, and made into a galvanised iron box in case of fire. It
contained a motor engine for such work as navigation in and out of
harbour and traversing belts of calm. This was of 38 h.p. and run on
paraffin, as petrol was disallowed by the insurance; it gave her 5½
knots. In the same compartment was the engine for the electric light: in
addition the yacht had steam heating. The spaces between the walls of
the engine-box and those of the ship were given to lamps, and to
boatswain’s stores.
Then came the centre of the ship, containing the quarters of our
scientific party. The middle portion of this was raised three or four
feet for the whole length, securing first a deck-house and then a
heightened roof for the saloon below, an arrangement which was
particularly advantageous, as no port-holes were allowed below decks,
leaving us dependent on skylights and ventilators. Entering from
without, two or three steps led down into the deck-house, which formed
part of the saloon, but at a higher level; it was my chief resort
throughout the voyage. On each side was a settee, which was on the level
of the deck, and thus commanded a view through port-holes and door of
what was passing outside; one of these settees served as a berth in hot
weather. A small companion connected the deck-house with the saloon
below: the latter ran across the width of the ship; it also had
full-length settees both sides, and at the end of each was a chiffonier.
On the port side was the dinner-table, which swung so beautifully that
the fiddles were seldom used, and the thermos for the navigating officer
could be left happily on it all night. Starboard was a smaller table,
fitted for writing; and a long bookshelf ran along the top of the
for’ardside (fig. 1^A).
On the afterside of the saloon a double cabin opened out of it, and a
passage led to two single cabins and the bathroom. The cabins were
rather larger than the ordinary staterooms of a mail steamer, and the
arrangements of course more ample; every available cranny was utilised
for drawers and lockers, and in going ashore it was positive pain to see
the waste of room under beds and sofas and behind washing-stands. My
personal accommodation was a chest of drawers and hanging wardrobe,
besides the drawers under the berth and various lockers. Returning to
the saloon, a door for’ard opened into the pantry, which communicated
with the galley above, situated on deck for the sake of coolness.
For’ard again was a whole section given to stores, and beyond, in the
bows, a roomy forecastle. The yacht had three boats—a lifeboat which
contained a small motor engine, a cutter, and a dinghy; when we were at
sea the two former were placed on deck, but the dinghy, except on one
occasion only, was always carried in the davits, where she triumphantly
survived all eventualities, a visible witness to the buoyancy of the
ship.
While the plans were being completed, search was being made for a place
where the vessel should be built; for though nominally a yacht, the
finish and build of the Solent would have been out of place. It had been
decided that she should be of wood, as easier to repair in case of
accident where coral reefs and other unseen dangers abound; but the
building of wooden ships is nearly extinct. The west country was
visited, and an expedition made to Dundee and Aberdeen, but even there,
the old home of whalers, ships are now built of steel; finally we fixed
on Whitstable, from which place such vessels still ply round the coast.
The keel was laid in the autumn of 1911; the following spring we took up
our abode there to watch over her, and there in May 1912 she first took
the water, being christened by the writer in approved fashion. “I name
this ship _Mana_, and may the blessing of God go with her and all who
sail in her”—a ceremony not to be performed without a lump in the
throat. The choice of a name had been difficult; we had wished to give
her one borne by some ship of Dr. Scoresby, the Arctic explorer, a
friend of my husband’s family whose name he received, but none of them
proved to be suitable. The object was to find something which was both
simple and uncommon; all appellations that were easy to grasp seemed to
have been already adopted, while those that were unique lent themselves
to error. “How would it do in a cable?” was the regulation test. Finally
we hit on _Mana_, which is a word well known to anthropologists, and has
the advantage of being familiar throughout the South Seas. We generally
translated it somewhat freely as “good luck.” It means, more strictly,
supernatural power: a Polynesian would, for instance, describe the
common idea of the effect of a horseshoe by saying that the shoe had
“mana.” From a scientific standpoint mana is probably the simplest form
of religious conception. The yacht flew the burgee of the Royal Cruising
Club.
[Illustration:
FIG. 1ᴬ.—_MANA._ SECTION OF DECKHOUSE AND SALOON
]
From the time the prospective expedition became public we received a
considerable amount of correspondence from strangers: some of it was
from those who had special knowledge of the subject, and was highly
valued; other letters had a comic element, being from various young men,
who appeared to think that our few berths might be at the disposal of
anyone who wanted to see the world. One letter, dated from a newspaper
office, stated that its writer had no scientific attainments, but would
be glad to get up any subject required in the time before sailing; the
qualification of another for the post of steward was that he would be
able to print the menus and ball programmes. The most quaint experience
was in connection with a correspondent who gave a good name and address,
and offered to put at our disposal some special knowledge on the subject
of native lore, which he had collected as Governor of one of the South
Sea islands. On learning our country address, he wrote that he was about
to become the guest of some of our neighbours and would call upon us. It
subsequently transpired that they knew nothing of him, but that he had
written to them, giving our name. He did, in fact, turn up at our
cottage during our absence, and obtained an excellent tea at the expense
of the caretaker. The next we heard of him was from the keeper of a
small hotel in the neighbourhood of Whitstable, where he had run up a
large bill on the strength of a statement that he was one of our
expedition, and we found later that he had shown a friend over the yacht
while she was building, giving out he was a partner of my husband. We
understand that after we started he appeared in the county court at the
instance of the unfortunate innkeeper.
After much trouble we ultimately selected two colleagues from the older
universities. The arrangement with one of these, an anthropologist, was,
unfortunately, a failure, and ended at the Cape Verde Islands. The
other, a geologist, Mr. Frederick Lowry-Corry, took up intermediate work
in India, and subsequently joined us in South America. The Admiralty was
good enough to place at our disposal a lieutenant on full pay for
navigation, survey, and tidal observation. This post was ultimately
filled by Lieutenant D. R. Ritchie, R.N.
With regard to the important matter of the crew, it was felt that
neither merchant seamen nor yacht hands would be suitable, and a number
of men were chosen from the Lowestoft fishing fleet. Subsequent delays,
however, proved deleterious, the prospective “dangers” grew in size, and
the only one who ultimately sailed with us was a boy, Charles C.
Jeffery, who was throughout a loyal and valued member of the expedition.
The places of the other men were supplied by a similar class from
Brixham, who justified the selection. The mate, Preston, gave much
valuable service, and one burly seaman in particular, Light by name, by
his good humour and intelligent criticism added largely to the amenity
of the voyage. An engineer, who was also a photographer, was obtained
from Glasgow. We were particularly fortunate in our sailing master, Mr.
H. J. Gillam. He had seen, while in Japan, a notice of the expedition in
a paper, and applied with keenness for the post; to his professional
knowledge, loyalty, and pleasant companionship the successful
achievement of the voyage is very largely due. The full complement of
the yacht, in addition to the scientific members, consisted of the
navigator, engineer, cook-steward, under-steward, and three men for each
watch, making ten in all. S. was official master, and I received on the
books the by no means honorary rank of stewardess.
Whitstable proved to be an unsuitable place for painting, so _Mana_ made
her first voyage round to Southampton Water, where she lay for a while
in the Hamble River, and later at a yacht-builder’s in Southampton. The
steward on this trip took to his bed with seasickness; but as he was
subsequently found surreptitiously eating the dinner which S. had been
obliged to cook, we felt that he was not likely to prove a desirable
shipmate, and he did not proceed further. We had hoped to sail in the
autumn, but we had our full share of the troubles and delays which seem
inevitably associated with yacht-building: the engine was months late in
the installation, and then had to be rectified; the painting took twice
as long as had been promised; and when we put out for trial trips there
was trouble with the anchor which necessitated a return to harbour. The
friends who had kindly assembled in July at the Hans Crescent Hotel to
bid us good speed began to ask if we were ever really going to depart.
We spent the winter practically living on board, attending to these
affairs and to the complicated matter of stowage.
The general question of space had of course been very carefully
considered in the original designs. The allowance for water was
unusually large, the tanks containing sufficient for two, or with strict
economy for three months; the object in this was not only safety in long
or delayed passages, but to avoid taking in supplies in doubtful
harbours. Portions of the hold had to be reserved of course for coal,
and also for the welded steel tanks which contained the oil. When these
essentials had been disposed of, still more intricate questions arose
with regard to the allotment of room; it turned out to be greater than
we had ventured to hope, but this in no way helped, as every department
hastened to claim additional accommodation and to add something more to
its stock. Nothing was more surprising all through the voyage than the
yacht’s elasticity: however much we took on board we got everything in,
and however much we took out she was always quite full.
The outfit for the ship had of course been taken into consideration, but
as departure drew near it seemed, from the standpoint of below decks, to
surpass all reason; there were sails for fine weather and sails for
stormy weather, and spare sails, anchors, and sea-anchors, one-third of
a mile of cable, and ropes of every size and description.
As commissariat officer, the Stewardess naturally felt that domestic
stores were of the first importance. Many and intricate calculations had
been made as to the amount a man ate in a month, and the cubic space to
be allowed for the same. It had been also a study in itself to find out
what must come from England and what could be obtained elsewhere; kind
correspondents in Buenos Aires and Valparaiso had helped with advice,
and we arranged for fresh consignments from home to meet us in those
ports, of such articles as were not to be procured there or were
inordinately expensive. The general amount of provisions on board was
calculated for six months, but smaller articles, such as tea, were taken
in sufficient quantities for the two years which it was at the time
assumed would be the duration of the trip. We brought back on our return
a considerable amount of biscuits, for it was found possible to bake on
board much oftener than we had dared to hope. As a yacht we were not
obliged to conform to the merchant service scale of provisions, our
ship’s articles guaranteeing “sufficiency and no waste.” The merchant
scale was constantly referred to, but it is, by universal agreement,
excessive, and leads to much waste, as the men are liable to claim what
they consider their right, whether they consume the ration or not; the
result is that a harbour may not unfrequently be seen covered with
floating pieces of bread, or even whole loaves. The quantity asked for
by our men of any staple foods was always given, and there were the
usual additions, but we subsisted on about three-fourths of the legal
ration. We had only one case of illness requiring a doctor, and then it
was diagnosed as “the result of over-eating.” It was a source of
satisfaction that we never throughout the voyage ran short of any
essential commodity.
There were other matters in the household department for which it was
even more difficult to estimate than for the actual food—how many cups
and saucers, for example, should we break per month, and how many reams
of paper and quarts of ink ought we to take. Our books had of course to
be largely scientific, a sovereign’s worth of cheap novels was a boon,
but we often yearned unutterably for a new book. Will those who have
friends at the ends of the earth remember the godsend to them of a few
shillings so invested, as a means of bringing fresh thoughts and a sense
of civilised companionship? For a library for the crew we were greatly
indebted to the kindness of Lord Radstock and the Passmore Edwards Ocean
Library. We were subsequently met at every available port by a supply of
newspapers, comprising the weekly editions of the _Times_ and _Daily
Graphic_, the _Spectator_; and the papers of two Societies for Women’s
Suffrage.
In addition to the requirements for the voyage the whole equipment for
landing had to be foreseen and stowed, comprising such things as tents,
saddlery, beds, buckets, basins, and cooking-pots. We later regretted
the space given to some of the enamelled iron utensils, as they can be
quite well procured in Chile, while cotton and other goods which we had
counted on procuring there for barter were practically unobtainable.
Some sacks of old clothes which we took out for gifts proved most
valuable. Among late arrivals that clamoured for peculiar consideration
were the scientific outfits, which attained to gigantic proportions. S.,
who had studied at one time at University College Hospital, was our
doctor, and the medical and surgical stores were imposing: judging from
the quantity of bandages, we were each relied on to break a leg once a
month. Everybody had photographic gear; the geologist appeared with a
huge pestle and other goods; there was anthropological material for the
preserving of skulls; the surveying instruments looked as if they would
require a ship to themselves; while cases of alarming size arrived from
the Admiralty and Royal Geographical Society, containing sounding
machines and other mysterious articles. The owners of all these
treasures argued earnestly that they were of the essence of the
expedition, and must be treated with respect accordingly. Then of course
things turned up for which everyone had forgotten to allow room, such as
spare electric lamps, also a trammel and seine, each of fifty fathoms,
to secure fish in port. Before we finally sailed a large consignment
appeared of bonded tobacco for the crew, and the principal hold was
sealed by the Customs, necessitating a temporary sacrifice of the
bathroom for last articles.
This packing of course all took time, especially as nothing could be
allowed to get wet, and a rainy or stormy day hung up all operations.
Finally, however, on the afternoon of February 28th, 1913, the anchor
was weighed, and we went down Southampton Water under power. We were at
last off for Easter Island!
We had a good passage down the Channel, stopped awhile at Dartmouth, for
the Brixham men to say good-bye to their families, and arrived at
Falmouth on March 6th. Here there was experienced a tiresome delay of
nearly three weeks. The wind, which in March might surely have seen its
way to be easterly, and had long been from that direction, turned round
and blew a strong gale from the south-west. The harbour was white with
little waves, and crowded with shipping of every description, from
battleships to fishing craft. Occasionally a vessel would venture out to
try to get round the Lizard, only to return beaten by the weather. We
had while waiting the sad privilege of rendering a last tribute to our
friend Dr. Thomas Hodgkin, the author of _Italy and her Invaders_, who
just before our arrival had passed where “tempests cease and surges
swell no more.” He rests among his own people in the quiet little Quaker
burial-ground.
It was not till Lady Day, Tuesday, March 25th, that the wind changed
sufficiently to allow of departure; then there was a last rush on shore
to obtain sailing supplies of fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables, and to
send off good-bye telegrams. Everything was triumphantly squeezed in
somewhere and carefully secured, so that nothing should shift when the
roll began. The only articles which found no home were two sacks of
potatoes, which had to remain on the cabin floor, because the space
assigned to them below hatches had, in my absence on shore, been
nefariously appropriated by the Sailing-master for an additional supply
of coal.
It was dark before all was ready, and we left Falmouth Harbour with the
motor; then out into the ocean, the sails hoisted, the Lizard Light
sighted, and good-bye to England!
“Two years,” said our friends, “that is a long time to be away.” “Oh
no,” we had replied; “we shall find when we come back that everything is
just the same; it always is. You will still be talking of Militants, and
Labour Troubles, and Home Rule; there will be a few new books to read,
the children will be a little taller—that will be all.” But the result
was otherwise.
CHAPTER II
THE VOYAGE TO SOUTH AMERICA
A Gale at Sea—Madeira—Canary Islands—Cape Verde Islands—Across the
Atlantic.
The first day in open ocean was spent in shaking down; on going on deck
before turning in it was found to be a clear starlight night, and the
man at the wheel prophesied smooth things. It was a case of—
“A little ship was on the sea,
It was a pretty sight,
It sailed along so pleasantly,
And all was calm and bright.”
But, alas! the storm did soon begin to rise; by morning we were in
troubled waters, and by noon we were battened down and hove to. We had
given up all idea of making progress and were riding out the gale as
best we might. All the saloon party were more or less laid low,
including Mr. Ritchie, for the first time in his life. The steward was
not seen for two days; and if it had not been that the under-steward,
who shall be known as “Luke,” rose to the occasion, the state of affairs
would have been somewhat serious. He not only contrived to satisfy the
appetites of the crew, which were subsequently said to have been
abnormally good, but also staggered round, with black hands and a
tousled head, ministering with tea and bovril to our frailer needs. The
engineer, a landsman, was too incapacitated to do any work, and doubt
arose as to whether we should not be left without electric light. More
alarming was the fact that the place smelt badly of paraffin, arousing
anxiety as to the effect the excessive rolling of the ship might have
had on our carefully tested tanks and barrels; happily the odour proved
to be due merely to a temporary overflow in the engine-room.
We now found the disadvantage of having abandoned, owing to our various
delays, the trial runs in home waters which had at one time been
planned. The skylights, which would have been adequate for ordinary
yachting—which has been described as “going round and round the Isle of
Wight”—proved unequal to the work expected of _Mana_, and the truth
appeared of a dark saying of the Board of Trade surveyor that “skylights
were not ventilation.” Not only could they of course not be raised in
bad weather, but those which, like mine, were arranged to open, admitted
the sea to an unpleasant degree; such an amount of water had to be
conveyed by means of dripping towels into canvas baths that it seemed at
one time as if the Atlantic would be perceptibly emptier. When in the
midst of the gale night fell on the lonely ship the sensation was eerie;
every now and then the persistent rolling, which threw from side to side
of the berth those fortunate enough to be below, was interrupted by a
resounding crash in the darkness as a big wave broke against the
vessel’s side, followed by the rushing surge and gurgle of the water as
it poured in a volume over the deck above. Then the hubbub entirely
ceased, and for a perceptible time the vessel lay perfectly still in the
trough of the wave, like a human creature dazed by a sudden blow, after
a second or two to begin again her weary tossing. I wondered, as I lay
there, which was the more weird experience, this night or one spent in
camp in East Africa with no palisade, in a district swarming with lions,
and again recalled the philosophy of one of our Swahili boys.
“Frightened? No, he eats me, he does not eat me; it is all the will of
Allah.”
By morning the worst was over, and it was a comfort to hear Mr. Gillam
singing cheerfully something about “In the Bay of Biscay O,” a
performance he varied with anathemas on the seasick steward. When I was
able to get on deck, the waves were still descending on us—if not the
proverbial mountains; at any rate hills high, looking as if they must
certainly overwhelm us. It was wonderful to see, what later I took for
granted, how the yacht rose to each, taking it as it were in her stride.
It was reported to have been a “full gale, a hurricane, as bad as could
be, with dangerous cross seas”; but the little vessel had proved herself
a splendid sea-going boat, and “had ridden it out like a duck.” For the
next little while I can only say in the words of the poet, “It was not
night, it was not day”; neither the clothes people wore, nor the food
they took, nor their times of downsitting and uprising had anything to
do with the hours of light and darkness. By Saturday, however, the
weather was better, meals were established, and things generally more
civilised. We had another bad gale somewhere in the latitude of
Finisterre, being hove to for thirty hours, but were subsequently very
little troubled with seasickness. The second Sunday out, April 6th, we
experienced a short interlude of calm, and I discovered that not only
does a sailing ship not travel in bad weather, but that when it is
really beautifully smooth she also has a bad habit of declining to go.
Anyway, we held our first service, and “O God, our help” went, if not in
Westminster Abbey form, at any rate quite creditably.
Mr. Ritchie had decided to take two sides of a triangle, first west and
then south, rather than run any risk of being blown on to Ushant or
Finisterre; a precaution which, in view of the proved powers of the boat
to hold her own against a head wind, he subsequently thought to have
been unnecessary. After we left the English shores we only saw two
vessels till we were within sight of Madeira, and some of our Brixham
men, who had never been far from their native shores or away from their
fishing fleet, were much impressed with the size and loneliness of the
ocean. “It was astonishing,” said Light, “that there could be so much
water without any land or ships,” and he expressed an undisguised desire
for “more company.”
Somehow or other we had all come to the conclusion that we would put
into Madeira, instead of going straight through to Las Palmas, for which
we had cleared from Falmouth. The first land which we sighted was the
outlying island of the group, Porto Santo. This was appropriate on a
voyage to the New World, as Columbus resided there with his
father-in-law, who was governor of the place; and it is said that from
his observations there of drift-wood, and other indications, he first
conceived the idea of the land across the waters, to which he made his
famous voyage in 1492. Our mate entertained us with a tale of how he had
been shipwrecked on Porto Santo, the yacht on which he was serving
having overrun her reckonings as she approached it from the west;
happily all on board were able to escape. The wind fell after we made
the group, so that we did not get into the harbour of Funchal for
another thirty-six hours, and then only with the help of the motor. It
was most enjoyable cruising along the coast of Madeira, watching the
great mountains, woods, ravines, and nestling villages, at whose
existence the passengers on the deck of a Union-Castle liner can only
vaguely guess. The day was Sunday, April 13th, and later it became a
matter of remark how frequently we hit off this day of the week for
getting into harbour, a most inconvenient one from the point of view of
making the necessary arrangements. As we entered, a Portuguese liner,
coming out of Funchal, dipped its flag in greeting to our blue ensign;
out came the harbour-master’s tug to show us where to take up our
position, down went the anchor with a comfortable rattle, and so ended
the first stage of our journey.
The voyage had taken eighteen days, and averaged about sixty miles a
day, as against the hundred miles on which we had calculated, and which
later we sometimes exceeded. A man who crosses the ocean in a powerful
steam-vessel, as one who travels by land in an express train,
undoubtedly gains in speed, but he loses much else. He misses a thousand
beauties, he has no contact with Nature, no sense of the exultation
which comes from progress won step by step by putting forth his own
powers to bend hers to his will. The late veteran seaman Lord Brassey is
reported to have said that “when once an engine is put into a ship the
charm of the sea is gone.” All through our voyage also there was a
fascinating sense of having put back the hands of time. This was the
route and these in the main the conditions under which our ancestors,
the early Empire builders, travelled to India; later we were on the
track of Drake, Anson, and others. Some of Drake’s ships were apparently
about the size of _Mana_.[1] The world has been shrinking of late, and
to return to a simpler day is to restore much of its size and dignity.
[Illustration:
FIG. 2.—PORTO SANTO.
]
MADEIRA
Madeira was settled by the Portuguese early in the fifteenth century.
With the exception of an interlude in the Napoleonic wars, when it was
taken by England, it has ever since been a possession of that country.
Funchal, with its sunshine and its smiling houses, is well known to all
travellers to South Africa. The season was just over, but the weather
was still pleasantly cool, and flowers covered the walls with great
masses of colour. We were there three days, and occupied our time in the
usual way by ascending the hill above the town in the funicular railway,
but instead of descending in the picturesque toboggans we came down on
foot. The walk took about two hours down a path which is paved the whole
way, representing a very large amount of labour. We regretted that we
were unable to stay longer and see something of the life in those lonely
cottages among the mountains, which we had seen from the sea, where the
women are said to add considerably to their income by the embroidery for
which the island is famous. Since our visit Funchal, as belonging to one
of the Allies, has suffered in the Great War through enemy action,
having been shelled from the sea and the shipping in the harbour sunk by
a German raid.
GRAND CANARY
The Canary group consists of some nine islands, of which the most
important are Teneriffe and Grand Canary. They have been known from
the earliest times, but European sovereignty did not begin till 1402,
and it was the end of the century before all the islands became
subject to the crown of Castile. This prolonged warfare was due to the
very brave resistance offered by the original inhabitants, known as
Guanches. These very interesting people, who are of Berber extraction,
withstood the Spaniards till 1483, and the name of Grand Canary is
said to have been obtained from their stubborn defence. The final
defeat of the natives was largely due to the terror inspired by their
first sight of a body of cavalry which the Spaniards had landed on the
island. The Guanches of Teneriffe held out till 1496. The Canaries
were thus subdued just in time to become a stepping-stone to the New
World. The horses of the cavalry were carried to America, and formed
part of the stock from which sprang the wild American mustang.
On quitting Madeira we caught the north-east trade wind at once, and had
a capital run to the Grand Canary, doing the 197 miles in 51½ hours.
The aspect of our new harbour, Puerto de la Luz by name, was somewhat
depressing. On its south side is the mainland of the island, which
consists of sandhills, behind which are bleak, arid-looking mountains,
whose summits during the whole of our three weeks’ stay were
continuously veiled in mist. The west side is formed by the promontory
of Isleta, which would be an island save that it is connected with Grand
Canary by a sand isthmus washed up by the sea, much after the manner
that Gibraltar is united to the Spanish mainland. The remainder of the
protection for the harbour consists of artificial breakwaters. The only
spot on which the eye rests with pleasure is a distant view of a cluster
of houses, above which rises a cathedral; this is the capital, Las
Palmas, which lies two or three miles to the south. The effect made on
the new-comer, especially after leaving luxuriant Madeira, is that of
having been transported into the heart of Africa.
The port, if not attractive, is at any rate prosperous. The Canaries are
still a stepping-stone to the New World, and in accordance with modern
requirements have turned into a great coaling station. In Puerto de la
Luz six or seven different firms compete for the work. The British
Consul, Major Swanston, gave us a most interesting account of his duties
during the South African War in revictualling the transports which
called here. Mention should not be omitted of the delightful new
institute of the British and Foreign Sailors’ Society, with
billiard-room, reading-room, and arranged concerts, to which our men
were very glad to resort; but indeed we met similar kind provision in so
many ports that it seems invidious to particularise.
This was my first experience of life in a foreign port as “stewardess,”
for our stay at Madeira was only an interlude. To passengers on a mail
steamer the time so spent is generally concerned with changing into
shore clothes, and making up parties for dinner on land to avoid the
exigencies of coaling. To those in charge of a small boat its aspect is
very different. Much of it is not a time of leisure, but to be an acting
member of a British ship in a foreign port is distinctly exhilarating.
It brings with it a sense both of being a humble representative of one’s
own nationality, and also of belonging to the great busy fraternity of
the sea. First, as land is approached, comes the running up of the
ensign and burgee; then the making of the ship’s number, as the
signal-station is passed, which will in due course be reported to
Lloyds; next follows the entry into port, and the awaiting of the
harbour-master, on whose fiat it hangs where the vessel shall take up
her berth. He is succeeded by doctor and customs officer to examine the
ship’s papers; and all these are matters not for some mysterious
personages with gold braid, but of personal interest.
As soon as the yacht is safely berthed the Master goes on shore to visit
the consul, and obtain the longed-for letters and newspapers. In the
food department the important question of food at once arises. My hope
had always been that we should have found a steward capable of taking
over this responsibility, but though we had various changes, and paid
the highest wages, we were never able to get one sufficiently reliable,
and the work therefore fell on the Stewardess. We at first used to go on
shore and cater personally, which is no doubt the most satisfactory
method, but in view of the time involved we subsequently relied on the
“ships’ chandlers,” who are universal providers, to be found in all
ports of any size, and who will bring fresh stores to the ship daily. A
very careful examination and comparison of prices is necessary, for one
of the annoying parts of owning a boat is that even the smallest
yacht-owner is considered fair game for extortion and dishonest dealing.
The variation in the cost of commodities in different harbours requires
a very elastic mind on the part of the housekeeper, both as to menus in
port and purchases for the next stage of the voyage. It puts an
extremely practical interest into the list of exports, which formed so
dreary a part of geography as taught in one’s own childhood. At Las
Palmas prices were much as in pre-war England; at our next port, in Cape
Verde Islands, the best meat was sixpence a pound, and fish sufficient
for four cost threepence, but the cost of bread was high. At Rio de
Janeiro and elsewhere in South America, though most things were ruinous,
we obtained enough coffee at very reasonable prices to carry us home;
while in Buenos Aires, with mutton at fourpence a pound, it was a matter
of regret that the hold was not twice as large.
On arriving in port after a long voyage, work is generally needed on the
vessel or her engines: if so, the name of the right firm has to be
obtained, the firm found, an estimate obtained and bargain made. Then
the work has to be done and frequently redone, all of which causes delay
it seems impossible to avoid; a fortnight may thus easily be spent in
getting a two days’ job accomplished. In Las Palmas we were fortunate in
finding a capable firm, who took in hand such alterations as our
experience in the Bay had shown to be necessary. The offending skylights
were fastened down, and ventilating shafts substituted, with the result
that we had no more trouble. We had a good deal of extra work on board
to do ourselves from a tiresome mishap. In inspecting the stove
connected with the heating apparatus, it was noticed that there was
water under the grating; this was at first thought to be due to skylight
drip, but on lifting the grating there was seen to be quite deep water
in the hold almost up to the outside sea-level. The pumps were at once
rigged to get it down, but it was found still to be filling; and it was
then discovered that there was a serious leakage, due to the fact that
the pipe through which the water came to cool the engine had been
defectively jointed. It meant days of work to go through the stores
affected. Happily nothing was lost except about twenty pounds of tea,
and some sweets intended for gifts; but if the accident, which was
entirely due to careless workmanship, had happened at sea the results
might have been disastrous.
We were glad when we were at last able to see something of the country.
If the harbour of Luz is not beautiful, the road from it into Las Palmas
is still less so. It runs between the sea and arid sandhills, and
abounds in ruts and dust; as there is also no street lighting, “the
rates,” as S. remarked, “can hardly be high.” Half-way along this road
there stand, for no very obvious reason, the English Church and Club,
also a good hotel, the Santa Catalina, belonging to a steamship company;
otherwise it is bordered by poor and unattractive houses of stucco, the
inhabitants of which seem permanently seated at the windows to watch the
passers-by. Happily the distance is traversed by means of trams, owned
by a company with English capital, which run frequently between the port
and the city and do the journey in twenty minutes.
Las Palmas itself is not unpicturesque. Its main feature is a stony
river-bed, which runs down the centre of the city and is spanned by
various bridges; it was empty when we saw it, but is no doubt at times,
even in this waterless land, filled with a raging, boiling current from
the mountains. In the principal square, opposite the cathedral, is the
museum, which contains an admirable anthropological collection,
concerned mostly with relics of the Guanches. When we were there the
city was gay with bunting and grand stands for a _fiesta_, in
celebration of the anniversary of the union of the islands with the
crown of Castile; a flying man, a carnival, and an outdoor cinema
entertainment were among the chief excitements. At one of the hotels we
discussed politics with the waiter, who was a native of the island. He
had been in England, but never in Spain; nevertheless, he seemed in
touch with the situation in the ruling country. There would, he
declared, be great changes in Spain in the next fifteen years. The King
did his best in difficult circumstances, but anti-clerical feeling was
too strong to allow of the continuation of the present state of things.
In Grand Canary there was, he said, the same feeling as in Spain against
the constant exactions of the Church. The women were still devout, but
you might go into any village and talk against the Church and meet with
sympathy from the men. He himself was a socialist, and as such “had no
country; countries were for rich people who had something belonging to
them, something to lose; for those who had to work all countries were
the same.” He only lived in Canary, he said, because his people were
there. We pointed out that the bond with one’s own people was precisely
what made one country home and not another, but the argument fell flat.
[Illustration:
FIG. 3.
_From a photo._
LAS PALMAS, GRAND CANARY.
]
The great charm of the island lies in the mountainous character of the
interior region. Three roads radiate from the capital, one along the
coast to the north, another to the south, and the third inland. Along
all these it is necessary to travel some distance before points of
interest are reached, and we were at the disadvantage of never being
able to be more than a night or two away from the ship without returning
to see how the work on board was progressing. On all the main routes are
run motor-buses, which are chiefly characterised by indications of
impending dissolution, and inspire awe by the rapidity with which they
turn corners without any preliminary easing down. The natives, however,
appeared to think that the accidents were not unreasonably numerous.
In addition to motors there are local “coaches” drawn by horses, after
the manner of covered wagonettes; they will no doubt be gradually
superseded by the motors, but still command considerable custom. Both
types of vehicles are delightfully vague in the hours which they keep,
being just as likely to start too soon as too late, thus presupposing an
indefinite amount of time for the passengers to spend at the
starting-place.
Our first expedition was by the inland or middle road, which winds up by
the bleak hillside till it reaches a beautiful and attractive country.
To those unaccustomed to such latitudes, it comes as a surprise to see
fertility increasing instead of diminishing with elevation, due to the
more constant rain among the hills. Monte and Santa Brigida may be said
to be residential neighbourhoods and have comfortable hotels and
boarding-houses. There are two principal sights to be visited from
there. One is the village of Atalaya, which consists of a zone of cave
dwellings, almost encircling the summit of a dome-shaped hill. The
eminence falls away on two sides to a deep ravine, over which it
commands magnificent views, and is connected with the adjacent hills by
a narrow coll. The rock is of consolidated volcanic tuff, in which the
dwellings are excavated. The fronts of the houses abut on the pathway,
which is about four feet wide, and are unequally placed, following the
contour of the ground. Each dwelling consists of two apartments, both
about twelve feet square, with rounded angles and a domed roof, the
surface of the walls shows the chisel marks. The front apartment is used
as a bed-sittingroom, the back one as a store; and in some cases a
lean-to outhouse has been built of blocks of the same material, in which
cooking is done and the goats kept. Doors and window-sashes are inserted
into the solid stone. Both dwellings and surroundings are beautifully
clean and neat; the first one exhibited we imagined to be a “show”
apartment, till others proved equally neat and orderly. Flowers were
planted in crannies of the rock and around the doors and windows, being
carefully tended and watered. The industry of the village is making pots
by hand without a wheel, the sand being obtained in one direction and
the clay in another: the shapes coincide in several instances with those
taken from native burial-grounds and now to be seen in the museum at Las
Palmas. The occasion of our visit was unfortunately a _fiesta_, and
regular work was not going on: an old lady, however, made us a model pot
in a few minutes; it was fashioned out of one piece of clay, with the
addition of a little extra material if necessary: the pottery is
unglazed. Various specimens of the art were obtained by the Expedition
and are now in the Pitt Rivers Museum at Oxford.
About half a mile from these troglodyte abodes, and adjoining the coll,
is an extraordinarily fine specimen of an extinct crater or _caldero_.
Its walls are almost vertical and unclad by vegetation: about two-thirds
of the circumference is igneous rock, and the rest black volcanic ash,
which exhibits the stratification in the most marked manner. The crater
is about 1,000 feet deep, the floor is flat and dry, and the visitor
looks down on a house at the bottom and cultivated fields.
We returned to _Mana_ for a night or two, and then made an expedition by
motor along the north road, sleeping at the picturesque village of
Fergas, and from thence by mule over the beautiful mountain-track to
Santa Brigida. We changed animals _en route_, and the price asked for a
fresh beast was outrageous. We were prepared under the circumstances to
pay it, when the portly lady of the inn, who was obviously “a
character,” beckoned us mysteriously round a corner, and, though we had
scarcely two words of any language in common, gave us emphatically to
understand that we were on no account to be so swindled, she would see
we got another. This, however, was not accomplished for another hour,
with the result that the last part of the journey was traversed in total
darkness, and the lights of the hotel were very welcome.
_Mana_ being still in the hands of work-people, we made our next way by
the south road to the town of Telde, near which is a mountain known as
Montana de las Cuatro Puertas, where are a wonderful series of caves
connected with the Guanches. The road from Las Palmas skirts the
sea-coast for a large part of the way, being frequently cut into the
cliff-face and in one place passing through a tunnel: the town lies on
the lowland not far from the sea. We arrived late in the afternoon, and
endeavoured to make a bargain for rooms with the burly landlord of the
rather humble little inn. As difficulties supervened a man who spoke a
little English was called in to act as interpreter. He turned out to be
a vendor of ice-creams who had visited London, and to make the
acquaintance of the exponent of such a trade in his native surroundings
was naturally a most thrilling experience. He expressed a great desire
to return to that land of wealth, England, though his knowledge of our
language was so extremely limited he had obviously, when there,
associated principally with his own countrymen.
We went for a stroll before dark, noticing the system of irrigation: the
water is preserved in large tanks, from which it is distributed in all
directions by small channels, and so valuable is it that these conduits
are in many cases made of stone faced with Portland cement. They are
now, however, in some instances being replaced by iron pipes, which have
naturally the merit of saving loss by evaporation. Canary is a land
where the owner of a spring has literally a gold-mine. This is the most
celebrated district for oranges. After our evening meal we joined the
company in the central _plaza_ of the little town. The moon shone down
through the trees; young men sat and smoked, and young girls, wearing
white mantillas, strolled about in companies of four or five, chatting
gaily. The elders belonged to the village club, which opened on to the
square; it was confined seemingly to one room, of which the whole space
was occupied by a billiard-table; this, however, was immaterial, as the
company spent a large part of the time in the _plaza_, an arrangement
which doubtless had the merit of saving house rent. A little way down a
side street the light streamed from the inn windows. Nearer at hand the
church stood out against the sky; it was May, the month of the Virgin
Mary, and a special service in her honour had just concluded. One felt a
momentary expectation that Faust and Marguérite or other friends from
stage-land would appear on the scene; they may of course have been there
unrecognised by us.
We discovered after much trouble that a motor-bus ran through the
village early next morning, passing close to the mountain which we had
come to visit, and could drop us on the way. We passed a fairly
comfortable night, though not undiversified by suspicions that our beds
were occupied by earlier denizens; and had just begun breakfast when the
bus appeared, some time before the earliest hour specified. We had to
tear down and catch it, leaving the meal barely tasted; the kind
attendant following us and pressing into our hand the deserted fried
fish done up in a piece of newspaper. Such hurry, however, proved to be
quite unnecessary, as we had not got beyond the precincts of the small
town before the vehicle came to an unpremeditated stop, through the fan
which cools the radiator having broken. We waited half an hour or so in
company with our fellow-passengers, who appeared stolidly resigned, and
then, as there seemed no obvious prospect of continuing our journey,
grew restless. Here again the ice-cream man acted as _deus ex machina_:
he was standing about with the crowd which had assembled, blowing a horn
at intervals, and distributing ices not infrequently to small infants,
whose fond mammas provided the requisite penny; he told us he generally
made a sum equal to about one-and-sixpence a day in this manner.
Grasping our difficulty, he delivered an impassioned address on our need
to the assembled multitude, which after further delay resulted in the
appearance of a wagonette and mules. The Montana de las Cuatro Puertas
rises out of comparatively level ground near the coast and commands
magnificent views. The top is honeycombed with caves, and one towards
the north has the four entrances from which the mountain takes its name.
It is said to have been the site of funeral rites of the inhabitants.
The place is both impressive and interesting, and would well repay more
careful study than the superficial view which was all it was possible
for us to give it.
[Illustration:
FIG. 4
PORTO GRANDE, ST. VINCENT, CAPE VERDE ISLANDS.
]
We decided to return to Las Palmas in the local coach, as we had
previously found travelling by this means both cheap and quite
comfortable. This time, however, our luck was otherwise. The vehicle
could have reasonably held eleven, but one passenger after another
joined it along the route, one new-comer was constrained to find a seat
on the pole, another stood on the step, and so forth, till we numbered
twenty, of all ages and sexes. The day was hot, but the good-natured
greeting, almost welcome, which was given to each arrival by the
original passengers made us hesitate to show the feelings which consumed
us. The sentiments of the horses are not recorded, but we gathered that
they were more analogous to our own.
All on _Mana_ was at length ready. There were the usual good-byes and
parting duties: the bank had to be visited, all bills settled, and
letters posted. Last of all a bill of health had to be obtained from the
representative of the country to which the ship was bound, certifying
that she came from a clean port and that all on board were well.
CAPE VERDE ISLANDS
The Cape Verde Islands are a collection of volcanic rocks, rising out
of the Atlantic, some 500 miles from the African mainland. There are
nine islands, with a total population (1911) of 142,000. The group was
first discovered by Europeans in 1446, through the agency of one of
the expeditions sent out by Prince Henry the Navigator. Unlike the
Canaries, the Cape Verde Islands when found were uninhabited; but
there were monolithic remains and other traces of earlier visitors,
all of which have unfortunately now disappeared. The Portuguese
settlers almost immediately imported negro labour, and the present
population is a mixed race. For a long time the Leeward Islands, or
southern portion of the group, attracted the most attention, and one
of them, St. Jago by name, is still the seat of government. St.
Vincent, however, which belongs to the Windward or northern section,
and was at one time a convict settlement, is now the more important
from a commercial point of view, as its magnificent harbour, Porto
Grande, forms a coaling station for steamers bound to South America.
The British consul removed there from St. Jago during the middle of
last century. It is also the centre for the East and West Cable
Company.
The next stage of our outward voyage the conditions were again pleasant
and satisfactory.
We left Las Palmas on Saturday, May 10th; the trade wind was still with
us, the weather delightful, and we did the distance to St. Vincent, Cape
Verde Islands, in seven days. We had heard nothing but evil of it. “An
impossible place;” “another Aden;” “a mere cinder-heap.” It was
therefore a pleasant surprise to find ourselves in a most beautiful
harbour. Rugged mountains of imposing height rise on three sides of the
bay, Porto Grande, and the fourth is protected by the long high
coast-line of the neighbouring island, San Antonio. Standing out in the
entrance of the bay is the conical Birds’ Rock, looking as if designed
by nature for the lighthouse it carries. The colouring is indescribable:
all the nearer mountains are what can only be termed a glowing red,
which, as distance increases, softens into heliotrope. On the edge of
the bay and at the foot of the eastern hills lies the town of Mindello.
A building law, made with the object of avoiding glare, forbids any
house to be painted white, and the resulting colour-washes, red, yellow,
and blue, if sometimes a little crude, tone on the whole well into the
landscape.
If beauty of form and strange weird colouring are the first things which
strike the new-comer to St. Vincent, the next, it must be admitted, is
the marvellous bleakness of the place. Hillsides and mountains stand out
bare and rugged, without showing, on a cursory inspection at any rate,
the least sign of vegetation. One of the characteristics also of the
place is the constant tearing wind. During the whole of our visit of
some ten days we were never able to find a day when it was calm enough
for Mrs. Taylor, the wife of the British Consul, to face the short
passage from the harbour and visit _Mana_. This wind is purely local and
a short distance off dies away. How, one is inclined to ask, can it be
possible for English men and women to endure life in a tropical glare,
with a perpetual wind without any trees, any grass, any green on which
to rest the eye? And yet we found over and over again that, though the
comer from greener worlds is at first unhappy and restless in St.
Vincent, those who had been there some time found life pleasant and
enjoyable and had no desire to exchange it.
There are several coaling and other English firms, and local society
rejoices in as many as thirty English ladies. The cable company has over
a hundred employees, of whom the greater number are English. The
unmarried members of the staff live together in the station, each having
a bed-sitting-room and dining in a common hall. There is an English
chaplain, and also a Baptist minister, who is the proprietor of the
principal shop. The chaplain had the experience, which everyone must
have felt would happen some time to someone, of being carried off
involuntarily on an ocean-going steamer. He was saying good-bye to
friends, missed the warning bell, and before he knew was _en route_ for
a port in South America, to which he had duly to proceed. For recreation
St. Vincent possesses a tennis-court and cricket-field: the last is in a
particularly arid spot some distance from the town, which is however
already planned out on paper by the authorities with streets and houses
for prospective needs; in the design the pitch is left vacant and named
in Portuguese “Game of Cricket,” the remainder of the field being filled
in anticipation with a grove of trees.
Some of the residents have villas among the hills or by one of the
scarce oases. We made an excursion to one of these last resorts which is
a famed beauty-spot, and found it a narrow gulch between two mountains,
with a little stream and a few unhappy vegetables and woebegone trees.
It was difficult to imagine, while traversing the road along one
hillside after another, each covered with nothing but rocks and rubble,
on what the few animals subsisted; it was remarked that the milk could
not need sterilising, as the cows fed only on stones. The rains occur in
August, after which the hills are covered with a small green plant. We
were told that some of the valleys higher up are comparatively fruitful,
and certainly it is possible to obtain vegetables at a not unreasonable
price. The women who live in the hills carry back quite usually, after a
shopping expedition, loads of seventy to eighty pounds for a distance of
perhaps three miles, with a rise of 900 feet, making the whole journey
in two and a half hours.
The British Consul, Captain Taylor, R.N., has with much enterprise
established a body of Boy Scouts among the youthful inhabitants. An
attractive member of the corps, wearing a becoming and sensible uniform,
accompanied us as guide on two occasions, when we made excursions on the
island, giving the whole afternoon to us. He declined to accept any
remuneration, as it was against the principles of his order to be paid
for doing a good turn. Other youthful natives are less useful and more
grasping. One small imp, with a swarthy complexion and head like an
overgrown radish, became our constant follower. The acquaintance began
one day when S. was carrying a large biscuit-tin from the post office,
in which some goods had just arrived from England: he followed him down
the pier, beseeching, “Oh, Captain Biscuit-Tin, give me one penny.”
Every time after this, when S. went on shore for business or pleasure,
“Biscuit-Tin,” as we in our turn named the boy, was there awaiting him.
Once, in stepping out of the boat on to the rusty iron ladder of the
jetty, his toe almost caught on a small round head as it emerged from
the water uttering the cry, “Oh, Captain, where is that penny?” A crowd
had surrounded the landing-stage, so the boy had dived into the water as
the easiest way of approach. He expressed the desire to come with us to
Buenos Aires, undeterred by the information which S. gravely gave him
that “all the boys on board were beaten every day, with an extra beating
on Saturday.” The avocation which he proposed to fill was that of cook’s
boy, as he “would have much to eat.” He followed us for the whole of one
expedition, eventually obtaining “that penny” as we shoved off from the
pier for the last time, an hour before sailing. He clapped it into his
cheek, as a monkey does a nut, and held out his hand to me for another;
but I was already in the boat, and a coin was not forthcoming; so that
the last which we saw of “Biscuit-Tin” he was still demanding “one
penny.”
We brought away from St. Vincent a permanent addition to our party, a
Portuguese negro of fine build, by name Bartolomeo Rosa. The rest of the
crew accepted his companionship without hesitation and naturally
christened him “Tony.” Later we found, with sympathy, that he was
wearing goloshes, in a temperature when most of the party were only too
happy to go shoeless, because Light, who had more particularly taken him
under his wing, said “the sight of his black feet puts me off my food.”
Rosa remained with us to the end of the voyage. He learnt English
slowly, and would never have risen to the rank of A.B., but was always
quiet, steady, and dependable. He drew but little of his wages, and had
therefore a considerable sum standing to his credit when we returned to
Southampton. He proposed, he said, to go back to his old mother at St.
Vincent and there set up with his earnings as a trader. He would get a
shop, stock it, and marry a wife, and she would attend to the customers,
while he would sit outside the door on the head of a barrel and smoke.
When it was suggested that such a course would inevitably end in drink,
he added a boat to the programme, in which he would sometimes go out and
catch fish.
We were detained at St. Vincent awaiting the arrival of a spare piece of
machinery, and occupied the time by watering the yacht at the bay of
Tarafel in the island of San Antonio. A stream from the high ground
there finds its way to the sea, and supplies the water for the town of
Mindello. The lower part of its banks are fertile, forming a beautiful,
if small, spot of verdure amid the arid surroundings. Light, with the
green hills of Devonshire in mind, remarked, “It is very nice, ma’am,
what there is of it—only there is so little.”
When we brought up, the men went into the shallow water and shot the
trammel in order to obtain some fresh fish. This brought on board an
elderly gentleman, Señor Martinez, the official in charge of the place,
who was not unnaturally indignant at what he imagined to be a foreign
fishing vessel at work in territorial waters. We were able to explain
matters, and were much interested in making his acquaintance. He had
never visited England, but spoke English well, kept it up by means of
magazines, and was greatly delighted with the gift of some literature.
He welcomed us as the first English yacht which had been there since the
visit of the _Sunbeam_ in 1876, of which he spoke as if it had been
yesterday.
Having got our package from England, we finally quitted the friendly
harbour of Porto Grande on Thursday afternoon, May 29th, sailing forth
once more, this time to cross the Atlantic, with the little shiver and
thrill which it still gave some of us when we committed our bodies to
the deep for a long and lonely voyage, even with every hope of a
resurrection on the other side of the ocean. After we sighted St. Jago,
the capital of the Cape Verde group, on the following day, we saw no
trace of human life for thirteen days; so that if mischance occurred
there was nothing and no one to help in all the blue sea and sky. The
self-sufficiency needed by those who go down to the sea in ships is
almost appalling.
Instead of making direct for Pernambuco, we steered first of all due
south, carrying with us the north-east trade, in order to cross the
Doldrums to the best advantage, and catch the south-east trade as soon
as possible on the other side. The calm belt may be expected just north
of the Equator, but its position varies with climatic conditions, and it
was therefore a matter of excitement to know how long we should keep the
wind. In the opinion of our authorities it might leave us on Sunday and
could not be with us beyond Tuesday. The engineer, whose duty had so far
been light, had been chaffingly warned by the rest of the crew that his
turn would come in the tropics, when he would have to work below for
twenty-four hours on end.
On Sunday S. gave orders that the engine was to be started by day or
night, whenever the officer in command of the watch thought it
necessary; but still the north-east trade held good. On Monday all hands
were at work stowing the mainsail, for as soon as the calm came the
squalls were expected which are typical of that part of the world. On
Tuesday evening, when according to calculation we should have been out
of its zone, we were still travelling before the wind, and we began to
congratulate ourselves with trembling, that our passage would be more
rapid than we had ventured to hope. All Wednesday, however, the breeze
was very light, and we kept our finger on its pulse as on that of a sick
man. By Thursday it had faded and had died away, the sails hung slack,
the gear rattled noisily, the motor was run. The air was hot, damp, and
sticky, with heavy squalls, and the nights were trying. It is impossible
to sleep on the deck of a small sailing ship, with so many strings about
and someone always pulling at something, so we roamed from our berths to
cabin floors and saloon settees and back again, “seeking rest and
finding none.” The thermometer in the cabin never throughout the voyage
rose to more than eighty-three degrees, but, as is well known, it is
humidity and lack of air rather than the absolute height of temperature
which determine comfort. Friday afternoon increased air roused our
hopes; but, alas! it soon subsided, and during the night we again relied
on the engine. Saturday morning was still squally, with a grey sea and
heavy showers, but there was really a slight breeze. Was it or was it
not, we asked under our breath, the beginning of the new wind? By ten
o’clock there was no longer room for doubt: the south-east trade was
blowing strong and full, and the ship, like some living creature
suddenly let loose, bounding away before it for very joy. It felt like
nothing so much as a wonderful gallop over ridge and furrow after a long
and anxious wait at covert-side.
[Illustration:
FIG. 5.
A GROUP ON DECK.
A. Light; Steward; B. Rosa; Under-Steward; C. Jeffery; W. Marks; F.
Preston (Mate); H. J. Gillam (Sailing-master).
]
We crossed the Equator in glorious weather about 9 p.m. on Monday, June
9th. None of the forecastle had been over before: Father Neptune did not
feel equal to visiting them, but some addition to the fare was much
appreciated. I was the doyen of the party, with now seven crossings to
my credit. Flying-fish came at times on board from the shoals through
which we passed, “Portuguese men-of-war” floated by the ship, and
schools of porpoises played about her bows. The wind on the whole stood
our friend for the rest of the way, and during the last week of the
voyage the average daily run was 147 miles on our course, the highest
record being 179 miles on June 14th. We continued, however, to have
squalls and rain at intervals, as we were running into the rainy season;
and it was through a mist that on Sunday, June 15th, after a passage of
seventeen days, we strained our eyes to see the South American coast. It
dawned at last on our view, a flat and somewhat low land; then came into
sight the towers and coconut palms of Pernambuco, and the passage of the
Atlantic was accomplished.
CHAPTER III
BRAZIL
Pernambuco—Bahia—Cabral Bay—Cape Frio—Rio de Janeiro—Porto Bello—A
Pampero.
After the discovery of the New World its possession was contested by
five sea-going nations of Western Europe—the Spanish, Portuguese,
French, English, and Dutch. Of these the Spanish and Portuguese were
first in the field, and the Portuguese established themselves in that
part of the southern continent now known as Brazil. Their acquisition
of this particular territory was largely due to accident: the
Portuguese navigator Cabral, sailing in 1500 for the East Indies, via
the Cape of Good Hope, shaped his course so far to the west, in order
to avoid the calms off the African continent, that he hit off this
part of the coast. An important Portuguese settlement grew up on the
bay known as Bahia de Todos os Santos (All Saints’ Bay). Further south
French Huguenots were the first to discover and colonise the bay of
Rio de Janeiro, but the Portuguese finally succeeded in expelling them
in 1567, when Rio became the capital of the southern portion of their
territory, Bahia retaining its pre-eminence in the north.
In the seventeenth century Portugal, and consequently her overseas
possessions, fell for a while under the dominion of Spain; with the
result that the settlers acquired a new foe in the young power of the
Dutch, with whom the Spaniards were at war. The Dutch West India
Company was formed with the especial object of capturing Brazil: the
first fleet, which sailed in 1623, gained for a time possession of
Bahia, and in 1629 the Dutch conquered Olinda and the neighbouring
town of Recife, or Pernambuco, where they established themselves under
the able leadership of Prince Mauritz of Nassau. In 1640, however, the
Portuguese threw off the Spanish yoke, and, as the quarrel of Holland
had been with the latter, she allowed herself to be bought out of her
conquests in Brazil; an arrangement due in part to the intervention of
Charles II of England, who had married a Portuguese princess. There
was an old alliance between this country and Portugal, and when in
1739 war broke out between England and Spain, occasioned by the wrongs
of a certain Captain Jenkins whose ear the Spaniards had cut off,
Commodore Anson selected a Brazilian harbour in which to revictual his
ships on his way to harry the Spanish in the Pacific.
During the Napoleonic wars the history of Europe again affected
Brazil. In 1808, when the French were on the point of entering Lisbon,
the royal family escaped overseas, established their court at Rio de
Janeiro, and made Brazil a kingdom. In 1820 King João VI returned to
Portugal, leaving his son Pedro in command, and the mother country
sought to reduce Brazil once more to the provincial status. This was
resisted by the colonists, who had tasted the sweets of authority;
they declared themselves independent, and made Pedro, who was
personally popular, into Emperor of Brazil. Pedro was succeeded by his
son, who reigned till 1889; in that year a revolution occurred, due
partly to defects of government, partly to the discontent caused by
the emancipation of the slaves. Pedro II left for Europe, and Brazil
was declared a republic.
Pernambuco, or Recife, has been built on low land at the junction of two
rivers, and has the advantage of a good harbour, protected by a natural
reef, which has been improved by artificial means. The town has
grandiosely, but not altogether inaptly, been called a “modern Venice”;
the business quarter, or Recife proper, is built on a peninsula formed
by one of the rivers, while the windings of the other divide the
remaining part of the town into sections, which have to be crossed and
recrossed by bridges. Otherwise the place is not attractive, the site
has originally been a quagmire, and the roads have been made by merely
levelling the ground and covering it with rounded stones; they now
consist principally of shallow lakes and crevasses. The streets, with
the exception of a few new thoroughfares, are little more than lanes and
just wide enough for two vehicles to pass. Most of the traffic is done
by mule trams, and any other vehicles, except when they can get on the
tram lines, are obliged to move at a snail’s pace. It is difficult to
understand how the motors contrive to exist, but they are fairly
numerous. The houses are of stucco and outrival those of St. Vincent in
brilliancy of colouring. The authorities at the time of our visit had
been seized with the laudable desire to reconstruct the town on a large
and ambitious plan, the object being to rival the larger towns further
south, and, in view of their growing prosperity, to keep a place also in
the sun for Pernambuco. This form of civic patriotism plays a noticeable
and unexpected part in various South American towns. The result at the
moment was to make the place appear, in certain districts, as if it had
suffered by fire or bombardment.
It is impossible not to be struck when walking the streets with the
great varieties of type, and consequently of colouring, among the
populace. The original races have been the native Indian, the European
who conquered the land, and the Negro imported for his services, and
there are now, in addition to their pure-blooded descendants, every
shade and mixture of the three. The colour of a man’s skin is however of
little or no social concern, and there is an absence of race prejudice
which to the Anglo-Saxon mind is very astonishing. We had the pleasure
of visiting the opera on a gala night at the kind invitation of the
British Consul and his sister, Mr. and Miss Dickie, and saw much mixture
of colouring among the upper classes. The subject of the opera was
romantic and dealt with the early Portuguese era, the heroine being
carried off by Indian raiders. Women of all shades have a very proper
idea of the consideration due to them, though there would seem to be no
reason even to the most advanced of us why, as was said to be the case,
a negress should consider it beneath her dignity to carry a message
across the road.
The political situation is apparently liable to surprises. At the
principal music-hall, just before our visit, an accident occurred to the
driving-chain of the electric light, causing a certain amount of
clatter; the audience immediately sprang to their feet, the women
shrieked, and there was a general stampede. It had been immediately
concluded that the noise was caused by pistol shots and heralded a
revolution.
The economic standing of Pernambuco and the why and wherefore of its
existence are a puzzle to the stranger. There is no appearance of any
considerable quantity of trade or wealth, indeed, to judge by the
notices displayed, the inhabitants live principally on mutual doctoring
and pulling out each other’s teeth. The cost of living is nevertheless
very high, owing largely to the fact that everything seems to be brought
from overseas. Stone for building is conveyed all the way from Northern
Europe, and a Norwegian barque, which lay beside us, was busy unloading
timber at the door of the forests of Brazil. Even the common articles in
use are brought from the Old World, and the tables of the restaurants
are crowded with imported products, in spite of almost prohibitive
tariffs, which raise the price of a ham, for example, to four or five
times its original value. In addition special prices are at times
reserved for strangers: the yacht’s steward was allowed to depart
without purchasing a packet of cigarettes for which eightpence was
asked; Rosa, with his dark skin, got the identical article for a penny.
We followed one of the rivers in the launch almost as far as it is
navigable, a distance of some nine miles. The banks are low, and were at
first covered with mangrove; later the land was cultivated after a
fashion, and there were a certain number of country houses, but in a
state of dilapidation and decay.
Anyone who wishes to leave the prosaic present and be transported back
to the old times of colonisation should visit Olinda, the ancient seat
of government, which lies three miles to the north of Pernambuco. The
remains of it to-day are a little group of houses standing picturesquely
on a wooded promontory, which rises high above the low-lying coast. The
old street, winding up to the top of the semi-deserted city, along which
must have passed gay cavalcades, sober monks, and captured Indians, is
still the high way, but it is now carpeted with grass, kept short, not
by traffic, but by the sheep which browse upon it. From the highest
point, the view extends in one direction to the sea and in the other to
the forests of the interior. The most arresting feature is the number of
churches and religious houses: everywhere the eye turns these great
buildings rise among the luxuriant foliage, from one standpoint we
counted ten such edifices. Some are deserted; some are still inhabited.
The Franciscan establishment, where a fraternity still occupy the
conventual buildings, is said to have been the first of its kind in
Brazil, but we could arrive at nothing more definite as to date from the
brother who acted as guide than that the place was “three hundred years
old.” The church contained some particularly good Dutch tiles
representing scenes from the life of the Virgin and St. Ann; similar
ones are to be seen in the cathedral, which was undergoing repair, and
where no means were being taken to preserve them from injury at the
hands of the workmen. These edifices were presumably rebuilt after the
capture of the place by the Dutch; for Olinda is said to have been so
utterly destroyed by the fighting, of which it was the centre, that
Prince Maurice of Nassau gave his attention instead to the improvement
of Recife.
Our regrets at leaving Pernambuco on Saturday, June 21st, after a stay
of six days, were mitigated by the heat of the docks and by the fact
that for some nights the mosquitoes had been unceasingly active. As soon
as we left S. started an exterminating campaign, and killed sixty
straight away in his own cabin and the saloon. For weeks afterwards, Mr.
Gillam could be seen daily going on his rounds with a bottle of quinine
tabloids, the lambs obediently swallowing the same. His medicinal doses
were under all circumstances magnificently heroic, some of his remedies
being kept in quart bottles, on the principle, as he explained, that it
was “no use spoiling the ship for a halfpennyworth of tar.” It was
doubtful in this case if the enemy were really of the malaria-carrying
type; they did not appear to stand on their heads in the correct
manner—anyway, we all escaped contagion with one slight exception,
though I myself had had a bad attack shortly before leaving England,
brought on by influenza, after six years’ complete immunity.
We had now before us a voyage of some 3,000 miles down the eastern coast
of South America before the Magellan Straits were reached. It was
marvellously impressive sailing day after day along the coast-line of a
great continent, although at the moment the said coast was sandy and
flat, the only diversity being occasional lights at night from some town
on the shore. Bahia de Todos os Santos, more generally known simply as
Bahia, was our next destination. Some fine Portuguese houses are said to
survive from the days when it was the old capital, and it may be
remembered as the locality where Robinson Crusoe was engaged in planting
tobacco, when he was induced to go on the slave-raiding voyage which led
to his best-known adventure. The bay, which runs north and south,
extends for twenty-five miles, and the situation of the town on its east
side is distinctly fine; part of it has been built on the shore, and
part on the top of rising ground immediately above it. The funicular
railway which connects the one with the other is to be seen from the
sea.
[Illustration:
FIG. 6.
BAHIA DE TODOS OS SANTOS.
]
This unfortunately is all that circumstances allow us to record. The
anchor was dropped at midday, Wednesday, June 25th, and orders given for
luncheon to be served at once, so that we might go on shore as soon as
we had got our pratique. The health officer, when he came on board, was
found to speak nothing but Portuguese, which made communication
difficult; the same had been the case with the pilot at Pernambuco; and
as half the vessels visiting those ports are English it might perhaps be
suggested, without insular pride, that a smattering of that language, or
at least of French, might be desirable in such officials. We produced
the bill of health from Pernambuco in ordinary course: this, however,
did not satisfy the doctor. He asked for that from St. Vincent, then
from Las Palmas, and finally from Falmouth, though we pointed out that,
as this had been granted three months ago, it scarcely had a practical
bearing on the case: the virgin health of Bahia must, we felt, indeed be
immaculate to require such protection. Finally the bill was stamped and
passed. Then the officer handed in a marvellous paper of directions
given in English, which stated that “if the captain went on shore all
boats’ crews were to return immediately to the ship; that no one was to
be on shore after 7 p.m.; no fruit was to be bought from hucksters, and
none was to be eaten till it had been in a cool place for three days.”
We felt that it had become our turn to inquire after the health of
Bahia, and it was reluctantly admitted that yellow fever was raging.
Upon hearing this we metaphorically gathered our skirts around us, and,
although greatly disappointed to miss seeing the town, naturally decided
that we would not land. A quaint position then arose, as the doctor,
with an eye probably to the fee involved, stated that the ship could not
leave unless S. went on shore and obtained a new bill of health, a
proceeding at which, as may be supposed, he drew the line. As the
official had no means of enforcing authority, victory remained with
_Mana_, but, even so we were left wondering whether the stain on our
moral character of the Bahia endorsement of our certificate would secure
us quarantine at our next port. We spent the night in the bay some
distance from shore, in order that Mr. Ritchie might test the compass by
swinging the vessel.
After we left Bahia the coast-line was at times broken by islands, and
varied inland by hills which rose behind wooded banks and sandy shores.
We had plenty of time to make notes of any features of interest, for the
landmarks on the shore became quite old friends before we parted
company. The weather became cooler, the cabin thermometer ranging from
75° to 80°; but we met with an unexpected and persistent head wind; long
tacks seemed to bring us but little forward, and _Mana_ presented the
pathetic spectacle of a good ship struggling against adversity. The log
day after day gave the depressing chronicle of only some twenty to
thirty miles of progress, and the 700 miles to Rio de Janeiro began to
appear interminable. After some five days of this weary work, making
eleven since we had left Pernambuco, S. decided that it would be in the
interests of all to obtain a change by making the shore along which we
were sailing. He therefore, after careful study of the Sailing
Directions, selected a spot where health officers would not be
found—Cabral Bay. Our Navigator thought the entrance somewhat risky, and
requested written orders before going in: as, however, rashness is not
one of my husband’s sins I awaited the result with equanimity. It is the
small bay where Cabral landed on April 24th, 1500, two days after
discovering the continent. He erected a cross on the site of the present
village, took possession of the land for the King of Portugal, and
christened it Santa Cruz, a name which was changed in the middle of the
sixteenth century to Brazil, from _brasa_, the term applied by the
Portuguese to the brilliant red wood of its forests. The village and
northern part of the bay continue, however, to bear the name of Santa
Cruz, while the southern portion is called after the great navigator.
The land which forms the bay consists of a low ridge, two miles or so in
length, covered with brushwood and undergrowth; it is arrested suddenly
to the north by the course of a river, which has here made a passage to
the ocean, and ends abruptly in a steep white cliff. Between the cliff
and the river nestles the small village of Santa Cruz, and on the height
stands a church which forms the landmark for ships entering the bay. Up
the hillside winds a little white path where the grass has been worn
away by the feet of worshippers ascending to the house of prayer. At its
southern end the ridge dies gradually away in a little promontory, on
which stands a tall cross of wood with an inscription stating that it
was erected by the Capuchins on the date 22.3.98, but whether that was
yesterday, or one hundred, or two or three hundred years ago, there is
nothing to show. In front of the bay is a coral reef, so that only baby
waves break over the sandy beach, and hard by the cross is a stream,
with low reaches and dark shady pools overhung by mangroves.
Here we spent two days, watered the ship from the stream, bathed,
fished, and revelled in the wind and sunshine, feeling like prehistoric
men, and at one with all creation, from amœbas to angels. The men from
the village, dark and lithe, came to visit us in dug out canoes,
hollowed in true Robinson Crusoe fashion from the trunks of trees, and
lent us a hand in our work, after which we had out the launch and gave
them a tow back to the village. There we found the kindest welcome and
walked up the little white path to the church. It was tattered and
dirty; but old women with interesting faces, who came in to see the
strangers, knelt devoutly at the altar-rails before putting out a hand
to greet us. When we departed the inhabitants came to the river-side,
where also stands a cross, though whether it is that erected by Cabral
or not this history cannot say; they gave us presents, fired rockets,
and waved us adieu to the last. Life might be hard at Santa Cruz, but at
least it seemed quiet and peaceful. As _Mana_ went out of the bay there
was a stormy sunset over the church and a wonderful rainbow in the east;
gradually the cross on the promontory faded away, the breaking waves on
the coral reef could no longer be heard, and so, as John Bunyan would
say, “we went on our way.”
On leaving Cabral Bay we stood out to sea as the best chance of
obtaining a fair wind, and the weather gradually became more favourable.
One particularly clear evening, July 8th, at sunset, we were able to see
a peak on the mainland which is just under 7,000 feet in height at a
distance of ninety-six miles. Altogether it was a pleasant run, occupied
by the Stewardess in reading geology and darning stockings. We had not
been able completely to fill our water-tanks at Santa Cruz, and it was
now decided to procure the remainder at Cape Frio, which was seventy
miles this side of Rio de Janeiro, rather than risk the quality which
might be obtainable in the city. As we returned to the coast we found
that its low character had given way to a region of hills, cliffs, and
islands. Cape Frio itself is a bold rocky promontory, or rather island,
for it is separated from the mainland by a narrow passage, and shelters
behind it a romantic basin consisting of a series of small coves. In
places the surrounding mountains recede sufficiently to allow of little
sandy beaches, elsewhere sheer cliffs covered with verdure come down to
the margin, and trees and ferns overhang the water. We entered by
moonlight, and the dark shadows and sparkling sand made a striking and
effective contrast.
In one cove is a fishing village, with a church and small store. Here
for the first time oranges were valued as a native product, so far they
had been no cheaper than in England, and at threepence a dozen the
forecastle and midships bought them by the bathful. The facilities for
obtaining water next day proved not so good as had been hoped. I left S.
superintending the crew, as they staggered through the surf to the
cutter with bags of water from the village well, and ascended 300 or 400
feet to a signal station on the landward side of the gorge which cuts
off the outlying island. This commanded a magnificent view of a wide
stretch of blue Atlantic and the adjacent coast; in the direction of Rio
was a panorama of low lands and lagoons, bordered by ranges of rugged
mountains which rose tier upon tier as far as the eye could reach. On
the way down I gathered a spray of bougainvillea from a shrub in full
bloom.
S. had meanwhile made acquaintance with the storekeeper and general
village factotum, who we had already found, to our surprise, spoke
English well. He turned out, as might have been expected, to be a
German. The history of his life would probably be interesting. His
experiences included at any rate residence at Bonn University and the
post of steward on the yacht of the late Mr. Pierpont Morgan, but who or
what had brought him to this spot did not transpire. He had at one time
become naturalised as a citizen of Brazil, but had subsequently laid
down his rights, preferring to keep out of public concerns, for, as he
naïvely remarked, “they never talk politics here without killing a man.”
The lore of Frio was as romantic as its appearance, and worthy of the
pen of Stevenson. Not only have traces come to light on a neighbouring
promontory of Indian burials consisting of bones and pottery, but more
valuable treasure finds were of not infrequent occurrence; buried
Spanish coins turned up at intervals, and an ingot of silver had lately
been discovered. There was no doubt, in the opinion of the storekeeper,
that considerable treasure was hidden among the islands along the coast,
but hunting for it was forbidden by the government. Not far from the
village itself there was a cave, which was obviously the work of man,
and said to connect two coves, but no one dared to explore it. Nothing
was known of its history, but, according to tradition, it was the work
of the Jesuits: why a religious order should have made such a resort our
informant was unable to explain, but he evidently considered that it
would be quite in accord with their usual underground and mysterious
methods of procedure. Thirty years ago he himself, with the owner of the
cave and one other, had taken up a barrel of wine and had a drinking
bout at its entrance, a scene which some old painter of the Dutch school
would surely have found congenial: he had then penetrated some twenty or
thirty yards into the interior; it was at first, he said, narrow, then
became wider, but since that time no one had entered it.
S. was naturally fired with a desire to explore this hidden cavern; Mr.
Gillam responded to the call for an assistant, and they set out for the
place, accompanied by our informant. There proved to be some difficulty
in discovering it, even with his assistance, owing to the dense
vegetation which had arisen since it was last visited. Mr. Gillam’s
thoughts not unnaturally turned to snakes, and the information given in
reply to a question on the subject lacked something in reassurance:
there were a great many about, it was said, and of a dangerous kind, but
they only struck when trodden upon, and as it was now getting late in
the day it might be hoped that they had retired to their lairs. When the
cave was at length found, bushes and undergrowth had to be cut down in
order to effect an entrance, and a cloud of bats flew out of the
darkness within. The walls were examined by the light of a ship’s
signalling lantern, and the statement that they had been artificially
made was proved to be true. The party proceeded for ten or twelve yards,
but then found that the way had been blocked by a comparatively recent
fall of débris, and the enterprise had therefore to be abandoned. We
commend it to fellow-voyagers and anthropologists.
We sailed the next morning at daybreak and our navigator, instead of
taking the eastern road, by which we had come in, and going round the
island, decided to attempt as a short cut the much narrower exit on the
west, which lay between the precipitous cliffs that separated the cape
proper from the mainland. By the soundings recorded on the chart there
was everywhere sufficiency of water for our draught, but, while
approaching the coast to take a direct course through the gorge, we were
suddenly aware that the stern of the vessel had taken the ground. There
was a moment of anxiety as to whether she had hit on an outlying rock,
but happily she had only come in contact with a bank of drifted sand. We
were, however, very near a rocky coast, and it was not far from high
water. As much weight as possible was taken into the bows, a kedge was
carried out astern, and she was hove off the way she came on.
The next morning we were at the entrance to Rio de Janeiro. There was,
however, not a breath of wind, and the engine was giving trouble; it
refused to run more than a very short distance without becoming
dangerously heated—a state of things subsequently found to be due
entirely to improper installation. We sat, therefore, for twelve hours
gazing at the tumbled mass of blue mountain-barrier, through the narrow
opening in which the sea has found its way and formed the great sheet of
water within. In front of us was the well-known conical form of the
Sugar-loaf, to the west Corcovado, the Hunchback, with its strange
effect of a peak which is bending forward, and beyond it Gavea with its
table-top. The night fell, lights came out within, we still waited like
a Peri at the gate of Paradise. The evening breeze, however, wafted us
nearer, and at midnight we passed silently between the dark heights
which guarded the entrance and dropped anchor in Botafogo Bay under the
shelter of the Sugar-loaf, there to await the dawn.
It is an entrancing experience to wake on a sunny morning and find
oneself for the first time among the soft and glowing beauty of Rio
Harbour. We went up the bay in the early light, with a man posted at the
flagstaff to exchange greetings with the Brazilian men-of-war which lay
at anchor; it was always our duty to dip first to warships, as it was
the place of merchantmen to take the initiative with us. We finally took
up our position some three miles higher up opposite to the old city.
It is the suicidal fate of each visitor to try to describe Rio de
Janeiro, and fail in the attempt; but with every warning to refrain the
present chronicler must likewise rush on her doom. The first impression
is that there is so much of it. It is not merely an enormous and
beautiful bay, with a city upon it—it is a huge expanse of water, of
which the whole margin, as far as the eye can reach, is used by man for
his dwelling. To compare it with the bays of Naples or Palermo, or with
the cities of Edinburgh or Athens, is, as far as size is concerned, to
speak in the same breath of some picturesque manor-house and of Windsor
Castle. There are many places with wilder charm or more historic
interest; but for what can only be termed “sleek beauty” Rio is
incomparable. Every portion of the scenery is right, there are no parts
of it which the eye consciously or unconsciously omits, and in whichever
direction the gazer looks his æsthetic sense is satisfied. The shore
line disdains monotony and breaks itself into bays and islands. The
great mountains, though they may lose in quiet dignity, range themselves
in weird and striking shapes which attract the eye, while the verdure
fulfils its purpose of showing off their beauty, here clothing a
hillside with forest, there leaving bare a towering cliff. The white
buildings which wander up hill and down dale are clean and prosperous,
neither too new nor too old; they surround bays and stretch out to
islands, not in oppressive continuity, but broken with the surface of
the ground, while the gardens and boulevards with their tropical foliage
know just how to intersperse themselves at the right intervals. The sun
and air also appreciate their share in the situation, and flood mountain
and water, verdure and the work of man, with wonderful transparent
light, till the whole shines pure and soft, blue and green, like an
opal. The night is not less beautiful; then the summits of the mountains
show dark against the sky, myriads of lights outline the near bays,
shine out from the islands and twinkle irregularly up the hillsides,
while from the further shore another galaxy are reflected half-way
across the still dark water. The whole gives the impression of some
magic scene in the _Arabian Nights_ lit up for a great _fiesta_. Rio is
wonderful, marvellous; it leaves one like the Queen of Sheba; and
yet—when I am dead I hope that I may return and visit the little bay of
Santa Cruz, I know I shall pass by Rio de Janeiro.
The old part of the city is composed of narrow and noisy lanes, but the
new boulevards are fine and broad. We did the usual sightseeing, with
the details of which it is not proposed to trouble the reader. We had
the pleasure of enjoying the hospitality of our Minister, Sir W.
Haggard; but to my disappointment, for I had been looking forward for
weeks to some feminine society, Lady Haggard was in England, and
everyone else seemed to be a bachelor. By the most kind care of the
British Consul, Mr. Hamblock, we had a memorable motor drive of some
seventy miles through the mountains to the west of the bay, including
the tract of forest reserved for the public by Dom Pedro. It has left us
with a bewildered impression of roads winding below great crags, amongst
tropical vegetation, and opening at intervals on vistas of rocky coast
and deep blue sea. We visited the botanical gardens, admiring their
marvellous avenue of palms: similar ones, and but little inferior, may
be seen in many directions, rising amongst streets and houses like the
pillars of a Greek temple. We ascended the Sugar-loaf by aerial railway,
and gained a panoramic view of the harbour. Finally, a day was spent at
Petropolis, a small place among the mountains at the head of the bay,
which is reached by a railway with cog-wheel gauge and is the special
resort of the diplomatic colony. We lunched at an inn of which the walls
were adorned impartially with portraits of the Hohenzollerns and French
Presidents, the host turned out to be an Alsatian.
If at Rio every prospect pleases it is not altogether free from
drawbacks: sanitary conditions have improved; but the pride the city
takes in its public gardens and boulevards does not extend to the water
of the harbour, which is repulsively dirty, and ships are warned in the
Sailing Directions against using it even for washing their decks. When
the American fleet visited Rio they consumed so much from the shore for
that purpose, that there is said to have been almost a fresh-water
famine in the city. When we left the bay our bill of health stated that
the previous week there had been two cases of yellow fever, both dead,
and two of bubonic plague, who were still alive. Even with our
experience at Pernambuco the prices charged at Rio left us breathless:
engineering work cost from four to five times as much as in England;
even a poor man on the docks complained to our Sailing-master that he
could not get a meal under 2s. 8d. One Englishman, professionally
employed, calculated that the cost of his passage home every three years
was met through the saving effected on buying his clothes in England.
Finally, the Stewardess of the _Mana_ was of the opinion that the limit
was reached, when one shilling was charged for washing a pair of
stockings.
The Brazilians of Rio appear to have more European blood than those who
live further north, though a mixture of Indian or Negro is viewed with
the same equanimity. The idea of government is democratic, and in theory
at any rate the President will give an audience to the humblest
Brazilian. The senators are paid £7 a day while sitting, so that an easy
way of defraying debt is to prolong the session. The Central Railway
belongs to the Government, and is regarded as giving billets for its
supporters: engine-drivers, for example, are paid at a rate of from £700
per annum, the consequent large deficit on the working of the line being
made good by the Treasury. There had been no political excitement very
recently at Rio, but one old man was pointed out to us who, as governor
of a northern state, had held his position by force and fraud until
about a year previously, when he had been escorted by armed men on board
ship and told that if he returned he would be shot.
We left Rio Harbour at daybreak on Wednesday, July 23rd, after a visit
of nine days, and to our relief found a good sailing breeze outside. As
Buenos Aires, at which we were bound to call for stores and letters, was
still some 1,100 miles distant, it was decided to break the voyage, and
the Sailing Directions were studied for some out-of-the-way
stopping-place _en route_. We had found by experience that little
anchorages were preferable: not only was there more confidence in the
water supply than in the case of big towns, but there was no trouble
with authorities, and bills of health, and the temptations of a big port
were avoided. The smaller places also, if in some ways less interesting,
were more attractive. The little bay of Porto Bello was selected, but
when its neighbourhood was reached the following Sunday the weather had
become rather thick and there was some difficulty in finding our way. At
tea-time our Navigator came down somewhat amused to tell us that, during
our afternoon siestas, _Mana_ had wandered in and out of a wrong bay,
about twenty miles north of our destination; a small steamer in front of
us had also obviously been in need of a signpost or kind policeman.
On Sunday afternoon we dropped anchor safely in a sheltered part of
Porto Bello Bay known as Aco Cove. Our previous halts, the town of
Pernambuco, the coral bay at Santa Cruz, the rocky basin of Cape Frio,
and the world-famed harbour of Rio de Janeiro, bore little resemblance
to each other, but they had one point in common, that they were all
obviously South American. Porto Bello had nothing South American about
it save its very unoriginal Spanish name; it might, as far as general
appearance went, have been a loch imported straight from the west coast
of Scotland: the accent of our Glasgow engineer became unconsciously
more homelike, as he remarked that it was “just like the scenery near
Oban,” and to add to the illusion the weather, though warm, was a “wee
bit saft,” with the nip in the air associated with Scotland in August.
The town of Porto Bello itself lies at the foot of the bay. It will be
found marked in the atlas of the infallible Stieler, but it is nothing
more than a hamlet, consisting of a few small houses, with a church and
one little store; there was no inn visible, but it is apparently
connected with the outside world by telegraph or telephone. Shanties,
surrounded with banana groves, wandered up the hillsides or clustered
round such sandy coves as Aco; some were made of wattle and daub, others
of wooden planks roofed with banana leaves or rough red tiles. We made
friends with a family who occupied a cottage near the stream which
supplied our water, and some of the party, a grandfather, father, and
small daughter, came off on their own initiative to pay us a visit on
board. They brought presents of eggs and molasses, and three special
shells as an offering for me. The gifts which we on our side found were
most appreciated, both here and elsewhere, were tobacco, sweets, and
ships’ biscuits; the last were specially prized, being often preferred
to money. We showed our visitors over the vessel, and expected that such
fittings as electric light would produce a mild sensation, but it was
proved as usual that the eye can only take in what it has sufficient
knowledge to appreciate. The greatest success was achieved by the supply
of carpenters’ tools, which excited much admiration, while the
pier-glass in my cabin came in a poor second. A rather embarrassing
situation arose when the old man, who was getting a little imbecile,
found the yacht so attractive that he sat down in the deck-house and
declined to depart.
The quiet lives of these people, surrounded by agricultural holdings
with tropical produce, reminded us much of the existence of some of the
natives in East Africa. They were apparently not above the belief in
charms, for opposite our friends’ door was a dried bush about four feet
high, which had on the extremity of each bough an eggshell, some fifteen
in number; we never succeeded in finding out its precise meaning, for
unfortunately our ignorance of the Portuguese language made any real
conversation impossible. The appliances of life were simple: an ox-cart
had solid wooden wheels, after the manner of an ancient British chariot,
the noise made by which was portentous; and the anchors of the boats
were of wood, the shank being formed of a frame of sticks, into which
rocks were packed.
[Illustration:
FIG. 7.
THE NATIVE CART, ACO COVE, PORTO BELLO.
]
The business of watering the ship being ended, we tried to continue our
journey, only to find that a dead calm reigned outside, and there was
nothing to do but to return. Two or three days of detention passed very
pleasantly exploring hill-tracks, photographing, and sketching. We were
able to buy poultry, eggs, and oranges, and the men were very successful
with the seine, getting quantities of delightful mullet. One afternoon
we took our tea in the launch to the other side of the bay, but here for
the only time we found the people a little suspicious and not quite
friendly.
Saturday, August 2nd, we again made our way out of Porto Bello. Our
course lay in the direction of the island of Sta. Catharina, some twenty
miles to the southwards, and the whole of the next day we drifted along
in sight of its beautiful mountainous coast-line. This was the
rendezvous appointed by Anson for his fleet on his outward voyage, as it
possessed an excellent reputation for stores. He sailed there direct
from Madeira, arriving in December 1740; his voyage took forty-five
days, as against our forty-eight days at sea to Porto Bello, by Cape
Verde Islands and Pernambuco. Anson was, however, disappointed in his
reception, as the governor proved himself unfriendly, and sent a
messenger to communicate the presence of the squadron to the Spanish
admiral, who lay with his ships in the River Plate. We occupied the time
in endeavouring to check from the yacht the sketches given of the coast
in the contemporary account of his voyage. Later on we more than once
found ourselves on Anson’s track.
The following days afforded great variety of weather, but it grew
rapidly colder, and warm clothes which had been stowed since Madeira had
to be brought out. The wind, which for a time was strong and fair, later
veered round to the south-east and subsequently to the south-west. Our
navigators were early anxious about the indications, fearing a
_pampero_, the name by which the particular gales are known which sweep
down from the Andes over the _pampas_ or great plains of the mainland,
and on Monday, August 4th, the mainsail was stowed. Thursday we had a
strong wind, accompanied by a most extraordinary display of lightning;
from midnight till 5 a.m. the place was lighted up almost without
intermission, and there were reported to be at times as many as five to
eight flashes visible at once; at first there was no thunder, but
subsequently it became audible. The next two days we beat against a head
wind.
On Saturday evening we were placidly seated at dinner when the cry came,
“All hands on deck.” Suddenly, without at the last a moment’s warning,
the _pampero_ was upon us. A half-finished meal was left to hurry up the
companion and join in stowing sails. All night long the gale raged,
straining at the rigging, tossing the ship from side to side, rattling
everything in her above and below. The waves swept over the deck until
it seemed as if their force might at any moment carry away the boats or
burst in the door of the deck-house; notwithstanding the heavy
storm-boards with which it was always barricaded at such times. There
was no sleep for anyone on board. The steward was up all night making
cocoa for those on deck, for it was bitterly cold. As to the watch
below, “a man,” as Mr. Gillam said, “who could care so little what was
going on above as to be able to sleep on such a night, simply because he
was off duty, was no sailor worth the name.” Four a.m. found two of us
engaged in meditating on the “wet sea boy” who managed to have his
eyelids sealed on the giddy mast during “the visitation of the wind,”
wondering whether he was an Elizabethan product or if we only owe his
creation to the fact that Shakespeare was a landsman. I believe, from
continued observation, that a good crew really like a gale, it has the
“joy of battle.” As to the Stewardess, her journal, which is not given
to soliloquising, runs, I find, as follows in connection with the
_pampero_: “It has been made painfully clear to me that my presence on
deck when things are bad is an added anxiety; this is humiliating, and
will not, I trust, apply to the next generation of females.”
When I came up next morning the wind was still raging fiercely, but
there was a pale blue sky flecked with white clouds, and bright sunshine
sparkled on the countless white crests of foam which covered a dark blue
sea. I looked, with an instinct which during all these months had become
second nature, to see who was at the wheel, and found, with a shock,
that it was deserted—the helm was lashed! It felt for a moment as if the
ship were some dead thing, with all power of spontaneous movement, all
volition gone. For the time being she was vanquished by the elements, or
at least reduced to armed truce; we were hove to and drifting slowly
eastward, undoing all the work of the last two days. “Rough on us,
ma’am,” as Light said with a jovial laugh. At noon we had lost ground by
24 miles, and were now 373 miles from Buenos Aires instead of 349.
Monday, 7 a.m., we began to sail, beating against the wind, but by
midday we had lost still further, being now 402 miles away from the
haven where we would be. We envied the cape pigeons, twenty or thirty of
which followed the vessel, as she was towing bags of heavy oil to
windward to prevent the waves from breaking, and the smoother water made
it easier for them to see the small fish below. They seemed to enjoy the
gale, and swept round the yacht gracefully, showing off their white
bodies and dark wings barred with white. They trod the water at
intervals as they ran along it on the tips of their feet, and rode in
the troughs of the waves securely sheltered from the wind. On August
12th we signalised the day by making a bag, one gull, but it came as a
guest and was entitled to hospitality. It was apparently tired out, and
perched on one of the boats; but when S. began throwing some meat
overboard, with the object of attracting and photographing the cape
pigeons, it joined in the scramble. The pigeons, however, would have
none of the stranger, and set upon it, whereupon, worsted in the fray,
the gull again sought refuge on the vessel: there it stayed all night,
sleeping quite low down in the folds of some canvas and allowing itself
to be stroked and fed by any passer-by. With the morning, being rested
and refreshed, it flew away.
CHAPTER IV
ARGENTINA
The River Plate—Buenos Aires, its Trade and People.
The Argentine Republic is the modern representative of the Spanish
colonies on the east coast of South America, as Brazil is that of the
Portuguese. Fifteen years after the landing of Cabral, Spanish sailors
first sighted the entrance to the Rio Plata, and in 1535 Mendoza
established a settlement on the site which later was Buenos Aires. No
gold or silver, however, was to be found, and the Spaniards looked on
their holdings on the South Atlantic merely as a back door to their
richer possessions on the Pacific. Till the eighteenth century all
their South American territories were under the Viceroy of Peru, and
in order to suit the convenience of that colony no ship was allowed to
trade direct with Buenos Aires; all the merchandise from Europe had to
be fetched over the Andes. It was not till the first richness of the
mines was exhausted that attention was drawn to the grass-covered
plains of the east.
The Napoleonic wars, which turned Brazil from a colony to an empire,
ultimately led to the establishment of republican rule in the Spanish
colonies. Pitt, however, made a mistake in judging in 1806 that the
discontent felt by the younger nation with the rule of their
mother-country would make them unite in the war against her. He sent
an armed force to the River Plate, but his full expectation that there
would be a local rising was grievously disappointed; Buenos Aires was
captured, but the British were subsequently heavily defeated and
obliged to return home. The anniversary of the “reconquest” is yearly
celebrated, and the newly arrived Briton, who probably never heard of
the occurrence, finds that in Argentina his country is regarded as a
defeated nation.
The loyalty of the colonists to the Crown of Spain was not, however,
of long duration. Seeing that in the old country all authority was in
the melting-pot, a secret society was formed in Buenos Aires, of which
Belgrano was a leading member, to work for representative government;
popular desire for freedom became too strong to be resisted, and on
May 25th, 1810, the viceroy resigned. From that date the independence
of Argentina is officially reckoned. The Argentines then successfully
assisted the revolutionaries of Chile. Disputes subsequently arose as
to the boundary between the two countries; these differences were
referred, at the beginning of this century, to the Crown of England,
which appointed a commission to deal with the matter, and a treaty was
agreed upon in accordance with its recommendations.
On Friday morning, August 15th, land became visible, and by 2 o’clock we
were off Flores Island, the entrance to Rio Plata, where we took up a
pilot for its navigation. The river is there about a hundred miles
across, but narrows rapidly, and two hours later we were opposite Monte
Video, where it is only half that width. Of Monte Video itself we could
see only the outline. We proposed visiting it later by one of the
steamers which run there every night from Buenos Aires, but were
discouraged from doing so by the report that there was nothing whatever
to see except an inferior Buenos Aires, and that the seaside resorts in
the neighbourhood, which were filled in the summer by the Argentines,
would be closed at that time of year. The Plate River is dull and
dreary, having the charm neither of a river nor of the open sea; it
consists of a vast expanse of turbid yellow water, marked by buoys and
the wrecks of ships which have gone aground on its dangerous shoals. The
western bank only was visible, and that was low-lying, with a
suspicion—was it only a suspicion?—of tall chimneys. We felt that as far
as beauty went we might as well be at the mouth of some English
mercantile river, and certainly, as was remarked, we had much better
have been there from the point of view of getting the needed work done
on the ship. A number of insects of all sorts appeared on the yacht when
we were at least four miles from the shore, suggesting that, if so many
could land on one small ship, many millions must be blown out to sea.
At noon the following day we anchored for a short time, as the current
was too strong for us, and at evening anchored again, apparently in the
middle of nowhere, though with twelve large vessels as neighbours. We
were in reality at the entrance to the Dredged Channel, where artificial
means have had to be employed to make the river navigable for ships of
large draft. Here it is necessary to pass the quarantine authorities and
obtain a fresh pilot, which formalities being duly complied with, we
proceeded next day on our journey. As it nears the city the Dredged
Channel divides into two; one branch leads to the basin at the north end
of the docks, the other to that at the south end. The docks at Buenos
Aires, instead of being stowed away as an undesirable excrescence in
some remote part of the town, as is the case in most large seaports,
form a frontage of some three miles to the most important part of the
city, and appeal strongly to both the eye and the imagination. There, in
ordered sequence, not by units—as, for example, at Southampton or
Marseilles—but by hundreds, lie great vessels of all descriptions from
almost every country in Europe; the outward sign of the great carrying
trade between the old country and the new. They have brought their human
freight and cargo of manufactured goods, and are waiting to return with
a food-supply of livestock and grain. Even these docks are not equal to
cope with the demand for accommodation, for in the grain season as many
as a hundred may be seen in the outer roadstead awaiting admission, and
large extensions were in progress. Argentina is one of those new lands
which stand in the position of rural estate to older and manufacturing
Europe; the supply of food, which in the earliest stages of the world’s
development lay next each man’s dwelling, and then outside the towns, is
now brought across 7,000 miles of ocean.
Little _Mana_ was most kindly welcomed by the port authority, and
awarded a place of honour by the entrance to the North Basin, which is
generally reserved for men-of-war. Here she appeared elegant but minute,
and not being a battleship felt her position somewhat precarious. The
next berth was occupied by a large emigrant ship, which was German,
French, and Italian by turns, and as the yacht was immediately under the
stern it looked as if, with the least motion, she would be crushed out
of existence. Every time a huge ship went out of the entrance to the
harbour, all on board rushed to the yacht’s deck to see if her bowsprit
was about to be carried away. The manœuvring of the big vessels by tugs
in a limited space is, however, wonderful, and though we had one or two
narrow escapes, either the position was not so perilous as appeared, or
we became accustomed to alarms, for we finally lived there quite
comfortably. We landed either by boat across the docks, or by scrambling
up a wharf like a houseside by means of a lengthy and somewhat shaky
ladder. I have a vivid mental picture of His Majesty’s Minister, Sir
Reginald Tower, when he was good enough to come and see us, standing on
the top with a little dog, and not unnaturally wondering how on earth he
was expected to descend.
We lay at Buenos Aires for over a month, refitting and stowing, before
facing the next part of the voyage. We grudged the delay, but even with
the kind help we received there is, as has already been explained, much
time inevitably lost in a new port, and New Spain, like its European
prototype, is essentially a country of _mañana_. In the end we had to
leave without getting the trouble with the engine put right. The stores
sent ahead from England arrived safely, and through the courtesy of the
Legation we received them custom free, but on some articles, which were
unluckily ordered to come by post—a serge suit, linen coat, and two
washing blouses—we had to pay £4 duty. I spent a portion of the time in
luxury at an hotel while _Mana_ had a much-needed spring-cleaning. S.
lived on board, and I found on my return had had a good many visitors,
whom he appeared to have enjoyed showing over the yacht with her hatches
up and the floor covered with packing-cases; maintaining, in reply to my
chagrined comments, that the public were shown over the _Terra Nova_ in
just such a condition.
In such time as could be spared from the work of the Expedition we saw
what we could of the life of the country, and our observations are given
for what they are worth. Unlike Pernambuco there is no doubt as to the
economical _raisons d’être_ of the Argentine; they are, of course, grain
and meat. The area under cultivation, which we did not see, is steadily
increasing, but the grain export is still far below that of the United
States. The greater part of the mutton supplied to Great Britain comes
from Australia and New Zealand, but the Argentine provides 72 per cent.
of the beef which we receive from abroad, and we were much interested in
seeing something of the cattle industry. We visited, by the courtesy of
the owner, Señor Pereyra, an _estancia_ about an hour’s journey from
Buenos Aires. The train traversed first the suburbs of a great town,
then low country often under water, and we alighted at a little railway
station, from which we immediately entered the park of the _estancia_.
The estate was large, though there are others which exceed it; it covers
fifteen square miles, a portion of which is, however, undrained. It has
been in the occupation of the same family for about ninety years, during
which time continual planting has been going on. The road which led
through the park to the house passed under several fine avenues; the
eucalyptus trees of older growth were most beautiful, and a revelation
of what that tree can attain, to those who have only seen it in
temperate climates or in the villages and towns of South Africa.
The dwelling of the owner proved to be a most charming country house.
The dining-room was panelled with oak, displaying the magnificent
collection of silver cups gained by the stock of the _estancia_. Our
host was in the proud position of having just won at the cattle show,
then being held at Buenos Aires, the highest awards for both Herefords
and Shorthorns. The competition for such prizes lies in the Argentine
between a limited number of noted breeders, and it is felt well to bring
in a judge from the outside. That year an English gentleman, well known
in connection with the Royal and other shows, had been requested to act.
Eighty thousand Argentine dollars, or over £7,000 sterling, were paid at
this show for a champion bull, being the highest price yet given for
such an animal. After luncheon we inspected the large farm buildings
where the most valuable of the stock were housed. The remainder of the
cattle, some 7,000 in all, lived in different large enclosures in
various parts of the estate, with a cottage near by for the caretaker.
The owner was assisted by an English and a French manager, and 260
_peons_ or labourers, mostly Italian, were employed on the _estancia_.
They earn £3 10_s._ a month, with practically no expenses, being housed
in a row of buildings with a mess-room in common. There was no lack of
labour, applicants having continually to be turned away.
Our education was continued by a visit to the market at Buenos Aires,
where anything up to 5,000 head of cattle are disposed of daily. These
are brought from all parts of the Argentine, and were formerly driven
across country. Now, however, owing to the prevalence of wire fences,
they are generally brought by train. They are confined in open pens, and
sold by auction or otherwise. The cattle auctioneers are men of high
position, and regard themselves as the aristocracy of the city. The
animation of the scene is increased by the number of roughriders who
career on spirited ponies up and down the alley-ways, looking after the
stock and lassoing refractory beasts. No man connected with the “camp,”
as the open country is termed, ever thinks of walking at any time. The
Argentine saddle has special characteristics, and consists of a pad each
side of the spine of the horse, above and below which rugs are placed,
the whole being covered with a piece of leather and kept in place by
girths, thus forming a most comfortable cushion. The stirrup is so made
that only the toe can go into it, and the whole is calculated to allow a
man to fall clear if he is thrown, a wise precaution in a land of
unbroken mounts. It has also the advantage of providing excellent
bedding, but is of course adapted for a flat country only, and would be
out of place in a mountainous one. A kind acquaintance, seeing the
interest S. took in the saddle, made him a present of one, which proved
invaluable in Easter Island.
The majority of the beasts sold at the cattle markets are for local
consumption: those going to the freezing manufactories are generally
bought by private treaty. We were taken over one of the largest of these
_frigorificos_, as they are called, where some 1,200 cattle and 3,000
sheep are killed daily. Each animal is inspected from a sanitary point
of view on arrival, and every beast is again examined after it has been
killed. It is skinned and cleaned at the same time, and in fifteen
minutes, from the moment of being slain, is ready in two sides to hang
up in the chilling or freezing chamber. Each of the sides is
subsequently enclosed in a muslin covering ready to be shipped. The
hides are, of course, also a most valuable commodity, and the fat is
subjected to pressure, the oil being used for cooking purposes and the
solid residue for candle-making. The unused portion of the beast is
turned into guano. Some of the meat is reserved for canning, and the
tinned goods are particularly attractive. Each tin is closed save for
one small hole at the top, and is then passed into a vacuum pump, which
extracts the air and closes the hole with an electric needle.
A very determined set was being made to bring all the Argentine
_frigorificos_ into the American meat trust; those which, like the one
we visited, are determined to resist have to fight hard to hold their
position. There was a loud outcry with regard to the increase in the
price of meat, which had gone up retail to about sevenpence a pound; but
buying through a ship’s chandler, who could obtain it for wholesale
prices, we were able to purchase at a lower rate. The prices for tinned
meat were much the same as in England. Salt meat we were warned to
avoid, as it could not be guaranteed for more than two months, though
the remainder of our stock that had been put on board in England, ten
months before, was still in excellent condition. Every attempt, we were
told, had been made to discover the reason for this failure, which is
common to all meat south of the Equator; the services of experts from
Europe had been requisitioned, the method, the meat, the salt, and the
water had all been carefully examined, but so far without result.
The city of Buenos Aires itself, of which the docks have already been
described, is simply a glorified port for this trade, and for the
produce of a wealthy hinterland. The old part of the town, in which all
business is transacted and which most impresses itself on the memory, is
a labyrinth, or rather chess-board, of terribly narrow streets. The
thoroughfares are at right angles, and the houses, which are in regular
blocks, are all precisely similar in appearance; nothing, therefore, but
an exact knowledge of the names and orders of the numerous streets as
they lie in each direction of the chess-board can enable a stranger to
find his way. The same street extends for miles, and he who forgets the
number of his destination may as well give up the search. So narrow are
these thoroughfares that two persons can only just pass on the pavement,
and there is imminent danger of being pushed under the trams which run
within fifteen inches of the curb. Traffic is only allowed in one
direction.
In a town which has never been walled, and where space was no object,
such a state of things is surprising; the original construction is said
to have been due to the desire to obtain a maximum of shade, and any
alteration now is of course fraught with much difficulty. Great efforts
are, however, being made to render the Argentine capital worthy of its
wealth and position. An imposing avenue, with the House of Congress at
one end, has been cleared at great cost. The more recent portion of the
town boasts good squares and parks, for the network of streets is but
the hub of a huge and quickly growing city. Underground railways are
being constructed, but so rapid is the extension of Buenos Aires that it
is said they will only relieve the traffic for eleven years. The general
impression of a bustling sea port with a southern element recalls
Marseilles, but it has not the same beauty of situation. Buenos Aires
has been called “a horrible travesty of Paris,” but perhaps the most
correct description is that which styles it “a mixture of Paris and New
York.”
Of what description are the people in whose hands lie the development of
this country, with its growing influence on the destinies of the world?
The new-comer arriving from the north is at once struck with the
distinction between Brazil and the Argentine. Rio, with its strain of
dark descent living in the midst of a dream of sleepy beauty, is still
perhaps partly mediæval and undoubtedly tropical; Buenos Aires, on its
flat plain and dreary river, is awake, twentieth century, and wholly
European; but it is to the south of Europe that the Argentine is akin
and not to the north. A Latin race was the first to colonise the new
land, and successive waves of the same are still reaching its shores. In
1911 the immigrants from Spain, Italy, and France numbered nearly
2,000,000, as against 13,000 from Britain and 7,000 from Germany. Many
Italians, it is true, come only for one harvest, or possibly for two,
returning for the busy season in their own homes. The wages earned are
such that the more idle are in a position to disdain all other work, and
a crowd of loiterers round the docks, who appeared to us to be
unemployed of the usual character, turned out to be agricultural workers
living on their own resources till the next harvest. Many, however, of
these immigrants settle in the new land, by the law of which every child
born in the country becomes _ipso facto_ an Argentine subject. It is
perhaps because of this comparatively uniform origin that an Argentine
type seems to be already developing. It is fundamentally that of
Southern Europe, but it is moulded by a new environment, is wide-awake
and energetic, with an absence of all mystery and tradition, but alive
to the finger-tips. The practical aspect of life is the dominant note,
whether for the native or temporary resident. “We are all here to make
money,” the stranger is frankly informed, “and we talk of nothing else.”
No apology shall therefore be made for once more referring to the
question of pounds, shillings, and pence, for in South America it is
impossible to get away from it.
The cost of living in Buenos Aires is two or three times as high as that
of London in normal times. At the best hotel, usually frequented by
European travellers, the smallest bedroom cannot be obtained under
eighteen shillings a night, and even at the less dear hotels, resorted
to by those to whom expense is an object, the ordinary price for dinner
is five dollars or 8_s._ 9_d._ “One thinks a good deal in England of a
£5 note,” was the remark to us of one Argentine; “here one never goes
out without a fifty-dollar note (between £4 and £5) in one’s pocket.”
Rents are enormous, and a would-be purchaser told us ruefully that he
could not obtain in the suburbs a house with three sitting and four
bedrooms, on a plot of ground some thirty yards square, under £15,000.
All this falls hardly on the visitor or foreign official, but it affects
the resident but little; an 8 per cent. investment is looked upon as
reasonable and cautious, and for the working classes wages are
proportionately high. The temporary immigrant who wishes to go back to
Europe saves most of the money by living under very meagre conditions;
thus two or three Italians frequently join together in one room at about
half the rate paid by less thrifty workmen. Most visitors to Southern
Europe are acquainted with the little mansions, built in the villages of
their birth, by natives who have returned with modest fortunes from the
Argentine, and this is the process by which that wealth is accumulated.
More rapid roads are occasionally found to success. Our Sailing-master
was acquainted with a former gaol-warder who went out as an emigrant
from Southampton; his wife joined him, but came back before long, saying
little but that her husband was also returning. In less than two years
the man was back with a competency for the rest of his days, the source
of which continued to be veiled in mystery.
Science, literature, and art do not as yet thrive very largely in
Argentina, though exception must be made for the very interesting museum
at La Plata, whose director was most kind in affording information to
the Expedition. The great recreation is racing, in addition to which the
inhabitants are all born gamblers. Sir Reginald Tower, to whose kind
arrangements for us we owe much of the interest of our time in Buenos
Aires, was good enough to take us to a race meeting, and we were greatly
impressed with the lavish arrangements for the comforts of the
spectators. It was also most pleasant to be spared all cries of the
bookmakers—the betting system is that of the _pari mutuel_. The Jockey
Club is the most important social club, and with an entrance fee of
nearly £300 is naturally extremely wealthy; its existing premises are
palatial, and even so the removal to larger ones was under
consideration. We were kindly entertained there by a distinguished
representative of the early Spanish stock, Señor Calvo, to whom we were
introduced while he was practising his profession of auctioneer at the
cattle-market. His ancestor was a viceroy of the Court of Spain, and he
is by descent on both sides a pure Spaniard; the cosmopolitan influences
of to-day have, however, been too strong for the continuance of this
tradition in the family, and he himself and other members of it have
allied with outside nationalities. His father, who was responsible for
the conduct of a public journal, had his life attempted three times by
his political enemies, and finally sought refuge in England. There the
son was born and educated, but later on, going out to the Argentine, he
too entered public life and became a member of Congress, whose buildings
it was most interesting to see under his guidance.
The life of Argentine women is almost that of the East. The men go their
own way, make their own acquaintances, live their own life. They ask
strangers but little to their homes, and it is possible to be on quite
intimate terms with an Argentine and unaware whether he is married or
single. Country house hospitality scarcely exists, and even on the large
_estancias_ in the neighbourhood of Buenos Aires, a week-end party is
unknown. A lady does not walk out alone, and never, even in her own
home, receives a male guest without the presence of her husband. We have
been credibly informed of a wife who boasted that during her husband’s
absence in Europe, of over a year, she never went out of the house.
There is no higher education for women except for those training
professionally, and the interests of the majority, like those of a
certain set at home in pre-war days, consist mainly in bridge and dress.
Forty years ago all women wore the mantilla, but to-day fabulous sums
are spent on clothes. One charming Argentine lady told me that £30 was
quite a usual sum to give for a smart but simple hat. At the seaside
resorts the expenditure on clothes is so lavish, that it is cheaper to
take the trip to Europe than to procure the necessary garments in which
to be seen among your friends. In appearance the women are pretty and
effective, but spoilt to the eyes of a European by the inordinate amount
of powder. I was told by one present at the dinner-party in question of
an amusing scene witnessed in the ladies’ cloak-room; a daughter
arriving with her mother called out, “Oh, Mother, you have not nearly
enough powder on,” and made a dash for the powderpuff to remedy with two
or three large splashes the supposed defect. It is said that the wave of
female emancipation is reaching South America, but doubt was expressed
by a keen observer whether it would necessarily take its European form
of a demand for political and legal rights, or whether the Argentine
woman would not begin by desiring the same social and matrimonial
liberty as is assumed by her husband. At present, unfortunately, with
the vicious circle in which such customs move, much of the precaution
taken to guard women appears to be necessary, and I was sadly informed
by more than one English girl employed in the business houses of Buenos
Aires, that the freedom with which young women can move and conduct
themselves at home was not only conventionally but actually impossible
in their new surroundings.[2]
Argentina, as the depository of much that is undesirable from other
nations, can hardly hope to escape the blackguard element. Assassination
is the only thing which is cheap in the South American continent. The
head of one of the seamen’s missions at Buenos Aires told S. that it was
possible at any time to procure the murder of a man by paying five
dollars, not quite ten shillings, in the right quarters: this was
somewhat less than at Rio, where the price was stated to be thirteen
shillings and fourpence. The scenes which occur nightly about the docks
are incredible; hence returning to _Mana_ after dark was always a matter
of some anxiety. Our steward received a typewritten letter saying that
he had been mentioned as a suitable man for a desirable situation, and
giving an appointment after dark at a certain house in a certain street.
On inquiry the address turned out to be that of a low street in the new
part of the town, where much land is still waste, and there was no house
yet built of the number given. With regard to the said steward, one
Sunday evening he left the yacht and never returned. All anxiety about
his fate was set at rest by the fact that he had cleared his cabin of
all his goods. He may have been homesick and arranged to work his
passage back, or he may have been enticed by a more substantial offer, a
very usual occurrence where trained servants are difficult to obtain. As
he had of course signed the ship’s articles for the trip, his desertion
was reported to the consulate and the police, but we were told that to
get him back would be practically an impossibility; while, scruples
apart, nothing would have been gained by the simpler method of
assassination. The man himself we did not regret, but after the manner
of his kind he had waited till we were on the point of sailing, and
therefore left us in the lurch.
In spite of the fact that personal safety still leaves a good deal to be
desired, the Government of Argentina is one of the purest in South
America; the result, it is said, of the wealth of her officials. She is
already proudly conscious of her strength, and, in some quarters at any
rate, is anxious to rely upon it alone for her position among nations
rather than on any such external aid as the Monroe doctrine. Throughout
the whole continent it is necessary in speaking of the citizens of the
United States to term them carefully “North Americans,” avoiding the
usual and more abbreviated form.
Religion is not a powerful factor in Argentina either in public or
private life. Roman Catholicism is officially recognised, but it does
not strive to be a political force, and meets therefore with general
toleration; even when it is not practised it is neither hated nor
feared. Many women and some men are devout, but the majority of men
simply ignore it.
A Briton in leaving Argentina not unnaturally asks what is the share of
his own countrymen in the development of the new republic. Our
connection with it through trade is considerable. The railways are in
British hands, and 61 per cent. of the shipping flies the Union Jack. In
addition to young men who may wish to take up life in “the camp,” or
country, a certain number of Englishmen are employed in offices and
professional positions, while in connection with retail trade, it is
homelike to see the shops and advertisements of such firms as Harrod and
Maple. A pleasing bond exists throughout the British colony in
Freemasonry, which is a most living force, with many adherents, amongst
whom our Minister is included. S. being one of the elect, we had,
through the kindness of Mr. Chevalier Boutell, the Deputy Grand Master
for South America, the pleasure of being present at a ladies’ banquet,
which proved a very brilliant and enjoyable entertainment.
While the English commercial position is still good, it is said that
forty years ago our proportion of the trade was even greater. An old
inhabitant told us that he knew personally of not less than twenty-five
British firms who had gone under during that period, owing to the dogged
incapacity of the Englishman to supply what his customer wanted, instead
of what he himself chose to provide. Such failures leave, of course, the
door open for German penetration. A reputation for the same want of
adaptability, and also for being given to drink, makes Englishmen
unpopular as employés. With regard to our women kind, certain posts in
the town which are open to English girls are well paid, but they should
be taken up in every case with the greatest caution, and the
remuneration offered carefully compared with the increased cost of
living. A woman who marries on to an _estancia_ is necessarily
comparatively isolated, and accounts differed as to the amount of help
she is able to obtain in domestic labour. The 30,000 British subjects
who form the whole of those resident in Argentina are, in any case, but
a drop in the ocean, and they but seldom identify themselves with the
country of their abode. It is not unusual for parents to arrange that
their children shall be born in England, in order that they may avoid
registration as citizens of the Republic, with its consequent liability
to military service. It has been proposed in high quarters that suitable
accommodation might be provided in the Falkland Islands, as nearer and
more convenient British soil. Failing some such arrangement it is
possible to register a child of British parentage which is born in
Argentina, at the national consulate, and it is then _ipso facto_ a
British subject, except when actually in the land where it first saw the
light. Whatever share Britain may have in developing the wealth of
Argentina, that country never has been, and never will be, connected
with us by blood; for that bond with new lands we must look to our own
dominions over the seas.
[Illustration: MAGELLAN STRAIT AND PATAGONIAN CHANNELS]
CHAPTER V
PATAGONIA
Port Desire—Eastern Magellan Straits—Punta Arenas—Western Magellan
Straits—Patagonian Channels
The most southerly portion of the South American continent, called
Patagonia, first became known in the endeavour to find a new way into
the Pacific. Magellan was commissioned by Charles of Spain to try to
find by the south that ocean passage to the Indies which Columbus had
sought in vain further north. He sailed in August 1519, and began his
search along the coast at the River Plate; on October 21st, the day of
the Eleven Thousand Virgins, he came in sight of a large channel
opening out to the west: the promontory to the north of this channel
still bears the name he bestowed of Cape Virgins. He proceeded
cautiously, sending boats ahead to explore, and on November 28th
entered the Pacific. When he saw the open sea he is said to have wept
for joy, and christened the last cape “Deseado,” or the “Desired.”
The sea power of England, which had been negligible in the time of the
first voyages to the New World, was growing in strength; and, though
she had attempted no settlement on the southern continent, she saw no
reason to acquiesce in the edicts of the King of Spain, shutting her
off from all trade with the New World. In 1578 Drake took Magellan’s
route, with the object of intercepting galleons on the Pacific coast,
and passed through the Straits in sixteen days. On entering the
Pacific he was blown backward towards Cape Horn, and was the first to
realise that there was another waterway, yet further south, from the
Atlantic to the Pacific. Up till this time the land had been supposed
to extend to the Antarctic.
A hundred years later Charles II of England sent an expedition under
Sir John Narborough to explore this part of the world and trade with
the Indians, which wintered on the eastern coast of Patagonia.
Anson’s squadron avoided the Straits, taking the way by the Horn.
The Chilean and Argentine Boundary Commission divided Patagonia
between the two countries, giving the west and south to Chile and
bisecting Tierra del Fuego, 1902.
We left Buenos Aires on September 19th, achieving the descent of the
river without a pilot, and for the next fortnight had a varying share of
fair winds, contrary winds, and calms. Our chief interest was the man
who had taken the place of the absconding steward, who shall be known as
“Freeman”; we heard of him through a seamen’s home, and arranged that he
should go with us to Punta Arenas, to which place he wished for a
passage. He was a clean-looking “Britisher,” who for the last seven
years had been knocking about South America. He brought with him a
gramophone, and a Parabellum automatic pistol, with which he proved an
excellent shot, and he made it a _sine qua non_ that we should find room
on board for his saddle; thus was my knowledge increased of the
necessary equipment of an indoor servant. We paid him at the rate of
£100 a year, and though we found that he could neither boil a suet
pudding nor lay a table, so enlightening were his accounts of up-country
life that we did not grudge him the money.
We flatter ourselves our experience in detecting mendacity would qualify
us as police-court magistrates, but we never saw any reason to doubt the
substantial accuracy of Freeman’s stories. His experience dated back to
the time when mares of two or three years old were sold for ten
shillings, or were boiled down for fat, as, after the Spanish fashion,
no man would demean himself by riding one. He had at one time ridden
across the continent from the Patagonian to the Chilean coast, a journey
of six weeks, half of which time he never saw a human being; he was
followed all the way by a dog, though the poor animal was once two or
three days without water; it got left behind at times, but always
managed to pick up his trail. He was most candid about the means by
which he had made money when at one time employed on the railway, for
honesty was not in his opinion the way that the game was played in South
America, and therefore no individual could afford to make it part of his
programme; it did happen to be one of the rules on _Mana_, and we never
knew him break it. He was once running away after some drunken escapade,
when a policeman appeared and took pot-shots at him with a rifle.
Freeman turned and dropped him with his revolver; he did it the more
reluctantly as he knew and liked the man. Happily the shot was not
fatal, and he felt convinced that he himself had not been recognised.
After, therefore, carefully arranging an alibi elsewhere he returned,
condoled with the victim on the lawless deed, and gave him what
assistance he could; he felt, however, that that part of the country had
become not very “healthy,” and subsequently moved on. Even our
experiences of the ports had scarcely prepared us for the cynical
indifference to human life which his experiences incidentally revealed
as an every-day affair in “the camp.” In sparsely inhabited districts,
with their very recent population, the factors are absent through which
primitive societies generally secure justice, clans do not exist,
families are the exception, and in almost every case a man is simply a
unit. The more advanced methods of keeping the peace have either not
been formed or are not effective, for crime is often connived at by the
authorities themselves. The result is that the era of vendetta and
private revenge seems civilised in comparison with a state of things
where no notice is taken of murder, and the victim who falls in a brawl
or by fouler means simply disappears unknown and unmissed, while the
murderer goes scot-free to repeat his crime on the next occasion.
Freeman had, _inter alia_, been employed on one of the farms in
Patagonia, along the coast of which we were sailing, and told tales of
the pumas, or South American lions, which abounded in a certain
neighbourhood. This district had railway connection with a little
anchorage known as Port Desire, and as one of our intervals in harbour
was now due S. arranged to turn in here, and go up-country with him to
try to get a shot at the animals. We therefore put into the port on
October 3rd. It is a small inlet, of which the surrounding country is
covered with grass, but flat and dreary in the extreme, the only relief
being a distant vision of blue hills. Sir John Narborough, who spent
part of the winter here in 1670, said he never saw in the country “a
stick of wood large enough to make the handle of a hatchet.”
The human dwellings are a few tin shanties. In a walk on shore we were
able to see in a gully, a few remains of the walls of the old Spanish
settlement. As to the puma, fortunately from its point of view, the
railway service left a good deal to be desired. We arrived on Friday,
and there turned out to be no train till the following Tuesday, so it
lived to be shot another day—unless indeed it met a more ignominious
end, for the South American lion is so unworthy of its name that it is
sometimes killed by being ridden down and brained with a stirrup-iron.
We took three sheep on board, as mutton at twopence a pound appealed to
the housekeeping mind, and were able to secure some water, which is
brought down by rail; it was a relief to have our tanks well supplied,
as the ports further down the coast are defended by bars, and would have
been difficult of access in bad weather. Drake, on whose course we were
now entering, selected St. Julian, the next bay to the southward, for
his port of call before entering the Straits of Magellan; it was there
he had trouble with his crew, and was obliged to hang Doughty.
We sailed from Port Desire on Monday morning, but were not to say
good-bye to it so speedily. We soon encountered a strong head wind, with
the result that Wednesday evening found us fifteen miles backwards on a
return journey to Buenos Aires, and the whole of Thursday saw us still
within sight of it. We amused ourselves by discussing the voyage, which
had now lasted more than seven months. One of the company declared that
he had lost all sense of time and felt like a native or an animal:
things just went on from day to day; there was neither before nor after,
neither early nor late. It did not, he said, seem very long since we
left Falmouth, but on the other hand our stay at Pernambuco was
certainly in the remote past, and so with everything else. We had now,
in fact, done about three-quarters of the distance from Buenos Aires
towards the Straits of Magellan, and had 300 miles left before we
reached their entrance at Cape Virgins.
Ever since the Expedition was originally projected the passage of the
Straits had been spoken of in somewhat hushed tones; but now, when with
a more favourable wind we began to approach them, instead of going into
Arctic regions, as some of us had anticipated, the weather improved, the
sun went south faster than we did, and the days lengthened rapidly. Our
numerous delays had at least one fortunate result—they secured us a much
better time of year in the Straits than we had expected would fall to
our lot. The feeling in the air was that of an English April, bright and
sunny, but fresh; we kept the saloon cold on principle during the
daytime, living in big coats; in the evening we had on the hot-water
apparatus, so as to go warm to bed. It was quite possible to write on
deck, and the sea was almost too beautifully calm. We had a great many
ocean callers, who seemed attracted by the vessel: porpoises tumbled
about the bows till we could nearly stroke them, a whale would go round
and round the yacht, coming up to blow at intervals, while seals reared
their heads and shoulders out of the waters and looked at us in a way
that was positively bewitching; once a whale and seal paid us a visit at
the same time. One night S., who was keeping a watch for one of the
officers who was indisposed, was interested in watching the gulls still
feeding during the dark hours.
At 10 p.m. on October 15th the light of Cape Virgins was sighted, and we
woke to find ourselves actually in the Straits of Magellan. The Magellan
route, as compared with that by the Horn, is not only a short road from
the Atlantic to the Pacific, cutting off the islands to the south of the
continent, but ensures calm waters, instead of the stupendous seas of
the Antarctic Ocean. For a sailing ship, however, the difficulties are
great; the prevailing wind is from the west, and there is no space for a
large vessel to beat up against it, nor does she gain the advantage that
can be derived from any slight shift of wind; outside the gale may vary
a point or two, but within the channel it always blows straight down as
in a gully. The early mariners could overcome these obstacles through
the strength of their crews; in case of necessity they lowered their
boats and towed the ship, but the vessels of the present no longer carry
sufficient men to make such a proceeding possible. Sailing-ships
therefore take to-day the Cape Horn route, in spite of its well-known
delays, trials, and hardships. When later the German cruiser turned up
at Easter Island with her captured crews, the great regret of the latter
was that they had been taken just too late, after they had gone through
the unpleasantness of the passage round the Horn.
The first sight of Tierra del Fuego is certainly disappointing. The word
calls up visions of desolate snowy mountains inhabited by giants; what
is seen are low cliffs, behind which are rolling downs, sunny and
smiling, divided up into prosaic sheep farms. A reasonably careful study
of the map would of course have shown what was to be expected, as on the
Atlantic coast the plains continue to the extreme south of the
continent, while the chain of the Andes looks only on to the Pacific.
Nevertheless, if not thrilling, it was at least enjoyable to be in a
stretch of smooth water, with Patagonia on the north and Tierra del
Fuego on the south. The land on either hand is excellent pasture for
sheep, and there is said to be sometimes as much as 97 per cent.
increase in a flock. The largest owners are one or two Chilean firms,
but the shepherds employed are almost all Scotsmen, and indeed the
scenery recalls some of the less beautiful districts in the Highlands.
When sheep-farming was established, the Indians, not unnaturally from
their point of view, made raids on the new animals, with the result that
the representatives of the company were consumed with wrath at seeing
their stock eaten by lazy natives; they started a campaign of
extermination, shooting at sight and offering a reward for Indian
tongues. Our friend Freeman had worked on one of the farms, which had a
stock of 200,000 sheep, and the information he gave on this head was
fully confirmed later in conversations at Punta Arenas. The destruction
of the Indians was spoken of there as a matter for regret, but as
rendered inevitable by circumstances.
The navigation through the straits of a craft like ours makes it
necessary to anchor in the dark hours: the first night we spent off the
Fuegian coast, in sight of one of the pillars which define the boundary
of Chile and Patagonia; the second we lay in Possession Bay, which is on
the Patagonian side. We had time at the latter anchorage to examine the
pathetic wreck of a steamer, which had gone aground. She was a
paddle-boat, which was being towed presumably from one lake or river
area to another, and had to be cut adrift. Even in such an unheroic
vessel it was touching to see the sign of departed and luxurious life
cast away on this lonely shore, stained-glass doors bearing the
inscription of “smoking” or “dining-room,” and good mahogany fittings
such as washing-stands still in place. It is said that the outer coast
is strewn with wrecks containing valuable articles which it is worth no
one’s while to remove. S. walked up to the neighbouring lighthouse, and
was presented with three rhea eggs.
[Illustration:
FIG. 8.
IN THE MAGELLAN STRAITS.
S. and an ostrich.
]
The next morning we were under way at 5 o’clock, in order to pass with
the correct tide through what are known as the First Narrows. The
current here is so strong that it would have been impossible for us to
make headway against it; as it was, the wind sank soon after we started,
and we only just accomplished the passage, anchoring in St. Jago Bay.
The following day, Sunday, we negotiated successfully the Second
Narrows. From our next anchorage we saw from the yacht several rhea, or
South American ostriches, on a small promontory. S. went ashore on the
point and shot two of them, while Mr. Ritchie and Mr. Gillam, who had
landed on the neck of the promontory, endeavoured to cut off the retreat
of the two remaining birds. The one marked by Mr. Ritchie went through
some water and escaped him; the onlookers then viewed with much interest
a duel between Mr. Gillam on the one hand, running about in sea-boots
armed with a revolver, and the last ostrich on the other, vigorously
using its legs and wings and on its own ground. Victory remained with
the bird, which reached the mainland triumphantly, or at least
disappeared behind a bush and was no more seen. Seven miles south-west
of the Second Narrows lies Elizabeth Island, so named by Drake. We took
the passage known as Queen’s Road on the Fuegian side of the island, and
reached Punta Arenas next afternoon, Monday, October 20th. We had
intended to be there for two or three days only, but fate willed
otherwise, and we sat for weeks in a tearing wind among small crests of
foam, gazing at a little checkered pattern of houses on the open
hillside opposite.
It will be remembered that the motor engine, to our great chagrin, was
practically useless through heated bearings, and that all our endeavours
at Buenos Aires to diagnose and remedy its ailment had been ineffectual.
We had consequently to rely on passing through the Straits either under
sail, or, as the late Lord Crawford had suggested to us before starting,
through getting a tow from some passing tramp by means of a £50 cheque
to the skipper, a transaction which would probably not appear in their
log. However, in mentioning our disappointment to the British Consul,
who was one of an engineering firm, he and his partner hazarded the
suggestion that the defect lay, not in the engine, where it had been
sought, but in the installation; that the shaft was probably not “true.”
They bravely undertook the job of overhauling it on the principle of “no
cure, no pay,” and were entirely justified by the result. The alteration
was to have been finished in ten days, but there were the usual delays,
one of which was a strike at the “shops,” when a piece of work could
only be continued by inducing one man to ply his trade behind closed
doors while S. turned the lathe. It was six weeks before the anxious
moment finally came for the eight hours’ trial, which had been part of
the bargain, but the motor did it triumphantly without turning a hair.
We found what consolation for the delay was possible in the reflection
that we had at least done all in our power to guard against such
misfortune. The engine had been purchased from a first-class firm who
had done the installation; the work had been supervised on our behalf by
a private firm and passed by Lloyds; nevertheless it was peculiarly
aggravating, for not only did it involve great money loss, but it
sacrificed some of the strictly limited time of our navigator and
geologist. We had the pleasure at this time of welcoming the said
geologist, Mr. Lowry-Corry, who now joined the Expedition after
successfully completing his work in India.
Punta Arenas, with which we became so well acquainted, is a new and
unpretentious little town, but it is the centre of the sheep-grazing
districts, and its shops are remarkably good. Anything in reason can be
purchased there, and on the whole at more moderate prices than elsewhere
in South America. The beautiful part of the Straits is not yet reached,
and save for some distant views the place is ugly, but it gives a
sensation of cleanliness and fresh air, and our detention might have
been worse. There is indeed, on occasion, too much air, for it was at
times impossible to get from the ship to the shore or _vice versa_, and
if members of the party were on land when the wind sprang up they had to
spend the night at the little hotel; the waves were not big, but the
gales were too strong for the men to pull against them. I was with
reluctance obliged to give up some promising Spanish lessons, with which
I had hoped to occupy the time, for it was impossible to be sure of
keeping any appointment from the yacht. Punta Arenas boasts an English
chaplain, and Boy Scouts are in evidence. The chief celebrity is an
Arctic spidercrab, which multiplies in the channels and is delicious
eating, but we never discovered anything of much local interest.
I made one day a vain attempt to find the graves of the officers and
crew of H.M.S. _Dotterel_, which was blown up off Sandy Point some
thirty years ago. The cemetery overlooked the Straits; it was desolate
and dreary, the ground being unlevelled and the tufted grass, with which
it was covered, unkept and unmown. Most of the graves were humble
enclosures, some of which gave the impression of greenhouses, being
covered with erections of wood and glass; but here and there were small
mausoleums, the property of rich families or corporations. It is the
custom with some Chileans so to preserve the remains that the faces
continue visible; an Englishman at Santiago told us that after a funeral
which he had attended, the mourners expressed a desire to “see Aunt
Maria,” whereupon the coffin of a formerly deceased relative was taken
down from its niche for her features to be inspected. The police of
Punta Arenas had their home together in a large vault, which was
apparently being prepared for a new occupant; while the veterans of ’79
(the war between Chile and Peru) slept as they had fought, side by side.
There was apparently no Protestant corner, for the graves of English,
Germans, and Norwegians were intermingled with those of Chileans. The
resting-places of all, rich and poor alike, were lovingly decorated with
the metal wreaths so prevalent in Latin countries, but unattractive to
the English eye. Whilst I wandered among the tombs a storm burst, which
had been gathering for some time amongst distant mountains, and chilly
flakes of snow swept down in force, with biting wind and hail. I
sheltered in the lee of a mausoleum, on whose roof balanced a large
figure of the angel of peace bearing the palm-branch of victory, and the
inscription on which showed it to be the property of a wealthy family,
whose name report specially connected with the poisoning of Indians. The
landscape was temporarily obscured by the driving storm, not a soul was
in sight, and the iron wreaths on hundreds of graves rattled with a
weird and ghostly sound. Presently, however, the tempest passed and the
sun shone out, while over the Straits, towards the Fuegian land, there
came out in the sky a wonderful arc of light edged by the colours of the
rainbow, which turned the sea at its foot into a translucent and
sparkling green.
But if there was not much occupation on shore, the unexpected length of
our stay provided us unpleasantly with domestic employment. We had on
arrival parted from our friend Freeman, his object in coming to Punta
Arenas was, it transpired, to collect the remainder of a sum due to him
in connection with the sale of a skating-rink, which he had at one time
started there and run with considerable success: we were proud to think
that service on an English scientific vessel would now be added to his
experiences. Life below deck was then in the hands of Luke, the
under-steward, who, as will be remembered by careful readers, had been
the salvation of the inner man during our first gale in the North
Atlantic. We had engaged him at Southampton on the strength of a
character from a liner on which he had served in some subordinate
capacity, and he signed on for the voyage of three years at the rate of
£2 10_s._ a month. Though never what registry offices would call “clean
in person and work,” he plodded through somehow, and again in the
Freeman episode rescued the ship from starvation; we accordingly doubled
his wages as a testimonial of esteem. My feelings can therefore be
imagined when one morning, after we had been some weeks at Punta Arenas,
I was told that Luke was not on board and his cabin was cleared. He had
somehow in the early morning eluded the anchor watch and had gone off in
a strange boat. A deserter forfeits of course his accumulated wages,
which, by a probably wise regulation, are payable to Government and not
to the owner; but there is nothing to prevent a man who is leaving a
vessel recouping himself by means of any little articles that he may
judge will come in handy in his new career. The one that I grudged most
to Luke was my cookery book, to which he had become much attached, and
which was never seen again after his departure; it was really a mean
theft, from which I suffered much in the future.
S. offered, through the police, a reward for his detention, and enlarged
his knowledge of the town by going personally through every low haunt,
but without success. A rumour subsequently reached us that a muffled
figure had been seen going on board one of the little steamers which
plied backwards and forwards to the ports in Tierra del Fuego, and we
heard, when it was too late, that Luke had been enticed to a sheep farm
there, with the promise of permanent employment at £10 a month, with £2
bonus during shearing-time, which was then in progress. The temptation
was enormous, and I have to this day a sneaking kindliness for Luke, but
for those who tempted him no pardon at all. The condition in which the
successive defaulters had left their quarters is better pictured than
described, and so stringent is the line of ship’s etiquette between work
on deck and below, that, as the simplest way and for the honour of the
yacht, the Stewardess did the job of cleaning out cabin and pantry
herself. The moral for shipowners is—do not dally in South American
ports.
[Illustration:
FIG. 9.
PUNTA ARENAS.
]
Now began a strange hunt in the middle of nowhere for anything that
could call itself a cook or steward. The beachcombers who applied were
marvellous; one persistent applicant was the pianist at the local
cinema; our expedition, as already discovered, had a certain romantic
sound, which was apt to attract those who had by no means always counted
the cost. Mail steamers pass Punta Arenas every fortnight, once a month
in each direction, and these we now boarded with the tale of our woes.
Both captain and purser were most kind in allowing us to ask for a
volunteer among the stewards, but the attempt was only temporarily
successful; the routine work of a big vessel under constant supervision
proved not the right training for such a post as ours.
Finally, we were told of a British cook who had been left in hospital by
a merchant ship passing through the Straits. The cause of his detention
was a broken arm, obtained in fighting on board; this hardly seemed
promising, but the captain was reported to have said that he was “sorry
to lose him,” and we were only too thankful to get hold of anything with
some sort of recommendation. On the whole Bailey was a success. He too
had knocked about the world; at one time he had made money over a
coffee-and-cake stall in Australia, and then thrown it away. We had our
differences of course; he once, for instance, told me that as cook he
took “a superior position on the ship’s books to the stewardess,” but
his moments of temper soon blew over. I shall always cherish pleasant
memories of the way in which he and I stood by one another for weeks and
months in a position of loneliness and difficulty; but this is
anticipating.
As departure drew near, provisioning for the next stage became a serious
business, as, with the exception of a few depots for shipwrecked
mariners, there was no possibility of obtaining anything after we
sailed, before we reached our Chilean destination of Talcahuano. S.’s
work was more simple, as he had only to fill up to the greatest extent
with coal and oil, knowing that at the worst the channels provide plenty
of wood and water.
The next few weeks, when we traversed the remainder of the Magellan
Straits and the Patagonian Channels, were the most fascinating part of
the voyage. The whole of this portion of South America is a bewildering
labyrinth of waterways and islands; fresh passages open up from every
point of view, till the voyager longs to see what is round the corner,
not in one direction, but in all. It has, too, much of the charm of the
unknown: such charts as exist have been made principally by four English
men-of-war at different periods, the earliest being that of the
_Beagle_, in the celebrated voyage in which Darwin took part. A large
portion of the ways and inlets are, however, entirely unexplored. The
effect of both straits and channels is best imagined by picturing a
Switzerland into whose valleys and gorges the sea has been let in; above
tower snow-clad peaks, while below precipices, clothed with beautiful
verdure, go straight down to the water’s edge. The simile of a
sea-invaded Alps is indeed fairly accurate, for this is the tail of the
Andes which has been partially submerged. The mountains do not rise
above 5,000 feet, but the full benefit of the height is obtained as they
are seen from the sea-level. The permanent snow-line is at about 1,200
feet. The depths are very great, being in some places as much as 4,000
feet, and the only places where it is possible to anchor are in certain
little harbours where there is a break in the wall of rock. These
anchorages lie anything from five miles to twenty or thirty miles apart,
and as it was impossible to travel at night it was essential to reach
one of them before dark. If for any reason it did not prove feasible to
accomplish the necessary distance, there was no option but to turn back
in time to reach the last resting-place before daylight failed, and
start again on the next suitable day. On the other hand, when things
were propitious, we were able on occasion to reach an even further
harbour than the one which had been planned.
The proceeding amusingly resembled a game, played in the days of one’s
youth, with dice on a numbered board, and entitled “Willie’s Walk to
Grandmamma”: the player might not start till he had thrown the right
number, and even when he had begun his journey he might, by an unlucky
cast, find that he was “stopping to play marbles” and lose a turn, or be
obliged to go back to the beginning; if, however, he were fortunate he
might pass, like an express train, through several intermediate
stopping-places, and outdistance all competitors. The two other sailing
yachts with whose record we competed were the _Sunbeam_ in 1876 and the
_Nyanza_ in 1888: the match was scarcely a fair one, as the _Sunbeam_
had strong steam power and soon left us out of sight, while the
_Nyanza_, though a much bigger vessel, had no motor, and we halved her
record.
It will be seen that it was of first-rate importance to make the most of
the hours of daylight, which were now at their longest, and to effect as
early a start as possible, so that in case of accident or delay we
should have plenty of time in hand before dark. We therefore, long
before such became fashionable, passed a summer-time bill of a most
extended character, the clock being put five hours forward. Breakfast
was really at 3 a.m., and we were under way an hour later, when it was
broad daylight; but as the hours were called eight and nine everyone
felt quite comfortable and as usual, it was a great success. The
difficulty lay in retiring proportionately early. Stevenson’s words
continually rose to mind: “In summer quite the other way—I have to go to
bed by day.” The greatest drawback was the loss of sunset effects; we
should, theoretically, have had the sunrise instead, but the mornings
were often grey and misty, and it did not clear till later in the day.
One of the charms of the channels, is the smoothness of the water: we
were able to carry our cutter in the davits as well as the dinghy. It
also suited the motor, which proved of the greatest use, entirely
redeeming its character, there is no doubt however, that to become
accustomed to sailing is to be spoilt for any other method of
progression. The photographers accomplished something, but the scenery
scarcely lends itself to the camera and the light was seldom good. The
water-colour scribbles with which I occupied myself serve their purpose
as a personal diary.
We speculated from time to time whether these parts will ultimately turn
into the “playground of South America,” when that continent becomes
densely populated after the manner of Europe, and amused ourselves by
selecting sites for fashionable hotels: golf-courses no mortal power
will ever make. On the whole the probability seems the other way, for
the climate is against it; it is too near to the Antarctic to be warm
even under the most favourable conditions, and the Andes will always
intercept the rain-clouds of the Pacific. One of the survey-ships
chronicled an average of eleven hours of rain in the twenty-four, all
through the summer months. We ourselves were fortunate both in the time
of year and in the weather. It resembled in our experience a cold and
wet October at home; but there were few days, I cannot recall more than
two, when we lost the greater part of the view through fog and rain. On
the rare occasions when it was sunny and clear the effect was
disappointing, and less impressive than when the mountains were seen
partially veiled in mist and with driving cloud. The last hundred miles
before the Gulf of Peñas it became markedly warmer, and the steam
heating was no longer necessary.
It was far from our thoughts that exactly one year later these same
channels would witness a game of deadly hide-and-seek in a great naval
war between Germany and England. In them the German ship _Dresden_ lay
hidden, after making her escape from the battle of the Falkland Islands,
while for two and a half months English ships looked for her in vain.
They explored in the search more than 7,000 miles of waterway, not only
taking the risks of these uncharted passages, but expecting round every
corner to come upon the enemy with all her guns trained on the spot
where they must appear.
We left Punta Arenas on Saturday, November 29th, 1913, spending the
night in Freshwater Bay, and the next afternoon anchored in St. Nicholas
Bay, which is on the mainland. Opposite to it, on the other side of the
Straits, is Dawson Island, and separating Dawson from the next island to
the westward is Magdalen Sound, which leads into Cockburn Channel; it
was in this last that the _Dresden_ found her first hiding-place after
escaping from Sturdee’s squadron and obtaining an illicit supply of coal
at Punta Arenas. St. Nicholas Bay forms the mouth of a considerable
river, the banks of which are clothed with forests which come down to
the sea; near the estuary is a little island, and on it there is a
conspicuous tree. Mr. Corry and I went out in the boat, and found
affixed to the tree a number of boards with the names of vessels which
had visited the place. Jeffery scrambled up and added _Mana’s_ card to
those already there. This was our first introduction to a plan
frequently encountered later in out-of-the-way holes and corners, and
which subsequently played a part in the war. At the outbreak of
hostilities the _Dresden_ was in the Atlantic, and had to creep round
the Horn to join the squadron of Von Spee in the Pacific. She put into
Orange Bay, one of the furthest anchorages to the south; there she found
that many months before the _Bremen_ had left her name on a similar
board. Moved by habit someone on the cruiser wrote below it “_Dresden_,
September 11th, 1914”; then caution supervened, and the record was
partially, but only partially, obliterated; there it was shortly
afterwards read by the British ships _Glasgow_ and _Monmouth_, and
formed a record of the proceedings of the enemy.
[Illustration:
FIG. 10.
RIVER SCENE, ST. NICHOLAS BAY.
]
On Monday, December 1st, we started at daylight and made our way with
motor and sail as far as Cape Froward, the most southerly point of the
Straits; but the sea was running too high to proceed. We had to retrace
our steps, and cast anchor again in St. Nicholas Bay. This time S. and I
were determined to explore the river, so, after an early luncheon, in
order to get the benefit of the tide, we made our way up it in the
cutter. It was most pleasant rowing between the banks of the quiet
stream, and so warm and sheltered that we might almost have imagined
ourselves on the Cherwell, if the illusion had not been dispelled by the
strange vegetation which overhung the banks, amongst which were
beautiful flowering azaleas. Every here and there also a bend in the
course of the river gave magnificent views of snow-clad peaks above. A
happy little family of teal, father, mother, and children, disported
themselves in the water. Later in the voyage, as the mountains grew
steeper, we had many waterfalls, but never again a river which was
navigable to any distance. Some of the crew had been left to cut
firewood, and we found on our return that they had achieved a splendid
collection, which Mr. Ritchie and Mr. Corry had kindly been helping to
chop. Burning wood was not popular in the galley, but we were anxious to
save our supplies of coal.
Tuesday, December 2nd, we again left the bay, and this time were more
fortunate. It was misty and sunless, but as we rounded Cape Froward it
stood out grandly, with its foot in grey seas and with driving clouds
above. We had now definitely entered on the western half of the Straits
and were amongst the spurs of the Andes. As the day advanced the wind
freshened, the clouds were swept away, and blue sky appeared, while the
sea suddenly became dark blue and covered with a mass of foaming,
tumbling waves; on each coast the white-capped mountains came out clear
and strong. This part of the channel, which is known as Froward Reach,
is a path of water, about five miles wide, lying between rocky walls;
and up this track _Mana_ beat to windward, rushing along as if she
thoroughly enjoyed it. Every few minutes came the call “Ready about, lee
oh!” and over she went on a fresh tack, travelling perfectly steadily,
but listed over until the water bubbled beneath the bulwarks on the lee
side. It would have been a poor heart indeed that did not rejoice, and
every soul on board responded to the excitement and thrill of the
motion: that experience alone was worth many hundred miles of travel. As
evening came the wind sank, and we were glad of the prosaic motor to see
us into our haven at Fortescue Bay.
The next day the wind was too strong to attempt to leave the harbour,
and we went to bed with the gale still raging, but during the night it
disappeared, and before dawn we were under way. As light and colour
gradually stole into the dim landscape, the grey trunks and brown
foliage of trees on the near mountain-sides gave the effect of the most
lovely misty brown velvet. Rain and mist subsequently obscured the view,
but it cleared happily as we turned into the harbour of Angosto on the
southern side of the channel. Rounding the corner of a narrow entrance,
we found ourselves in a perfect little basin about a quarter of a mile
across, surrounded with steep cliffs some 300 feet in height, on one
side of which a waterfall tore down from the snows above. Our geologist
reported it as a glacier tarn, which, as the land gradually sank, had
been invaded by the sea. We left it with regret at daylight next
morning.
The Straits became now broader and the scenery was more bleak, the great
grey masses being scarcely touched with vegetation till they reached the
water’s edge. It was decided to spend the night at Port Churruca in
Desolation Island, rather than at Port Tamar on the mainland opposite,
which is generally frequented by vessels on entering and leaving the
Straits. We passed through the entrance into a rocky basin, but when we
were at the narrowest part between precipitous cliffs the motor stopped.
It had been frequently pointed out, when we were wrestling with the
engine, how perilous would be our position if anything went wrong with
it in narrow waters. I confess that I held my breath. S. disappeared
into the engine-room, the Navigator’s eyes were glued to the compass,
and the Sailing-master gave orders to stand by the boats in case it was
necessary to run out a kedge anchor and attach the yacht to the shore.
It was a distinct relief when the throb of the motor was once more
heard; the difficulty had arisen from the lowness of the temperature,
which had interfered with the flow of the oil. The ship, however, was
luckily well under control, with the wind at the moment behind her. In
an inner basin soundings were taken, “twenty-five fathoms no bottom,
thirty fathoms no bottom,” till, when the bowsprit seemed almost
touching the sheer wall of rock, the Nassau Anchorage was found and down
went the hook.
[Illustration:
FIG. 11
CAPE FROWARD, MAGELLAN STRAITS.
Looking East.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 12.
THE GLACIER GORGE, PORT CHURRUCA.
]
We grew well acquainted with Churruca, as we were detained there for
five days; Saturday through the overhauling of the engine; Sunday,
Monday, and Tuesday by bad weather; of Wednesday more anon. The position
was not without a certain eeriness: we lay in this remote niche in the
mountains, while the storm raged in the channel without and in the peaks
above; at night, after turning in, the gale could be heard tearing down
from above in each direction in turn, and the vessel’s chain rattling
over the stony bottom as she swung round to meet it. The heavy rain
turned every cliff-face into a multitude of waterfalls, which vanished
at times into the air as a gust of wind caught the jet of water and
converted it into a cloud of spray. Although the weather prevented our
venturing outside, it was quite possible to explore the port by means of
the ship’s boats. It proved not unlike Angosto, but on a larger and more
complicated scale. Beyond our inner anchorage, although invisible from
it, was a further extension known as the Lobo Arm, and there were also
other small creeks and inlets.
Even the prosaic Sailing Directions venture on the statement that the
scenery at Port Churruca is “scarcely surpassed,” and one of the fiords
must be described, although the attempt seems almost profane. In its
narrow portion it was about a mile in length and from 100 to 200 yards
in width; the sheer cliffs on either hand were clothed to the height of
many hundreds of feet with various forms of fern and most brilliant
moss. Above this belt of colour was bleak crag, and higher again the
snow-line. The gorge ended in a precipice, above which was a
mountain-peak; a glacier descending from above had been arrested in its
descent by the precipice and now stood above it, forming part of it, a
sheer wall of ice and snow as if cut off by a giant knife. There was
little life to be seen, but an occasional gleam was caught from the
white breast of a sea-bird against the dark setting of the ravine. In
one part, high up on the cliff, where the wind was deflected by a piece
of overhanging rock, was a little colony of nests; the mother birds and
young broods sat on the edge in perfect shelter, even when to venture
off it was to be beaten down on to the surface of the water by the
strength of the wind. Some of our party visited the fiord on a second
occasion to try to obtain photographs; it was blowing at the time a
severe gale, and the effect was magical. The squalls, known as
“williwaws,” rushed down the ravine in such force that the powerful
little launch was brought to a standstill. They lashed the water into
waves, and then turned the foaming crests into spray, till the whole
surface presented the aspect of a fiercely boiling cauldron, through
which glimpses could be caught from time to time of the dark cliffs
above.
While S. and I were visiting the glacier gorge, the two other members of
the party were exploring the last portion of the inlet named on the
chart the Lobo Arm. It terminated on low ground, on which stood the
frame of an Indian hut, and pieces of timber had been laid down to form
a portage for canoes. A few steps showed that the low ground extended
only for some 160 yards, while beyond this was another piece of water
which had the appearance of an inland lake, some three miles long and a
mile wide. The portage end of the water was vaguely shown on the chart
of Port Churruca, but there was no indication of anything of the kind on
the general map of Desolation Island. Our curiosity was mildly excited,
and we all visited the place; one of our number remarked that “the water
was slightly salt,” another that there “were tidal indications,” a third
that “from higher ground the valley seemed to go on indefinitely.” At
last the map was again and more seriously examined, and it was seen
that, while there were no signs of this water, there were on the
opposite side of the island the commencements of two inlets from the
open sea, neither of which had been followed up: the more northerly of
these was immediately opposite Port Churruca. “If,” we all agreed, “our
lake is not a lake at all, but a fiord”—and to this every appearance
pointed—“it is in all probability the termination of this northern
inlet, and Desolation Island is cut in two except for the small isthmus
with the portage.” Then a great ardour of exploration seized us, Mr.
Corry fell a victim to it, Mr. Gillam fell likewise, and we refused to
be depressed by Mr. Ritchie’s dictum that it had “nothing to do with
serious navigation.” We wrestled with a conscientious conviction that it
had certainly nothing to do with Easter Island, and we ought to go
forward at the earliest possible moment, but the exploration fever
conquered. We discussed the possibility of getting the motor-launch over
the portage, and were obliged reluctantly to abandon it as too heavy,
but it was concluded that it would be quite feasible with the cutter.
The next day proved too wet to attempt anything, but Wednesday dawned
reasonably fine, though with squalls at intervals. Great were the
preparations, from compasses, notebooks, and log-lines, to tinned beef
and dry boots. At last at 11.30 (or 6.30 a.m. by true time) we sallied
forth. The launch towed us down the Lobo Arm, and then came the work of
passing the boat across the isthmus, at which all hands assisted. It was
the prettiest sight imaginable; the portage, which had been cut through
the thick forest undergrowth, had the appearance of a long and brilliant
tunnel between the two waters, it was carpeted with bright moss and
overhung by trees which were covered with lichen (fig. 14). The bottom
was soft and boggy, and I at one time became so firmly embedded that I
could not get out without assistance. In less than half an hour the boat
was launched on the other side, and Mr. Corry, Mr. Gillam, our two
selves, and two seamen set forth on our voyage. Soon after starting the
creek divided, part going to the north-west and part to the south-east.
We decided to follow the latter as apparently the main channel.
We rowed for an hour and a quarter, taking our rate of speed by the log.
The mountains on each side were of granite, showing very distinct traces
of ice action. At 2 p.m. we landed on the left bank for luncheon. It
was, it must be admitted, a somewhat wet performance; the soaked wood
proved too much even for our expert campers-out, who had been confident
that they could make a fire under all circumstances, and had
disdainfully declined a proffered thermos. Enthusiasm was, however,
undamped. Mr. Corry ascended to high ground and discovered that there
was another similar creek on the other side of the strip of ground on
which we had landed, which converged towards that along which we were
travelling. After rowing for an hour and a half we reached the point
where the two creeks joined; here we landed and scrambled up through
some brushwood to the top of a low eminence. Looking backwards we could
see up both pieces of water, while looking forward the two fiords, now
one, passed at right angles, after some four miles, into a larger piece
of water. This was where we had expected to find the open sea, and some
distant blue mountains on the far horizon were somewhat of an enigma. As
we had to row back against a head wind, it was useless to think of going
further, unless we were prepared to camp out, so all we could do was to
make as exact sketches as possible to work out at home.
The return journey was easier than had been expected, for the wind
dropped; we kept this time to the right bank, and stopped for “tea” by
some rocks, which added mussels to the repast for the taking. The
portage was gained four hours after the time that the rest of the crew
had been told to meet us there; and it was a relief to find that they
had possessed their souls with patience. _Mana_ was finally reached at
11 p.m. It was found by calculating the speed at which we had travelled
and its direction, that our creek had led into the more southerly of the
unsurveyed inlets, and not as we had expected into that to the
northward. The distant blue hills were islands. Like all great
explorers, from Christopher Columbus downwards, our results were
therefore not precisely those we had looked for, but we had undoubtedly
proved our contention that Desolation Island is in two halves, united
only by the 160 yards covered by the portage on the Lobo Isthmus.
A knowledge of the existence of this channel, connecting the Pacific
Ocean with the Magellan Straits, might be of high importance to the crew
of a vessel lost to the south of Cape Pillar, when making for the
entrance to the Straits. Instead of trying to round that Cape against
wind at sea, her boats should run to the southward until the entrance to
the inlet is reached; they can then enter the Magellan Straits without
difficulty at Port Churruca. With the consent of the Royal Geographical
Society, it has been christened “Mana Inlet.”[3]
[Illustration:
FIG. 13.
MANA INLET.
]
The next morning, December 1st, we left Churruca with a fair wind, so
that the engine was only needed at the beginning and end of the day; but
the weather was drizzling and unpleasant, so that we could see little of
Cape Pillar,[4] where the Magellan Straits enter the Pacific Ocean. Our
own course was up the waterways between the western coast of Patagonia
and the islands which lie off the coast. It is a route that is little
taken, owing to the dangers of navigation. Not only is much of it
uncharted and unsurveyed, but it is also unlighted, and its passage is
excluded by the ordinary insurance terms of merchant ships; they
consequently pass out at once into the open sea at Cape Pillar. We
turned north at Smyth’s Channel, the first of these waterways, and made
such good progress that, instead of anchoring as we had intended at
Burgoyne’s Bay, we were able to reach Otter Bay. It is situated amid a
mass of islands, and the sad vision of a ship with her back broken
emphasised the need for caution. The general character of the Patagonian
Channels is of the same nature as the Magellan Straits, but particularly
beautiful views of the Andes are obtained to the eastward. The next day
Mount Burney was an impressive spectacle, although only glimpses of the
top could be obtained through fleeting mists; and the glistening heights
of the Sarmiento Cordillera came out clear and strong. We anchored that
night at Occasion Cove on Piazzi Island; and on Saturday, December 13th,
had a twelve hours’ run, using the engine all the way. Here there was a
succession of comparatively monotonous hills and mountains, so
absolutely rounded by ice action as to give the impression of apple
dumplings made for giants. The lines show always, as would be expected,
that the ice-flow has been from the south. Later a ravine on Esperanza
Island was particularly remarkable; its mysterious windings, which it
would have been a joy to explore, were alternately hidden by driving
cloud or radiant with gleams of sun. Glimpses up Peel Inlet gave
pleasant views, and two snowy peaks on Hanover Island, unnamed as usual,
were absorbing our attention when we turned into Latitude Cove.
On December 14th the landscape was absolutely grey and colourless, so
that Guia Narrows were not seen to advantage. Later the channel was
wider and the possibility of sailing debated, but abandoned in view of
the head wind. We had been struck with the absence of life and fewness
of birds, but we now saw some albatrosses. In slacking away the anchor
preparatory to letting go in Tom Bay, in a depth stated to be seventeen
fathoms, it hit an uncharted rock at eleven fathoms. It was still
raining as we left Tom Bay, but when we turned up Brassey Pass, which
lies off the regular channel, the clouds began to lift, and Hastings
Fiord and Charrua Bay were grand beyond description. From time to time
the mists rose for an instant, and revealed the immediate presence of
reach beyond reach of wooded precipices; or a dark summit appeared
without warning, towering overhead at so great a height that, severed by
cloud from its base, it seemed scarcely to belong to the earth. Then as
suddenly the whole panorama was cut off, and we were alone once more
with a grey sea and sky.
[Illustration:
FIG. 14.
CANOE CORDUROY PORTAGE BETWEEN PORT CHURRUCA AND MANA INLET.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 15.
PATAGONIAN WATERWAYS.
Showing water near the land smoothed by growing kelp.
]
As we approached Charrua, we caught sight among the trees on a
neighbouring island of something which was both white and nebulous; it
might, of course, be only an isolated wreath of mist, but after watching
it for a while we came to the conclusion that it was undoubtedly a cloud
of smoke. Our hopes of seeing Indians, which had grown faint, began to
revive. As soon as we were anchored, orders were given that immediately
after dinner the launch should be ready for us to inspect what we hoped
might prove a camping-ground. This turned out to be unnecessary, as the
neighbours made the first call. In an hour’s time S. came to inform me
that two canoes were approaching full of natives “just like the
picture-books,” whereon the anthropologists felt inclined to adapt the
words of the immortal Snark-hunters and exclaim:
“We have sailed many weeks, we have sailed many days,
Seven days to the week I allow,
But an Indian on whom we might lovingly gaze
We have never beheld until now.”
The crew, however, were fully convinced that the hour had arrived when
they would have to defend themselves against ferocious savages. They had
been carefully primed in every detail by disciples of Ananias at Buenos
Aires, and by the bloodcurdling accounts of a certain mariner named
Slocum, who claimed to have sailed the Straits single-handed and to have
protected himself from native onslaught by means of tin-tacks sprinkled
on the deck of his ship. The canoes were about 23 feet in length, with
beam of 4 to 6 feet and a depth of 2 feet. Six Indians were in one and
seven in the other; all were young with the exception of one older man,
and each boat contained a mother and baby. Their skins were a dark
olive, which was relieved in the case of the women and children by a
beautiful tinge of pink in the cheeks, and they had very good teeth.
Their hair was long and straight, and a fillet was habitually worn round
the brow; the top was cut _à la brosse_, giving the impression of a
monk’s tonsure which had been allowed to grow. The height of the men was
about 5 feet 4 inches. Most of the party were clad in old European
garments, but a few wore capes of skins, and some seemed still more at
home in a state of nature. They had brought nothing for sale, but begged
for biscuits and old clothes. I parted with a wrench from a useful piece
of calico, in the interests of one of the infants, which was still in
its primitive condition; it was accepted, but with a howl of derision,
which I humbly felt was well merited when it was seen that the rival
baby was already wrapped in an old waistcoat given by the cook. One of
the Indians talked a little Spanish, and was understood to say he was a
Christian.
After dealing with them for a while we offered to tow them home, an
offer readily understood, and accepted without hesitation. It was a
strange procession amid weird surroundings; the sun had shown signs of
coming out, but had thought better of it and retreated, and we made our
way over a grey sea, between half-obscure cliffs in drizzling rain,
taking keen note of our route for fear of losing our way back. Truly we
seemed to have reached the uttermost ends of the earth. The lead was
taken by that recent product of civilisation a motor-launch, containing
our two selves and our Glasgow socialist engineer; then at the end of a
rope came the dinghy, to be used for landing, the broad back of one of
our Devonshire seamen making a marked object as he stood up in it to
superintend the towing of the craft behind. The two canoes followed,
full of these most primitive specimens of humanity, while the rear was
brought up by a seal, which swam after us for a mile or so, putting up
its head at intervals to gaze curiously at the scene. S. had brought his
gun, and as we approached the camp thought it well to shoot a sea-bird,
for the double reason of showing that he was armed and giving a present
to our new friends. The encampment was situated in a little cove, and
nothing could have been more picturesque. In front was a shingly beach,
on which the two canoes were presently drawn up, flanked by low rocks
covered with bright seaweed. In the background was a mass of trees,
shrubs, and creepers, which almost concealed two wigwams, from one of
which had issued the smoke which attracted our notice (fig. 16).
We returned next morning to photograph and study the scene. The size of
the shelters, or tents, was about 12 feet by 9 feet, with a height of
some 5 feet. They were formed by a framework of rods set up in oval
form, the tops of which were brought together and interwoven, and
strengthened by rods laid horizontally and tied in place: the opening
was at the side and towards the sea. Over this structure seals’ skins
were thrown, which kept in place by their own weight, as the encampments
are always made in sheltered positions in dense forests. With the
exception that they do not possess a ridge-pole, the tents, which are
always the same in size and make, closely resemble those of English
gipsies, the skins taking the place of the blankets used by those
people. No attempt was made to level the floor, the fire was in the
middle, and in one the sole occupant was a naked sprawling baby, who
occupied the place of honour on the floor beside it. In some of the old
encampments, which we saw subsequently, there were as many as six huts,
but it was doubtful if they had all been occupied at the same time. The
middens are outside and generally near the door. Some of the Indians
were quite friendly, but others were not very cordial, the old women in
particular making it clear to the men of the party that their presence
was not welcome. The old man, whose picture appears (fig. 17), was
apparently the patriarch of the party, and quite amiable, though he
firmly declined to part with his symbol of authority in the shape of his
club; in order to keep him quiet while his photograph was taken he was
fed on biscuits, which he was taught to catch after the manner of a pet
dog. The staff of life is mussels and limpets, and we saw in addition
small quantities of berries. A lump of seal fat weighing perhaps 10 lb.
was being gnawed like an apple, and a portion was offered to our party.
The dogs are smooth-haired black-and-tan terriers, like small heavy
lurchers; they are, it is said, taught to assist their masters in the
catching of fish.[5]
The company presently showed signs of unusual activity, and began to
shift camp; the movement was not connected, as far as we could tell,
with our presence, and, judging by the odour of the place, the time for
it had certainly arrived. It was interesting to see their chattels
brought down one by one to the canoes. Amongst them were receptacles
resembling large pillboxes, about 12 inches across, made of birchwood,
which was split thin and sewn with tendons. In these were kept running
nooses made of whalebone for capturing wild geese, and also
harpoon-lines cut out of sealskin: at one extremity of these last was a
barbed head made of bone; this head, when in use, fits into the
extremity of a long wooden shaft, to which it is then attached by the
leather thong. The possessions included an adze-like tool for making
canoes, the use of which was demonstrated, and resembled that of a
plane; also an awl about 2 inches long, in form like a dumb-bell, with a
protruding spike at one end. There were small pots made of birch bark
for baling the boats, and some European axes. We did not see any form of
cooking utensil. When all the objects, including the sealskin coverings
of the huts, had been stowed in the canoes, the company all embarked and
rowed off towards the open sea.
On leaving Charrua and returning to the main channel we obtained
magnificent views of the Andes. Penguin Inlet leading inland opened up a
marvellous panorama of snowy peaks, which can be visible only on a clear
day such as we were fortunate in possessing; this range received at
least one vote, in the final comparing of notes, as to the most
beautiful thing seen between Punta Arenas and the Gulf of Peñas. A white
line across the water showed where the ice terminated, while small
pieces which reached the main channel, looked, as they floated past us,
like stray waterlilies on the surface of the sea. We anchored at Ring
Dove Inlet, and went on next day through Chasm Reach, where the channel
is only from five hundred to a thousand yards in width. Our
expectations, which had been greatly raised, were on the whole
disappointed, but here again no doubt it was a question of lighting; the
usually gloomy gorge was illuminated with the full radiance of the
summer sun, leaving nothing to the imagination.
Chasm Reach leads into Indian Reach, in which sea, mountain, and sky
formed a perfect harmony in varying shades of blue, with touches of
white from high snow-clad peaks. Suddenly, in the middle of this vista,
as if made to fit into the scene, appeared a dark Indian canoe with its
living freight, evidently making for the vessel. We stopped the engine,
threw them a line, and towed them to our anchorage in Eden Harbour. The
weather had suddenly become much warmer, and the thermometer in the
saloon had now risen to the comfortable but scarcely excessive height of
64°; the crew of the canoe, however, were so overcome with the heat that
they spent the time pouring what must have been very chilly sea water
over their naked bodies.[6]
[Illustration:
FIG. 16.
ENCAMPMENT OF PATAGONIAN INDIANS, BRASSEY PASS. _From sketch and
photos._
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 17.
INDIANS OF BRASSEY PASS.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 18.
CANOE IN INDIAN REACH.
]
The party was conducted by two young men; a very old woman without a
stitch of clothing crouched in the bow; while in the middle of the boat,
in the midst of ashes, mussel-shells, and other débris, a charming girl
mother sat in graceful attitude. She was, perhaps, seventeen, and wore
an old coat draped round her waist, while her baby, of some eighteen
months, in the attire of nature, occupied itself from time to time in
trying to stand on its ten toes. A younger girl of about fourteen sat
demurely in the stern with her folded arms resting on a paddle which lay
athwart the canoe, beneath which two shapely little brown legs were just
visible. Her rich colouring, and the faded green drapery which she wore,
made against the dark background of the canoe a perfect study for an
artist, but the moment an attempt was made to photograph her she hid her
face in her hands. The party was completed by a couple of dogs and a
family of fat tan puppies, who were held up from time to time, but
whether for our admiration or purchase was not evident.
The belongings were similar to those seen at the encampment and there
were also baskets on board. The young mother had a necklace which looked
like a charm, and therefore particularly excited our desires: in
response to our gestures she handed to us a similar one worn by the
baby, which was duly paid for in matches. When we were still unsatisfied
she beckoned to the young girl to sell hers, but stuck steadfastly to
her own, till finally a mixed bribe of matches and biscuits proved too
much, and the cherished ornament passed into our keeping. The young men
readily came on deck of the yacht, but the women were obviously
frightened, and kept saying _mala, mala_ in spite of our efforts to
reassure them. After we had cast anchor, the party went with our crew to
show them the best spot in which to shoot the net, and on their return
ran up the square sail of their canoe, the halyard passing over a mast
like a small clothes-prop with a Y-shaped extremity, got out their
paddles, and vanished down-stream.
At Eden Harbour a wreck was lying in mid-stream, where she had evidently
struck on an uncharted rock when trying to enter the bay, a danger from
which no possible foresight can guard those who go down to the sea in
ships. English Narrows, which was next reached, is considered the most
difficult piece of navigation in the channels: a small island lies in
the middle of the fairway, leaving only a narrow passage on either side,
down which, under certain conditions, the tide runs at a terrific rate.
It was exciting, as the yacht approached her course between the island
and opposing cliff which are separated by only some 360 yards, to hear
Mr. Ritchie ask Mr. Gillam to take the helm himself, and the latter give
the order to “stand by the anchor” in case of mishap; but we had hit it
off correctly at slack water and got through without difficulty. From
there our route passed through Messier Channel, which has all the
appearance of a broad processional avenue, out of which we presently
turned to the right and found ourselves in Connor Cove. The harbour
terminates in a precipitous gorge, down which a little river makes its
way into the inlet. We endeavoured to row up it, but could not get
further than 100 or 200 yards; even that distance was achieved with
difficulty, owing to the number of fallen trees which lay picturesquely
across the stream.
The plant life, which had always been most beautiful, became even more
glorious with the rather milder climate, which we had now reached. When
the trees were stunted it was from lack of soil, not from atmospheric
conditions. Tree-ferns abounded, and flowering plants wandered up
moss-grown stems; among the most beautiful of these blooms were one with
a red bell and another one which almost resembled a snowdrop.[7] The
impression of the luxuriant _mêlé_ was rather that of a tropical forest
than of an almost Antarctic world, while the intrusion of rocks and
falling water added peculiar charm. Butterflies were seen occasionally,
and sometimes humming-birds.
Since our detention at Churruca we had been favoured with unvarying good
fortune, and the crew were beginning to say that thirteen, which we had
counted on board since Mr. Corry joined us, was proving our lucky
number. Now, however, our fate changed; twice did we set forth from this
harbour only to be obliged to return and start afresh, till we began to
feel that getting under way from Connor Cove was rapidly becoming a
habit. On the first occasion the weather became so thick that in the
opinion of our Navigator it was not safe to proceed: the second time the
wind was against us. We tried both engine and sails, but though we could
make a certain amount of headway under either it was obviously
impossible, at the rate of progression, to reach the next haven before
nightfall; when, therefore, we were already half-way to our goal we once
more found it necessary to turn round. It was peculiarly tantalising to
reflect that there were, in all probability, numerous little creeks on
the way in which we could have sheltered for the night, but as none of
them had been surveyed there was no alternative but to go back to our
previous anchorage. Residence there had the redeeming point that it
proved an excellent fishing-ground. On each of the three nights the
trammel was shot at a short distance from the spot where the stream
entered the bay, and we obtained in all some 200 mullet. They formed an
acceptable change of diet, and those not immediately needed were salted.
From that time till we left the channels we were never without fresh
fish, catching, in addition to mullet, bream, gurnet, and a kind of
whiting; they formed part of the menu at every meal, till the more
ribald persons suggested that they themselves would shortly begin to
swim.
Our third effort to leave Connor Cove was crowned with greater success,
and we safely reached Island Harbour, which, as its name suggests, is
sheltered by outlying islands. This bay and the neighbouring anchorage
of Hale Cove are the last two havens in the channels before the Gulf of
Peñas is reached, and in either of them a vessel can lie with comfort
and await suitable weather for putting out to sea. It is essential for a
sailing vessel to obtain a fair wind, for not only has she to clear the
gulf, but must, for the sake of safety, put 200 miles between herself
and the land; otherwise, should a westerly gale arise, she might be
driven back on to the inhospitable Patagonian coast. In Island Harbour
we filled our tanks, adorned the ship for’ard with drying clothes and
fish, and for three days waited in readiness to set forth. At the end of
that time it was still impossible to leave the channels, but we decided
to move on the short distance to Hale Cove, which we reached on December
24th. Christmas Eve was spent by three of our party, Mr. Ritchie, Mr.
Corry, and Mr. Gillam, on a small rock “taking stars” till 2 a.m. The
rock, which had been selected at low tide, grew by degrees unexpectedly
small, and to keep carefully balanced on a diminishing platform out of
reach of the rising water, while at the same time being continuously
bitten by insects, was, they ruefully felt, to make scientific
observations under difficulties. On Christmas Day it poured without
intermission, but it was a peaceful if not an exciting day. It is, I
believe, the correct thing to give the menu on these occasions: the
following was ours.
SCHOONER YACHT _MANA_, R.C.C.
CHRISTMAS DAY, 1913.
Potages aux légumes à l’Anglais.
Mulets d’eaux Patagonia.
Bœuf rôti d’Argentine. Pommes de terre de Punta Arenas.
Petits Pois à l’Angleterre.
Pouding Noël de Army & Navy Stores, garni “Holly Antarctic.”
Fromage Gouda, Beurre, Pain de Mana, Biscuits Matelote.
Bonbons Peppermint à la School-girl.
Café de Rio de Janeiro.
The forecastle was visited after dinner and each man given a half-pound
tin of tobacco. Boxing Day was comparatively fine, and a laundry was
organised on shore with great success; a fire was made, old kerosene
tins turned into boilers, and the articles washed in camp-baths with
water from a streamlet. It is one thing, however, to wet clothes in the
Patagonian Channels; it is quite another to dry them. For days
afterwards the rain descended in torrents, while the wind blew
persistently from the north-west; with one short intermission we lay in
Hale Cove weather-bound for thirteen days, till, as some one remarked,
“it was a pity that we had not given it as a postal address.” It was
tiresome of course, but an interval of rest for all on board after the
strenuous passage of the channels was not without advantage; for
ourselves journals were written up, flowers pressed, and photographs
developed.
Hale Cove was fortunately one of those few ports in which it was
possible to get a little exercise, which the denseness of the
undergrowth generally rendered impossible. The cliffs, at the foot of
which _Mana_ lay, were precipitous and clothed with vegetation to the
sky-line, they thus scarcely lent themselves to exploration. There was,
however, across the small bay a southern spur, on the top of which for
some reason trees had not flourished and which was comparatively clear;
this it was possible to reach by landing on a little beach and
scrambling along an old track which had been cut through an intermediate
belt of wood. We could in this way get some sort of a walk, at the cost
of course of becoming soaked through from bogs and dripping vegetation.
Not far from the cove there were traces of a small frame house, and near
it flourished European wheat and grass, which had obviously taken root
from stray seed. Its history was difficult to guess. Why had a white man
lived there, and on what had he subsisted? The only solution suggested
was that it might at one time have been a port of call for a line of
steamers, and a woodman had been employed to cut fuel. Another dwelling,
but made of material found on the spot, had obviously been destroyed by
fire, and on its abandoned site native wigwams had been erected. The
place was evidently the resort of Indians; when, therefore, we noted
near the old track, and not far from the water-course, part of two rough
boards protruding from the earth, we hoped that we had chanced on an
Indian burial-ground, which would naturally have been of much
anthropological interest. The soil which had originally covered the
boards had been partially washed away by the rain, and on moving them we
found, as had been guessed, that just below were human bones; they were
so deeply encrusted with roots and earth that it was only by much
digging with our fingers we could get them out at all. Then they proved
to be in much confusion, two parts of the skull even were in different
places, and it was difficult at first to say whether the body, which was
that of a man in middle life, had been buried full length or in the
folded attitude so common among primitive peoples. It was my first
experience in scientific body-snatching, a proceeding to which later I
became fairly well inured, and it felt not a little weird being thus in
contact with the dead in his lonely resting-place. A great tree-fern
kept guard over the grave on one side, a gnarled trunk bent over it from
the other, and the sun gleamed at intervals through the thick branches
of surrounding cedars. At last it became obvious that the body had been
outstretched, and the grave lined as well as covered with boards, in
addition to which there had been a wrapping of some woven material; it
seemed therefore evident that the corpse had been that of a civilised
man. Who was he? the lumberman, the remains of whose hut we had seen?
one of the crew of some vessel which had put in here? or possibly a
shipwrecked mariner? for there were traces of an ill-fated vessel in a
quantity of coal washed up on the beach. Why, though he had been buried
with considerable care, was the grave so shallow, and why had it been
left unmarked? We buried him again reverently, and though he was very
possibly an unpleasant person when alive, the thoughts of one of us at
least, who is naturally mid-Victorian, turned to the mother who had once
borne and tended him somewhere and who could so little have pictured
where he would lie.
“One midst the forest of the west
By a dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.”
MRS. HEMANS.
We discussed marking the spot, but came to the conclusion that the best
way to prevent its again being disturbed was to obliterate all traces of
it; so there the nameless man rests on in his hidden grave.
The wind still being contrary, charts and sailing directions were
ransacked for change of scene, and on New Year’s Eve we shifted our
quarters, proceeding up Krüger Channel, and anchoring in a little cove
called after De Wet: as Joubert was also in the neighbourhood, officials
of the Chilean Government who had surveyed the district had apparently
been of pro-Boer sympathies. On January 1st, 1914, we went out into the
Gulf of Peñas, only to find that it was useless to attempt to put to
sea, and we returned again to Hale Cove. The _Challenger_ had, we found,
anchored in the same spot on New Year’s Day, 1876. During the next few
days Mr. Ritchie, with the help of Mr. Corry, occupied himself at my
husband’s request in surveying a small cove as a possible anchorage for
lesser craft.
[Illustration:
FIG. 19.
HALE COVE.
]
A shooting expedition also took place after kelp-geese, which are large
birds about the size of Aylesbury ducks. When cruising in the launch we
saw at some distance a couple of them swimming in the sea; we circled
round them in the endeavour to get a shot, till we were about a hundred
yards distant, when they took the alarm and made off. They are unable to
fly, but when, as in this case, they anticipate danger scuttle along on
the top of the water, lashing it up with their webbed feet. The surface
was smooth as a mirror, and the boat went about seven miles an hour, but
for some two miles we were unable to overhaul them. Presently they dived
and separated, and on their reappearance we continued to follow one of
them. During the whole of the pursuit, whenever the wobbling of the boat
and the antics of the bird permitted the fore and back sights to be
brought in line, a ·275 mauser bullet was sent somewhere in the
neighbourhood of the fleeing object. The goose apparently came to the
conclusion that the white launch, with its spluttering motor, was a
peculiarly formidable sea-beast, and the safest place would be on land;
he therefore went on shore, climbed up some rocks, and looked at it; a
bullet between his feet, however, unsettled his mind on the subject, and
he once more took to the water, where he finally met his doom. Light,
who happened to be with us, witnessed the chase with intense delight,
and constantly referred to it afterwards as the most exciting
recollection of the voyage. As was not astonishing in the case of such
an athletic bird, no part of him proved to be eatable except his liver,
which was excellent.[8]
On Tuesday, January 6th, we at last got our favourable wind and said
good-bye to Hale Cove. It is the usual resort for vessels entering and
leaving the channels, but we had lain there for nearly a fortnight in
the height of the season without seeing a trace of a ship, a fact which
shows how little these waterways are frequented. As we passed out of the
Gulf of Peñas we gazed with interest on the unfriendly and barren peaks
of Wager Island, where Anson’s store-ship of that name was lost on May
14th, 1740, after the squadron had rounded the Horn. The members of the
crew who survived the wreck, one hundred and forty-five in number, were
there for five months, at the end of which time they had been reduced by
about one-third, chiefly through starvation. Seventy or eighty of the
remainder then took to the longboat and cutter, of whom thirty finally
reached the coast of Brazil via the Magellan Straits. The rest of the
survivors, a party of twenty, including the captain and an officer named
Byron, a great-uncle of the poet, made their way northward, and through
the aid of Indians four of them managed to reach the Spanish settlements
in Chile. The graphic account given by Byron of their surroundings on
the island would be equally applicable to-day, and has already been
quoted in these pages.
CHAPTER VI
CHILE
Refitting at Talcahuano—Trip to Santiago and across the Summit of the
Andes—Valparaiso—To Juan Fernandez—Typhoid on Board—Back to Chile—Juan
Fernandez again.
The principal Spanish colonies in South America were, as has been
seen, on the western side of the continent. Balbao crossed the isthmus
of Panama in 1513. In 1531 Pizarro landed in Peru, where he
encountered and overthrew the empire of the Incas. Valdivia, one of
his ablest lieutenants, made his way still further south, and in 1541
founded Santiago, the present capital of Chile, on the fruitful plain
between the Andes and the sea. His further progress was checked by the
Araucanians, a warlike tribe of Indians, who offered a much stronger
resistance than the Incas. They were never entirely conquered, and the
Spaniards in Chile were engaged in perpetual struggle with them, while
at the same time open to attacks on the coast from European powers who
were at enmity with Spain. When the revolutionary waves swept the
continent the Chilean patriots were at first compelled to withdraw
across the Andes. The most famous of them was Bernardo O’Higgins; his
father, originally a barefooted Irish boy, was one of the last
viceroys of Peru, and the son became one of the first presidents of
the new republic. Argentina had at this time accomplished her own
freedom, and was able to send help to Chile. General San Martin
crossed the Andes, and inflicted a crushing defeat on the Spaniards at
Maipu in 1818. The revolutionary army then passed north, the Viceroy
evacuated Lima, and at Guayaquil San Martin met the liberator Bolivar,
who had marched down from the north. Meanwhile Admiral Cochrane, who
had reorganised the Chilean and Peruvian navies, had been engaged in
freeing the Pacific from Spanish ships. South America thus was finally
cleared from the domination of the Spaniard.
Disputes, however, arose between the new republics as to their
respective boundaries: Chile fought Peru in 1879 over the possession
of the nitrate-fields, and issued victorious from the struggle. The
long series of difficulties between Chile and Argentina was ended, as
has been recorded, through British arbitration, in 1902.
It is hard not to believe that the “roaring forties” have a personality:
a polytheist who goes thither in ships ought to sacrifice to the spirit
of that unquiet belt. As soon as we had passed the magic limit of
degrees the weather changed and became beautifully balmy, and the rest
of our passage was excellent. When we again came in sight of land it was
in strong contrast to that which we had left, being brown, dried up, and
somewhat low: all visions of snow-clad Andes had disappeared; neither
here nor at Talcahuano was anything to be seen that could justify the
name of a coast range. Talcahuano, the Chilean naval port, stands on a
magnificently sheltered bay and was an ideal spot for our purpose of
refitting. It is much to be preferred, from the shipping point of view,
to the bay of Valparaiso, some 260 miles further up the coast, which
lies exposed to the northerly winds and is crowded with shipping.
Through the kindness of Mr. Edwards, the Chilean minister in London, a
naval order had been promulgated some time before our arrival giving
instructions that the Expedition was to be afforded all facilities. We
accordingly met with every courtesy, and the yacht was almost at once
placed in the floating dock to allow of the examination of her bottom,
an essential proceeding, as it had not been overlooked, except by a
diver at Punta Arenas, since we left England, now nearly twelve months
ago. A floating dock consists of a huge tray, with an enormous tank on
either side; when these tanks are filled with water the dock sinks, and
the vessel floats on to the tray, being supported against its sides, the
tanks are then emptied, and the tray rises, bearing the vessel clear out
of the water; when the work is completed the process is reversed and the
ship floats out once more.
After this overhauling, which took four days, came the work of examining
and restowing the hold; this was expedited by all the contents being
taken out and placed in a lighter alongside. It was the work of the
Stewardess to check the stores in hand, and also those contained in
ninety-five new packages from England which we found awaiting our
arrival. On the representation of our Legation at Santiago, the
Government had done us the favour to remit all duties on them except 5
per cent., which it would have required a special Act of Parliament to
repeal. As some goods pay as much as 55 per cent. in customs we were
greatly the gainers, in spite of the fact that an illicit levy had been
taken of our butter and jam, which are among the most heavily taxed
articles, to an amount equivalent to a supply of some weeks for the
saloon party. We were happily able to make good the deficiency, which
would otherwise have been somewhat maddening, by purchases of honey,
which all down this part of the coast is good and cheap. Jam is
ruinously expensive, if procurable at all, and our sympathy was extended
to the skipper of an English merchant ship in the bay, whose stock was
finished, but whose crew were in no way inclined to waive their Board of
Trade rights, for Jack thinks potted strawberries and damsons quite as
essential an article of diet as does Tommy. Our loss was less annoying,
if also less amusing, than that of the owners of a lighter which was
lying just outside the custom-house, and which was forcibly despoiled
during the night. The thieves turned out to be the guards set by the
custom-house, who apparently thinking the hours of darkness long had
contrived thus to pass the time. We told this story to one of the
inhabitants of another South American port. “Ah, yes,” he said drily,
“the custom-house here has now a bright electric light; it makes it
easier for them to take out the nails without hurting their fingers.”
We were now nearing the end of our outward voyage, and the provisions
had to be divided between the respective sea and land parties. Easter
Island affords no good anchorage, and our plan was that the yacht, after
disembarking the scientific members and waiting awhile off the coast,
should return to Talcahuano under charge of Mr. Gillam, to collect
letters and goods and then come out again to the island. The stores,
therefore, had to be divided into four lots, with much arithmetical
calculation: firstly, the portion needed by the whole Expedition for the
voyage out, which was expected to last about a month; secondly, that for
the shore party for a period of six months; thirdly, a share for the
crew alone for four months; and, fourthly, the remainder which was to be
left at Talcahuano and gathered up later. The island allotment was the
most difficult, as we had only a general idea of what it would be
possible to procure on shore.
It was altogether, as will be seen, a considerable work, and we were
hard at it for a fortnight, during which time, with the exception of two
shopping expeditions to the neighbouring city of Concepcion, we had
little opportunity to see the surrounding country. It felt at any rate
dry and warm, in fact well aired, after the damp of the Patagonian
Channels, and might have been even adjudged too dry and dusty. The most
refreshing sight was a little garden which adjoined the custom-house
steps, at which we landed almost daily, and which, in spite of
difficulties, was invariably bright with geraniums and other flowers:
Chile is much more a country of gardens, in the English sense, than any
other land it has been my lot to visit. Talcahuano has about 13,000
inhabitants, and consists of little beside the dockyard, in which the
chief posts are filled by Englishmen. Three English officers are also
lent in peace time by our own navy to that of Chile; one of these, with
whom we happened to have mutual acquaintances, was kind enough to
entertain us on board the Chilean warship, whose name, being translated,
was _Commodore Pratt_.
A point anxiously debated at the moment, and not without some practical
interest for us, was whether Chile could afford to keep the Dreadnoughts
which were being built for her by Messrs. Armstrong. There was a
financial crisis at the time, and the exchange was much against Chile;
hence firms there which owed money to England were delaying meeting
their liabilities, with the result that more than one English company
had failed in consequence. The sale of a Dreadnought would of course
greatly affect the rate; even without that before we left the country it
had materially risen, and the value received for a sovereign was, from
our point of view, regrettably diminished.
An Englishman feels distinctly more at home in Chile than in either
Brazil or Argentina. Some of the best-known firms are genuinely English,
though the possession of an English name is in itself no guarantee of
more than a remote British origin: a Mr. Brown may, for instance, marry
a Miss Thompson, and neither be able to speak the English tongue.[9] Our
language is the only one taught free in the schools; it is presumably
the most useful from the point of view of trade with ourselves and the
United States. One of our countrymen resident in the Republic explained
to us that “the Chileans hate all foreigners, but they hate the British
rather less than the others.” Those at least were our recorded
impressions at this time; on the subsequent visit of the yacht, after
war broke out, the German influence was strong enough to affect her
position adversely in the way of work and stores.
At last the provision lists were finished and we felt entitled to take a
holiday, leaving the remainder of the work on the ship in the competent
hands of Mr. Gillam; our special objects were to see the Easter Island
collection in the museum at Santiago and get a glimpse of the
Trans-Andine Railway. This part of our journeyings has nothing to do
with the voyage of the _Mana_, and accounts of the ground covered have
been given by much abler hands, notably by Lord Bryce in his
_Impressions of South America_; it shall therefore be told in outline
only. We left Talcahuano by the tri-weekly day express for Santiago; it
took twelve hours to travel about 350 miles, but the Pullman car was
luxurious, and we were able to see the country well. The line passes
northward through the long fruitful plain between the Andes and the
coast range, which constitutes the land of Chile, and crosses
continually the streams which traverse it on their course from the
mountains to the sea. The train stops from time to time at cheerful
little towns, and finally at Santiago, which is a most attractive city,
with a sense of quiet and yet cheerful dignity. There are but few
streets at the end of which it is not possible to obtain a glimpse of
the surrounding mountains, but they were scarcely either as near or
impressive as descriptions had led us to expect.
The first night of our residence in the capital we experienced an
earthquake. I was already asleep when about 10.30 I was awakened by the
shock; the light when turned on showed the chandeliers and pictures
swinging in opposite directions, and one of the latter was still
oscillating when the current was switched off eight or ten minutes
later. There was a slighter recurrence at 3 a.m. The shock was stated to
be the worst since the great earthquake of 1906, and numbers of people
had, we found, rushed out into the streets and squares. It was generally
agreed that familiarity in the case of earthquakes breeds not contempt
but the reverse, and that shocks of which the new-comer thinks but
little, fill those who know their possibilities with nervous alarm. In
this case no great damage was done; the only fatalities occurred at
Talca, a little place about half-way along the line by which we had
come. When we called at the Legation the next day to express our thanks
to the British Minister for the trouble taken about our stores, we were
shown the cracks in the walls which were the result of the previous
earthquake and the fresh additions made to them the night before. We had
the good fortune at Santiago to become acquainted with Sir Edward and
Lady Grogan. Sir Edward filled the post of military attaché for six of
our South American legations, and I had heard at Buenos Aires much of
the work and interests of Lady Grogan. She was the almost last
Englishwoman whom I met till my return to my native land two years
later, when I had the pleasure of renewing the acquaintance, this time
in Cromwell Road in proximity to numerous bales for Serbian refugees. We
visited the Museum of Antiquities, where we found the objects from
Easter Island of which we were in search; and the beautiful new Museum
of Fine Arts, which also contains articles from the island.
We left Santiago at noon on Saturday, January 31st, the line at first
continuing northwards. The country through which we passed looked
rainless and barren, and the journey was hot and tiring. The train was
crowded with Saturday travellers, and purveyors of drinks and ices
continually pushed their way down it, apparently finding a ready market
for their wares. At the junction of Llay-Llay, the line which comes from
Santiago on the south connects with that from Valparaiso on the west,
and branches off also eastward over the Andes to the Argentine. Here on
the platform sat rows of women with some of the delightful fruit in
which Chile abounds: grapes can be bought at 5_d._ a pound and peaches
and nectarines at 8_d._ or 9_d._ a dozen. The drawback, however, in the
case of the two last mentioned, is that, partly owing to the exigencies
of packing, the Chileans make a point of gathering and also eating them
quite hard and flavourless. The conscientious British matron can
scarcely see without distress children of the more prosperous classes,
as young as five or six years, concluding a heavy evening meal at eight
or half-past, by eating entirely unripe peaches. She ceases to wonder
that infant mortality in Chile is said to be heavy.
At Llay-Llay we took the easterly line, which ascends a valley full of
prosperous cultivation, till it reaches the little town of Los Andes,
where the Chilean state railway ends and the Trans-Andine service
begins. The two ends of this railway, the Chilean and Argentine, are in
the hands of different companies, which naturally adds much to the
difficulty of working the line. The trains run on alternate days in each
direction. There is a comfortable hotel at Los Andes where passengers
sleep the previous night in order to start the journey over the pass at
7 a.m.; much of the revenue of the line, however, is derived, not from
the passenger traffic, but from the cattle brought from the ranches of
the Argentine to Chile. The Chilean company is an English one, and the
manager, Mr. J. H. White, was good enough to arrange for us to travel
with the French minister, who happened to be quitting Santiago, in an
observation car at the end of the train; we had, therefore, both
pleasant company and most excellent views of the pass. The line winds up
a valley, which grows ever narrower between precipitous mountain-sides,
but as long as any green thing can find a footing the cultivation is
intense; where the incline is most steep a cog-wheel is employed.
Presently every trace of vegetation is left behind, and the route enters
on its grandest and wildest phase. Bleak rock masses tower to the sky on
every hand, and on their lower slopes rest masses of boulders, which
have descended at some earlier stage in the world’s history. When a
great height has been attained a little lake is reached, which, with its
colouring of gorgeous blue, resembles a perfect turquoise in a grey
setting. At 10,000 feet the highest point is gained and the train enters
the tunnel, which has been bored through the summit and which was opened
for traffic in 1909. It here leaves Chile and issues on the Argentine
side amidst similar but less striking scenery. The line now runs beneath
a series of shelters for protection from snow; they are of corrugated
iron and provided with huge doors which can be closed in case of drift.
The difficulties which arise in winter from such causes are very great,
but at the time of our visit the snow was as a rule confined to
occasional white patches near the summit of the mountains: the great
peak of Aconcagua, 23,000 feet high, which was now to be seen seventeen
miles to the northward, was principally remarkable for standing out as a
huge white mass among its greyer fellows.
Inca Bridge is shortly reached, and here we left the train. It is
somewhat astonishing to find a large and fashionable hotel in these
surroundings; it is resorted to by the inhabitants of Buenos Aires when
in search of cooler air or desirous of partaking of the iron waters for
which the place is famous. We started at 8 o’clock next morning for the
return journey, which we made by riding with mules over the part of the
summit traversed by the tunnel, catching the train on the Chilean side.
It is a delightful and easy expedition, which can be thoroughly
recommended. The road runs at first parallel to the line, and when it
leaves the valley rises by gradual zigzags: our guide dispensed with all
corners by means of short cuts, but even so the ascent was not
strenuous. As we mounted higher and higher the corrugated iron railway
shelters looked like long, headless, grey caterpillars crawling along
the valley beneath. We had been warned to expect high wind, but it only
became unpleasant as we reached the actual summit, along which runs the
boundary between Chile and Argentina. The celebrated statue of the
Christ with uplifted hands blessing both countries, which commemorates
the arbitration treaty, stands on the main road a little to the east of
the track by which we crossed, which was, as usual, a short cut.
The descent fully justified the impression which we had formed from the
train of the superior grandeur of the Chilean side; it must be even more
impressive when more snow is visible. We regained the railway in plenty
of time to see the Argentine train issue from the tunnel at 2 o’clock:
the travellers had left Buenos Aires on the morning of the previous day,
traversed the great Argentine plains, and spent the night _en route_. If
the train is delayed and arrives at the summit too late to be conveyed
down before dark, the Chilean officials refuse to take it over, as the
descent would be too dangerous; the passengers under such circumstances
have to spend the night in their carriages or find such hotel
accommodation as is possible. They were indeed, as we saw then, a
cosmopolitan crowd; the languages of France, Germany and Spain, also
English, of both the European and American variety, were all being
spoken in the crowded carriage in which we found places. Our nearest
neighbours were two young couples from the United States, evidently
making the journey for the first time; as we began the descent through
the very finest part of the scenery, they produced packs of cards and
became engrossed in a game of auction bridge. This is one of the things
which must be seen to be believed, but we were subsequently told it was
by no means a unique instance. We arrived at Los Andes, hot and dusty
after our early start and long day, to find ourselves carried off to the
manager’s house and most kindly welcomed by Mrs. and Miss White to a
refreshing tea amid the delight of a cool veranda and beautiful garden.
Next day we left for Valparaiso, retracing our steps as far as the
junction of Llay-Llay, and then traversing the coast range. The huge bay
of Valparaiso, filled with shipping, is an imposing sight, and the town
climbs picturesquely up the mountains which surround it; the higher
parts are residential, and are reached by elevators, which are stationed
at intervals in the main street, which runs parallel to the harbour. On
the lower level there are well-built offices of leading firms, shipping
lines, and banks, which give a pleasant sensation of wide interest and
touch with the great world. Nevertheless, Valparaiso is scarcely as fine
a city architecturally as would be expected from its importance, nor is
the hotel accommodation worthy of a first-class port. Its inhabitants
cheerily endorse the opinion of a visitor who is reported to have said,
“There is one word only for Valparaiso, and that is ‘shabby.’” The city
has, however, profited through the rebuilding necessitated by the
earthquake, and the improvement of the harbour and other works were in
progress. The earthquake is still a very present memory; one resident
showed us the spot where one of his servants, escaping from the house at
the same time as himself, was killed by falling masonry.
We called on Messrs. Williamson & Balfour; the firm have a financial
interest in Easter Island, and it was through their kind permission that
we were visiting it. We saw Mr. Hope-Simpson, one of the managing
partners; his power and expedition filled us with grateful awe. He sat
at the end of a telephone and appeared to put through in a few minutes
all our arrangements, whether with the Government, shipping, or docks,
which would have taken us many days of weary trudging about the city to
accomplish. I have often thought of that morning when confronted with
the appalling delays in public offices at home. We were introduced by
him to Señor Merlet, the chairman of the company for the Exploitation of
Easter Island, who are the direct lessees; he had been there himself and
was kind enough to give us all information in his power.
We returned to Talcahuano by sea as the easiest method. There were a few
more days of preparation, and on Friday, February 13th, a date
subsequently noted by the superstitious, we were at length ready to
depart. As the last things were hurried on board it recalled our
departure from Falmouth: this time the deck had to accommodate paraffin
tins full of cement to make a dock for Mr. Ritchie’s tidal observations;
the passage had to find room for a table for survey purposes; rolls of
wire for excavation sieves were strapped beneath beams of the saloon;
while on the top of one was fastened a row of portentous jars, the
object of which was to hold the acid from the batteries when we left the
ship, as the electrical gear would be dismantled when the engineer came
on shore in his capacity of photographer. Two zinc baths for laundry
work in camp were looked at ruefully; there seemed to be no place for
them in heaven or earth, certainly not on _Mana_. But half our heavy
task of stowage was accomplished when we were out of Talcahuano Harbour,
the boat began to roll prodigiously, and the work was finished somehow
with astonishing rapidity.
The next day found us all confined to our cabins, having, after our time
on land, temporarily lost our sea legs. By Sunday we began to feel
better, except Mr. Corry, who had a slight temperature and complained of
feeling unwell. When on Monday we arrived at Juan Fernandez, S. was down
with dysentery and a temperature of 103°, while Mr. Corry’s rose, to our
alarm, to 104°; Tuesday and Wednesday he was still in high fever, and by
Wednesday evening it was obviously useless to hope that his illness was
either influenza or malaria: there was nothing to be done but to act on
the third possibility and assume that it was typhoid fever; we therefore
turned the ship round and ran for Valparaiso. The prospect of the
passage back was hardly cheerful; I was out certainly for fresh
experiences, but not for the responsibility of nursing typhoid and
dysentery at the same time in a small boat in mid-Pacific. Each twelve
hours, however, was got through somehow, and better on the whole than
might have been expected. S. happily improved, and our poor geologist
himself was wonderfully cheerful and plucky; the sea was kind to us, and
we reached Valparaiso on Sunday morning with our invalid in a condition
which we felt did us credit. The difficulties of arriving in port with
illness on board proved to be not so great as I, at any rate, had
feared; the authorities were most kind in allowing us to haul down our
yellow flag almost at once, and taking us to a Government anchorage. The
harbour doctor was found to give the necessary authority for landing a
sick man, while arrangements were made with the hospital for a stretcher
and ambulance, and by the middle of the afternoon the patient was
comfortably on shore and in bed. The British hospital at Valparaiso is
new, reserved almost entirely for paying patients, and much surpasses in
comfort anything that we have either of us seen in England. Our
diagnosis unfortunately proved to be accurate, but we had the comfort of
knowing that the illness was well understood, as typhoid is, it
appeared, very common in South America, especially among new-comers. It
had been obviously contracted during the time at Talcahuano, when both
Mr. Corry and Mr. Ritchie had had frequent meals on shore.
We waited in port for a week, communicating by cable with the friends of
our patient, and then held a council of war. The doctor gave it as his
opinion that there was no reason for delay, and it was obviously
impossible in such an illness to wait pending recovery. We had, however,
to face the position that there was a chance, although a slight one, of
other cases occurring on board; hospital records show a percentage of
about 3 per cent. of doctors and nurses infected by patients, and of
course our precautions had, through circumstances, been neither so
timely nor so thorough; with 2,000 miles of Pacific before us we felt
that we could take no risk. On the other hand, we had no wish for
further experiences in hanging about in South American ports, more
especially as smallpox was at this time raging at Valparaiso. We
therefore decided that we would run back again to Juan Fernandez, and
put in a few days in a sort of quarantine, before finally leaving for
our destination.
The episode was most disappointing for all concerned; nevertheless our
prevailing feeling was one of thankfulness both for the sufferer and
ourselves, that, if the thing had to be, the illness had declared itself
while we were still within reach of help; the thought that we were
within measurable distance of having a case of typhoid on Easter Island
still makes us shudder. Hopes were cherished for a while that it might
be possible for our geologist to join us, either when _Mana_ returned or
by the Chilean naval training ship, which it was said might shortly
visit the island. Unfortunately the case proved not only severe, but was
prolonged by relapses, and on recovery the doctor forbade any such
roughing it. Mr. Corry therefore went back to England, from whence he
sent us a report on the geology of the Patagonian Channels, and such
information as he had gathered on the moot question of the submergence
of a Pacific continent. When war broke out he was among the first to
join His Majesty’s forces, and, alas! laid down his life for his country
in September 1915. When on our return to London my husband addressed the
Geological Society on the results of the Expedition, our thoughts
naturally turned with sadness to the one who, under other circumstances,
should have had that honour; I sat next to one of the older Fellows, and
he expressed his special sorrow at the scientific loss caused by the
early death of our colleague. “Corry was,” he said, “quite one of the
most promising of the younger men in the geological world.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 20.—JUAN FERNANDEZ: AN IMPRESSION.
]
CHAPTER VII
JUAN FERNANDEZ
Juan Fernandez was discovered by the navigator of that name on a
voyage from Peru to Chile in 1512. He rightly judged that the
southerly wind, which impeded all navigation in that direction, might
be adjacent only to the mainland; he therefore stood out to the west
in the hope of avoiding it, and so came across the island. His voyage
was so short that he was accused of witchcraft, and suffered
accordingly at the hands of the Inquisition; he was rescued from its
power by the Jesuits, to whom he ceded his rights in the newly
discovered land. The Order founded a colony there, but it proved a
failure. The abandoned island then became the resort of the
buccaneers, who preyed on Spanish commerce, and who used it to refit
their vessels, so that Spanish merchantmen had special orders to avoid
it. The privateers turned down goats to provide meat, on which the
Spaniards imported dogs to kill the goats; these achieved their
purpose on the low ground, but in the hills the goats held their own,
and the battle was therefore a drawn one. It was from an English
privateer that the Scotsman, Alexander Selkirk, was landed in 1704;
while some of the incidents in the life of Robinson Crusoe, such as
those connected with the goats, rats, and cats, were taken by Defoe
from the experiences of Selkirk, he is, if looked upon as the
prototype of the immortal hero, somewhat of a fraud. Not only is the
scene of Crusoe’s adventures laid in the West Indies, but Selkirk was
put on shore at his own request, with such stores as he required,
because he had an objection to the captain. He knew that sooner or
later the place would be visited by some ship coming to refit, and he
was only there altogether four years and four months. Selkirk reported
that he had slit the ears of some of the goats and let them go; a
number of these animals so marked and of “venerable aspect” were found
in 1741 by Anson’s sailors when they arrived on the island after their
passage of the Horn.
Anson’s own ship, the _Centurion_, lay in Cumberland Bay for three
months, during which time two others of the squadron and the
victualler arrived at the rendezvous; the _Gloucester_ had a terrible
experience, being a month within sight of the island with her men
dying daily of scurvy, and unable through contrary winds to make the
anchorage. The crews of the three men-of-war had numbered on their
departure from England 961: only 335 of these were alive when they
left Fernandez. The state of affairs is less surprising considering
that Anson was obliged to take a large consignment of Chelsea
pensioners; the almost incredible age of some of the company comes out
incidentally in the statement that owing to scurvy the wound of one
man reopened which had been received in the battle of the Boyne fifty
years before.[10] The island was subsequently occupied by the Spanish,
and after the independence of Chile it was for a while used as a
convict settlement.
Our time in “quarantine” at Juan Fernandez proved most enjoyable. We lay
in Cumberland Bay, which is the only anchorage; being on the north side,
it is sheltered from the south-east trade wind. The island is volcanic,
but the actual craters have broken down in course of ages, and their
form can no longer be traced, at least by the superficial observer; it
is now a mass of mountains of striking shapes, interspersed with wooded
ravines. We were able to see certain portions, mounted on ponies, but
much of the ground must be impossible to traverse. S. had a day’s
goat-stalking, but saw only two animals, and those were out of rifle
shot; the ponies, he said, scrambled about like cats, putting their fore
feet on the higher rocks and so dragging themselves up. The cattle which
roam over the island are not infrequently killed by falling down the
precipices. Our meat orders were executed by four men in a boat armed
with rifles, who went round by sea to some spot where the beasts were
likely to be found, and having shot one cut it up and brought it back.
The result was rather a plethora of Sunday beef even for a yacht’s
hungry crew.
[Illustration:
FIG. 21.
CUMBERLAND BAY, JUAN FERNANDEZ
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 22.
SELKIRK’S CAVE, JUAN FERNANDEZ.
]
A spot known as Selkirk’s Look-out (fig. 20B), on the dividing ridge of
the island, commands glorious views of the other side and the adjacent
island of Santa Clara; to gaze down from the wooded heights on to the
panorama of sea and land 2,000 feet below seemed like a glimpse into an
enchanted land. The tablet which marks the spot was put up by H.M.S.
_Topaze_ in 1868. We also visited a cave (D) which tradition points out
as Selkirk’s first residence, rowing in the boat round cliffs so steep
that a stone dropped from the top would fall more than 1,000 feet clear
into the sea; flights of pigeons wheeled out from the rocks, looked at
us, and went away again. The landing-place for the cave is somewhat
dangerous from the view of safety to the ship’s boats, being in a cove
whose beach is composed of big boulders. Once on shore the way lies
through a mountain-spur on the right, which has been worn by the force
of the waves into an imposing natural arch. It leads on to a little lawn
at the end of a valley running up into the mountains, down which flows a
small stream. In the hillside is the cave opening on to the meadow and
looking out to sea; the fireplace is visible, also a shelf cut in the
rock and niches to hold utensils. A prominent feature near the anchorage
are six or eight large caves (C), like big halls, the roofs of which are
adorned with drooping ferns, giving the effect of a beautiful
greenhouse: if originally natural they have probably been much enlarged.
They are said to have been used by the Spaniards for their prisoners.
Someone had been digging in the floor for treasure, under the assumption
that it had been left by pirates, presumably of an earlier day.
Juan Fernandez has at present some 300 inhabitants; its industry is
lobster-canning. Lobsters are also taken alive in the tank of a
motor-schooner to Valparaiso, their value growing _en route_ from 2_d._
each in the island to 3_s._ 9_d._ in the city. The schooner was also the
mail-carrier, and we took a mutual and friendly interest in one another,
as she and _Mana_ were about the same size. An old gentleman was in
charge of the island as governor, supported by four gendarmes; serious
offenders are exported to the mainland. The means of communication will
shortly be more rapid, as a house was already built to be used for
wireless installation (A).
On March 9th, 1915, one year precisely from the date we left the island,
the German ship _Dresden_ arrived in Cumberland Bay. She had been driven
by want of coal out of her hiding-places in the southern channels and
sought refuge at Juan Fernandez. Here after five days she was found by
the _Glasgow_ with her flag still flying. She had many times broken
neutrality regulations, and the Chilean governor with his gendarmes
could scarcely, as will have been seen, be expected to intern her. The
_Glasgow_ fired, the _Dresden_ replied, tried to negotiate, and then
blew herself up. The crew had all been landed, and the officers were
conveyed to Chile with the mails and lobsters. Thus in the twentieth
century did Fernandez once again play its part as a place of resort in
time of war.
After five days, no illness having appeared, we felt we might with
safety depart, and we started therefore on our 2,000–mile voyage, the
last stage of the outward journey.
CHAPTER VIII
LIFE ON BOARD
This is perhaps as good a time as any to attempt to give a general
impression of life on board the yacht. In the first place it should be
realised that no hardship was involved, and that the sense of safety, so
far from being less, soon became infinitely greater than on a larger
ship. Not only does a small boat ride over the waves like a cork, but
there is the assurance that in case of accident everyone will know what
to do, and orders will be received without delay; there is plenty of
room in the boats, and the lowering away is known to be a comparatively
easy matter. On first going on board a big liner after being accustomed
to _Mana_, it felt an alarmingly dangerous means of transit.
Existence on any ship has drawbacks in bad weather or extreme heat, but
on the yacht the arrangement by which the saloon and cabins were
connected with the deck-house made the circulation of air particularly
good. A sailing ship is also without the universal and unpleasant
draughts which are omnipresent in a steamer. In regard to the pleasure
of movement there is of course no comparison between the two.
As to the food there cannot be the same variety where no refrigerators
are possible, and preserved and salt meats are apt to become monotonous,
but we always left port with as large a supply of fresh meat as
possible, and a few hens and sometimes a sheep. Preserved vegetables are
good, and potatoes could be carried throughout a voyage, also eggs, and
some fruit such as bananas. With but few exceptions, in very bad
weather, we had bread every day in the cabin and twice a week in the
forecastle. The crew much preferred tinned milk and declined fresh even
when it was available, and for the saloon the unsweetened variety was
quite pleasant. In all other respects the meals were such as would
obtain in any simple household at home.
The routine of ship’s life turns on the watches, the alternate four
hours on and four hours off of the crew. Only in case of urgency is it
permissible to call the watch below, and hence any deck work, such as
altering or shortening sails, when it is not immediately imperative,
waits for the changes of the watch at 8, 12, and at 4, when all the crew
are available; those also are meal hours for the forecastle, with which
those of the cabin must not clash. The afternoon or dog watches are of
two hours only, from 4 to 6 and 6 to 8, in order to secure that the same
hours are not kept on two consecutive days by the same members of the
crew. It is a strange life from the point of view of the landsman,
especially in its bearing on the hours of sleep: eight hours on and
eight hours off duty would have seemed preferable, but it is the general
rule throughout the merchant service, and the men are accustomed to it.
My own daily round began with ordinary domestic duties, which were
seldom accomplished before 11 o’clock. On Saturday the work took even
longer, as, in addition to the usual business of life, the weekly stores
were given out to the forecastle, and fresh boxes of provisions were
fetched up from below and decanted into tins for shelves; if weather
permitted the main hold was opened. Not only do a marvellous number of
small things need attention on a boat, but every action takes much
longer, owing to the constant movement of the vessel; each article, for
example, has to be put down so that it cannot be overthrown by a sudden
lurch. To my friends who were anxious as to what we did for exercise, I
replied that to give out stores in a rolling boat, in imminent danger of
having the whole contents of a shelf thrown at one’s head, was an
acrobatic performance which involved sufficient activity to last the
twenty-four hours. The same is also true in degree of every muscular
movement, so that the need was rarely felt for such artificial exercise
as deck promenades. This was as well, for as both the lifeboat and
cutter were carried in the waist of the ship when we were at sea, the
space available for “constitutionals” was prescribed.
On certain passages when such a precaution seemed desirable, as for
instance in crossing the Doldrums, the supply of water was rationed; a
gallon per man per day is the allowance, of which the cook took the
morning quota, or half of the whole amount; in the afternoon everyone
produced a quart tin to be filled (about a fair-sized hot-water can),
and this was the private reserve for washing and drinking. It is
wonderful what can be done with it, and to use a full basin of water for
the washing of hands and then throw it away seems even to-day wicked
waste; the Stewardess was given a double supply, and found it more than
necessary. A new form of philanthropy came into play, when one member
might be overheard saying to another, “Can I let you have some of my
savings, I am really quite well off,” the savings being _aqua pura_.
When rain came every available utensil was utilised to catch it, and we
all suddenly became millionaires. It must be borne in mind that for many
things, such as bathing and scrubbing down, there was an unlimited
supply of salt water, and a “salt-water soap” proved a great success.
When the household duties were over for the time being, the favourite
resort, if the weather was bad or very hot, was in the deck-house,
otherwise it was the after end or poop of the ship. This space, which
was that above the chart-room, and of course the place of the helm, was
raised as in old-fashioned ships, so that it was almost always dry even
if the waist of the ship was slightly awash. There was no need, nor
indeed space, for chairs; cushions on the deck made satisfactory seats
with the steering-gear casing for a back, or in stormy weather on the
top of the box, with a rope to cling to if necessary. The position had
to be changed of course from time to time if the vessel went over on the
other tack.
A certain amount of writing and reading was accomplished, but not so
much as had been expected, for any considerable roll made them a strain
on the eyesight; a monumental piece of embroidery, which was to have
commemorated the voyage, was brought back practically untouched. Even
when no fixed occupation was possible the hours evaporated marvellously,
and for the first time on a voyage it was a pleasure to see the hands of
the clock put back. There was usually something to observe going on on
deck, and the speed at which the vessel was travelling was a perennial
source of interest: four miles an hour was fair, six was good, and
anything over eight was exciting. The speed was checked every watch by
means of the patent log, a mechanical screw which trailed behind the
vessel and whose evolutions registered its rapidity; its reckoning,
however, became more than once somewhat surprising, owing to the sharks
which mistook it for something good to eat, and its bright copper
surface was accordingly painted black. We once nearly secured a baby
shark, which could be seen clearly in the green water following the salt
meat which was being soaked by being towed overboard; the usual little
pilot-fish was in attendance. It took a bait, but got away with the hook
just as it was being hauled over the rail. This was almost the nearest
we came to success in fishing from the deck, in which we were uniformly
unfortunate, in spite of the fact that all on board were fishermen and
the crew were professionals. Passing bird and marine life were
frequently of interest. Above all the ever-changing ocean was an
immediate neighbour, always claiming attention, whether it bore a calm
blue surface, on which was traced the white line of the vessel’s course,
or resolved itself into a grey mass of tumbling billows, ever trying to
break and again falling back, leaving little white crests to mark their
vain attempt. It is presumably from this lazy frame of mind on the old
sailing vessels that the idea arose of a voyage as a cure for
overwrought nerves; the present mail steamer, with its hurly-burly of
strangers, noisy children, deck sports, and sweeps on the log may or may
not be a place of entertainment—it can hardly be considered one of rest.
When the ship’s bell sounded eight bells, or noon, all the hands which
could be spared went below to their dinner, a wonderful stillness
reigned, and the deck was devoted to the solemn ceremonies of
navigation. Three figures, those of the Navigating Lieutenant, the
Sailing-master, and frequently that of S., might be seen balanced in
various attitudes, sextant in hand, endeavouring to shoot the sun. The
most exciting moment of the twenty-four hours was when the paper was
handed in which stated the exact position of the vessel, and the amount
she had done on her course in the last twenty-four hours. It was
naturally preluded by guesses as to what the result would be, those who
had kept themselves informed of the records of the patent log having an
undue advantage.
The hours between luncheon and tea-time were largely devoted to slumber,
and the ship was kept as quiet as possible in order not to disturb the
men who had kept the middle watch the preceding night; their rest was
apparently much more affected by noise than is generally presumed to be
the case with non-brain workers. The same sound varies in its effect on
different persons; when it was necessary to use the engine the
Sailing-master complained that he could never sleep with that “unnatural
noise” going on. He altogether refused to allow that its regular beat
might be considered less distracting than the spasmodic jibing of the
ship, with its inevitable accompaniment of shouting of orders, stamping,
and hauling of ropes; those he maintained were absolutely “natural”
sounds. This recalls the attitude of the cook to cabbage day, which,
though beloved of the men, is, under certain conditions of the elements,
the reverse of pleasant to others on a small vessel, so much so that on
many yachts its recurrence is restricted by the ship’s articles;
_Mana’s_ cook was of the opinion that the smell was “rather nice”; he
evidently considered it a “natural” odour, which perhaps on the whole
was fortunate.
The most pleasant time of all on deck was after tea; it was then cool,
with the almost daily spectacle of a magnificent sunset. Sometimes the
sinking globe went down amid a glory of clouds, which turned the sea
into a blaze of red and gold; at others its descent could be traced inch
by inch as the ball of fire sank below the horizon on its road to other
lands, leaving behind it a track of light across the still waters. One
evening in the Pacific the whole sky, east as well as west, was covered
with pink clouds, which found their counterpart in the water below. It
is at times such as sunset, when sky and sea form a joint panorama, that
the dweller on the water truly comes into his own. In ordinary
circumstances, contrary to what might be expected, the ocean appeals
less to the imagination when seen from shipboard than when viewed from
the land; without foreground or counterbalancing element its restless
infinity seems bewildering to the comprehension. But when at sea the sky
takes up the tale; then the waters below and the firmament above each
find in the other their perfect complement and expression.
As soon as twilight reigned the gazer was recalled to the work-a-day
world; the navigator came up from the chart-room to take the ship’s
position by the evening star, the junior member of the watch clambered
up the fore-rigging to hang out the ship’s lights, and so night fell.
One of the charms of a ship is that she never sleeps. In the hours of
darkness the ordinary habitation relapses to a state of coma, and to the
mental condition of the primitive jelly-fish; a vessel is always alive,
always intelligent. The larger the craft, the more the vital functions
are withdrawn from the common gaze; in a small yacht they are ever
visible as an inseparable part of the whole. In wakeful nights and from
hot cabins, it is only necessary to stumble up the companion to find the
cool freshness of deck and waking companionship. Silhouetted against the
sky, is the dark figure of the man at the wheel, somewhere in the gloom
is the officer in charge, and for’ard, though invisible, is the watch on
the look-out. The latest news of wind and progress are to be had for the
asking; it is full of mystery and yet reassuringly practical.
The night _Mana_ crossed the Equator is unforgettable; the yacht, borne
along by the newly caught trade wind, raced through the water with the
very poetry of motion. The full moon made a silver pathway over the sea
and lit up not only the foam from the vessel’s bows, but also her white
sails, which were faintly reflected in the dark sea; the masts and
rigging stood out black against the deep blue sky, while over all was
the Southern Cross. What has been said of sunset from shipboard is still
more true of moonlight and starlight nights. Then ocean and sky become a
whole of marvellous beauty, and of majesty beyond human ken; always
suggesting questions, always refusing the answer.
[Illustration: EASTER ISLAND PHYSICAL]
PART II
_EASTER ISLAND_
OUTLINES OF COAST AND POSITION OF PRINCIPAL MOUNTAINS, MAINLY FROM
U.S.A. HYDROGRAPHIC OFFICE CHART NO. 1119.
POSITIONS OF CERTAIN LESSER MOUNTAINS, FROM EYE-SKETCHES BY THE AUTHOR.
HEIGHTS OF RANO AROI AND RANO KAO, FROM ADMIRALTY CHART NO. 1386.
HEIGHT OF RANO RARAKU, AS DETERMINED BY LIEUT. D. R. RITCHIE, R.N.
[Illustration:
FIG. 23.
29.3.1914.
EASTER ISLAND, FROM THE SOUTH.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 24.
EASTER ISLAND.
Diagrammatic sketch from Rano Kao looking north and east.
_Christmas Day, 1914._
]
GLOSSARY
OF NATIVE WORDS FREQUENTLY EMPLOYED
_Ahu_ A burial-place
_Aku-aku_ Spirit
_Ana_ Cave
_Ao_ The clan or clans celebrating bird rites
_Ao_ A ceremonial paddle
_Ariki_ Chief
_Atua_ God
_Hanga_ Bay or foreshore
_Haré_ House
_Hau_ Hat
_Hopu_ Servant to fetch “First egg”
_Iti_ Small
_Ika_ Fish
_Ivi-atua_ Person supernaturally gifted
_Kai_ Eat
_Kaunga_ Function in honour of a mother
_Ko_ Definite article before proper nouns
_Kohau rongo-rongo_ Tablet with script
_Koro_ Function in honour of a father
_Marama_ Light (In Tahitian = moon)
_Manu_ Bird
_Manu-tara_ The sacred bird (Sooty Tern)
_Máta_ Clan or group
_Mataa_ Obsidian spear-head
_Maunga_ Hill
_Miro_ Wood
_Moai_ An image
_Motu_ Islet
_Nui_ Big
_Paina_ A wooden figure, also the function connected with
it
_Péra_ Taboo for the dead
_Poki_ A child
_Raa_ Sun
_Ranga_ Captivity
_Rano_ Crater lake, also the extinct volcano
_Rapa_ Small dancing-paddle
_Roa_ Long
_Rongo-rongo_ Sacred words
_Také_ Ceremonial retreat
_Tangata_ Man
_Tangata-ika_ A slain man
_Tangata-manu_ The bird-man
_Tangata rongo-rongo_ Man learned in sacred words (generally the
script)
_Tatane_ Spirits (from “Satan”)
_Te_ Definite article before common noun
_Tea_ White
Words such as _nui_, _iti_, and _roa_, when they have become in
themselves geographical names, are treated as proper nouns, otherwise as
adjectives.
CHAPTER IX
ARRIVAL AT EASTER ISLAND
1722 Discovered by the Dutch Admiral Roggeveen.
1770 Visited by the Spaniards under Gonzalez.
1774 Visited by the English under Cook.
1786 Visited by the French under La Pérouse. Receives occasional
visits from passing ships.
1862 Dec. Peruvian slave-raiders carry off many inhabitants.
1864 Jan. Arrival of first missionary from Valparaiso.
1867 Commercial exploitation begins—arrival of M. Dutrou Bornier
(_cir._) from Tahiti.
1868 Visit of H.M.S. _Topaze_—removal of statues now in British
Museum.
1888 Visit of U.S.A. warship _Mohican_.
1888 Chilean Government takes possession.
1897 Mr. Merlet of Valparaiso leases the greater part of the
island, and subsequently forms a company for the
“Exploitation of Easter Island.”
_For further historical details, see below_, pp. 200–10.
Easter Island at last! It was in the misty dawn of Sunday, March 29th,
1914, that we first saw our destination, just one week in the year
earlier than the Easter Day it was sighted by Roggeveen and his company
of Dutchmen. We had been twenty days at sea since leaving Juan
Fernandez, giving a wide berth to the few dangerous rocks which
constitute Salo-y-Gomez and steering directly into the sunset. It was
thirteen months since we had left Southampton, out of which time we had
been 147 days under way, and here at last was our goal. As we approached
the southern coast we gazed in almost awed silence at the long grey mass
of land, broken into three great curves, and diversified by giant
molehills (fig. 23). The whole looked an alarmingly big land in which to
find hidden caves. The hush was broken by the despairing voice of
Bailey, the ship’s cook. “I don’t know how I am to make a fire on that
island, there is no wood!” He spoke the truth; not a vestige of timber
or even brushwood was to be seen. We swung round the western headland
with its group of islets and dropped anchor in Cook’s Bay. A few hundred
yards from the shore is the village of Hanga Roa, the native name for
Cook’s Bay. This is the only part of the island which is inhabited, the
two hundred and fifty natives, all that remain of the population,
having, been gathered together here in order to secure the safety of the
livestock, to which the rest of the island is devoted. The yacht was
soon surrounded by six or seven boat-loads of natives, clad in
nondescript European garments, but wearing a head-covering of native
straw, somewhat resembling in appearance the high hat of civilisation
(fig. 83).
The Manager, Mr. Edmunds, shortly appeared, and to our relief, for we
had not been sure how he would view such an invasion, gave us a very
kind welcome. He is English, and was, to all intent, at the time of our
arrival, the only white man on the island; a French carpenter, who lived
at Hanga Roa with a native wife, being always included in the village
community. His house is at Mataveri (fig. 25), a spot about two miles to
the south of the village, surrounded by modern plantations which are
almost the only trees on the island; immediately behind it rises the
swelling mass of the volcano Rano Kao. The first meal on Easter Island,
taken here with Mr. Edmunds, remains a lasting memory. It was a large
plain room with uncarpeted floor, scrupulously orderly; a dinner-table,
a few chairs, and two small book-cases formed the whole furniture. The
door on to the veranda was open, for the night was hot, and the roar of
breakers could be heard on the beach; while near at hand conversation
was accompanied by a never-ceasing drone of mosquitoes. The light of the
unshaded lamp was reflected from the clean rough-dried cloth of the
table round which we sat, and lit up our host’s features, the keen brown
face of a man who had lived for some thirty years or more, most of it in
the open air and under a tropical sun. He was telling us of events which
one hardly thought existed outside magazines and books of adventure, but
doing it so quietly that, with closed eyes, it might have been fancied
that the entertainment was at some London restaurant, and we were still
at the stage of discussing the latest play.
“This house,” said our host, “was built some fifty years ago by Bornier,
who was the first to exploit the island. He was murdered by the natives:
they seized the moment when he was descending from a ladder; one spoke
to him and another struck him down. They buried him on the hillock near
the cliff just outside the plantation: you will see his grave, when the
grass is not so long; it is marked by a circle of stones. A French
warship arriving almost immediately afterwards, they explained that he
had been killed by a fall from his horse, and this is the version still
given in some of the accounts of the island, but murder will always out.
After that another manager had trouble: it was over sheep-stealing.
There were three or four white men here at the time, and they all rode
down to the village to teach the natives a lesson, but the ponies turned
restive at the sound of gun-fire, and the rifles themselves were
defective, so the boot was on the other foot, and they had to retreat up
here followed by the mob; for months they lived in what was practically
a state of siege, with one man always on guard for fear of attack.
“My latest guests were a crew of shipwrecked mariners, Americans, who
landed on the island last June. A fortnight earlier the barometer here
had been extraordinarily low, but we did not get much wind; further to
the south, however, the gale was terrific, and the _El Dorado_ was in
the midst of it. The captain, who had been a whaler in his day, said
that he had never seen anything approaching it, the sea was simply a
seething mass of crested waves. The ship was a schooner, trading between
Oregon and a Chilean port; she was a long way from land, as sailing
vessels make a big semicircle to get the best wind. She had a deck load
of timber, 15 feet high, which of course shifted in such a sea; she
sprang leaks in every direction, and it was obvious that she must soon
break up. The crew took to their boat, not that they had much hope of
saving their lives, but simply because there was nothing else to be
done. They got some tins of milk and soup on board, and a box of
biscuits, and a cask holding perhaps twenty gallons of water. The
captain managed to secure his sextant, but when he went back for his
chronometers, the chart-room was too deep in water for him to be able to
reach them. They saw by the chart that the nearest land was this island:
it was seven hundred miles off, and as they had no chronometer, and
could take no risks, they would have to go north first in order to get
their latitude, which would add on another two hundred. There was
nothing for it, however, but to do the best they could; they had more
gales too, and only saved the boat from being swamped by making a
sea-anchor of their blankets. The spray of course kept washing over
them, and as the boat was only 20 feet long and there were eleven of
them, there was no room for them to lie down. Each day they had between
them a tin of the soup and one of milk, and an allowance of water, but
the sea got into the water-cask and made it brackish, and before the end
their sufferings from thirst were so great that one or two of them
attempted to drink salt water; the mate stopped that by saying that he
would shoot the first man who did it.
“After nine days they sighted this island, but then luck was against
them, for the wind changed, and it was forty-eight hours, after they saw
the coast, before they were able to beach the boat. They got on shore at
the other end of the island, which is uninhabited. They were pretty much
at the last stage of exhaustion, and their skin was in a terrible
condition with salt water; their feet especially were so bad that they
could hardly walk. One of them fell down again and again, but struggled
on saying, ‘I won’t give up, I won’t give up.’ At last my man, who looks
after the cattle over there, saw them and brought me word. The officers
were put up here, you must really forgive the limitations of my
wardrobe, for I had to give away nearly everything that I had in order
to clothe them.
“The most curious part of the whole business was that after they had
been here three or four months the captain took to the boat again. I
believe that he was buying his house at home on the instalment plan, and
that if he did not get in the last payment by the end of the year the
whole would be forfeited; anyway, as soon as the fine weather came on he
had out the boat and patched her up. He got two of his men to go with
him. I lent him a watch for navigation purposes, and we did all we could
for him in the way of food; there were no matches on the island, so he
learnt how to make fire with two pieces of wood native fashion. Anyway,
off he started last October for Mangareva, sixteen hundred miles from
here; he must have got there safely, for you brought me an answer to a
letter that I gave him to post.[11] But,” and here for the first time
the eyes of our host grew animated, and he raised his voice slightly,
“it is maddening to think of that cargo drifting about in the Pacific. I
do trust that next time a ship breaks up with a deck-load of timber, she
will have at least the commonsense to do so near Easter Island.” Then,
after a pause, “I wish you no ill, but the yacht would make a splendid
wreck.”
We kept _Mana_ for nearly two months while learning our new
surroundings. Not only were we anxious to find if we had the necessary
camp gear and stores, but we were engaged in agonised endeavours to
foresee the details of excavation and research, in case essential tools
or equipment had been forgotten, which the yacht could fetch from Chile.
The time, however, arrived when she must go. Mr. Ritchie was now on
shore with us for survey work, but as his service with the Expedition
was limited, the vessel had to return in time to take him back to
civilisation by the correct date. Mr. Gillam had from this time sole
charge of the navigation of _Mana_. Instructions for him had to be
written, and correspondence grappled with; business letters, epistles
for friends, and reports to Societies were hurriedly dealt with; and an
article which had been promised to the _Spectator_, “First Impressions
of Easter Island,” was written in my tent, by the light of a
hurricane-lamp, during the small hours of more than one morning.
When the mail-bag was finally sealed, there was great difficulty in
getting hold of _Mana_. The position of a skipper of a boat off Easter
Island, unless she has strong steam power, is not a happy one. Mr.
Gillam used to lie in his berth at Cook’s Bay hearing the waves break on
the jagged reaches of lava, and the longer he listened the less he liked
it. The instant that the wind shows signs of going to the west, a ship
must clear out. It is reported that on one occasion there were some
anxious moments on board: a sudden change of wind and tide were setting
the yacht steadily on the rocks; the engineer was below in the
engine-room, and Mr. Gillam shouted to him down the hatchway, “If you
can’t make that motor of yours go round in three minutes, you will know
whether there is a God or not.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 25.
MANAGER’S HOUSE, MATAVERI.
Supported by foundation-stones of old native houses.
]
To get in touch with the yacht was like a game of hide-and-seek, for
often by the time those on shore arrived at one side of the island, the
wind had shifted, and she had run round to the other. She was on the
north coast when we managed to catch her, and to get back to Mataveri
necessitated retracing our steps, as will be seen from the map, over the
high central ground of the island, and down on the other side; the track
was rough, and the ride would ordinarily take from two to three hours.
It was 4 p.m. before all work was done on board, the good-byes said, and
we were put on shore; the sandy cove, the horses and men, with _Mana_ in
the offing, formed a delightful picture in the evening light, but there
the charms of the situation ended. There was only one pack-horse, and a
formidable body of last collections sat looking at us in a pile on the
grass. In addition we had not, in the general pressure, sufficiently
taken into account that we were bringing off the engineer, now to be
turned into photographer; there he was, and not he alone but his goods
and bedding. The sun set at five o’clock, and it would be dark at
half-past five; it seemed hopeless to get back that night.
A neighbouring cave was first investigated as a possible abiding-place,
but proved full of undesirable inhabitants, so everyone set to work and
the amount stowed on that wretched pack-horse was wonderful. Then each
attendant was slung round with some remaining object, S. took the
additional member on his pony, and off we set. Before we got to the
highest point all daylight had gone, and there was only just enough
starlight to keep to the narrow track by each man following a dim vision
of the one immediately in front. My own beast had been chosen as “so
safe” that it was most difficult to keep him up with the others, let
alone on his four legs. The pack-horse, too, began pointing out that he
was not enjoying the journey; the load was readjusted more than once,
but when we were on the down grade again he came to a full stop and we
all dismounted. There in the creepy darkness we had a most weird picnic;
not far off was a burial-place, with a row of fallen statues, while the
only light save that of the stars was the striking of an occasional
match. S. produced a tin of meat, which he had brought from the yacht,
and which was most acceptable, as he and I had had no substantial food,
save a divided tin of sardines, since breakfast at 7 o’clock. He shared
it out between the party amid cries from our retainers of “Good food,
good Pappa,” for we were, as in East Africa, known as “Pappa” and
“Mam-ma” to a large and promising family. By some inducement the
pack-horse was then deluded into proceeding, and we finally reached
Mataveri at nine o’clock, relieved to find we had not been given up and
that supper awaited us. So did we cut our last link with civilisation,
and were left in mid-Pacific with statues and natives.
The next part of this story deals with the island, the conditions of
life on it, and our experience during the sixteen months we were to
spend there. Such scientific work as the Expedition was able to
accomplish will be recounted later.
CHAPTER X
CONDITIONS OF LIFE ON THE ISLAND
Easter is a volcanic land, and in the earliest days of the world’s
history great lights and flowing lava must have gleamed across the
expanse of water, then gradually lessened and died away, leaving their
work to be moulded by wind and tide. The island, as the forces of nature
have thus made it, is triangular in shape and curiously symmetrical. The
length of the base—that is, of the south, or strictly speaking
south-east, coast—is about thirteen miles, and the greatest width about
seven miles; the circumference, roughly speaking, is thirty-four miles.
The apex, which is the highest ground, is a volcano over 1,700 feet in
height whose summit is formed of a cluster of small craters; the eastern
and western angles are each composed of a large extinct volcano. The
place is geologically young, and the mountains, in contrast to those of
Juan Fernandez, still preserve their original rounded shape; there are
no ravines, no wooded precipices, no inaccessible heights, but round the
whole coast erosion is at work, with the result that, while on the land
side the slopes of all these three mountains are gradual, on the sea
side—that is, in portions of the north, east, and west coasts
respectively—they have been worn back by the power of the waves into
imposing cliffs. In the lower districts the sheets of lava form a shore
line of some 50 to 100 feet in height, and extend into the sea in black,
broken ridges. Against this coast of alternating high cliffs and jagged
rocks the swell of the Pacific is always dashing, and in a high wind
clouds of white spray first hide, and then reveal, the inhospitable
shore.
The comparatively level and low-lying regions of the island, namely,
those which are not covered by the three great volcanoes, consist of the
south coast, and of two tracts which run across the island on either
side. The high ground which forms the apex of the triangle is thus
divided from that of the eastern and western angles respectively.
Another level strip, some quarter of a mile wide at its broadest, lies
in an elevated and romantic position around the northern apex between
the highest portion of the central mountain and the precipitous
sea-cliff. This distribution of the level ground is, as will be later
seen, reflected in the disposition of the various clans which formerly
spread over the island (fig. 91).
In addition to the three large mountains, there are smaller elevations
some hundreds of feet in height, generally in the form of cones with
craters distinctly visible. These lesser volcanoes, with one or two
exceptions, may be roughly said to lie in two lines which radiate
irregularly from the northern eminence, spreading out from it like
fingers and pointing respectively to the east and west ends of the south
coast. The hills, which may be termed the root of the fingers, form part
of the high ground, while those equivalent to the tips rise out of the
low-lying portion, where the east and west transverse belts join the
southern plain.
In some instances the crater of a mountain has become a lake: when this
is the case the term “rano” is prefixed to its name. It is quaintly told
that one visitor, considering the volcanic origin, hazarded the
suggestion that “rano” was equivalent to fire, to which the natives
indignantly replied that, on the contrary, it meant water. These lakes
are almost the only water-supply of the island: there is a good
rainfall, but no single running stream. Owing to the porous nature of
the ground the water sinks beneath the surface, sometimes forming
underground channels from which it flows into the sea below high-water
mark: thus giving rise to the curious statement of early voyagers that
the natives were able to drink salt water[12] (fig. 124). The lower
portions of the island are composed of sheets of lava, in process of
disintegration, across which walking is almost impossible and riding a
very slow process; the surface of the mountains and hills is smoother,
being volcanic ash. The whole is covered with grass, which sprouts up
between the masses of lava and gives the hills a delightful down-like
appearance. Forest growth has probably never consisted of more than
brushwood and shrubs, and to-day even those have disappeared.
The best panorama of the island is obtained from the western volcano, by
name Rano Kao (fig. 24). Below on the left lies Cook’s Bay, with
Mataveri and the village of Hanga Roa, and beyond them the high bleak
central ground of the island, generally known by the name of one of its
craters, Rano Aroi. On the right is the plain of the south coast,
culminating in the eastern headland, a district the greater part of
which is known as Poike. Just in front of the headland can be seen the
two peaks of the mountain of Rano Raraku, from which the statues were
hewn and which is the most interesting place in the island; while on a
clear day there can be obtained a glimpse of the northern coast and the
sea beyond.
Such is Easter Island. It bears no resemblance to the ideal lotus-eating
lands of the Pacific; rather, with its bleak grass-grown surface, its
wild rocks and restless ocean, it recalls some of the Scilly Isles or
the coast of Cornwall. It is not a beautiful country nor even a striking
one, but it has a fascination of its own. All portions of it are
accessible; from every part are seen marvellous views of rolling
country; everywhere is the wind of heaven; around and above all are
boundless sea and sky, infinite space and a great silence. The dweller
there is ever listening for he knows not what, feeling unconsciously
that he is in the antechamber to something yet more vast which is just
beyond his ken.
The objects of antiquarian interest proved to be widely scattered. The
statues have originally stood on a particular kind of burial-place,
generally known as a “terrace” or “platform.” These terraces surround
the whole coast, and each one had of course to be studied. For those at
the western end, and for certain stone remains on the volcano of Rano
Kao, Mataveri was a most convenient centre; but the distance from there
to the places of interest at the other end of the island was unduly
great. We therefore decided to avail ourselves of the offer of the
Manager and remain for a while at his establishment, where _Mana_ left
us, and later move camp. Survey and photography had of course to keep
pace with research, and a general look-out to be kept for any caves
which it might pay to explore. There was also the question of getting
into touch with the natives and finding if any lore existed which threw
light on the antiquities: this last, from what we had been told in
England, was not a very hopeful quest; anyway, it seemed wiser to defer
it for the moment till we knew something of the language and were more
at home in our surroundings.
The Manager’s house has six rooms, three of which are at the front, and
three, having a separate entrance, at the back. These last, with a most
useful attic, Mr. Edmunds kindly put at our disposal, and we
supplemented the accommodation with tents pitched in the grounds. My own
tent, for the sake of quietness, was on the western side of the
plantation, about a hundred yards from the house. S. used to escort me
down at night, with a camp lantern, by a little track through the
eucalyptus trees, see that all was well, put down the light, and leave
me with the mystery of the island. The site was one dedicated to
cannibal feasts; immediately behind was the hillock with the grave of
the murdered manager; while not far away the waves thundered against the
cliffs, making in stormy weather the ground tremble as if with an
earthquake. In the morning came the glory of the waking, of being at
once _tête à tête_ with air, sunshine, and dewy grass: to those who have
not known the wonder of these things, it cannot be explained; to those
who have experienced it, no words are needed.
Tent life is not all “beer and skittles”; Easter is too windy for an
ideal camping-ground; my pitch was sheltered, but even so it seemed at
times as if the structure would be carried away bodily. To preserve a
tent in place taut ropes are needed, but if rain descends these shrink,
and either burst with the strain or tear the pegs out of the ground: the
conscientious dweller under canvas will, under these conditions, arise
from his warm bed, and in the pouring deluge race round the tent,
slacking off the said ropes. Mine, like the stripes of St. Paul,
numbered forty save one. Before the end we were able to make different
arrangements.
When we had been some three and a half months at Mataveri—that is, in
the middle of July 1914—we felt that the time had come to begin work on
the other end of the island. It must be remembered that our original
idea was that six months would probably suffice for the whole inquiry,
and in any case we had no intention of staying beyond the period which
would allow of _Mana’s_ making a second trip to Chile.
We therefore established ourselves at Rano Raraku as the most convenient
site. It takes about two hours to ride there from Mataveri. The road is
made, like all those in the island, by simply clearing away the stones,
but it is wide enough to permit the passage of a wagon. It leads first
across the island by the western transverse plain till, at Vaihu, the
sea is reached, then runs along the south coast with its low rocks and
continuous line of breaking surf. Every step of this part of the way is
marked, for those who have eyes to see, with ruined burial-places; many
of them strewn with the remains of the statues which have once been
erected upon them. As Raraku is approached, there lie by the roadside
isolated figures of portentous size, abandoned, it has been thought, in
the act of removal from the quarries to the terraces. We grew to know by
heart this road, which led from what we termed our “town establishment,”
to our “country house,” and have ridden it, together or separately, at
all hours and in every weather. We were not infrequently detained by
business, at one end or the other, till too late to save the daylight,
and after dark it was not easy to keep to the track, even with the help
afforded by the sound of the breakers. Our ponies gave us no assistance
in the difficulty, for as foals they had run wild with their mothers,
and were, therefore, equally happy wandering off among the fields of
broken lava. As the “twilight of the dove” gradually changed to the
“twilight of the raven,” and the huge figures loomed larger than ever in
the gathering gloom, it seemed that, if ever the spirits of the departed
revisit their ancient haunts, the ghosts of the old image-makers must be
all abroad about their works and places of burial.
Rano Raraku (fig. 45) stands by itself where the flat ground of the
southern coast meets the eastern transverse plain, and forms the
isolated tip of those lesser volcanoes which have been described as the
eastern finger. About a mile to the eastward rises the high ground of
Poike. Raraku scarcely deserves the name of mountain, being little more
than a basin containing a crater lake; yet it curiously dominates the
scene. There will be much to tell of it hereafter; for the moment
suffice it to say that a large number of statues stand on its lower
slopes, while above are the quarries from which, with very few
exceptions, all the figures in the island have been obtained. The side
nearest the sea is a sheer cliff, the extremities of which form the two
peaks which are so characteristic of the mountain. Beneath the cliff is
a flow of lava; here the French carpenter had managed to put up two iron
huts which had been sent ahead from England; one was a store, the other
formed my one-roomed villa residence. Their erection was somewhat of a
triumph, as all the bolts had been stolen on the way. The rest of the
camp, the tent for meals, that of S., and those for the servants, were
pitched for protection about 50 feet lower down, on the further side of
the lava flow; but even here, owing to the tearing wind which howled
round the mountain, their canvas flies had to be tied back and walls
erected around them (fig. 73). On every hand were the remains of native
life prior to the removal of the inhabitants to Hanga Roa, the most
welcome being a single well-grown tree of the sort known in tropical
countries as the “umbrella tree.” It was the only example of its kind on
the island, and was of an age that suggested it had been planted by the
early missionaries.
The whole situation was not only one of striking beauty, but brought
with it an indescribable sense of solemnity. Immediately above the camp
towered the majestic cliff of Raraku, near at hand were its mysterious
quarries and still erect statues; on the coast below us, quiet and
still, lay the overturned images of the great platform of Tongariki, one
fragment of which alone remains on its base, as a silent witness to the
glory which has departed. The scene was most wonderful of all when the
full moon made a track of light over the sea, against which the black
mass of the terrace and the outline of the standing fragment were
sharply defined; while the white beams turned the waving grass into
shimmering silver and lit up every crevice in the mountain above.
Easter Island lies in the sub-tropics, and, if the question of wind be
eliminated, the climate is as near perfection as possible in this world.
There may be, especially in the winter months, a spell of three or four
days of rain, or a wind from the Antarctic, when woollen clothes are
welcome; and occasionally, in the summer, it is preferable to be indoors
during the noontide hours; but with these exceptions, it is one of those
rare localities where it is possible to be warm the whole year round,
and yet to utilise to the full the hours of daylight. There are, as
might be expected, too many insects; cockroaches abound, out of doors
and under statues as well as in houses and tents; when things were very
bad they might even be seen on the dinner-table. I was calmly told, with
masculine insensibility, that “if I had not naturally a taste for such
things, the sooner that I acquired it the better”; the only consolation
was that they were of a handsome red variety and not shiny black. Flies
also are numerous; I have counted two hundred in a bowl of soapy water,
and six or eight at once on my hand while busy writing; “their tameness
was shocking to me.” Mosquitoes, which have been imported, varied in
their attentions; when they were at their worst it was necessary to wear
head-gear and dine in gloves. There is said to be no fever in the
islands; we had two or three attacks, but it may have been “original
sin.” Once we had a plague of little white moths, and occasionally, for
a short while, visitations of a small flying beetle, whose instinct
seemed to be to crawl into everything, making it safer to stuff one’s
ears with cotton-wool. On these occasions dinner had to be put earlier,
owing to Bailey’s pathetic complaint that, with a lamp burning in the
kitchen, business was rendered impossible from the crowds which
committed suicide in the soup.
The lack of firewood was met by using oil; when, later, we had to
economise in that commodity, it was supplemented by collecting dried
manure. The natives use brushwood or anything they can pick up; their
manner of cooking, which is after Polynesian fashion by heating stones
placed in the earth, requires very little fuel. The water difficulty was
ever present. At the Mataveri establishment the supply collected from
the roof was generally sufficient; we arrived, however, in a dry spell,
and one morning the request for water was met by the information that
the “tank was empty”; even _Mana_, one felt, had never fallen quite so
low. It was consoling to be informed that “clothes could always be
washed in the crater,” a climb of 1,300 feet. At our Raraku camp all the
water, except that which could be collected on the roof of a tin hut,
had to be fetched from the crater lake; this rendered us tiresomely
dependent on getting native labour. The rain-clouds are often
intercepted by the high grounds at the south-western end of the island,
in a manner which is most tantalising to the dweller in the eastern, if
supplies happen to be low.
The ranch supported at this time about 12,000 sheep, 2,000 head of
cattle, and other livestock; we were generously supplied with milk and
could purchase any quantity of mutton: beef was not often killed for so
small a party. Chickens of a lean species were sometimes available.
_Mana_ later brought Mr. Edmunds some turkeys which did well. Bananas
were useful, when in season. Fig-trees thrive, and we had a lavish and
most acceptable supply at Raraku of this fruit from those planted by the
natives prior to their removal to Hanga Roa. Vegetables were scarce, as
the Manager took no interest in his garden, owing to the depredations of
the natives, and we had no time for their cultivation. Groceries had, of
course, been brought with us, and on our arrival they were deposited in
the locked and strongly built wool-shed at Hanga Piko, a small boat
landing between Hanga Roa and Mataveri. Housekeeping was a much easier
business than on the yacht, but S.’s share of practical work was
considerably greater, for, beside the initial camp-pitching, all tent or
kitchen gear that went wrong and every lamp which would not burn made
demands on his time. In his department also came the stud; we had been
kindly provided with some of the island ponies, of which there are about
five hundred; as export is impossible, the value of each animal is put
at 5s. When not in use the steeds were put out to graze as best they
might; and in addition to the care of the saddlery, every tethering rope
which chafed through against the stones was brought for repair to the
head of the Expedition. In judging of scientific work under such
conditions, it must always be borne in mind how many hours and days are
thus inevitably consumed in practical labour.
There was, luckily for us, the one skilled workman on the island, the
French carpenter who had made his way from New Caledonia; his name was
Vincent, but he answered to the appellation of “Varta” (the figure in
fig. 37); the difficulty was to obtain his services as he was constantly
employed on the estate. One of our few retainers, Mahanga (fig. 89), was
not a native of Easter, but had come from the Paumotu Islands; he served
faithfully for many months, the goal in view being the possession of one
of the tin huts, which passed into his keeping when we left the island.
It was related that having been at one time afflicted with some skin
disease, he had taken the heroic remedy of plunging into a vat in which
the sheep were being dipped, with painful but beneficial results. The
native girls make quite tolerable servants, and I was fortunate in never
being without one (fig. 29). They take a keen interest in their own
clothes and some of them are surprisingly good needlewomen; in some of
the houses there are even sewing-machines. But to obtain labour, whether
for camp work or excavation, was always difficult, and for a while
circumstances rendered it almost impossible.
CHAPTER XI
A NATIVE RISING
It was stated a little while back that we were left on the island with
statues and natives. The statues remained quiescent, the natives did
not. The inhabitants, or Kanakas to give them their usual name[13] (fig.
26), are on the whole a handsome race, though their voices, particularly
those of the women, are very harsh. They are fortunate also in
possessing attractive manners, from which they get the full benefit in
their intercourse with passing ships. The older people we found always
kind and amiable, but the younger men have a high opinion of their own
merits, and are often difficult to deal with. Their general morality,
using the word in its limited sense, is, in common with that of all
Polynesians, of a particularly low order; it is true that the Europeans
with whom they have come into contact did not initiate this condition,
but they have seldom done anything to show that that of their own lands
is in any way higher; a fact which should be remembered when complaint
is made that Kanakas “have no respect for white men.” The native love of
accuracy also leaves a good deal to be desired, and their lies are
astonishingly fluent; but lack of truthfulness is scarcely confined to
Kanakas. In common with all residents in the South Seas, or indeed
elsewhere, they exert themselves no more than is necessary to supply
their wants; unfortunately these, save in the matter of clothes, have
scarcely increased since pre-Christian days. The food-supply of sweet
potatoes and bananas, with a few pigs and fowls, can be obtained with a
minimum of labour; the keeping of sheep and cattle is not permitted by
the Company, owing to the impossibility of discovering or tracing theft.
Their old huts, which were made with sticks and grass, have been
replaced by small houses of wood or stone, but, except in a few cases,
there is no furniture, and the inhabitants continue to sleep on the
floor, in company with hens, which freely run in and out (fig. 27).
There seems no desire to improve their condition; “Kanakas no like work,
Kanakas like sit in house,” was the ingenuous reply given by one of
them, when my husband pointed out the good results which would accrue
from planting some trees in village territory.
[Illustration:
FIG. 26.
A GROUP OF EASTER ISLANDERS OUTSIDE THE CHURCH DOOR.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 27.
HANGA ROA VILLAGE.
Native houses and church. Rano Kao in the distance.
]
Perhaps the greatest barrier to native progress lies in the absence of
security of property; they steal freely from one another, as well as
from white men, so that all individual effort is rendered nugatory. At
the same time they are curiously lacking in pugnacity, and if detected
in theft quietly desist or return the property: as a typical instance
our cook once met a man wearing one of his, Bailey’s, ties; he looked
steadily at him, the man’s hand went up, he took off the tie and handed
it back. Their own native organisation was peculiarly lax, no kind of
justice being administered, and they have never had for any duration the
civilising effect of religious instruction or civil power. The
missionaries were replaced by a native lay reader; there is a large
church where services are regularly held, which form important functions
for the display of best clothes, but it is difficult to say how much
they convey to the worshippers. The older ones, at any rate, have two
names, both a native and Christian appellation. Mr. Edmunds had, on our
arrival, the status of a Chilean official, and was both just and kind in
his dealings, but he had no means of enforcing order; the two policemen
who had been at one time on the island had been withdrawn owing to their
own bad conduct. The marvel is not that the Kanakas are troublesome, but
that they are as good as they are.
We had heard in Chile rumours of native unrest, owing to the action of a
white man, who had been for a short while on the island, and who had
done his best to undermine the authority of the Manager. We had before
long unpleasant evidence that they were out of hand. The wool-shed,
which contained our minutely calculated stores, was broken into, and a
quantity of things stolen, the most lamented being three-fourths of the
stock of soap; no redress or punishment was possible. On June 30th,
while we were still at the Manager’s, a curious development began which
turned the history of the next five weeks into a Gilbertian opera—a
play, however, with an undercurrent of reality which made the time the
most anxious in the story of the Expedition. On that date a
semi-crippled old woman, named Angata (fig. 30), came up to the
Manager’s house accompanied by two men, and informed him that she had
had a dream from God, according to which M. Merlet, the chairman of the
Company, was “no more,” and the island belonged to the Kanakas, who were
to take the cattle and have a feast the following day.[14] Our party
also was to be laid under contribution, which, it later transpired, was
to take the form of my clothes. Later in the day the following
declaration of war was formally handed in to Mr. Edmunds, written in
Spanish as spoken on the island:
“_June 30th, 1914._
“SENIOR EMA, MATAVERI,
“Now I declare to you, by and by we declare to you, which is the word
we speak to-day, but we desire to take all the animals in the camp and
all our possessions in your hands, now, for you know that all the
animals and farm in the camp belong to us, our Bishop Tepano gave to
us originally. He gave it to us in truth and justice. There is another
thing, the few animals which are in front of you,[15] are for you to
eat. There is also another thing, to-morrow we are going out into the
camp to fetch some animals for a banquet. God for us, His truth and
justice. There is also another business, but we did not receive who
gave the animals to Merlet also who gave the earth to Merlet because
it is a big robbery. They took this possession of ours, and they gave
nothing for the earth, money or goods or anything else. They were
never given to them. Now you know all that is necessary.
“Your friend,
“DANIEL ANTONIO,
“_Hangaroa_.”
If some of the arguments are probably without foundation, as, for
example, that regarding native rights in the cattle, they were at least,
as will be seen, of the same kind which have inspired risings in many
lands and all ages. The delivery of the document was immediately
followed by action. The Kanakas went into “the camp,” eluding Mr.
Edmunds, who had gone in another direction, and secured some ten head of
cattle. The smoke from many fires was shortly to be seen ascending from
the village, and one of our party was shown a beast which was to be
offered to us in place of our stolen property, “God” having apparently
reversed his message on the subject of our contribution to the new
republic. The next few days there was little more news “from the front,”
save that Angata, the old woman, had had another dream, in which God had
informed her that “He was very pleased that the Kanakas had eaten the
meat and they were to eat some more.” A week later, riding home through
the village, I saw a group on the green engaged in dressing a girl’s
hair; on inquiry it was found that she was to be married next day.
Congratulations had hardly been expressed, when another young woman was
pointed out who was also to change her state at the same time, and
another and another, till the prospective brides totalled five in all.
The idea, it seemed, was prevalent, that if punishment was subsequently
inflicted for the raids, it was the single men who would be taken to
Chile, hence this rush into matrimony, undeterred by the fact that Mr.
Edmunds, in his capacity as Chilean official, had declined for the
present to perform the civil part of the ceremony. The wedding feast
was, of course, to be furnished by the sheep of the Company.
Unfortunately, under such circumstances, it seemed hardly loyal to our
host to attend the multiple wedding, which was duly solemnised in the
church next day.
Meanwhile, the white residents had, of course, been considering their
position, and in orthodox fashion, counting the number on which they
could rely in an emergency. Beside Mr. Edmunds there were at this time
in our party, myself and five men: S., Mr. Ritchie, the photographer,
the cook, and a boy from Juan Fernandez. There were about half a dozen
more or less reliable Kanakas, including the native Overseer and the
village Headman, but everyone else was involved. Mr. Edmunds’s position
as custodian of the livestock was unenviable, and ours was not much more
pleasant. After much thought we strongly dissuaded him from taking any
action; if he interfered, there would be an affray. The natives were
said to have a rifle and some pistols; it was doubtful how many would go
off, but there would anyway be stone-throwing: if he was then forced to
shoot, the only deterrent possible, he would have to continue till
resistance was entirely cowed, or all our lives would remain in danger.
His personal safety was however another matter, and our party therefore
accompanied him in an attempt to frustrate a raid, but this obviously
could not be continued if our work was to be accomplished. We were
strengthened in adopting a waiting policy by the fact that, most
fortunately, a fortnight earlier a passing vessel had left us
newspapers; they confirmed the news heard in Chile that the naval
training ship, the _Jeneral Baquedano_, whose visits occurred at
intervals of anything from two to five years, was shortly leaving for
Easter Island. We could only hope her arrival would be soon.
S. suggested that, being an unofficial person, he might meanwhile try
the effect of negotiations; for the raids were continuing, and the head
of cattle killed on one day had risen to fifty-six, including females
and young. He therefore went down to the village, assembled the natives,
and offered the company a present of two bullocks a week, if they would
refrain from taking any more stock till the arrival of the warship, when
the whole matter could be referred to the captain. The audience laughed
the suggestion out of court, for “the whole of the cattle,” they said,
belonged to them, as God had told Angata, but they would let our party
“have twenty” if we wished; as for Mr. Edmunds, “he is a Protestant, and
therefore, of course, has no God.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 28.
BAILEY, THE COOK, ON GUARD.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 29.
EASTER ISLAND WOMEN
Parapina standing.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 30.
ANGATA, THE PROPHETESS.
]
When my husband returned saying he had accomplished nothing, I felt that
it was “up to me.” “This,” I said, “is a matter requiring tact, and is
therefore a woman’s job; _I_ will go and see the old lady.” I had
already received from her an embarrassing present of fowls, which, after
referring the matter to our host, it had seemed better to accept. Not
without inward trepidation, I rode down to the village, taking the
Fernandez boy as interpreter, for many of the natives speak a smattering
of Spanish. The place was a perfect shambles, joints of meat hanging
from all the trees, and skins being pegged out to dry on every hand, but
the raiders had been displaying energy in rebuilding the wall round the
church. The Prophetess was with a group outside the house of the acting
priest, who was her son-in-law; she was a frail old woman with grey hair
and expressive eyes, a distinctly attractive and magnetic personality.
She wore suspended round her neck some sort of religious medallion, a
red cross, I think, on a white ground, and her daughter who supported
her carried a small picture of the Saviour in an Oxford frame. She held
my hand most amiably during the interview, addressing me as “Caterina.”
I had brought her a gift and began by thanking for the fowls. She
refused all payments, saying “Food comes from God, I wish for no money,”
and proceeded to offer me some of the meat. This gave an opening, and in
declining I besought her not to let the Kanakas go out again after the
animals, for Mr. Edmunds said he would shoot if they did, and there
would be trouble for them when the _Baquedano_ came. As I spoke of the
raids her face hardened and her eyes took the look of a fanatic; she
said something about “God” with the upward gesture which was her habit
in speaking His name. I hastened to relieve the tension by saying that
“We must all worship God,” and was happy to find that I was allowed a
share in the Deity. Her manner again softened, and looking up to heaven
she declared, with an assured confidence, which was in its way sublime,
“God will never let the Kanakas be either killed or hurt.” The natives
were, in fact, firmly persuaded that no bullet could injure them. As for
myself, Angata would, she said, “pray” for me, adding, with a descent to
the mundane, that if ever she had “chickens or potatoes,” I should be
the first to have them. It was impossible to reason further; we parted
the best of friends, but the “tactful” mission had failed!
This was the state of affairs when we decided that we must transfer our
work and consequently our belongings to the other end of the island. Our
surveyor and photographer remained, however, at Mataveri, as the
accommodation there was more convenient for their occupations, so Mr.
Edmunds was not alone. Moving camp, levelling ground, and building
walls, were not light matters, when the Kanakas had found such much more
interesting employment, but at last it was accomplished, and then came
the question of the stores, which after the robbery at the wool-shed had
been taken to Mataveri. After much consultation it was decided to remove
them to Raraku, as on the whole safer than leaving them at the Manager’s
house, which might, by the look of things, be any day looted or burnt
down. But when the ox-cart had been carefully loaded up with the
numerous boxes and goods, the cash supply, consisting of £50 of English
gold and some Chilean paper, being carefully hidden amongst them, a
spell of bad weather set in. It was impossible to move the cart, and our
possessions sat there day after day most handily arranged for the
revolutionists if their desires should turn that way.
Our new camp we were often obliged to leave without defence save for the
redoubtable Bailey, who had also served as guard at Mataveri (fig. 28).
There had been no demonstration against us so far, but of course the
future was unknown, and I never came in sight of our house, on returning
from any distant work, without casting an anxious glance to see if it
were still standing. We always went about armed, and the different
ranges for rifle-shot were measured off from my house and marked by
cairns, which will no doubt in future add yet one more to the mysteries
of Easter Island.
One day I had just come back from a stroll, when the cry was raised “The
Kanakas are coming,” and a troop of horsemen, about thirty strong,
appeared on the sky-line some four hundred yards distant. Fortunately S.
was at hand, we hurried inside my house, shut the lower half of its
door, which resembled that of a loose-box, and carelessly leant out. Any
unpleasantness could then only be frontal; at the same time all weapons
were within easy grasp, though not visible from the outside.
It soon, however, became clear that the visitors were approaching at a
walk only, from which it was gathered their intentions were friendly.
Nevertheless it was a relief when, as they got nearer, they raised their
hats and gave a cheer; they then formed a semicircle round the door and
dismounted. The “priest” who was with them, and who carried a picture of
the Virgin, read something, presumably a prayer, at which the company
crossed themselves. He then gave greetings from Angata, and a message
from her to say that _Mana_ was returning safely with letters on board,
and the men presented from their saddle-bows, eggs, potatoes, and about
a dozen hens. The position was unwelcome, but as none of the goods were
stolen, it seemed better to accept, and discharge the obligation as far
as possible by giving in return what European food we could spare We
subsequently informed Mr. Edmunds, and sent a message to the Prophetess
that, as our camp was out of bounds, the Kanakas must not come without
leave. The old lady herself, however, kept sending to us for anything
she happened to want, and as the requests continually grew in magnitude
the breaking-point seemed only a question of time. One of the earlier
demands, to which Mr. Edmunds thought it advisable we should accede, was
for material for a flag for the new Republic; later, it floated proudly
as a tricolour, made of a piece of white cotton, some red material from
the photographic outfit, and a fragment of an old blue shirt.
Elsewhere things went from bad to worse, and it seemed as if the
expected warship would never arrive. Word came that the Kanakas had
ordered the native overseer to leave his house, the only one outside the
village, and were taking away the servants of the Manager; our
photographer wrote that he “dared not come over as their lives were
being threatened”; and finally, one afternoon we received a note from
Mr. Edmunds, saying, that “he could not leave the place as the Kanakas
were talking of coming up in a body to the house.” They were also, as we
later learnt, threatening to kill him if he resisted their taking
possession. It was obvious that the crisis had arrived; that we must
risk leaving the camp and go into Mataveri. We talked over every
conceivable plan of campaign, but it was too late to do anything that
night, and I remember that, finally at dinner, to turn our thoughts, we
discussed the curious manner in which some of the statues had fallen. In
four cases which we had seen that day, while the body lay on its front,
the head had broken off in mid air, turned a complete somersault, and
rested on its back with the crown towards the neck. The next morning,
August 5th, I awoke early and recorded in my journal the events of the
day before. “Of course,” I added, “if it were a stage play, just as the
crisis arrived there would be cries of ‘the _Baquedano_ is here,’ and
the curtain would fall. But, alas! it is not.” Scarcely was the ink
dry—only it was pencil—when a man rode up waving a note from Mr.
Edmunds, and shouting, “A ship!—a ship!” The previous afternoon, as the
Kanakas were assembling in the village to go up to Mataveri, the
_Baquedano_ had been sighted, and four of the ringleaders were now in
irons. I scarcely knew how great had been the long strain till the
relief came.
Our rejoicings, however, we found to have been partly premature. The
warship had unfortunately brought with her large gifts of clothes for
the natives from well-wishers in Chile. Some little while before
attention had been drawn to the inhabitants of Easter, by an Australian
captain who had touched there on his homeward voyage. The natives had,
as usual, come off to his ship in their oldest garments; he had been
impressed with their ragged condition and made a collection of clothes
for them in Australia amounting to many bales, but on his next voyage to
Chile he had been unable to touch again at the island and had left them
at Valparaiso. We had been asked to bring these bales, but had declined
on the score of space.[16] The Chileans disliked the idea of their
protectorate being indebted to strangers, made a collection on their own
account, and despatched them by the _Baquedano_. It seemed unthinkable
that people, every one of whom for weeks had been consuming stolen
goods, and who, two days before, had been on the verge of murder, should
be immediately presented officially with the commodity they most prized.
I therefore went on board the _Baquedano_, saw the Captain, and ventured
to request that the goods should be handed over to us, promising
personally to visit every house before our departure, ascertain the
needs of the people, and distribute the articles. “Surely,” he said,
“you shall have them.” Within a few hours they had been distributed by
his officers on the beach. Some of the garments were useful, but an
assortment of ball-slippers seemed a little out of place, and the
greater part of the community, men and women, blossomed out into washing
waistcoats. The stolen sheepskins, or some of them, were returned, but
three of the four ringleaders were set at liberty, and no corporate
punishment was inflicted; indeed, the Captain had told me he considered
that the natives had “behaved very well not to murder Mr. Edmunds” prior
to our arrival.
Before the ship left the island, the Captain wrote officially to the
“Head of the British Scientific Expedition” to the effect, that the
action he had been obliged to take to restore order would probably have
the result of rousing more feeling against foreigners; he therefore
could not guarantee our safety and offered us passages to Chile—an offer
which, needless to say, we declined. So ended the Revolution; we felt
with interest that the confidence of the Prophetess had been justified,
at any rate as far as 249 Kanakas were concerned out of the 250.
The old lady died six months later; I attended her funeral. The coffin
was pathetically tiny, and neatly covered with black and white calico. A
service was first held in the church where, during the rising, she used
to take part in the assemblies and address her adherents. There figured
prominently in the ceremony a model of the building and also two
prie-dieu, roughly made of boards, one of which she had used in private,
the other in public worship. She was laid to rest beneath the great
wooden cross, which marks the Kanaka burying-ground, between the village
and the bay. I stood at a little distance watching gleams of sunshine on
the great stones of the terrace of Hanga Roa and on the grey sea beyond,
and musing on the strange life now closed, whose early days had been
spent in a native hut beneath the standing images of Raraku. My
attention was recalled by an evident hitch in the proceedings:
difficulty had arisen in lowering the coffin, owing to the fact that the
prie-dieu was also being fitted into the grave. When all had been
finally adjusted and the interment was completed, a sound was heard,
unusual in such circumstances—three English cheers—hip, hip, hooray; the
natives had learnt it from passing ships and esteemed it an essential
part of a ceremony. The company was not large for the obsequies of one
who had so recently been the heroine of the village, and on asking in
particular why a certain near relative was absent, the answer received
was that “there was to be a great feast of pigs, and he was busy
preparing it”; doubtless others were similarly detained.
During the remainder of our sojourn there were, as will be seen,
additional white men on the island. The Kanakas were occupied in various
ways and there was no further open demonstration, but their independence
and demands increased daily. Since we left, a white employé of the
Company has been murdered by them and thrown into the sea.
CHAPTER XII
A GERMAN BASE
_Mana_ appeared on August 23rd, a week after the warship left, and not
before we had become a little anxious about her. She had done the
passage to the mainland in eighteen days, establishing a record, but had
had bad luck on her return journey, the voyage having taken forty-one
days. Even after her arrival there was the usual chase to get hold of
her, and we did not receive the mail till late one night. We had had no
letters since we left Talcahuano the preceding February, and read them
eagerly during the small hours; it was the greatest relief to find that
at home all was well. The yacht had to put out again to sea before the
newspapers could be landed, but we later received in them the accounts
of the murder of the Austrian Archduke and Duchess; even then, of
course, Ireland and labour troubles loomed much more largely on the
political horizon. As soon as the return mail was ready, on September
4th, we despatched _Mana_ again, the instructions sent home being that
everything was to be sent to Tahiti, as we expected to get off when she
once more returned the following November.
The _Baquedano_ had brought some additions to the community on the
island: one or two Europeans to work on the estate and a German to plant
tobacco. The fact that the presence of this last coincided with the
declaration of the war, and the subsequent use of the island by his
nation as a naval base, gave rise later to a good deal of comment; it is
certain that but little effort was made to grow tobacco. He left shortly
before we did. A schoolmaster from Chile was also among the new-comers;
he was sent by the Government, and brought an expensive school building.
In this he entertained us all to celebrate the day of Chilean
Independence, September 18th, when the natives gave some masque dances,
a fashion imported from Tahiti. It was interesting to notice that the
women always preferred to wear for best occasions their own distinctive
dress, rather than the smart clothes of the _Baquedano_, or similar
gifts, which were relegated to every-day service; I have seen a really
beautifully embroidered underskirt used for riding astride. The native
garment is of any washing material, preferably white for Sundays. It
falls straight and loosely down from a yoke, and is worn unreasonably
long; the sleeves are made to the wrist, with puffs at the top (fig.
29). This fashion is said to be common throughout the South Seas,
presumably dating from the first introduction of clothes by the
missionaries.[17]
School was duly begun, but after a few days the children ceased to
appear, the master declared he was “not an attendance officer,” and from
then till we left, nearly a year later, no school was held; the last we
saw of the blackboard and counting-frame, they were rotting in a field
some two miles off, where they had been taken by the French marooned
sailors for use in some carnival pony-races. The warship also brought an
epidemic of bad colds: every ship except _Mana_ left some such legacy.
Now that peace was in some measure restored, we set to work to excavate
some of the statues which stood on the slope of the Raraku mountain. The
natives were entirely indifferent whether they worked or not, but by
paying high wages and giving any quantity of mutton, we were able at
this time to get a certain amount of precarious labour for digging and
camp work. The whole lot, including my maid-servant, went in for every
week-end to the village, and it was always a matter of anxiety to know
whether they would ever return. Our Sundays were spent peacefully, doing
housework, taking the ponies to water in the crater, changing their
pitches at due intervals, and similar jobs.
We had just begun the week’s work on Monday, October 12th, when word was
brought that some steamers had appeared. The whole of the native staff,
of course, at once departed to see what could be begged from the ships.
The vessels turned out to be a German squadron, going, they said, “from
the China station to Valparaiso.” Some more turned up later, till there
were twelve in all, four or five of the number being warships, and the
remainder colliers or other smaller vessels. They kept entire silence on
the European situation. We had not, of course, the slightest idea that
war had broken out, still less that our lonely island was the
meeting-place, cleverly arranged by Admiral von Spee, for his ships from
Japan—the _Scharnhorst_ and _Gneisenau_—with the other German warships
in this region; the _Nürnberg_ and _Leipzig_ had turned up from the west
coast of Mexico, and the _Dresden_ from the other side of South America.
A writer in the _Cornhill_ (August 1917) states “there happened to be
upon it [Easter Island] a British scientific expedition, but busied over
the relics of the past, the single-minded men of science did not take
the trouble to cross the island to look at the German ships.” S. was, as
a matter of fact, twice over at Mataveri while they were in Cook’s Bay,
but it is true of this “single-minded” woman, who felt she had something
else to do than to ride for some four hours to gaze at the outside of
German men-of-war. What did interest us was that presumably, after the
usual manner of passing ships, the officers would come over to Raraku,
and being intelligent Germans, would photograph our excavations. We
therefore turned to, and with our own hands covered up our best things.
We seized the opportunity to write letters, which were posted on the
ships, and one of our number went to see the doctor. To the credit of
the enemy be it said, that almost all the letters subsequently arrived,
a sad exception being a butterfly, addressed to Professor Poulton at
Oxford, which, if, as may have been the case, it was retained as
something valuable, presumably went down off the Falkland Islands. Mr.
Edmunds, meanwhile, had not unnaturally rejoiced at having his market
brought to his door, and sold the ships nearly £1,000 worth of meat.
They offered to pay for it in gold, but it seemed common prudence to ask
instead for an order, a decision which was later sadly lamented.
On Thursday some of our staff returned: the Germans were, it seemed,
most unpopular; they did not come on shore and had given no food,
clothes, or soap. Kanaka sentiment at this moment would have been
certainly pro-Ally.
On Friday rumours reached us that there was something mysterious going
on. Why, it was asked, did the Germans say they had no newspapers, so
rarely come on shore, and go out at night without lights? and why did
one officer say that “in two months Germany would be at the top of the
tree”? We discussed the matter and passed it off as “bazaar talk.” On
Sunday, however, news came from Mataveri which we could no longer wholly
discredit. The German tobacco planter had been on board, and the crew
had disobeyed orders and disclosed to their countryman the fact that
there was a great European war; the combatants were correctly stated,
but much detail was added. Two hundred thousand men were, it was said,
waiting at Kiel to invade England; the war had taken our country by
surprise, and the German ships had already made a sudden raid and sunk
eight or nine Dreadnoughts in the Thames; the Emperor was nearly at
Paris, though the French continued to fight on most bravely. It was a
terrible war as neither side would show the white flag. An army had been
sent from England to the assistance of the French, but it had been badly
defeated. The English Labour Party had objected to troops being sent out
of the country, in consequence of which the Asquith ministry had fallen,
the House of Lords came in somehow; anyway, England was now a Republic,
and so were Canada and Australia; India was in flames, and two
troopships had been sunk on the way there from Australia.
We are still inclined to think that the Germans themselves believed all
these things; they had so often been told, by those in authority, that
such would occur on the outbreak of war with England, that wishes had
become facts. As a small mercy we got the news of the loss of the German
colonies, but the _Scharnhorst_, which had just come from the French
possession of Tahiti, said that the natives there having risen and
killed the Germans, the warships had therefore bombarded the town of
Papeete, which was now “no more.” The reason given for keeping us in the
dark so long was, that hearing there were foreigners on the island, they
thought that we might fight amongst ourselves. Von Spee made exact
inquiries as to the number of whites in the place, and told the Kanakas
that when he returned he would hold them responsible for our safety. The
real reason of the silence maintained was most probably to prevent any
question being raised of their use of the island as a naval base. When
the news could no longer be concealed, the officers gave it as their
opinion, that “when Germany had conquered France, peace would be made
with England, in which case Britain would probably gain some territory
as she had such good diplomatists,” a compliment at least for Lord Grey.
The reality of the war was brought home by the concrete fact that the
ships were reliably reported to be in fighting trim, with no woodwork
visible. That Sunday evening one of us saw the squadron going round in
the dusk, the flagship leading. They had said that they would come
again, but they never did. They went on their way to Coronel and the
Falklands.
On Monday morning we met our photographer by arrangement on the road to
Mataveri, in order to take some of the half-way terraces; he had brought
two newspapers, which had at last been got hold of, and we sat down
beneath a wall to read them. They were German ones, of September 15th
and 17th, published in Chile, and contained little news; but we read
between the lines that things were going better in France, for the
Germans had made “a strategic retreat according to plan,” and then the
curtain fell on the great drama. The ground rocked for us, as it did at
home in those first August days; it was just one week since we had
covered up our diggings and it seemed centuries. How much to believe we
did not know, but some of it sounded plausible, and when later we found
that England was facing the struggle as a united whole, and that there
was still a British Empire, we felt that the greatest nightmare of the
war had passed.
From the personal point of view our thoughts turned, of course, to the
yacht; she would no doubt remain in safety at Talcahuano, that was a
comfort. At any other time it would have been a matter of anxiety that
the crew should continue indefinitely without employment, and that there
was no pecuniary arrangement there for so long a detention; as it was,
we were so absolutely helpless that the futility of worrying was
obvious. As regards ourselves, we could only cut down our use of such
things as flour and tea, and wait; our experience of war rations thus
came early. The most serious threatened shortage was that of paper. It
was intensely strange to go back to digging out statues, when morning,
noon, and night our hearts were over the seas; but that was “our job,”
there was at least no daily and hourly waiting for news, and in the
peace of a plain duty and the absolute silence of the sea around us
there was a certain kind of rest.
For the next few weeks life went on quietly, sheep-shearing absorbed the
energies of the community, and the village was laid low by an attack of
dysentery, from which in a short time there were eight deaths: the
disease was either a legacy from the Germans, or the result of the
distribution of some more _Baquedano_ clothes which had been left with
the schoolmaster. It seemed as if we might spend the rest of our lives
on the island, when suddenly, as things always happened in mid-Pacific,
on December 1st, six weeks after the departure of the German squadron, a
little ship turned up. She was flying the Chilean flag, but had an
English captain, and was to take back word to Valparaiso how things were
going on the island. She brought good news on the whole, but also the
regretted tidings of the sinking of the _Good Hope_ and _Monmouth_ on
November 1st. Mr. Gillam wrote that the yacht was, as we had expected,
detained at Talcahuano till the passage was considered safe. The point
which immediately concerned us was the offer of passages in this vessel
to Chile should we desire them; but she could only by her charter stay
some five days, during which time it would have been quite impossible,
even had our work been finished, to transport our goods from Raraku.
There was no room for hesitation: S. must go and look after _Mana_, and
insure her against war risks. Mr. Ritchie and the Fernandez boy had
already sailed on the _Baquedano_, and as the photographer’s work on the
island was nearly done for the present, it seemed best he should
accompany my husband and resume his post on the yacht. Bailey and I were
therefore left to represent the Expedition on the island.
When the good-byes had been said, it was better not to have time to
think, so we at once set to work, packed up such things as were
necessary from our country house, and transferred the camp back to
Mataveri. There I took up life once more in my tent by the grave of the
murdered manager. Mr. Edmunds would, I knew, kindly give me assistance
in case of necessity, and it was desirable to be near the village, for I
proposed to spend the time till S. returned in interviews with such of
the old people as could remember traditions and customs, prior to the
coming of Christianity. This work was, however, not destined to continue
undisturbed.
On Wednesday morning, December 23rd, another German ship came into
Cook’s Bay—the armed cruiser _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_. The Manager went
on board, and returned with the information that the Captain had said he
“would require thirty or forty beasts, but that as the crew would be
busy next day they would not take them till after Christmas.” They would
give no account of themselves, nor any news of the war. It was a relief
to realize that S. would not yet have had time to leave Chile, and that
he and the yacht were presumably safe in harbour. That very afternoon,
however, my writing was interrupted by a cry of congratulation from the
native girls at work in Mr. Edmunds’ kitchen, “_Mana_ is coming.” A
woman, who had been up on the high ground, had reported that she had
seen the little vessel off the south coast and that she was now sailing
round Rano Kao, hence making direct for Cook’s Bay. It might, of course,
be a mistake, but it was, on the other hand, just possible that Mr.
Gillam had seized an opportunity to slip across to the island without
waiting for a reply to his letter. The immediate question, supposing
that it was indeed _Mana_, was how she could be stopped walking straight
into the jaws of the enemy. Bailey saddled in haste, and rode up to the
top of the headland to try to warn her not to proceed. I armed myself
with a towel and coat to make a two-flag signal, which denotes urgency,
and fled down to the rocks on the coast below, selecting a point from
which it was possible to command the furthest view, without being
noticed from the cruiser. It was a very forlorn hope, that it might be
possible to attract the yacht’s attention before she was seen by the
enemy, but it was obviously out of the question to continue, under a
tree, copying notes while _Mana_ might be at the moment meeting with a
watery grave.
My thoughts, while I sat there with eyes glued to the horizon, went back
to academic discussions with Admiral Fremantle on board a P. & O. liner
only a few years before, on the right in war-time to capture private
property at sea, and how little it had then occurred to me that the
matter would ever become so vitally personal. I waited for two and a
half hours, not daring to leave, but with hope growing momentarily
stronger that there was an error somewhere. Meanwhile, Bailey had seen
the vessel from the mountain and was confident that it was the returning
yacht, but had been unable to get into touch with her. He had come down
and consulted with Mr. Edmunds, who had then most kindly ridden over to
the south coast to see what could be done from there; the nearer view
had made clear that the alarm was a false one, the vessel was not _Mana_
but some other passing schooner, and we breathed once more.
Everyone, however, seemed to take particular pleasure in talking to the
Germans about the yacht and her movements, in a way which to me was more
amusing than reassuring. As a scientific ship, she theoretically shared
with Red Cross vessels immunity under the Hague Convention, but even in
those days, as will have been seen, that did not bring complete
confidence. One of the German officers had, I was told, given it as his
opinion that his Captain would not touch her, but “it was,” he remarked,
“a matter for individual judgment, and other commanders might act
differently.” The same officer expressed his surprise that the Manager
had ventured on the cruiser, as he “might have been made a prisoner, as
a German had been on a French ship”; whereupon Mr. Edmunds naturally
resolved not to accept an informal invitation to attend theatricals to
be held on board on Christmas Eve.
The reason for the occupation of the crew soon became obvious. The
warship went out on the following morning and returned with a French
barque, the _Jean_, which she had captured some time before, and which,
being laden with coal, she had towed most of the way to the island. She
laid the barque alongside her in Cook’s Bay and proceeded to hoist out
the cargo (fig. 24), finally shooting away the masts and spars in order
that the French ship might not capsize as she gradually lost her
ballast.
The cruiser, it transpired, had also on board it the crew of an English
sailing ship, the _Kildalton_, which she had captured and sunk near the
Horn; but when an attempt was made to speak to the men, they were
ordered below. The German officers and crew then landed daily, rode over
the island, came up to the Manager’s house, and generally behaved as if
the whole place belonged to them. The officers were courteous and always
saluted when we met, an attention with which one would have preferred to
dispense; one of the crew penetrated to our kitchen, which he was at
once requested to leave, in spite of Bailey’s evident fear that he and I
would immediately be ordered out for execution; the man hesitated,
looked astonished, but obeyed. It must be remembered that there was no
reason to suppose that it was otherwise than civilised warfare, the idea
that anyone could or would injure non-combatants on neutral soil never
seriously occurred to me: the story of Belgium was unknown.
Indignation was, however, roused by the fact that the Germans were
remaining far beyond the twenty-four hours to which they were entitled
in a neutral port, and obviously again using the island as a base. It
grew to fever-heat when news came that a signal-station had been erected
on Rano Aroi, the high central point, with an officer and men in charge,
from which notice might be given to the cruiser below if an “enemy” ship
was sighted. I took Juan, the headman of the village who was our usual
escort, rode up to the point in question, and thus verified the fact of
the station and men on watch. I remained at a short distance, but Juan
went on and spoke to the Germans; he came back to me saying
impressively, “They do not like to see you here,” to which sentiment the
reply naturally was “I dislike still more to see them.” Never would the
white ensign have been more welcome! To relieve my feelings, although
with a sense of futility, I wrote a formal protest, under the
grandiloquent title of “Acting Head of the British Scientific
Expedition,” pointing out for the benefit of the Chilean Government
these abuses of neutrality. The schoolmaster had been, since his
arrival, the formal representative of his country, and I went down to
the village to give it to him; its presentation was delayed by his
having gone on board the cruiser, for the Christmas theatricals, where
he remained over the next day, but it was finally handed to him.
On New Year’s Eve I was coming in from a business ride about 1 o’clock,
and, having breakfasted at 6, was feeling not a little hungry, when the
German ship was seen steaming from her anchorage, looking as she did so
like a great blot on the radiant sea. The first impression was that she
was leaving the island, but on observing more closely, her errand was
apparent; she was not alone, but had the graceful little barque with
her, towing her side by side in a last Judas embrace. Naturally, one
could go no farther, and for two and a half hours a little company,
including the crew of the doomed ship, who had just been landed, sat
spell-bound on the cliff watching the tragedy. When the cruiser had gone
a short distance, but well within the three-mile limit, she cast the
French vessel adrift, the small craft rolled helplessly, high out of the
water, without ballast or cargo, and with only a mizzen-mast remaining.
The warship then swooped round in great circles like an evil bird of
prey, and every time that she came broadside on she fired at her victim.
The first shot missed; the second went through the upper part of the
barque into the sea the other side. The third shot obviously told, but
the executioner fired once again and then ceased, satisfied with her
work, for the little ship could be seen gradually regaining her
water-line, though with an ominous list, and a ballast never designed by
the builder. As she sank she drifted slowly southward, at the mercy of
wind and current. The cruiser moved with her, keeping at an even
distance and steadily watching her victim till suddenly the end came,
and where there had been two vessels on the blue sea only one remained.
Another gallant ship had joined the company of ghosts in the ocean Hades
below.
When she had thus accomplished her work, the _Eitel Friedrich_ departed,
having taken on board stores, which would, she stated, with those
already in hand, last her till the following April. She kept her
prisoners on board till almost the last, in order to serve, it was said,
as hostages should a British warship appear, and then deposited them all
on shore. Our feelings on thus finding our island invaded, resembled, in
some measure, the classical ones of Robinson Crusoe on a somewhat
similar occasion; the new-comers consisted of the captains and crews of
both the English and French ships, forty-eight persons in all. They had
been well treated on the cruiser, and were given on landing the
remaining stores out of the sunken barque. A camp was made for them in
the wool-shed, near the landing-place at Hanga Piko, and formed a great
attraction to the natives who flocked there hourly to see what could be
picked up. A room was found for the captain of the English ship in the
Manager’s house, where he made a pleasant addition to the party. The
charms of Easter Island did not appeal to him, and he was naturally
concerned for the anxiety which would be felt at home when his ship was
reported “missing.” His great occupation was to walk, many times a day,
to the top of the knoll behind my tent, to try to catch sight of a sail,
a hope which those of us who were better acquainted with the island felt
to be somewhat forlorn.
Unfortunately, the epidemic of dysentery which had prevailed in the
island since the previous October, laid low some of the sailors. This
was a serious anxiety, as there was no doctor of any kind, and the only
medical stores and books were those of the Expedition, which had to be
routed out from our camp at the other end of the island. One young
Englishman, named Campbell, to our great regret, succumbed to the
disease; he was “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow”; a
little white cross in the Easter Island burial-ground makes yet another
memorial of the Great War. Captain Sharp’s persistent look-out was
rewarded sooner than might have been expected; false hopes were raised
by a vessel which went on without waiting, but when the marooned men had
been with us some two months, a Swedish steamer appeared. She had come
out of her way attracted by the fame of the antiquities, and it was a
pleasure to show one or two of the officers what little could be seen of
those statues near Cook’s Bay. She kindly took on board the English crew
and the greater part of the Frenchmen, but a few of the latter preferred
to remain, on the ground that they had “sent word to the French Consul
at Valparaiso, and must await his directions.” It was said that, prior
to leaving the _Eitel Friedrich_, they had signed an undertaking never
to bear arms against Germany, and they were consequently not anxious to
find themselves again in France, where their position might be
invidious. One of them, who hailed from the French West Indies,
subsequently married his hostess, a lady in the village. The wedding was
celebrated in the church and largely attended; during a great part of
the service the couple sat on a low form before the altar, with the arm
of the bridegroom round the waist of the bride; the ceremony was
followed by a sumptuous and decorous repast.
Such an excitement as the German visit had of course upset my grown-up
children, but we gradually resumed our talks. The ways, means, and
result of those conversations will come more appropriately under the
heading of the scientific work. It took, as a rule, about the same
number of hours to copy out the rough notes of an interview as to get
the substance; if, therefore, the morning had been given to talk, the
afternoon was spent in writing. It soon became obvious that it was going
to be a race against time to get all the information available before
_Mana_ returned, especially as the interviews involved a certain amount
of strain, and it was better, in the interests of all, to diversify them
with topographical and other work. In this sense every day was prized
which the yacht delayed her return, and there was little opportunity for
feeling lonely, at any rate during working hours. The time, however,
began to grow long. January changed into February, and February turned
into March, and there was still no news of her; everyone began to
inquire if I were “not becoming very anxious,” in a manner which was
truly reassuring. And now, in approved fashion, we will turn and see
what was happening to the other part of the Expedition.
After leaving the Raraku camp S. had ridden in to Cook’s Bay, and there
had difficulties about getting on board, for the Kanakas had made one
bargain for the use of their boat, and then wanted double; during the
delay rain came on, and he was obliged to shelter himself and his goods
in the native boathouse by the landing. He at length, however, reached
the ship, where the captain gave him his own cabin under the bridge. At
tea-time the first officer, who was of German nationality, came out of
his cabin and conversed in such a way that it was obvious that he was
not altogether sober; the captain soon came along, rated him for
drinking, told him the curse of the sea was alcohol, and he was to go at
once on deck. Upon which the mate ascended to the bridge, groaning
deeply. Now the said captain had, unfortunately, on board sixteen cases
of whisky, which he had brought to trade at Easter, but which Mr.
Edmunds had not allowed him to land. He himself shortly began to drink
steadily, and went on till delirium tremens supervened, and he became
obsessed with the idea that there was an affray going on between the
sailors and stewards. By the arrangement of the vessel, the crew were
berthed for’ard and the stewards aft, while the waist of the ship was
filled by a stack of coal, which had been left on deck, to save the
trouble of stowing it in the bunkers, and in the pious hope that no bad
weather would supervene. On the top of this coal the captain now took
his stand, declared that he would have no fighting on his ship, and
hurled pieces of coal first at an imaginary crew for’ard and then at
supposititious stewards aft; though all hands were in reality carefully
lying low to keep out of his way.
S., meanwhile, was unfortunately confined to his cabin, having gone
down, about the second day out, with a very severe attack of dysentery;
the epidemic on the island had never reached our camp; he had presumably
contracted it during the delay in starting. His position was anything
but enviable: there was no steward, only a cabin-boy, well-meaning, but
languid and very dirty. He could get no food which he could take, and
lay there helpless with the rats eating his clothes; if it had not been
for the kindness of the chief engineer, who looked in occasionally, it
seems doubtful if he would have lived to reach Chile. To this pleasing
state was now added the apprehension that the captain, who was wandering
about by day and night, might at any moment attack him for being in the
cabin, in anticipation of which event S. kept a loaded revolver under
his pillow. At last things got to such a state that the chief engineer
came and asked his advice on the desirability of screwing up the
skipper, Oxford fashion, and passing his food through the port. Before,
however, this step could be taken, the offender had reached the stage of
mental collapse, melted into tears and spent his time in protracted
prayers, beseeching the engineer to put the accursed stuff overboard. S.
naturally advised taking him at his word, when it was found that he had
been drinking at the rate of nearly three bottles a day.
All this time the German mate had been obliged, to his great annoyance,
to keep sober for the sake of his own safety, but as they approached
Juan Fernandez there was much anxiety on board, for no one was very sure
where it was, and they wanted to see it without hitting it; by good luck
it was fortunately sighted during the hours of daylight. They managed,
somehow, to reach Valparaiso, and S. was at once taken to the same
English hospital to which Mr. Corry had been removed. Here he lay for
weeks, delighted to be well nursed and comfortable, and when
convalescent, was most hospitably entertained by our friend Mr.
Hope-Simpson, till he was equal to going down to Talcahuano to see after
the yacht.
On February 20th, 1915, _Mana_, now duly insured, sallied forth once
more, having lain at Talcahuano for nearly five months. Von Spee’s
squadron had been annihilated off the Falkland Islands on December 8th,
and though the exact whereabouts of his sole remaining ship, the
_Dresden_, were still unknown, the coast was thought to be clear. As a
matter of fact, the cruiser had crept out of her hiding-place in the
Patagonian Channels sixteen days earlier, and was at this time not far
from the entrance to the bay, where she was no doubt apprised by
wireless from the shore of the movements of all shipping. Luckily the
yacht’s departure was delayed at the last by some parting arrangements,
and she left port some hours later than had been intended; in the
interval, according to information subsequently received, another ship
went by, the cruiser captured her and went off. Thus did _Mana_ pass by
in safety, and before she reached Easter Island the _Dresden_ had met
with her doom at Juan Fernandez.
March 15th was a joyful day, when the yacht at length turned up all safe
and sound. We rapidly decided that the best thing we could do would be
to let the British Representative in Chile know at once of the call of
the _Eitel Friedrich_, and of the use made of the island by the Germans,
more particularly as there were recent reports from more than one
quarter that a vessel with two funnels had been seen off the island. A
despatch was therefore written for our Minister at Santiago, and Mr.
Gillam was instructed to hand it with a covering letter to the British
Consul at Valparaiso. The enemy might turn up any day, and, in view of
the gossip there had been about the yacht when they were here before, it
was obviously desirable to maintain secrecy as to her whereabouts. No
one save the Sailing-master, therefore, was informed of her destination;
she lay for two nights off Hanga Roa, and on the third morning she was
gone. On her arrival at Valparaiso the Consul requested Mr. Gillam to
take the despatch himself to Santiago in order to answer any questions
in his power; this he did, and had a long interview with the British
Minister. We have subsequently received kind acknowledgment from the
Admiralty of our efforts to be useful. The yacht then returned to the
island,[18] where we had been doing last things, including finishing off
our excavations, in which we were very kindly assisted by some of the
remaining members of the French crew; they worked for us at a rate of
pay refused by the natives. The packing-up of specimens alone was no
light business. There had turned out to be much more work to be done on
the island than we had anticipated, and though our residence had been
prolonged far beyond the time originally contemplated, we had, from the
scientific point of view, been largely single-handed and had also been
hindered by circumstances. So far as research was concerned we would
gladly have remained for another six months, to write up results and
make good omissions; but England was at war, the three years our crew
had signed on for would shortly expire, our wonderful time was over, and
we must go.
CHAPTER XIII
PREHISTORIC REMAINS
AHU OR BURIAL-PLACES
Form of the Easter Island Image—Position and Number of the Ahu—Design
and Construction of the Image Ahu—Reconstruction and Transformation—The
Semi-pyramid Ahu—The Overthrow of the Images and Destruction of the Ahu.
In many places it is possible in the light of great monuments to
reconstruct the past. In Easter Island the past is the present, it is
impossible to escape from it; the inhabitants of to-day are less real
than the men who have gone; the shadows of the departed builders still
possess the land. Voluntarily or involuntarily the sojourner must hold
commune with those old workers; for the whole air vibrates with a vast
purpose and energy which has been and is no more. What was it? Why was
it? The great works are now in ruins, of many comparatively little
remains; but the impression infinitely exceeded anything which had been
anticipated, and every day, as the power to see increased, brought with
it a greater sense of wonder and marvel. “If we were to tell people at
home these things,” said our Sailing-master, after being shown the
prostrate images on the great burial-place of Tongariki, “they would not
believe us.”
The present natives take little interest in the remains. The statues are
to them facts of every-day life in much the same way as stones or
banana-trees. “Have you no _moai_” (as they are termed) “in England?”
was asked by one boy, in a tone in which surprise was slightly mingled
with contempt; to ask for the history of the great works is as
successful as to try to get from an old woman selling bootlaces at
Westminster the story of Cromwell or of the frock-coated worthies in
Parliament Square. The information given in reply to questions is
generally wildly mythical, and any real knowledge crops up only
indirectly.
Anyone who is able to go to the British Museum can see a typical
specimen of an Easter Island statue, in the large image which greets the
approaching visitor from under the portico (fig. 31). The general form
is unvarying, and with one exception, which will be alluded to
hereafter, all appear to be the work of skilled hands, which suggests
that the design was well known and evolved under other conditions. It
represents a half-length figure, at the bottom of which the hands nearly
meet in front of the body. The most remarkable features are the ears, of
which the lobe is depicted to represent a fleshy rope (fig. 58), while
in a few cases the disc which was worn in it is also indicated (fig.
59). The fashion of piercing and distending the lobe of the ear is found
among various primitive races.[19] The tallest statues are over 30 feet,
a few are only 6 feet, and even smaller specimens exist. Those which
stood on the burial-places, now to be described, are usually from 12 to
20 feet in height, and were surmounted with a form of hat.[20]
_Position and Number of Ahu._—In Easter Island the problem of the
disposal of the dead was solved by neither earth-burial nor cremation,
but by means of the omnipresent stones which were built up to make a
last resting-place for the departed. Such burial-places are known as
“ahu,” and the name will henceforth be used, for it signifies a definite
thing, or rather type of thing, for which we have no equivalent. They
number in all some two hundred and sixty, and are principally found near
the coast, but some thirty exist inland, sufficient to show that their
erection on the seaboard was a matter of convenience, not of principle.
With the exception of the great eastern and western headlands, where
they are scarce, it is probably safe to say that, in riding round the
island, it is impossible to go anywhere for more than a few hundred
yards without coming across one of these abodes of the dead. They
cluster most thickly on the little coves and their enclosing
promontories, which were the principal centres of population. Some are
two or three hundred yards away from the edge of the cliff, others stand
on the verge; in the lower land they are but little above the sea-level,
while on the precipitous part of the coast the ocean breaks hundreds of
feet below.
PREHISTORIC REMAINS
AHU OR BURIAL-PLACES
[Illustration:
FIG. 31.
STATUE AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
For back of statue see fig. 106.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 32.
AKAHANGA COVE AND NEIGHBOURING AHU.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 33.
AHU TONGARIKI, SEAWARD SIDE.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 34.
AHU TONGARIKI, LANDWARD SIDE.
With fifteen fallen statues.
For distant view, see fig. 73.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 35.
AHU VINAPU.
]
It was these burial-places, on which the images were then standing,
which so strongly impressed the early voyagers and whose age and origin
have remained an unsolved problem.
During the whole of our time on the island we worked on the ahu as way
opened. Those which happened to lie near to either of our camps were
naturally easy of access, but to reach the more distant ones, notably
those on the north shore, involved a long expedition. Such a day began
with perhaps an hour’s ride; at noon there was an interval for luncheon,
when, in hot weather, the neighbourhood was scoured for miles to find
the smallest atom of shade; and the day ended with a journey home of not
less than two hours, during which an anxious eye was kept on the sinking
sun. The usual method, as each ahu was reached, was for S. to dismount,
measure it and describe it, while I sat on my pony and scribbled down
notes; but in some manner or other every part of the coast was by one or
both of us ridden over several times, and a written statement made of
the size, kind, condition, and name of each monument.
Unfortunately there is in existence no large-scale plan of the coast, a
need we had to supply as best we could; map of Easter Island there is
none, only the crude chart; the efforts of our own surveyor were
limited, by the time at his disposal, to making detailed plans of a few
of the principal spots. The want is to be regretted geographically, but
it does not materially affect the archæological result. We were always
accompanied by native guides in order to learn local names and
traditions, and it was soon found necessary to make a point of these
being old men; owing to the concentration of the remains of the
population in one district, all names elsewhere, except those of the
most important places, are speedily being forgotten. The memories of
even the older men were sometimes shaky, and to get reasonably complete
and accurate information the whole of a district had, in more than one
case, to be gone over again with a second ancient who turned out to have
lived in the neighbourhood in his youth and hence to be a better
authority.
_Original Design and Construction of Image Ahu._—The burial-places are
not all of one type, nor all constructed to carry statues; some also are
known to have been built comparatively recently, and will therefore be
described under a later section. The image ahu are, however, all
prehistoric. They number just under a hundred, or over one-third of the
whole.[21] The figures connected with them, of which traces still
remain, were counted as 231, but as many are in fragments, this number
is uncertain.
Atypical image ahu (fig. 36) is composed of a long wall running parallel
with the sea, which, in a large specimen, is as much as 15 feet in
height and 300 feet in length; it is buttressed on the land side with a
great slope of masonry. The wall is in three divisions. The main or
central portion projects in the form of a terrace on which the images
stood, with their backs to the sea; it is therefore broad enough to
carry their oval bed-plates; these measure up to about 10 feet in length
by 8 feet or 9 feet in width, and are flush with the top of the wall. On
the great ahu of Tongariki there have been fifteen statues, but
sometimes an ahu has carried one figure only.
The wall which forms the landward side of the terrace is continued on
either hand in a straight line, thus adding a wing at each end of the
central portion which stands somewhat farther back from the sea (fig.
41). Images were sometimes placed on the wings, but it was not usual.
From this continuous wall the masonry slopes steeply till it reaches a
containing wall, some 3 feet high, formed of finely wrought slabs of
great size and of peculiar shape; the workmanship put into this wall is
usually the most highly finished of any part of the ahu. Extending
inland from the foot of this low wall is a large, raised, and smoothly
paved expanse. The upper surface of this, too, has an appreciable fall,
or slope, inland, though it is almost horizontal, when compared with the
glacis.
By the method of construction of this area, vault accommodation is
obtained between its surface pavement and the sheet of volcanic rock
below, on which the whole rests. In the largest specimen the whole slope
of masonry, measured that is from either the sea-wall of the wing or
from the landward wall of the terrace to its farthest extent, is about
250 feet. Beyond this the ground is sometimes levelled for another 50 or
60 yards, forming a smooth sward which much enhanced the appearance of
the ahu. In two cases the ahu is approached by a strip of narrow
pavement formed of water-worn boulders laid flat, and bordered with the
same kind of stone set on end; one of these pavements is 220 feet in
length by 12 feet in width, the other is somewhat smaller (fig. 93).
[Illustration:
FIG. 36.—DIAGRAM OF IMAGE AHU.
]
The general principle on which the sea or main walls are constructed is
usually the same, though the various ahu differ greatly in appearance:
first comes a row of foundation blocks on which have been set upright
the largest stones that could be found; the upper part of the wall is
composed of smaller stones, and it is finished with a coping. The
variety in effect is due to the difference in material used. In some
cases, as at Tongariki (fig. 33), the most convenient stone available
has consisted of basalt which has cooled in fairly regular cubes, and
the rows are there comparatively uniform in size; in other instances, as
at Ahu Tepeu on the west coast (fig. 37), the handiest material has been
sheets of lava, which have hardened as strata, and when these have been
used the first tier of the wall is composed of huge slabs up to 9 feet
in height. Irregularities in the shape and size of the big stones are
rectified by fitting in small pieces and surmounting the shorter slabs
with additional stones until the whole is brought to a uniform level; on
the top of this now even tier horizontal blocks are laid, till the whole
is the desired height (fig. 42). The amount of finish put into the work
varies greatly: in many ahu the walls are all constructed of rough
material; in others, while the slabs are untouched, the stones which
bring them to the level and the cubes on the top are well wrought; in a
very few instances, of which Vinapu (fig. 35) is the best example, the
whole is composed of beautifully finished work. Occasionally, as at
Oroi, natural outcrops of rock have been adapted to carry statues (fig.
122).
[Illustration:
FIG. 37.
AHU TEPEU.
Part of seaward wall showing large slabs—some of the stones forming
upper courses are wrought foundation-stones of canoe-shaped houses,
pp. 215–16.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 38.
METHOD OF EXPOSING THE DEAD FROM ILLUSTRATED DESCRIPTIONS.
]
The study of the ahu is simplified by the fact that they were being used
in living memory for the purpose for which they were doubtless
originally built. They have been termed “burial-places,” but burial in
its usual sense was not the only, nor in most cases their principal,
object. On death the corpse was wrapped in a tapa blanket and enclosed
in its mattress of reeds; fish-hooks, chisels, and other objects were
sometimes included. It was then bound into a bundle and carried on
staves to the ahu, where it was exposed on an oblong framework. This
consisted of four corner uprights set up in the ground, the upper
extremities of which were Y-shaped, two transverse bars rested in the
bifurcated ends, one at the head, the other at the foot, and on these
transverse bars were placed the extremities of the bundle which wrapped
the corpse. The description and sketch are based on a model framework,
and a wrapped-up figure, one of the wooden images of the island,
prepared by the natives to amplify their verbal description.[22] At
times, instead of the four supports, two stones were used with a hole in
each, into which a Y-shaped stick was placed (fig. 38). While the corpse
remained on the ahu the district was marked off by the péra, or taboo,
for the dead; no fishing was allowed near, and fires and cooking were
forbidden within certain marks—the smoke, at any rate, must be hidden or
smothered with grass. Watch was kept by four relatives, and anyone
breaking the regulations was liable to be brained. The mourning might
last one, two, or even three years, by which time the whole thing had,
of course, fallen to pieces. The bones were either left on the ahu, or
collected and put into vaults of oblong shape, which were kept for the
family, or they might be buried elsewhere. The end of the mourning was
celebrated by a great feast, after which ceremony, as one recorder
cheerfully concluded, “Pappa was finished.”
Looked at from the landward side, we may, therefore, conceive an ahu as
a vast theatre stage, of which the floor runs gradually upwards from the
footlights. The back of the stage, which is thus the highest part, is
occupied by a great terrace, on which are set up in line the giant
images, each one well separated from his neighbour, and all facing the
spectator. Irrespective of where he stands he will ever see them
towering above him, clear cut out against a turquoise sky. In front of
them are the remains of the departed. Unseen, on the farther side of the
terrace, is the sea. The stone giants, and the faithful dead over whom
they watch, are never without music, as countless waves launch their
strength against the pebbled shore, showering on the figures a cloud of
mist and spray.
_Reconstruction and Transformation._—Those which have been described are
ideal image ahu, but not one now remains in its original condition. It
is by no means unusual to find, even in the oldest parts now existing,
that is in walls erected to carry statues, pieces of still older images
built into the stonework; in one case a whole statue has been used as a
slab for the sea-wall, showing that alteration has taken place even when
the cult was alive (fig. 42). Again, a considerable number of ahu, some
thirteen in all, after being destroyed and terminating their career as
image-terraces, have been rebuilt after the fashion of others
constructed originally on a different plan (fig. 39). This is a type for
which no name was found: it is in form that of a semi-pyramid, and there
are between fifty and sixty on the island, in addition to those which
have been in the first place image ahu (fig. 42). A few are
comparatively well made, but most are very rough. They resemble a
pyramid cut in two, so that the section forms a triangle; this triangle
is the sea-wall; the flanking buttress on the land side is made of
stones, and is widest at the apex or highest point, gradually
diminishing to the angles or extremities. The greatest height, in the
centre, varies from about 5 feet to 12 feet, and a large specimen may
extend in length from 100 feet to 160 feet. They contain vaults. In a
few instances they are ornamented by broken pieces of image-stone, and
occasionally by a row of small cairns along the top, which recall the
position of the statues on the image-platform; for these no very certain
reason was forthcoming, they were varyingly reported to be signs of
“péra” or as marking the respective right of families on the ahu. As
image-terraces may be found reconstructed as pyramid ahu, the latter
form of building must have been carried on longer than the former, and
probably till recent times, but there is nothing to show whether or not
the earliest specimens of pyramid ahu are contemporary with the great
works, or even earlier.
_Overthrow of the Images and Destruction of the Ahu._—The only piece of
a statue which still remains on its bed-plate is the fragment already
alluded to at Tongariki (fig. 34). In the best-preserved specimens the
figures lie on their faces like a row of huge nine-pins; some are
intact, but many are broken, the cleavage having generally occurred when
the falling image has come in contact with the containing wall at the
lower level. The curious way in which the heads have not infrequently
turned a somersault while falling and now lie face uppermost is shown in
the eighth figure from the western end on Tongariki ahu (fig. 34).
[Illustration:
FIG. 39.
A SEMI-PYRAMID AHU.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 40.
DIAGRAM OF SEMI-PYRAMID AHU.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 41.
AHU MAHATUA, SEAWARD SIDE
Image ahu, with east wing clearly defined. Landward side and centre
converted to semi-pyramid form.
]
No one now living remembers a statue standing on an ahu; and legend,
though not of a very impressive character, has already arisen to account
for the fall of some of them. An old man arrived, it is said, in the
neighbourhood of Tongariki, and as he was unable to speak, he made known
by means of signs that he wished for chicken-heads to eat; these were
not forthcoming. He slept, however, in one of the houses there, and
during the night his hosts were aroused by a great noise, which he gave
it to be understood was made by his feet tapping against the stone
foundations of the house. In the morning it was found that the statues
on the great ahu had all fallen: it was the revenge of the old man. Such
lore is, however, mixed up with more tangible statements to the effect
that the figures were overthrown in tribal warfare by means of a rope,
or by taking away the small stones from underneath the bed-plates, and
thus causing them to fall forward. That the latter method had been used
had been concluded independently by studying the remains themselves. It
will be seen later, that other statues which have been set up in earth
were deliberately dug out, and it seems unnecessary to look, as some
have done, to an earthquake to account for their collapse.
Moreover, the conclusion that the images owed their fall to deliberate
vandalism during internecine warfare is confirmed by knowledge, which
still survives, connected with the destruction of the last one. This
image stood alone on an ahu on the north coast, called Paro, and is the
tallest known to have been put up on a terrace, being 32 feet in height.
The events occurred just before living memory, and, like most stories in
Easter Island, it is connected with cannibalism. A woman of the western
clans was eaten by men of the eastern; her son managed to trap thirty of
the enemy in a cave and consumed them in revenge; and during the ensuing
struggle this image was thrown down (fig. 78). The oldest man living
when we were on the island said that he was an infant at the time; and
another, a few years younger, stated that his father as a boy helped his
grandfather in the fight. It is not, after all, only in Easter Island
that pleasure has been taken during war-time in destroying the
architectural treasures of the enemy.
While, therefore, the date of the erection of the earliest image ahu is
lost in the mists of antiquity, nor are we yet in a position to say when
the building stopped, we can give approximately the time of the
overthrow of the images. We know, from the accounts of the early
voyagers, that the statues, or the greater number of them, were still in
place in the eighteenth century; by the early part of the middle of the
nineteenth century not one was standing.
The destruction of the ahu has continued in more modern days. A manager,
whose sheep had found the fresh-water springs below high water, thinking
they were injuring themselves by drinking from the sea, erected a wall
round a large part of the coast to keep them from it. For this wall the
ahu came in of course most conveniently; it was run through a great
number and their material used for its construction. One wing of
Tongariki has been pulled down to form an enclosure for the livestock.
In addition to the damage wrought by man, the ocean is ever encroaching:
in some cases part of an ahu has already fallen into the sea, and more
is preparing to follow; statues may be found lying on their backs in
process of descending into the waves (fig. 43). One row of images, on
the extreme western edge of the crater of Rano Kao, which were visible,
although inaccessible, at the time of the visit of the U.S.A. ship
_Mohican_ in 1886, are now lying on the shore a thousand feet below. As
the result of these various causes the burial-places of Easter Island
are, as has been seen, all in ruins, and many are scarcely recognisable;
only their huge stones and prostrate figures show what they must once
have been.
[Illustration:
FIG. 42.
AHU MAITAKI-TE-MOA, SEAWARD SIDE.
An image ahu partially destroyed and changed to semi-pyramid type. A
statue from Raraku lies in foreground; another statue of different
stone forms part of the main wall.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 43
AHU RUNGA-VAE, ON SOUTH COAST, UNDERMINED BY THE SEA.
Statue has fallen backwards.
]
PREHISTORIC REMAINS
STATUES AND CROWNS
[Illustration:
FIG. 44.
[_Opposite fig. 45_
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 45.
RANO RARAKU FROM THE SEA.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 46.
RANO RARAKU FROM THE SOUTH-WEST.
Images prostrate in foreground and erect on slope; quarries above.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 47.
RANO RARAKU, INTERIOR OF CRATER.
Diagrammatic sketch showing position of statues on slope and in
quarry.
]
CHAPTER XIV
PREHISTORIC REMAINS (_continued_)
STATUES AND CROWNS
Rano Raraku, its Quarries and Standing Statues—the South-east Face of
the Mountain—Isolated Statues—Roads—Stone Crowns of the Images.
Strange as it may appear, it is by no means easy to obtain a complete
view of a statue on the island: most of the images which were formerly
on the ahu lie on their faces, many are broken, and detail has largely
been destroyed by weather. Happily, we are not dependent for our
knowledge of the images on such information as we can gather from the
ruins on the ahu, but are able to trace them to their origin, though
even here excavation is necessary to see the entire figure. Rano Raraku
is, as has already been explained, a volcanic cone containing a crater
lake. It resembles, to use an unromantic simile, one of the china
drinking-vessels dedicated to the use of dogs, whose base is larger than
their brim. Its sides are for the most part smooth and sloping, and
several carriages could drive abreast on the northern rim of the crater,
but towards the south-east it rises in height, and from this aspect it
looks as if the circular mass had been sliced down with a giant knife
forming it into a precipitous cliff. The cliff is lowest where the
imaginary knife has come nearest to the central lake, thus causing the
two ends to stand out as the peaks already mentioned (fig. 45).
The mountain is composed of compressed volcanic ash, which has been
found in certain places to be particularly suitable for quarrying; it
has been worked on the southern exterior slope, and also inside the
crater both on the south and south-eastern sides. With perhaps a dozen
exceptions, the whole of the images in the island have been made from
it, and they have been dragged from this point up hill and down dale to
adorn the terraces round the coast-line of the island; even the images
on the ahu, which have fallen into the sea on the further extremity of
the western volcano, are said to have been of the same stone. It is
conspicuous in being a reddish brown colour, of which the smallest chips
can be easily recognised. It is composite in character, and embedded in
the ash are numerous lapilli of metamorphic rock. Owing to the nature of
this rock the earliest European visitors came to the conclusion that the
material was factitious and that the statues were built of clay and
stones; it was curious to find that the marooned prisoners of war of our
own time fell into the same mistake of thinking that the figures were
“made up.”
The workable belt, generally speaking, forms a horizontal section about
half-way up the side of the mountain. Below it, both on the exterior and
within the crater, are banks of detritus, and on these statues have been
set up; most of them are still in place, but they have been buried in
greater or less degree by the descent of earth from above (fig. 57). Mr.
Ritchie made a survey of the mountain with the adjacent coast, but it
was found impossible to record the results of our work without some sort
of plan or diagram which was large enough to show every individual
image. This was accomplished by first studying each quarry, note-book in
hand, and then, with the aid of field glasses, amalgamating the results
from below; the standing statues being inserted in their relation to the
quarries above. It was a lengthy but enjoyable undertaking. Part of the
diagram of the exterior has been redrawn with the help of photographs
(fig. 60); the plan of the inside of the crater is shown in what is
practically its original form (fig. 47).
_Quarries of Rano Raraku._—Leaving on one side for the moment the
figures on the lower slope, let us in imagination scramble up the grassy
side, a steep climb of some one or two hundred feet to where the rock
has been hewn away into a series of chambers and ledges. Here images lie
by the score in all stages of evolution, just as they were left when,
for some unknown reason, the workmen laid down their tools for the last
time and the busy scene was still. Here, as elsewhere, the wonder of the
place can only be appreciated as the eye becomes trained to see. In the
majority of cases the statues still form part of the rock, and are
frequently covered with lichen or overgrown with grass and ferns; and
even in the illustrations, for which prominent figures have naturally
been chosen, the reader may find that he has to look more than once in
order to recognise the form. A conspicuous one first strikes the
beholder: as he gazes, he finds with surprise that the walls on either
hand are themselves being wrought into figures, and that, resting in a
niche above him, is another giant; he looks down, and realises with a
start that his foot is resting on a mighty face. To the end of our visit
we occasionally found a figure which had escaped observation.
[Illustration:
Fig. 48.
DIAGRAM OF RANO RARAKU.
]
The workings on the exterior of Raraku first attract attention; here
their size, and incidentally that of many of the statues, has largely
been determined by fissures in the hillside, which run vertically and at
distances of perhaps 40 feet. The quarries have been worked differently,
and each has a character of its own. In some of them the principal
figures lie in steps, with their length parallel to the hill’s
horizontal axis; one of this type is reached through a narrow opening in
the rock, and recalls the side-chapel of some old cathedral, save that
nature’s blue sky forms the only roof (no. 74, fig. 60); immediately
opposite the doorway there lies, on a base of rock, in quiet majesty, a
great recumbent figure. So like is it to some ancient effigy that the
awed spectator involuntarily catches his breath, as if suddenly brought
face to face with a tomb of the mighty dead. Once, on a visit to this
spot, a rather quaint little touch of nature supervened: going there
early in the morning, with the sunlight still sparkling on the floor of
dewy grass, a wild-cat, startled by our approach, rushed away from the
rock above, and the natives, clambering up, found nestling beneath a
statue at a high level a little family of blind kittens.
In other instances the images have been carved lying, not horizontally,
but vertically, with sometimes the head, and sometimes the base, toward
the summit of the hill. But no exact system has been followed, the
figures are found in all places, and all positions. When there was a
suitable piece of rock it has been carved into a statue, without any
special regard to surroundings or direction. Interspersed with embryo
and completed images are empty niches from which others have already
been removed; and finished statues must, in some cases, have been passed
out over the top of those still in course of construction. From all the
outside quarries is seen the same wonderful panorama: immediately
beneath are the statues which stand on the lower slopes; farther still
lie the prostrate ones beside the approach; while beyond is the whole
stretch of the southern plain, with its white line of breaking surf
ending in the western mountain of Rano Kao (fig. 54).
[Illustration:
FIG. 49.
STATUE IN QUARRY, PARTIALLY SCULPTURED.
[No. 41. Fig. 60.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 50.
STATUE IN QUARRY.
Attached to rock by “keel” only. Top of head (flat surface) towards
spectator.
[No. 61. Fig. 60.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 51.
STATUE IN QUARRY.
Ready to be launched; movement prevented by stone wedges. Base towards
spectator.
[No. 57. Fig. 60.]
]
The quarries within the crater are on the same lines as those without,
save that those on the south-eastern side form a more continuous whole.
Here the most striking position is on the top of the seaward cliff, in
the centre of which is a large finished image (no. 16, fig. 47); on one
side the ground falls away more or less steeply to the crater lake, on
the other a stone thrown down would reach the foot of the precipice; the
view extends from sea to sea. Over all the most absolute stillness
reigns.
The statues in the quarries number altogether over 150. Amongst this
mass of material there is no difficulty in tracing the course of the
work. The surface of the rock, which will form the figure, has generally
been laid bare before work upon it began, but occasionally the image was
wrought lying partially under a canopy (fig. 49). In a few cases the
stone has been roughed out into preliminary blocks (no. 58, fig. 60),
but this procedure is not universal, and seems to have been followed
only where there was some doubt as to the quality of the material. When
this was not the case the face and anterior aspect of the statue were
first carved, and the block gradually became isolated as the material
was removed in forming the head, base, and sides. A gutter or alley-way
was thus made round the image (fig. 55), in which the niches where each
man has stood or squatted to his work can be clearly seen; it is,
therefore, possible to count how many were at work at each side of a
figure.
When the front and sides were completed down to every detail of the
hands, the undercutting commenced. The rock beneath was chipped away by
degrees till the statue rested only on a narrow strip of stone running
along the spine; those which have been left at this stage resemble
precisely a boat on its keel, the back being curved in the same way as a
ship’s bottom (fig. 50). In the next stage shown the figure is
completely detached from the rock, and chocked up by stones, looking as
if an inadvertent touch would send it sliding down the hill into the
plain below (fig. 51). In one instance the moving has evidently begun,
the image having been shifted out of the straight. In another very
interesting case the work has been abandoned when the statue was in the
middle of its descent; it has been carved in a horizontal position in
the highest part of the quarry, where its empty niche is visible, it has
then been slewed round and was being launched, base forward, across some
other empty niches at a lower level. The bottom now rests on the floor
of the quarry, and the figure, which has broken in half, is supported in
a standing fashion against the outer edge of the vacated shelves. The
first impression was that it had met with an accident in transit, and
been abandoned; but it is at least equally possible that for the purpose
of bringing it down, a bank or causeway of earth had been built up to
level the inequalities of the descent, and that it was resting on this
when the work came to an end; the soil would then in time be washed
away, and the figure fracture through loss of support.
In the quarry which is shown in fig. 54, the finished head can be seen
lying across the opening, the body is missing, presumably broken off and
buried; the bottom of the keel on which the figure at one time rested
can be clearly traced in a projecting line of rock down the middle of
its old bed, also the different sections where the various men employed
have chipped away the stone in undermining the statue. In the quarry
wall the niches occupied by the sculptors are also visible, at more than
one level, the higher ones being discarded when the upper portion of the
work was finished and a lower station needed. The hand of the standing
boy in fig. 51 rests on a small platform similarly abandoned.
[Illustration:
FIG. 52. STONE TOOLS (_Toki_).
]
[Illustration:
FIG 53. _H. Balfour del._
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 54.
HEAD OF A STATUE AT MOUTH OF QUARRY FROM WHICH IT HAS BEEN HEWN.
[No. 72. Fig. 60.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 55.
UPPER PORTION OF LARGEST IMAGE IN QUARRY, WITH ALLEY-WAY FOR WORKMEN.
[No.64. Fig. 50.]
]
The tools were found with which the work has been done. One type of
these can be seen lying about in great abundance (fig. 52). They are of
the same material as the lapilli in the statues, and made by flaking.
Some specimens are pointed at both ends, others have one end more or
less rounded. It is unlikely that they were hafted, and they were
probably held in the hand when in use. They were apparently discarded as
soon as the point became damaged. There is another tool much more
carefully made, an adze blade, with the lower end bevelled off to form
the cutting edge. In the specimen shown, the top is much abraded
apparently from hammering with a maul or mallet (fig. 53). These are
rarely found, the probability being that they were too precious to leave
and were taken home by the workmen. The whole process was not
necessarily very lengthy; a calculation of the number of men who could
work at the stone at the same time, and the amount each could
accomplish, gave the rather surprising result that a statue might be
roughed out within the space of fifteen days. The most notable part of
the work was the skill which kept the figure so perfect in design and
balance that it was subsequently able to maintain its equilibrium in a
standing position; to this it is difficult to pay too high a tribute.
It remains to account for the vast number of images to be found in the
quarry. A certain number have, no doubt, been abandoned prior to the
general cessation of the work; in some cases a flaw has been found in
the rock and the original plan has had to be given up—in this case, part
of the stone is sometimes used for either a smaller image or one cut at
a different angle. In other instances the sculptors have been unlucky
enough to come across at important points one or more of the hard
nodules with which their tools could not deal, and as the work could not
go down to posterity with a large wart on its nose or excrescence on its
chin, it has had to be stopped. But when all these instances have been
subtracted, the amount of figures remaining in the quarries is still
startlingly large when compared with the number which have been taken
out of it, and must have necessitated, if they were all in hand at once,
a number of workers out of all proportion to any population which the
island has ever been likely to have maintained. The theory naturally
suggests itself that some were merely rock carvings and not intended to
be removed. It is one which needs to be adopted with caution, for more
than once, where every appearance has pointed to its being correct, a
similar neighbour has been found which was actually being removed; on
the whole, however, there can be little doubt that it is at any rate a
partial solution of the problem. Some of the images are little more than
embossed carvings on the face of the rock without surrounding
alley-ways. In one instance, inside the crater, a piece of rock which
has been left standing on the very summit of the cliff has been utilised
in such a way that the figure lies on its side, while its back is formed
by the outward precipice (fig. 56); this is contrary to all usual
methods, and it seems improbable that it was intended to make it into a
standing statue. Perhaps the strongest evidence is afforded by the size
of some of the statues: the largest (fig. 55; no. 64, fig. 60) is 66
feet in length, whereas 36 feet is the extreme ever found outside the
quarry; tradition, it is true, points out the ahu on the south coast for
which this monster was designed, but it is difficult to believe it was
ever intended to move such a mass. If this theory is correct, it would
be interesting to know whether the stage of carving came first, and that
of removal followed, as the workmen became more expert; or whether it
was the result of decadence when labour may have become scarce. It is,
of course, possible that the two methods proceeded concurrently, rock
carvings being within the means of those who could not procure the
labour necessary to move the statue.
Legendary lore throws no light on these matters, nor on the reasons
which led to the desertion of this labyrinth of work; it has invented a
story which entirely satisfies the native mind and is repeated on every
occasion. There was a certain old woman who lived at the southern corner
of the mountain and filled the position of cook to the image-makers. She
was the most important person of the establishment, and moved the images
by supernatural power (_mana_), ordering them about at her will. One
day, when she was away, the workers obtained a fine lobster, which had
been caught on the west coast, and ate it up, leaving none for her;
unfortunately they forgot to conceal the remains, and when the cook
returned and found how she had been treated, she arose in her wrath,
told all the images to fall down, and thus brought the work to a
standstill.
[Illustration:
FIG. 56.
STATUE CARVED ON EDGE OF PRECIPICE.
INTERIOR OF CRATER.
[No. 27. Fig. 47.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 57.
STANDING STATUES ON EXTERIOR OF RANO RARAKU SHOWING PARTIAL BURIAL.
]
_Standing Statues of Rano Raraku._—Descending from the quarries, we turn
to the figures below. A few at the foot of the mountain have obviously
been thrown down; one of these (no. 6, fig. 60) was wrecked in the same
conflict as the one on Ahu Paro, and one is shown where an attempt has
been made to cut off the head. Another series of images have originally
stood round the base on level ground (nos. 1, 2, 3, fig. 60), extending
from the exterior of the entrance to the crater to the southern corner;
these are all prostrate. On the slopes there are a few horizontal
statues, but the great majority, both inside the crater and without, are
still erect. Outside, some forty figures stand in an irregular belt,
reaching from the corner nearest the sea to about half-way to the gap
leading into the crater. The bottom of the mountain is here diversified
by little hillocks and depressions; these hillocks would have made
commanding situations, but rather curiously the statues, while erected
quite close to them, and even on their sides, are never on the top.
Inside the crater, where some twenty statues are still erect, the
arrangement is rather more regular; but, on the whole, they are put up
in no apparent order. All stood with their backs to the mountain.
They vary very considerably in size; the tallest which could be measured
from its base was 32 feet 3 inches, while others are not much above 11
feet. Every statue is buried in greater or less degree, but while some
are exposed as far as the elbow, in others only a portion of the top of
the head can be seen above the surface (fig. 57), others no doubt are
covered entirely. The number visible must vary from time to time, as by
the movement of the earth some are buried and others disclosed. An old
man, whose testimony was generally reliable, stated, when speaking of
the figures on the outside of the mountain, that while those nearer the
sea were in the same condition as he always remembered them, those
farther from it were now more deeply buried than in his youth.
Various old people were brought out from the village at Hanga Roa to pay
visits to the camp, but the information forthcoming was never of great
extent; one elderly gentleman in particular took much more interest in
roaming round the mountain, recalling various scenes of his youth, than
in anything connected with the statues. A few names are still remembered
in connection with the individual figures, and are said to be those of
the makers of the images, and some proof is afforded of the reality of
the tradition by the fact that the clans of the persons named are
consistently given. Another class of names is, however, obviously
derived merely from local circumstances; one in the quarry, under a drip
from above, is known by the equivalent for “Dropping Water,” while a
series inside the crater are called after the birds which frequent the
cliff-side, “Kia-kia, Flying,” “Kia-kia, Sitting,” and so forth. A
solitary legend relates to an unique figure, resembling rather a block
than an image, which lies on the surface on the outside of the mountain
(no. 24, fig. 60). It is the single exception to the rule mentioned
above, that no evolution can be traced in the statues on the island. The
usual conception is there, and the hands are shown, but the head seems
to melt into the body and the ear and arm to have become confused. It is
said to have been the first image made and is known as Tai-haré-atua,
which tradition says was the name of the maker. He found himself unable
to fashion it properly, and went over to the other side of the island to
consult with a man who lived near Hanga Roa, named Rauwai-ika. He stayed
the night there, but the expert remained silent, and he was retiring
disappointed in the morning, when he was followed by his host, who
called him back. “Make your image,” said he, “like me,”—that is, in form
of a man.
On our first visit to the mountain, overcome by the wonder of the scene,
we turned to our Fernandez boy and asked him what he thought of the
statues. Like the classical curate, when the bishop inquired as to the
character of his egg, he struggled manfully between the desire to please
and a sense of truth; like the curate, he took refuge in compromise.
“Some of them,” he said doubtfully, he thought “were very nice.” If the
figures at first strike even the cultured observer as crude and archaic,
it must be remembered that not only are they the work of stone tools,
but to be rightly seen should not be scrutinised near at hand.
“Hoa-haka-nanaia,” for instance, is wholly and dismally out of place
under a smoky portico, but on the slopes of a mountain, gazing in
impenetrable calm over sea and land, the simplicity of outline is soon
found to be marvellously impressive. The longer the acquaintance the
more this feeling strengthens; there is always the sense of quiet
dignity, of suggestion and of mystery.
[Illustration:
FIG. 58.
STATUES ON RANO RARAKU, SHOWING DISTENSION OF EAR.
LOBE REPRESENTED AS A ROPE
[Nos. 27 and 29. Fig. 60.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 59.
LOBE CONTAINING A DISC.
[No. 23. Fig. 60.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 60A.
KEY TO DIAGRAMMATIC SKETCH.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 60.
EXTERIOR OF RANO RARAKU. EASTERN PORTION OF SOUTHERN ASPECT.
Diagrammatic sketch showing position of statues.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 61.
DIGGING OUT A STATUE.
For same image after excavation see fig. 69.
]
While the scene on Raraku always arouses a species of awe, it is
particularly inspiring at sunset, when, as the light fades, the images
gradually become outlined as stupendous black figures against the
gorgeous colouring of the west. The most striking sight witnessed on the
island was a fire on the hillside; in order to see our work more clearly
we set alight the long dry grass, always a virtuous act on Easter Island
that the livestock may have the benefit of fresh shoots; in a moment the
whole was a blaze, the mountain, wreathed in masses of driving smoke,
grew to portentous size, the quarries loomed down from above as dark
giant masses, and in the whirl of flame below the great statues stood
out calmly, with a quiet smile, like stoical souls in Hades.
The questions which arise are obvious: do these buried statues differ in
any way from those in the workings above, from those on the ahu or from
one another? were they put up on any foundation? and, above all, what is
the history of the mountain and the _raison d’être_ of the figures? In
the hope of throwing some light on these problems we started to dig them
out. It had originally been thought that the excavation of one or two
would give all the information which it was possible to obtain, but each
case was found to have unique and instructive features, and we finally
unearthed in this way, wholly or in part, some twenty or thirty statues.
It was usually easy to trace the stages by which the figures had been
gradually covered. On the top was a layer of surface soil, from 3 to 8
inches in depth; then came debris, which had descended from the quarry
above in the form of rubble, it contained large numbers of chisels, some
forty of which have been found in digging out one statue; below this was
the substance in which a hole had been dug to erect the image, it
sometimes consisted of clay and occasionally in part of rock. Not
unfrequently the successive descents of earth could be traced by the
thin lines of charcoal which marked the old surfaces, obviously the
result of grass or brushwood fires. The few statues which are in a
horizontal position are always on the surface (no. 31, fig. 60), and at
first give the impression that they have been abandoned in the course of
being brought down from the quarries; as they are frequently found close
to standing images, of which only the head is visible, it follows that,
if this is the correct solution, the work must still have been
proceeding when the earlier statues were already largely submerged. The
juxtaposition, however, occurs so often that it seems, on the whole,
more probable that the rush of earth which covered some, upset the
foundations of others, and either threw them down where they stood or
carried them with it on top of the flood. These various landslips allow
of no approximate deductions as to the date, in the manner which is
possible with successively deposited layers of earth.
To get absolutely below the base of an image was not altogether easy.
The first we attempted to dig out was one of the farther ones within the
crater (no. 19, fig. 47); it was found that, while the back of the hole
into which it had been dropped was excavated in the soft volcanic ash,
the front and remaining sides were of hard rock. This rock was cut to
the curvature of the figure at a distance of some 3 inches from it, and
as the chisel marks were horizontal, from right to left, the workmen
must have stood in the cup while preparing it: in clearing out the
alluvium between the wall of the cup and the figure, six stone
implements were found. The hands, which were about 1 foot below the
level of the rim, were perfectly formed. The next statue chosen for
excavation was also inside the crater (no. 107, fig. 47); it was most
easily attacked from the side, and this time it was possible to get low
enough to see that it stood on no foundation, and that the base instead
of expanding, as with those which stood on the ahu, contracted in such a
manner as to give a peg-shaped appearance; this confirmed the impression
made by the previous excavation, that the image was intended to remain
in its hole and was not, as some have stated, merely awaiting removal to
an ahu (fig. 62).
The story was shown not only in the sections of the excavation, but in
the degrees of weathering on the figure itself: the lowest part of the
image to above the elbow exhibited, by the sharpness of its outlines and
frequently of the chisel cuts also, that it had never been exposed, the
other portions being worn in relative degrees. Traces of the smoothness
of the original surface can still be seen above-ground in the more
protected portions of some of the statues, such as in the orbit and
under the chin (see frontispiece); but a much clearer impression is of
course gained of the finish and detail of the image when the unweathered
surface is exposed. The polish is often very beautiful, and pieces of
pumice, called “punga,” are found, with which the figures are said to
have been rubbed down. The fingers taper, and the excessive length of
the thumb-joint and nail are remarkable (fig. 72). The nipples are in
some cases so pronounced that the natives often characterised them as
feminine, but in no case which we came across did the statues represent
other than the nude male figure[23]; the navel is indicated by a raised
disc. On the statue with the contracting base, which is one of the best,
the surface modelling of the elbow-joint is clearly shown. The orbital
cavity in the figures on Raraku is rather differently modelled from
those on the ahu; in the statues on the mountain the position of the
eyeball is always indicated by a straight line below the brow, the orbit
has no lower border (fig. 72). On the terraces the socket is constantly
hollowed out as in the figure at the British Museum (fig. 31).
EXCAVATED IMAGES.
[Illustration:
FIG. 62.
Showing effect of weathering and peg-shaped base.
[No. 107. Fig. 47.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 63.
Showing scamped work in lower part of figure, no right hand carved,
and surface only coarsely chiselled.
[No. 36. Fig. 47.]
]
DESIGNS ON BACKS OF IMAGES.
[Illustration:
FIG. 64.
BACK OF AN EXCAVATED STATUE.
Showing (_a_) typical raised rings and girdle; (_b_) exceptional
incised carvings.
[No. 109. Fig. 47.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 65.
_P. Edmunds._
STATUE ON AN AHU AT ANAKENA.
Rings on centre and lower portion of back.
]
The eye is the only point in which the two sets vary, with the important
exception that some on the mountain have a type of back which never
appears on the ahu. This question of back proved to be of special
interest: in some images it remained exactly as when the figure left the
quarry, the whole was convex, giving it a thick and archaic appearance,
particularly as regards the neck; in other instances, the posterior was
beautifully modelled after the same fashion as those on the terraces,
the stone had been carefully chipped away till the ears stood out from
the back of the head, the neck assumed definite form, and the spine,
instead of standing out as a sharp ridge, was represented by an incised
line. This second type, when excavated, proved, to our surprise, to
possess a well-carved design in the form of a girdle shown by three
raised bands, this was surmounted by one or sometimes by two rings, and
immediately beneath it was another design somewhat in the shape of an M
(figs. 64 and 106). The whole was new, not only to us, but to the
natives, who greatly admired it. Later, when we knew what to look for,
traces of the girdle could be seen also on the figures on the ahu where
the arm had protected it from the weather. It was afterwards realised
with amusement that the discovery of this design might have been made
before leaving England by merely passing the barrier and walking behind
the statues in the Bloomsbury portico. One case was found, a statue at
Anakena, where a ring was visible, not only on the back but also on each
of the buttocks, and in view of subsequent information these lower rings
became of special importance. The girdle in this case consisted of one
line only; the detail of the carving had doubtless been preserved by
being buried in the sand (fig. 65). The two forms of back, unmodelled
and modelled, stand side by side on the mountain (figs. 66, 67).
The next step was to discover where and when the modelling was done.
Certainly not in the original place in the quarry, where it would be
impossible from the position in which the image was evolved; generally
speaking there was no trace of such work, and it was not until many
months later that new light was thrown on the matter. Then it was
remarked that in one of the standing statues on the outside of the hill,
which was buried up to the neck (fig. 59), while the right ear was most
carefully modelled, showing a disc, the left ear was as yet quite plain,
and that the back of the head also was not symmetrical. Excavations made
clear that the whole back was in course of transformation from the
boat-shaped to the modelled type, each workman apparently chipping away
where it seemed to him good (fig. 68). Two or three similar cases were
then found on which work was proceeding; but on the other hand, some of
the simpler backs were excavated to the foot, and others a considerable
distance, and there was no indication that any alteration was intended.
There are three possible explanations for these erect and partially
moulded statues: Firstly, it may have been the regular method for the
back to be completed after the statue was set up, in which case some
kind of staging must have been used; one of our guides had made a
remark, noted, but not taken very seriously at the moment, that “the
statues were set up to be finished”; some knowledge or tradition of such
work, therefore, appeared to linger. Secondly, the convex back may be
the older form, and those on which work was being done were being
modelled to bring them up-to-date. Alteration did at times take place; a
certain small image presented a very curious appearance both from the
proportion of the body, which was singularly narrow from back to front,
and because it was difficult to see how it remained in place as it was
apparently exposed to the base; it turned out that the figure had been
carved out of the head of an older statue, of which the body was buried
below (no. 14, fig. 60). Thirdly, these particular figures may have been
erected and left in an unfinished condition; if so, their deficiencies
were high up and would be obvious.
BACKS OF STANDING STATUES, RANO RARAKU.
[Illustration:
FIG. 66.
Unmodelled.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 67.
Modelled.
]
EXCAVATED STATUES.
[Illustration:
FIG. 68.
Showing back in process of being modelled. ]No. 23. Fig. 50.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 69.
Showing image wedged by boulders.
]
Scamping did not often occur, and when it did so it was in the concealed
portions. In one case the left hand was correctly modelled, but the
right was not even indicated beyond the wrist (fig. 63). The statue
shown in the frontispiece, which rejoices in the name of Piro-piro,
meaning “bad odour,”[24] stands at the foot of the slope, and appears to
remain as it was set up without further burial. It is a well-made
figure, probably one of the most recent, and the upper part of the back
is carefully moulded, but on digging it out it was found that the bottom
had not been finished, but left in the form of a rough excrescence of
stone; there was no ring, but a girdle had been carved on the protruding
portion, so that this was not intended to be removed. In another
instance a large head had fallen on a slope at such an angle that it was
impossible to locate the position of the body; curiosity led to
investigation, when it was found that the thing was a fraud, the
magnificent head being attached to a little dwarf trunk, which must have
been buried originally nearly to the neck to keep the top upright. These
instances of “jerry-building” confirm our impression that at any rate a
large number of the statues were intended to remain _in situ_.
Indications were found of two different methods of erection, and the
mode may have been determined by the nature of the ground. By the first
procedure the statue seems to have been placed on its face in the
desired spot, and a hole to have been dug beneath the base. The other
method was to undermine the base, with the statue lying face uppermost;
in several instances a number of large stones were found behind the back
of the figure, evidently having been used to wedge it while it was
dragged to the vertical. The upright position had sometimes been only
partially attained; one statue was still in a slanting attitude,
corresponding exactly to the slope of a hard clay wall behind it; the
interval between the two, varying from three yards to eighteen inches,
had been packed with sub-angular boulders which weighed about one
hundredweight, or as much as a man could lift (fig. 69).
A few of the figures bear incised markings rudely, and apparently
promiscuously, carved. This was first noted in the case of one of two
statues which stand together nearest to the entrance of the crater; here
it has been found possible to work the rock at a low level, and in the
empty quarry, from which they no doubt have been taken, two images have
been set up, one slightly in front of the other; six still unfinished
figures lie in close proximity (figs. 70 and 71). The standing figure,
nearest to the lake, bore a rough design on the face, and when it was
dug out the back was found to be covered with similar incised marks. The
natives were much excited, and convinced that we should receive a large
sum of money in England when the photograph of these was produced, for
nothing ever dispelled the illusion that the expedition was a financial
speculation. It was these carvings more especially that we ourselves
hastily endeavoured to cover up when, on the arrival of Admiral von
Spee’s Squadron, we daily expected a visit from the officers on board.
The markings have certainly not been made by the same practised hand as
the raised girdle and rings, and appear to be comparatively recent (fig.
64). Other statues were excavated, where similar marks were noticed,
but, except in this case, digging led practically always to
disappointment. It was the part above the surface only which had been
used as a block on which to scrawl design, from the same impulse
presumably as impels the school-boy of to-day to make marks with chalk
on a hoarding. On one ahu the top of the head of a statue has been
decorated with rough faces, the carving evidently having been done after
the statue had fallen.
In digging out the image with the tattooed back, we came across the one
and only burial which was found in connection with these figures; it was
close to it and at the level of the rings. The long bones, the patella,
and base of the skull were identified; they lay in wet soil, crushed and
intermixed with large stones, so the attitude could not be determined
beyond the fact that the head was to the right of the image and the long
bones to the left. These bones had become of the consistency of moist
clay, and could only be identified by making transverse sections of them
with a knife, after first cleaning portions longitudinally by careful
scraping.
[Illustration:
FIG. 70.
TWO IMAGES ERECTED IN QUARRY. FRONT VIEW.
Prior to excavation.
[Nos. 108–109. Fig. 47.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 71.
TWO IMAGES ERECTED IN QUARRY. BACK VIEW.
After excavation.
[Nos. 109–108. Fig. 47. See also Fig. 64.]
]
In several other instances human bones were discovered near the statues,
but, like the carvings, they appeared to be of later date than the
images. One skull was found beneath a figure which was lying face
downwards on the surface; another fragment must have been placed behind
the base after the statue had fallen forward. The natives stated that in
the epidemics which ravaged the island the statues afforded a natural
mark for depositing remains. In the same way a head near an ahu, which
was at first thought to be that of a standing statue, turned out to be
broken from the trunk and put up pathetically to mark the grave of a
little child. There is a roughly constructed ahu on the outside of Rano
Raraku at the corner nearest to the sea, of which more will be said
hereafter, and a quarried block of rock on the very top of the westerly
peak was also said to be used for the exposure of the dead (no. 75, fig.
47). Close to this block there are some very curious circular pits cut
in the rock; one examined was 5 feet 6 inches in depth and 3 feet 6
inches in diameter (no. 74, fig. 47). It is possible they were used as
vaults, but, if so, the shape is quite different from those of the ahu.
The conclusion arrived at was that the statues themselves were not
directly connected with burials. There seems also no reason to believe
that they are put up in any order or method; they appear to have been
erected on any spot handy to the quarries where there was sufficient
earth, or even, as has been seen, in the quarry itself when
circumstances permitted.
_The South-Eastern Side of Rano Raraku_ is a problem in itself. The
great wall formed by the cliff is like the ramparts of some giant castle
rent by vertical fissures. The greatest height, the top of the peak, is
about five hundred feet, of which the cliff forms perhaps half, the
lower part being a steep but comparatively smooth bank of detritus. Over
the grassy surface of this bank are scattered numerous fragments of
rock, weighing from a few pounds to many tons, which have fallen down
from above. The kitchen tent in our camp at the foot had a narrow escape
from being demolished by one of these stones, which nearly carried it
away in the impetus of its descent. It has never been suggested that
this face of the mountain was being worked, nevertheless, it was
subsequently difficult to understand how we lived so long below it,
gazing at it daily, before we appreciated the fact that here also,
although in much lesser degree, were both finished and embryo images. At
last one stone was definitely seen to be in the form of a head, and
excavation showed it to be an erected and buried statue. A few other
figures were found standing and prostrate, and some unfinished images;
these last, however, were in no case being hewn out of solid rock, but
wrought into shape out of detached stones. On the whole, it is not
probable that this portion was ever a quarry, in the same way as the
western side and the interior of the crater. It is, of course,
impossible to say what may be hidden beneath the detritus, but the lower
part of the cliff is too soft a rock to be satisfactorily hewn, and the
workmen appear simply to have seized on fragments which have fallen from
above. “Here,” they seem to have said, “is a good stone; let us turn it
into a statue.”
One day, when making a more thorough examination of the slope, our
attention was excited by a small level plateau, about half-way up, from
which protruded two similar pieces of stone next to one another. They
were obviously giant noses of which the nostrils faced the cliff.
Digging was bound to follow, but it proved a long business, as the
figures it revealed were particularly massive and corpulent. Their
position was horizontal, side by side, and the effect, more particularly
when looking down at them from the cliff above, was of two great bodies
lying in their graves (fig. 73). The thing was a mystery; they were
certainly not in a quarry, but if they had once been erect, why had they
faced the mountain, instead of conforming to the rule of having their
back to it? Orientation could not account for it, as other statues on
the same slope were differently placed. Then again, if they had once
stood and then fallen, and in proof of this one head was broken off from
the trunk, how did it come about that they were lying horizontally on a
sloping hillside? The upper part of the bodies had suffered somewhat
from weather, and a small round basin, such as natives use for domestic
purposes, had been hollowed out in one abdomen, but the hands were quite
sharp and unweathered. We used to scramble up at off moments, and stand
gazing down at them trying to read their history.
It became at last obvious they had once been set up with the lower part
inserted in the ground to the usual level, and later been intentionally
thrown down. For this purpose a level trench must have been cut through
the sloping side of the hill at a depth corresponding to the base of the
standing images, and into this the figures had fallen. While they lay in
the trench with the upper part of the bodies exposed, one had been found
a nice smooth stone for household use. A charcoal soil level showed
clearly where the surface had been at this epoch, which must have been
comparatively recent, as an iron nail was found in it. Finally, a
descent of earth had covered all but the noses, leaving them in the
condition in which we found them.
[Illustration:
FIG. 72.
EXCAVATED STATUE.
South-east side, Rano Raraku. Showing form of hands.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 73.
PROSTRATE STATUES, SOUTH-EAST SIDE, RANO RARAKU, AFTER EXCAVATION.
]
This, though a satisfactory explanation as far as it went, did not
account for the fact that the figures were facing the mountain, and here
for once tradition came to our help. These images had, it was said,
marked a boundary; the line of demarcation led between them, from the
fissure in the cliff above right down to the middle statue in the great
Tongariki terrace. To cross it was death; but as to what the boundary
connoted no information was forthcoming; there seemed no great tribal
division—the same clans ranged over the whole of the district. When,
however, the line is followed through the crevice into the crater (fig.
47), it is found to form on both sides the boundary where the
image-making ceased (no. 1 is a detached figure being brought down, not
in a quarry), and was probably the line of taboo which preserved the
rights of the image-makers. I was later given the cheering information
that a certain “devil” frequented the site of my house, which was just
on the image side of the boundary, who particularly resented the
presence of strangers, and was given to strangling them in the night.
The spirits, who inhabit the crater, are still so unpleasant, that my
Kanaka maid objected to taking clothes there to wash, even in daylight,
till assured that our party would be working within call.
_Isolated Statues._—The finished statues, as distinct from those in the
quarries, have so far been spoken of under two heads, those which once
adorned the ahu and those still standing on the slope of Raraku; there
is, however, another class to consider, which, for want of a better
name, will be termed the Isolated Statues. It has already been stated
that, as Raraku is approached, a number of figures lie by the side of
the modern track, others are round the base of the mountain, and yet
other isolated specimens are scattered about the island. All these
images are prostrate and lie on the surface of the ground, some on their
backs and some on their faces. These were the ones which, according to
legend, were being moved from the quarries to the ahu by the old lady
when she stopped the work in her wrath; or, according to another
account, quoted by a visitor before our day, “They walked, and some fell
by the way.”
There must, we felt, have been roads along which they were taken, but
for long we kept a look-out for such without success. At last a lazy
Sunday afternoon ride, with no particular object, took one of us to the
top of a small hill, some two miles to the west of Raraku. The level
rays of the sinking sun showed up the inequalities of the ground, and,
looking towards the sea, along the level plain of the south coast, the
old track was clearly seen; it was slightly raised over lower ground and
depressed somewhat through higher, and along it every few hundred yards
lay a statue. Detailed study confirmed this first impression. At times
over hard stony ground the trail was lost, but its main drift was
indisputable; it was about nine feet or ten feet in width, the
embankments were in places two feet above the surrounding ground, and
the cuttings three feet deep. The road can be traced from the
south-western corner of the mountain, with one or two gaps, nearly to
the foot of Rano Kao, but the succession of statues continues only about
half the distance. It generally runs some few hundred yards further
inland than the present road, but a branch, with a statue, leads down to
the ahu of Tea-tenga on the coast, and, another portion, either a branch
or a detour of the main road, also with a statue, goes to the cove of
Akahanga with its two large image ahu (fig. 32). There are on this road
twenty-seven statues in all, covering a distance of some four miles, but
fourteen of them, including two groups of three, are in the first mile.
Their heights are from fifteen feet to over thirty feet, but generally
over twenty feet.
As a clue had now been obtained, it was comparatively simple to trace
two other roads from Raraku. One leads from the crater, and connects it
with the western district of the island. It commences at the gap in the
mountain wall, in the centre of which an image lies on its face with
weird effect, as if descending head foremost into the plain; and runs
for a while roughly parallel to the first road but about a mile further
inland. It is not quite so regular as the south road, and is marked for
a somewhat less distance by a sequence of images, some fourteen in
number, which in the same way grow further apart as the distance from
the mountain increases. When the succession of statues ceases, the road
divides; one track turns to the north-west, and reaches the seaboard
through a small pass in the western line of cones; the other continues
as far as a more southerly pass in the same succession of heights. In
each pass there is a statue.
[Illustration:
FIG. 74.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 75.
AN IMAGE ON ITS BACK.
Unbroken; if erect, would face westwards.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 76.
AN IMAGE ON ITS FACE.
Showing by cleavage and only partial fall that it has been erect and
faced westwards.
]
The third road, which runs from Raraku in a northerly direction, is much
shorter than those to the south and west. It has only four statues
covering a distance of perhaps a mile, and it then disappears; if,
however, the figures round the base of the mountain belonged to it, and
they lie in the same direction, it started from the southern corner of
the mountain, led in front of the standing statues and across the trail
from the crater, before taking its northward route up the eastern plain.
The furthest of the images is the largest which has been moved; it lies
on its back, badly broken, but the total of the fragments gives a height
of thirty-six feet four inches. In addition to these three avenues,
there are indications that some of the statues on the south-eastern side
of Raraku may have been on a fourth road along that side beneath the
cliff.
So far the matter was sufficiently clear, but another problem was still
unsolved: if the images were really being moved to their respective ahu
all round the coast, how was it that, with very few exceptions, they
were all found in the neighbourhood of Raraku? If also they were being
moved, what was the method pursued, for some lay on their backs and some
on their faces? With the hope of elucidating this great question of the
means of transport, we dug under and near one or two of the single
figures without achieving our end—nothing was found; but the close study
which the work necessitated called attention to the fact that on one of
them the lines of weathering could not have been made with the figure in
its present horizontal attitude. The rain had evidently collected on the
head and run down the back; it must therefore have stood for a
considerable time in a vertical position. It was again a noticeable fact
that, though some single figures are lying unbroken (fig. 75), others,
like the large one on the north road, proved to be so shattered that no
amount of normal disintegration or shifting of soil could account for
their condition—they had obviously fallen. So wedded, however, were we
at this time to the theory that they were in course of transport, that
it was seriously considered whether they could have been moved in an
upright position. The point was settled by finding one day by the side
of the track, some two miles from the mountain, a partially buried head.
This was excavated, and a statue found that had been originally set up
in a hole and, later, undermined, causing it to fall forward. This was
the only instance of an isolated figure where the burial had been to any
depth, but in various other cases it was then seen that soil had been
removed from the base, and one or two more of the figures had not quite
fallen (fig. 76).
[Illustration:
FIG. 77.—DIAGRAM SHOWING CEREMONIAL AVENUE OF AHU HANGA PAUKURA.
]
When the whole number of the statues on the roads were in imagination
re-erected, it was found that they had all originally stood with their
backs to the hill. Rano Raraku was, therefore, approached by at least
three magnificent avenues, on each of which the pilgrim was greeted at
intervals by a stone giant guarding the way to the sacred mountain (map
of roads). One of the ahu on the south coast, Hanga Paukura, has been
approached by a similar avenue of five statues facing the visitor. These
five images when first seen were a great puzzle, as some of them are so
embedded in the earth that their backs are even with the levelled sward
in front of the ahu; later there seemed little doubt that, like the two
giants on the south-east side of Raraku, trenches had been dug into
which they had fallen. Subsequently, a sixth statue was discovered, the
other side of a modern wall, weathered and worn away, but of Raraku
stone and still upright. This is the only instance of an erect figure to
be found elsewhere than on the mountain (fig. 77).
[Illustration:
FIG. 78.
AHU PARO,
With image which was the last to be overthrown.
Foreground.—Hillock, traditionally utilised for placing the crown in
position.
Distance.—Eastern Headland, with three cones, from which Spanish
sovereignty was proclaimed in 1770.
]
In addition to the images which have stood in these processional roads,
there are, excluding one or two figures near the mountain whose _raison
d’être_ is somewhat doubtful, fourteen isolated statues in various parts
of the island, for whose position no certain reason could be found. Some
of these may have belonged to inland ahu which have disappeared, or they
may be solitary memorials to mark some particular spots, but the greater
number appear to have stood near tracks of some sort. Some of these last
may have been boundary stones, and in this class may perhaps fall the
smaller statue now at the British Museum, which is a very inferior
specimen. According to local information it stood almost half-way on the
track leading from Vinapu to Mataveri along the bottom of Rano Kao; the
hole from which it was dug was pointed out, and our informant declared
that he remembered it standing, and that the people used to dance round
it. The larger figure at the British Museum was in a unique position,
which will be spoken of later.
No statues were, therefore, found of which it could be said that they
were in process of being removed, and the mode of transport remains a
mystery. An image could be moved down from the quarry by means of banks
of earth, and though requiring labour and skill, the process is not
inconceivable. Similarly, the figures may have been, and probably were,
erected on the terraces in the same way, being hauled up on an
embankment of earth made higher than the pedestals and then dropped on
them. Near Paro, the ahu where the last statue was overthrown, there is
a hillock, and tradition says that a causeway was made from it to the
head of the tall figure which stood upon the ahu, and along this the hat
was rolled (fig. 78)—a piece of lore which seems hardly likely to have
been invented by a race having no connection with the statues. But the
problem remains, how was the transport carried out along the level? The
weight of some amounted to as much as 40 or 50 tons. It would simplify
matters very much if there were any reason to suppose that the images
were moved, as was the case with the hats, before being wrought, merely
as cylinders of stone, in which case it would be possible to pass a rope
under and over it, thus parbuckling the stone or rolling it along, but
the evidence is all to the contrary. There is no trace whatever of an
unfinished image on or near an ahu, while, as we have seen, they are
found at all stages in the quarry. Presumably rollers were employed, but
there appears never to have been much wood, or material for cordage, in
the island, and it is not easy to see how sufficient men could bring
strength to bear on the block. Even if the ceremonial roads were used
when possible, these fragile figures have been taken to many distant
ahu, up hill and down dale, over rough and stony ground, where there is
no trace of any road at all.
The natives are sometimes prepared to state that the statues were thrown
down by human means, they never have any doubt that they were moved by
supernatural power. We were once inspecting an ahu built on a natural
eminence, one side was sheer cliff, the other was a slope of 29 feet, as
steep as a house roof, near the top a statue was lying. The most
intelligent of our guides turned to me significantly. “Do you mean to
tell me,” he said, “that that was not done by _mana_?” The darkness is
not rendered less tantalising by the reflection that could centuries
roll away and the old scenes be again enacted before us, the workers
would doubtless exclaim in bewildered surprise at our ignorance, “But
how could you do it any other way?”
Besides the ceremonial roads and their continuations, there are traces
of an altogether different track which is said to run round the whole
seaboard of the island. It is considered to be supernatural work, and is
known as Ara Mahiva, “ara” meaning road and “Mahiva” being the name of
the spirit or deity who made it. On the southern side it has been
obliterated in making the present track—it was there termed the “path
for carrying fish”; but on the northern and western coasts, where for
much of the way it runs on the top of high cliffs, such a use is out of
the question. It can be frequently seen there like a long persistent
furrow, and where its course has been interrupted by erosion, no fresh
track had been made further inland; it terminates suddenly on the broken
edge, and resumes its course on the other side. It is best seen in
certain lights running up both the western and southern edges of Rano
Kao. Its extent and regularity appeared to preclude the idea of
landslip. There is no reason to suppose that it is due to the imported
livestock, and it has no connection with ahu, or the old native centres
of population, yet to have been so worn by naked feet it must constantly
have been used. This silent witness to a forgotten past is one of the
most mysterious and impressive things on the island.
[Illustration:
FIG. 79.
THE CRATER FROM WHICH THE HATS OF THE IMAGES WERE HEWN, ON THE SIDE OF
THE HILL PUNAPAU.
Rano Kao in the distance.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 80.
AN UNFINISHED HAT NEAR THE QUARRY.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 81.
A FINISHED HAT AT AHU HANGA O-ORNU; OTHERS IN THE DISTANCE.
]
STONE CROWNS OF THE IMAGES
Mention must finally be made of the crowns or hats which adorned the
figures on the ahu. Their full designation is said to be “Hau (hats)
hiterau moai,” but they are always alluded to merely as “hiterau” or
“hitirau.”
These coverings for the head were cylindrical in form, the bottom being
slightly hollowed out into an oval depression in order to fit on to the
head of the image; the depression was not in the centre, but left a
larger margin in front, so that the brim projected over the eyes of the
figure, a fashion common in native head-dresses. They are said by the
present inhabitants to have been kept in place by being wedged with
white stones. The top was worked into a boss or knot. The material is a
red volcanic tuff found in a small crater on the side of a larger
volcano, generally known as Punapau, not far from Cook’s Bay (fig. 79).
In the crater itself are the old quarries. A few half-buried hats may be
seen there, and the path up to it, and for some hundreds of yards from
the foot of the mountain, is strewn with them. They are at this stage
simply large cylinders, from 4 feet to 8 feet high, from 6 feet to 9
feet across (fig. 80), and they were obviously conveyed to the ahu in
this form and there carved into shape (fig. 81). An unwrought cylinder
is still lying at a hundred yards from the ahu of Anakena. The finished
hats are not more than 3 feet 10 inches to 6 feet in height, with
addition of 6 inches to 2 feet for the knob; the measurement across the
crown is from about 5 feet 6 inches to 8 feet. The stone is more easily
broken and cut than that of the statues, and while many crowns survive,
many more have been smashed in falling or used as building materials.
It is a noteworthy fact that the images on Raraku never had hats, nor
have any of the isolated statues; they were confined to those on the
ahu.
CHAPTER XV
NATIVE CULTURE IN PRE-CHRISTIAN TIMES
_Sources of Information_: History, Recent Remains, Living Memory—_Mode
of Life_: Habitations, Food, Dress and Ornament—_Social Life_:
Divisions, Wars, Marriages, Burial Customs, Social Functions.
It has been seen that any knowledge which exists on the island with
regard to the origin of the monuments is of the most vague description,
and it is therefore necessary, in the attempt to solve the problem, to
rely principally on indirect evidence. It becomes in particular
essential to collect all possible information about the present people;
not only for its intrinsic anthropological interest, but in order to
find if any links connect them with the great builders, or if we must
look for an earlier race.
As a first step in the search the scientist naturally turns to the most
ancient accounts which he can find describing the island, its
inhabitants, and remains; these are not yet two hundred years old. The
first European to see it was a Dutch Admiral named Roggeveen, who came
upon it on Easter Day, 1722, during his search for another and
mysterious island known as Davis or David’s Island.[25] He concluded
that it was not the place for which he was looking, christened it Easter
Island, and went further afield. His ship lay off the north side of the
island for a week, but only on one day did landing take place, and one
or two of the party have left us short descriptions. There were, they
say, no big trees, but it had a rich soil and good climate; there were
sugar-cane, bananas, potatoes and figs, and the natives brought them a
number of fowls, estimated varyingly from sixty to five hundred. One of
the voyagers goes so far as to say that “all the country was under
cultivation.” As for the inhabitants, they were, they tell us, of all
shades of colour, yellow, white, and brown, and wore clothes made of a
“field product,” evidently tapa. They were “painted,” which apparently
signifies tattooed, and it was the habit to distend the lobes of their
ears so that they hung to the shoulders, and large discs were worn in
them. “When these Indians,” wrote Roggeveen, “go about any job which
might set their ear-plugs wagging, and bid fair to do them any hurt,
they take them out and hitch the rim of the lobe up over the top of the
ear, which gives them a quaint and laughable appearance.”[26]
The natives were extraordinarily thievish, stealing the caps from the
seamen’s heads, while one actually climbed into the port-hole of the
cabin and took the cloth off the table. These habits gave rise to an
unfortunate incident, as when the visitors came on shore, a scuffle took
place over the sanctity of property, and the natives began throwing
stones, on which a petty official gave the order to fire, ten or twelve
natives being killed. The occurrence, however, was duly explained, and
did not terminate amicable relations. We learn that at this time the
great statues, of which this is of course the first report, were then,
as has already been noted, standing and in place. The Dutchmen describe
them as “remarkable, tall, stone figures, a good 30 feet in height,” and
notice that they have crowns on their heads; a clear space was, they
said, reserved round them by laying stones. They have no doubt that the
figures are objects of worship; the natives “kindle fires in front of
them, and thereafter squatting on their heels with heads bowed down,
they bring the palms of their hands together and alternately raise and
lower them.” Another observer adds, in connection with this worship,
that they “prostrated themselves towards the rising sun.” A great step
would have been gained towards the solution of the problem if we could
feel assured that these last remarks were justified and were not merely
the result of imperfect observation.[27]
For fifty years darkness once more descends on the history of the
island. Then, within a period of sixteen years, it was visited by three
expeditions, Spanish, English, and French respectively. The Spanish were
under the command of Gonzalez.[28] They too were searching for David’s
Island when, in 1770, they touched at Easter, and they also came to the
conclusion that it was not their goal. They took, however, formal
possession of it, and named it San Carlos. Their ships lay at anchor in
the same place as had those of Roggeveen, the bay on the north coast now
called after La Pérouse. From this anchorage three curious hillocks on
the northern slope of the great eastern volcano form striking objects
(fig. 78); on each of these they planted a cross, and proclaimed the
King of Spain with banners flying, beating of drums, and artillery
salutes. The natives appear to have thoroughly enjoyed the proceedings,
and “confirmed them,” according to the solemn statements of the
Spaniards, by marking the official document with their own script. This
is the first that we hear of a form of native writing. The expedition
sent a boat round the island, which made a very creditable map of it.
Four years later Cook cast anchor on the west side in the bay which is
known by his name. He was there three days and did not himself explore
inland, but his officers did so, including the elder Forster, the
botanist of the expedition, and his account of what they saw was
published by his son.[29]
In 1780 La Pérouse anchored in the same place, and also sent some of his
men inland, who covered partly, but not entirely, the same districts as
those of Cook.[30]
As these expeditions were so nearly of the same date, their remarks may
fairly be compared and contrasted with those made by Roggeveen half a
century earlier. All three give very similar descriptions of the people,
their appearance and dwellings, which also resemble the accounts of the
Dutch. Cook is very much impressed with the long ears, though La Pérouse
does not refer to them. There is the same story of the native powers of
appropriating the goods of the strangers. Cook says that they were “as
expert thieves as any we had yet met with,” and Pérouse, whose own hat
they stole while helping him down one of the image platforms, is
particularly aggrieved at such conduct, considering that he has given
them sheep, goats, pigs, and other valuable presents; peace was only
kept between the crew and the natives by official compensation being
given the seamen for their lost property.
Here, however, the resemblance of these accounts with that of Roggeveen
ends. The descriptions which are given by these later expeditions of the
state of the country, and its facilities as a port of call, are very
different from those of the Dutchmen. The Spaniards speak of it as being
uncultivated save for some small plots of ground. The Englishmen are the
reverse of enthusiastic. Forster calls it a “poor land,” and Cook says
that “no nation need contend for the honour of the discovery of this
island, as there can be few places which afford less convenience for
shipping.” “Poultry” now consists of only a “few tame fowls”—later still
we find that only one is produced. Pérouse, although he is not so
depressed as Cook, tells us that only one-tenth of the land is
cultivated. With regard to the population Roggeveen gives no number, and
probably was not in a position to do so. The estimates made by the
Spanish and English are very similar. Gonzalez puts it at nine hundred
to one thousand, Cook at seven hundred; both of them, however, state
that the number of women seen seemed to be disproportionately small. La
Pérouse, writing of course some years later, speaks of the number as two
thousand and has seen many women and children. Both English and French
are interested to find that the language is similar to that spoken
elsewhere in the Pacific.
Again, in dealing with the state of the monuments and the way in which
they were regarded, the impressions of the later observers differ
greatly from those of Roggeveen. The Spaniards do not tell us very much.
They saw from the sea what they thought were bushes symmetrically put up
on the beach, and dotted about inland; later they found that they were
in reality statues, and they wondered particularly how their crowns,
which they observed were of a different material, were raised into
place. It was one of the Spanish officers who states, as recorded at the
beginning of this book, that the seashore was lined with stone
idols,[31] from which it may be gathered that the great majority were
still erect. The figures were, they tell us, all set up on small stones,
and burying-places were in front. It is interesting, in view of what we
know of the prohibition of smoke near the ahu,[32] to find one of the
Spanish writing: “They could not bear us to smoke cigars; they begged
our sailors to extinguish them, and they did so. I asked one of them the
reason, and he made signs that the smoke went upwards; but I do not know
what this meant.”[33] Cook’s people observed that the natives disliked
these burying-places being walked over, but whereas Roggeveen was
convinced, whether rightly or wrongly, that the cult of the statues was
what we should call “a going concern,” Cook, fifty years later, is
equally certain that it is a thing of the past; some of the figures are
still standing, but some are fallen down, and the inhabitants “do not
even trouble to repair the foundations of those which are going to
decay.” “The giant statues,” he says, “are not in my opinion looked upon
as idols by the present inhabitants, whatever they may have been in the
days of the Dutch.” Forster also remarks that “they are so
disproportionate to the strength of the nation, it is most reasonable to
look upon them as the remains of better times.” La Pérouse does not
agree with this last sentiment; he admits that at present the monuments
are not respected, but he sees no reason why they should not still be
made even under existing conditions; he thinks that a hundred people
would be sufficient to put one of the statues in place. The objection he
sees is that the people have no chief great enough to secure such a
memorial. It is unfortunate that the mountain of Rano Raraku is so far
removed from both the north and west anchorages, that none of the
voyagers discovered it, although Cook’s men were very near that from
which the crowns were obtained.
[Illustration:
FIG. 82.
[_Drawn from Nature by W. Hodges._
MONUMENTS IN EASTER ISLAND.
From _A Voyage Towards the South Pole_, James Cook, 1777, vol. i.,
part of pl. xlix.
The artist has not observed the features or arms of the images, nor
that they stand on stone platforms. The hats, as shown, greatly
exceed their true proportion to the figures. The picture has
probably been redrawn from memory.
]
In the nineteenth century we have a few accounts from passing voyagers.
Lisiansky, in 1804, found no people with long ears,[34] but in 1825
Beechey in H.M.S. _Blossom_ says that there were still a few to be seen.
With regard to the statues, the process of demolition has gone so far
that Beechey declares “the existence of any busts is doubtful.”[35] It
is amusing to find, a hundred years after Roggeveen’s similar
experience, that the _Blossom_ has an affray with natives over the
stealing of caps. While attention has been drawn to the importance of
these early narratives, it must be remembered that all the visits were
of very short duration, and that the old voyagers were not trained
observers. The Dutchmen, for instance, deliberately tell us that the
statues have no arms. The accounts frequently give the impression of
being written up afterwards from somewhat vague recollection, and in
most cases the narrators have read those of their predecessors and go
prepared to see certain things. One navigator who never landed assures
us that the houses are the same as in the days of La Pérouse. On the
other hand, with regard to the stores available, they are, so to speak,
on their own quarter-deck, and their remarks can be accepted without
question.
In the “sixties” of last century the great series of changes took place
which brought Easter Island into touch with the modern world. The first
of these largely broke those chains with the past which the archæologist
now seeks to reconstruct. Labour was needed by the exploiters of the
Peruvian guano fields, and an attempt which was made to introduce it
from China having failed, slave-raids were organised in the South Sea
Islands. As early as 1805 Easter had suffered similarly at the hands of
American sealers, and it was amongst the principal islands to be laid
under contribution in December 1862.
It is pathetic even now to hear the old men describe the scenes which
they witnessed in their youth, illustrating by action how the raiders
threw down on the ground gifts which they thought likely to attract the
inhabitants, and, when the islanders were on their knees scrambling for
them, tied their hands behind their backs and carried them off to the
waiting ship. The natives say that one thousand in all were so removed
from the island, and, unfortunately, there were amongst them some of the
principal men, including many of the most learned, and the last of the
ariki, or chiefs. Representations were made by the French Minister at
Lima, and a certain number were put on board ship to be returned to
their home. Smallpox, however, had been contracted by them, and out of
one hundred who were to be repatriated, only fifteen survived. These, on
their return to the island, brought the disease with them, which spread
rapidly with most fatal results to the population.
Meantime, shortly before the raid, the attention of the Roman Catholic
“Congregation of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary” in Valparaiso had
been drawn to the island by the account received from a passing ship,
and they determined to inaugurate a mission. Three of the Community left
for Easter Island, their route taking them by way of Tahiti. Finally,
only one continued, Eugène Eyraud, who landed on the island in January
1864. Eyraud was a lay brother in the Order, having been a merchant in
South America; he devoted his life to the call to take the Gospel to
Easter, and the accounts of his work, which are extraordinarily
interesting, leave a great impression of his courage and devotion.[36]
He was alone on the island for eight or nine months, and was at the
mercy of the natives, who stole his belongings, even to the clothes he
was wearing, and compelled him to make a boat for them. In March 1866,
Eyraud, after a visit to Chile, returned with another missionary, Father
Roussel, and the two were for a while blockaded in a house which they
had put up, but the tide now turned. Either Roussel was a man of greater
determination than Eyraud, or with increased numbers a firmer attitude
was possible. Surgeon Palmer of H.M.S. _Topaze_ tells us that when one
of the natives took up a stone with a menacing gesture, Roussel quietly
felled him with his stick and went on his way, after which there was no
further trouble. The missionaries were joined later in the year by two
more of their number, and became a power in the land.
Eyraud on his return from Chile was suffering from phthisis, of which he
died in August 1868. When he was nearing his end he asked Roussel if
there still remained any heathen in the island, to which the Father
replied “not one”; the last seven had been baptized on the Feast of the
Assumption. It seems natural to connect with Eyraud’s illness the fact
that there was at the same time a severe epidemic of phthisis in the
island; so little was the need of precaution understood at this date,
that even Surgeon Palmer, writing of the inroads made by consumption,
remarks “which they (the natives) believe infectious.”[37] The ravages
of this disease, following on those of smallpox, reduced the population,
which at the time of the arrival of the mission had stood at twelve
hundred, by about one-fourth.
The remarks of the missionaries on native customs, particularly those
dealing with their ceremonies, reflect credit on the observers at a time
when such things were too often thought beneath notice; they will be
referred to later. Their ethnological work was, however, limited by more
pressing exigencies, by the difficulties of locomotion on the island,
and by the language. Roussel compiled a vocabulary, which is useful to
students, though not free from the mode of thought found in a well-known
missionary dictionary, which translates hansom cab into the Swahili
language. It is a curious fact that so completely were the terraces now
ruined that the Fathers never allude to the statues, and seem scarcely
to have realised their existence; but it is through them that we first
hear of the wooden tablets carved with figures. The body of professors
acquainted with this art of writing perished, either in Peru or by
epidemic, and this, in connection with the introduction of Christianity,
led to great destruction of the existing specimens of this most
interesting script. The natives said that they burnt the tablets in
compliance with the orders of the missionaries, though such suggestion
would hardly be needed in a country where wood is scarce; the Fathers,
on the contrary, state that it was due to them that any were preserved.
Some certainly were saved by their means and through the interest shown
in them by Bishop Jaussen of Tahiti, while two or three found their way
to museums after the natives became aware of their value; but some or
all of these existing tablets are merely fragments of the original. The
natives told us that an expert living on the south coast, whose house
had been full of such glyphs, abandoned them at the call of the
missionaries, on which a man named Niari, being of a practical mind, got
hold of the discarded tablets and made a boat of them wherein he caught
much fish. When the “sewing came out,” he stowed the wood into a cave at
an ahu near Hanga Roa, to be made later into a new vessel there.
Pakarati, an islander now living, found a piece, and it was acquired by
the U.S.A. ship _Mohican_.
Side by side with the establishment of the religious power the secular
had come into being. The master of the ship who had brought the last two
missionaries was a certain Captain Dutrou Bornier. He had been attracted
by the place, and, having made financial arrangements with the
mercantile house of Brander in Tahiti, settled himself on the island and
proceeded to exploit it commercially. Title-deeds were obtained from the
natives in exchange for gifts of woven material. The remaining
population was gathered together into one settlement at Hanga Roa, the
native name for the shore of Cook’s Bay. This was the state of things
when H.M.S. _Topaze_ touched in 1868 and carried off the two statues now
at the British Museum.
Dutrou Bornier had at first spoken enthusiastically of the work of the
missionaries; later, however, the not unknown struggle arose between the
religious and secular powers. According to the accounts of the
missionaries, they protested against the actions of Bornier in taking
over two hundred natives, practically by force, and shipping them to
Tahiti to work on the Brander plantations. Bornier retaliated by
rendering their position impossible, and the Fathers ultimately received
orders to transfer their labours to the Gambier islands. Jaussen tells
us that their converts desired to accompany them, and that almost the
whole population went on board with them. The captain, however,
instigated by Bornier, refused to carry so many, and one hundred and
seventy-five were sent back to the shore. This, therefore, “was the
whole population” in 1871. We have not Bornier’s account of the quarrel,
but there seems to have been some justification for the attitude of the
missionaries towards him, as five years later he was murdered by the
natives, and, if current stories are to be believed, his end was well
merited.
Subsequently one of the Branders lived at Mataveri, and Mr. Alexander
Salmon, to whom the missionaries sold their interests, at Vaihu on the
south coast.[38] The Salmon family had intermarried with the royal
family of Tahiti, and the new resident was well aware of the value of
antiquities. According to native accounts he organised a band to search
the caves and hiding-places for articles of interest. They also state
that he employed skilled natives to produce wooden objects connected
with their older culture for sale to passing ships. He spoke the
language of the island, and when the U.S.S. _Mohican_ arrived in 1886,
he was the source of much of the information which they subsequently
published. It is an important but difficult matter to know how far the
material thus gleaned thirty years ago was carefully obtained and
reproduced. One or two of the folk-tales are still told very much as
retailed by Salmon, but he appears to have taken little interest in the
surviving customs and failed to understand them. The report of the
_Mohican_, made by Paymaster Thomson, has been the only account of the
island in existence with any pretention to scientific value.[39] The
_Mohican_ was there eleven days, and Thomson went rapidly round the
island with a party from the ship. The amount of ground covered and work
done is remarkable, although his statements are naturally not free from
the errors inseparable from such rapid observation.
In 1888 the Chilean Government formally took possession. In 1897 M.
Merlet, of Valparaiso, purchased from the representatives of Brander,
Bornier, and Salmon, their interest in Easter Island, with the exception
of a tract of land containing the village of Hanga Roa, which the
Chilean Government acquired from the missionaries and retained in the
interest of the inhabitants; this land covers a far larger space than
the natives are able to utilise. The population is again increasing, as
will have been seen from the fact that during our visit they numbered
two hundred and fifty. M. Merlet subsequently sold his holding to a
company, of which he became chairman.
Easter Island has had many names. That given by the Dutchman has become
generally accepted, but the Spaniards christened it San Carlos, and in
some maps it is termed “Waihu,” a name of a part of the island
erroneously understood as applying to the whole. A native name is Te
Pito-te-henua, “_henua_” means usually “earth” and “_pito_” “navel.”[40]
Thomson says it was ascribed to the first comers. Elsewhere in the
Pacific “_pito_” also means “end.” Churchill holds the name signified
simply “Land’s End,” and was applied to all these angles of the island,
which was itself without a name.[41] Rapa-nui (or Great Rapa) is another
native name for which various explanations are offered. The island of
Rapa, sometimes known as Rapa-iti, lies some two thousand miles to the
westward, Thomson states that the name Rapa-nui only dates from the time
when the men kidnapped by the Peruvians were being returned to their
homes. The Easter Islanders, finding no one knew the name Te
Pito-te-henua, and that some comrades in distress from the other Rapa
managed to make their place of origin understood, called their own home
Rapa-nui; a story which sounds hardly probable, but was presumably
obtained from Salmon.
According to the report of H.M.S. _Topaze_, the Islanders of their day
believed that Rapa was their original home. Others state the name was
given by a visitor from that island.
The brief accounts which have been referred to are all that is known
from external evidence of the original life of the present people, and
but little hope was held out to us in England that those fragments could
still be supplemented. There were found, however, to be still in
existence two possible sources of information, namely, the memories of
old inhabitants, and the actual traces which still remain of the life
led by the people previous to the Peruvian raid and the coming of
Christianity. The great ahu which have so far been described are only a
part, although the most imposing portion, of the stone remains of the
island. It is fortunate for the student that when civilisation appeared
the natives were gathered into one settlement, for they left behind
them, sprinkled over the island, various erections connected with their
original domestic life. These buildings were certainly being used in
recent times, and are treated from this point of view, but for all we
know they may have been, and very possibly were, contemporary with the
great works.
The study of the remains on the island, from the greatest to the least,
is by no means so simple as may hitherto have appeared. Our earliest
attempts at descriptions, although conscientious, were almost ludicrous
in the light of subsequent knowledge, and Captain Beechey’s error on the
subject of “the busts” is at least comprehensible. Easter, it must be
remembered, is a mass of disintegrating rocks. When in an idle moment
the Expedition amused itself by inventing an heraldic design for the
island, it was universally agreed that the main emblem must undoubtedly
be a “stone,” “and as supporters,” suggested one frivolous member, “two
cockroaches rampant.” The most correct representation would be a stone
vertical on a stone horizontal. Every individual who has lived, even
temporarily, in the place, has collected stones and put them up
according to taste; and every succeeding generation, also needing
stones, has, as in the instance of the manager’s wall, found them most
readily in ruining or converting the work of their predecessors. Even
when a building is comparatively intact, the original design and purpose
can only be grasped by experience, and matters become distinctly
complicated when the walls of an ahu have been made into a garden
enclosure and a chicken-house turned into an ossuary. It must be
remembered also that rough stone buildings bear in themselves no marks
of age. The cairns put up by us to mark the distances for rifle fire
from the camp were indistinguishable from those of prehistoric nature
made for a very different purpose. The result is that the tumble-down
remains of yesterday, and the scenes of unknown antiquity blend together
in a confusing whole in which it is not always easy to distinguish even
the works of nature from those of man.
The other source of information which was open to us was the memory of
the old people. If but little was known of the great works, it was
possible that there might still linger knowledge of customs or folk lore
which would throw indirect light on origins. This field proved to be
astonishingly large, but it was even more difficult to collect facts
from brains than out of stones. On our arrival there were still a few
old people who were sufficiently grown up in the sixties to recall
something of the old life; with the great majority of these, about a
dozen in number, we gradually got in touch, beginning with those who
worked for Mr. Edmunds and hearing from them of others. It was momentous
work, for the eleventh hour was striking, day by day they were dropping
off; it was a matter of anxious consideration whose testimony should
first be recorded for fear that, meanwhile, others should be gathered to
their fathers, and their store of knowledge lost for ever. Against the
longer recollection of extreme old age, had to be put the fact that the
memories of those a little younger were generally more clear and
accurate. The feeling of responsibility from a scientific point of view
was very great. Ten years ago more could have been done; ten years hence
little or nothing will remain of this source of knowledge.
Most happily, these authorities were in almost every case willing and
ready to talk, and our debt to them is great. They came with us, as has
been seen, on our explorations of the island, but the greater part of
the work was done when we were living near the village. Some of them
took pleasure in coming up to Mataveri and talking in the veranda,
enjoying still more, no doubt, the practical outcome of their subsequent
visits to Bailey’s domain—the kitchen. Others were more at ease in their
own surroundings, and then we went down to the village and discussed old
days in their little banana-plots, while interested neighbours came in
to join the fray. Sometimes a man did better by himself, but on other
occasions to get two or three together stimulated conversation.
Unfortunately, some of the old men who knew most were confined to the
leper settlement some three miles north of Hanga Roa, and the infectious
power of leprosy was not a subject which we had got up before leaving
England. The Captain of the _Kildalton_ feared lest even the distance of
the settlement from the Manager’s house might not suffice to prevent the
plague being carried there by insects, and told a gruesome tale, within
his knowledge, of two white men who had gone for a visit to a Pacific
island, one of whom on their return to an American port had been
immediately sent back to a leper colony. But how could one allow the
last vestige of knowledge in Easter Island to die out without an effort?
So I went, disinfected my clothes on return, studied, must it be
confessed, my fingers and toes, and hoped for the best.
It would not be easy for a foreigner to reconstruct English society
fifty years ago, even from the descriptions of well-educated old men: it
is particularly difficult to arrive at the truth from the untutored
mind. Even when the natives knew well what they were talking about, they
would forget to mention some part of the story, which to them was
self-evident, but at which the humble European could not be expected to
guess. The bird story, for example, had for many months been wrestled
with before it transpired precisely what was meant by the “first egg.”
Deliberate invention was rare, but, when memory was a little vague,
there was a constant tendency to glide from what was remembered to what
was imagined. Scientific work of this nature really ought to qualify for
a high position at the bar. The witness had to be heard, and discreetly
cross-examined without any doubt being thrown on his story, which would
at once have given offence; then allowed to forget and again
re-examined, his story being compared with that of others who had been
heard meanwhile. Counsel had also to be judge and to act as reporter,
and at the same time keep the witness amused and prevent the interpreter
from being bored, or the court would promptly have broken up. Though
great care has been exercised, it must be remembered, when a particular
account is quoted, as, for example, that of Te Haha regarding the annual
inspection of the tablets, while it is believed to rest on fact, its
absolute accuracy cannot be guaranteed.
[Illustration:
FIG. 83.
HÉ.
Clan Marama.
]
[Illustration:
VIRIAMO.
Clan Ureohei.
]
[Illustration:
TE HAHA.
Clan Miru.
]
[Illustration:
JUAN TEPANO.
Clan Tupahotu.
]
The language question naturally added to the difficulty. On landing two
courses had been open, either to go on with Spanish, of which the
younger men had a certain knowledge, and which was used by Mr. Edmunds,
or to try to get some hold of the native tongue. The latter plan was
decided on, and though at one time the difficulties seemed so great that
this course was almost regretted, in the end it was vindicated. There
is, as stated, a vocabulary in French made by the missionaries, and also
one in Spanish, but there is no grammar of any kind. The French
carpenter, Varta, was some assistance, particularly at the beginning.
The first steps were the easiest. The Kanakas were much interested in my
endeavours, and rushed round wildly, bringing any object they could lay
hands on in order to teach its name; but even with the nouns an
unexpected complication arose. The natives speak, not only their own
language, but, side by side with it, that of Tahiti, which is used in
their religious books and services; there are affinities between the
two, but they are quite dissimilar, and to understand conversation it
was necessary to learn both. This very much prolonged the task, and also
lessened the results obtained.
The next stage, the putting together of sentences, was still more
difficult. How was it possible to talk in a language which had no verb
“to be”? I had, it is true, a native maid (fig. 29), but, after the
simplest phrases had been learnt, topics for conversation were difficult
to find. We looked through illustrated magazines together, but wild
beasts, railway trains, and the greater part of the pictures of all
kinds, conveyed nothing to her. The plan was therefore hit on of a tale,
after the manner of the _Arabian Nights_, dealing with imaginary events
on the island; it was very weird, but served its purpose, though there
were initial difficulties. The heroine, for instance, was christened
“Maria,” but “there were,” Parapina said, “three Marias on the island.
Which was it?” and it was long before she grasped, if indeed she ever
did so entirely, that the lady was imaginary. A certain sequence of
events was somehow made intelligible to her. She was then induced to
repeat the story, while it was taken down. It was copied out and next
day read again to her for further correction. Every word and idea gained
was a help in understanding local names and the native point of view.
Before the end, in addition to using the language for the ordinary
affairs of life, it was found possible to get simple answers direct from
the old men, and understand first-hand much of what they said.
Any real success in intercourse was, however, due to the intelligence of
one individual who was known as Juan Tepano. He was a younger man about
forty years of age, a full-blooded Kanaka, but had served his time in
the Chilean army, and thus had seen something of men and manners; he
talked a little pidgin English, which was a help in the earlier stages,
but before the end he and I were able to understand each other entirely
in Kanaka, and he made clear to the old men anything I wished to know,
and explained their answers to me. It was interesting to notice how his
perception gradually grew of what truth and accuracy meant, and he
finally assumed the attitude of watch-dog to prevent my being imposed
on. Happily, it was discovered that he was able to draw, and he took
great delight in this new-found power, which proved most useful. The
tattoo designs were obtained, for example, by giving him a large sheet
of paper with an outline of a man or woman, also a pencil and piece of
candle; these he took down to the village, gathered the old men together
in their huts in the evening, and brought up in the morning the figure
adorned by the direction of the ancients (fig. 88). He took a real
interest in the work, learning through the conversations much about the
place which was new to him, and at the end of the time triumphantly
stated, “Mam-ma now knows everything there is to know about the island.”
[Illustration:
FIG. 84.
CANOE-SHAPED HOUSES.
STONE FOUNDATIONS
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 84A.
ENTRANCE AND PAVED AREA.
]
It is proposed to unite the information gained from locality and memory,
referring where necessary to the accounts of the early voyagers, and
give as complete descriptions as possible of the primitive existence
which continued on Easter Island till the middle of last century. It
will be seen that the condition of the people on the coming of
Christianity, as we were able to ascertain it, corresponded almost
exactly with that described by the first visitors from Europe, more than
a hundred years earlier. Such traditions as linger regarding the
megalithic remains have already been alluded to earlier in this book,
but attention will be drawn to the point whenever this line of research
seems successful in throwing indirect light on the origin of the great
works.
_Mode of Life._—The present natives, in talking of old times, say that
their ancestors were “as thick as grass,” and stood up like the fingers
of two hands with the palms together; a statement from which deduction
must be made for pictorial representation. The early mariners never, as
we have seen, estimate the population at more than two thousand, but the
land could carry many more. Mr. Edmunds calculates that about half of
the total amount (or some 15,000 acres) could grow bananas and sweet
potatoes. Two acres of cultivated ground would be sufficient to supply
an ordinary family.
Housing accommodation presented no great problem. Many slept in the
open, and even to-day, in the era of Christianity and European clothes,
a cave is looked upon as sufficient shelter. When on moving from our
“town” to our “country” house we inquired where our attendants were to
sleep, we were cheerfully informed “it was all right, there was a very
good cave near Tongariki”—and this cave, called Ana Havea, became a
permanent annexe to the establishment (fig. 124). Some of these caves
had a wall built in front for shelter.
Houses, however, did exist, which were built in the form of a long
upturned canoe; they were made of sticks, the tops of which were tied
together, the whole being thatched successively with reeds, grass, and
sugar-cane. In the best of these houses, the foundations, which are
equivalent to the gunwale of the boat, are made of wrought stones let
into the ground; they resemble the curbstones of a street pavement save
that the length is greater. In the top of the stones were holes from
which sprang the curved rods, which were equivalent to the ribs of a
boat, and formed the walls and roof (figs. 84 and 85). The end stones of
the house are carefully worked on the curve, and it is very rare to find
them still in place, as they were comparatively light, weighing from one
to two hundredweight, and easily carried off. Even the heavier stones
were at times seized upon as booty in enemy raids; one measuring 15 feet
was pointed out to us near an ahu on the south coast, which had been
brought all the way from the north side of the island. In the middle of
one side of the house was a doorway, and in the front of it a porch,
which had also stone foundations. The whole space in front of the house
was neatly paved with water-worn boulders, in the same manner as the
ahu. This served as a stoep on which to sit and talk, but its practical
utility was obvious to ourselves in the rainy seasons, when the entrance
to our tents and houses became deep in mud (fig. 84A). Near the main
abode was a thatched house which contained the native oven, the stones
of which are often still in place. The cooking was done Polynesian
fashion: a hole about 15 inches deep is lined with flat stones, a fire
is made within, and, when the stones are sufficiently heated, the food,
wrapped up in parcels, is stacked within and covered with earth, a fire
being lighted on the top.
Many of the surviving old people were born and brought up in these
houses, which are known as “haré paenga.” The old man, for example,
before alluded to, who was brought out to Raraku, roved round the
mountain telling with excitement who occupied the different houses in
the days of his youth. He gave a particularly graphic description of the
scene after sundown, when all were gathered within for the evening meal.
In addition to the main door, there was, he said, an opening near each
end by which the food was passed in and then from hand to hand; as
perfect darkness reigned, a sharp watch had to be kept that it all
reached its proper owners. He lay down within the old foundations to
show how the inhabitants slept. This was parallel to the long axis of
the house, the head being towards the door; the old people were in the
centre in couples, and the younger ones in the ends. The largest of
these houses, which had some unique features, measured 122 feet in
length, with an extreme width of 12 feet; but some 50 feet by 5 feet or
6 feet are more usual measurements. They were often shared by related
families and held anything from ten to thirty, or even more, persons.
[Illustration:
FIG. 85.—CANOE-SHAPED HOUSE.
Diagram of stone foundations, paved area, and cooking-place.
]
The food consisted of the usual tropical produce, such as potatoes,
bananas, sugar-cane, and taro. Animal diet formed a very small part of
it, rats being the only form of mammal; but chickens played an important
rôle in native life, and the remains of the dwellings made for them are
much more imposing than those for human beings. They are solid cairns,
in the centre of which was a chamber, running the greater part of their
length; it was entered from outside by two or more narrow tunnels, down
which the chickens could pass. They were placed here at night for the
sake of safety, as it was impossible to remove the stones in the dark
without making a noise (fig. 86). Fish are not very plentiful, as there
is no barrier reef, but they also were an article of diet, and were
bartered by those on the coast for the vegetable products obtained by
those further inland. Fish-hooks made of stone were formerly used, and a
legend tells of a man who had marvellous success because he used one
made of human bone. The heroes of the tales are also spoken of as
fishing with nets. There are in various places on the coast round
towers, built of stone, which are said to have been look-out towers
whence watchers on land communicated the whereabouts of the fish to
those at sea; these contained a small chamber below which was used as a
sleeping apartment (fig. 87). Turtles appear on the carvings on the
rock, and are alluded to in legend, and turtle-shell ornaments were
worn; but the water is too cold for them ever to have been common, and
Anakena is almost the only sandy bay where they could have come on
shore.
The sole form of dress was the cloth made from the paper mulberry, and
known throughout the South Seas as tapa; it was used for loin-cloths and
wraps, which the Spaniards describe as fastening over one shoulder.
Head-gear was a very important point, as witnessed by the way the
islanders always stole the caps of the various European sailors. The
natives had various forms of crowns made of feathers, some of them
reserved for special occasions. Cherished feathers, particularly those
of white cocks, were brought out of gourds, where they had been
carefully kept, to manufacture specimens for the Expedition. The crowns
are generally made to form a shade over the eyes, like the head-dresses
of the images. Naturally, every effort was made to find the prototype of
the image hats. No one recollected ever seeing anything precisely like
it, but among the pictures drawn for us of various head-decorations was
a cylindrical hat made of grass; the brim projected all the way round as
with a European hat, but it had the same form of knot on the top as that
of the statues.
[Illustration:
FIG. 86.
HOUSE FOR CHICKENS.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 87.
A TOWER USED BY FISHERMEN.
]
[Illustration:
1 and 2 (on face), Stone adzes.
3 (on chest), Fish-hooks.
4 (on chest), Spear-heads or “mataa.”
5 (on waist), “Paré-pu.”
6 (on arms), Reported as decorative only.
FIG. 88.—DESIGNS IN TATTOOING, DRAWN BY NATIVES.
]
Tattooing was a universal practice, and the exactness of the designs
excited the admiration of the early voyagers, who wondered how savages
managed to achieve such regularity and accuracy. The drawings made for
us from the descriptions of the old people show the men covered, not
only with geometrical designs, but with pictures of every-day objects,
such as chisels and fish-hooks; even houses, boats, and chickens were
represented in this way according to taste. The most striking objects
were drawings of heads, one on each side of the body, known as
“paré-pu,” which the old mariners describe as “fearsome
monstrosities”[42] (fig. 88). Various old persons said that they
remembered seeing men with a pattern on the back similar to the rings
and girdle of the images. It seems, however, doubtful whether the image
design merely represented tattoo, in view of the fact that it was
raised, not incised, and in any case this would only put the search for
its prototype a stage further back. The fact, however, remains that
those particular marks were still being perpetuated, and form a link
connecting the present with the past. Beechey, in 1825, tells us the
women were so tattooed as to look as if they wore breeches. In addition
to this kind of decoration, the islanders adorned themselves with
various colours: white and red were obtained from mineral products found
in certain places; yellow from a plant known as “pua,”[43] and black
from ashes of sugar-cane. They had a distinct feeling for art. Some of
the paintings found in caves and houses are obviously recent, and it is
a frequent answer to questions as to the why and wherefore of things,
that they were to make some object “look nice.”
It will be remembered that not only have the images long ears, but that
all the early voyagers speak of them as general among the inhabitants.
It was therefore somewhat surprising to find that no such thing was
known as a man whose ears had been perforated, though with the women the
custom went on till the introduction of Christianity, and two or three
females with the lobe dilated in this manner still survived (fig. 90).
At last one old leper recalled that the father of his foster-father had
long ears, and on asking as a child for the reason, he had received the
illuminating reply that “the old people had them like that.” He also
mentioned one or two others with similar ears, and this was subsequently
confirmed by other authorities. It will be seen that the custom, as far
as men were concerned, of dilating the lobe of the ear, must have been
abandoned at the end of the eighteenth century, or just about the time
of the visits of the Spanish, English, and French Expeditions. That this
was cause and effect, and that they imitated the appearance of the
foreign sailors, seems more than a guess; it will appear from other
sources how great was the impression which was made by the foreigners.
[Illustration:
FIG. 89.
MAHANGA.
A native of the Paumotu.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 90.
AN OLD WOMAN OF EASTER ISLAND WITH DILATED EAR-LOBE.
]
_Social Life._—Roggeveen’s description of the people as being of all
shades of colour is still accurate. They themselves are very conscious
of the variations, and when we were collecting genealogies, they were
quite ready to give the colour of even remote relations: “Great-aunt
Susan,” it would be unhesitatingly stated, was “white,” and “Great-aunt
Jemima black.” The last real ariki, or chief, was said to be quite
white. “White like me?” I innocently asked. “You!” they said, “you are
red”; the colour in European cheeks, as opposed to the sallow white to
which they are accustomed, is to the native our most distinguishing
mark. It is obvious that we are dealing with a mixed race, but this only
takes us part of the way, as the mixture may have taken place either
before or after they reached the island.
They were divided into ten groups, or clans (“máta”), which were
associated with different parts of the island, though the boundaries
blend and overlap; members of one division settled not infrequently
among those of another. Each person still knows his own clan.
In remembered times there were no group restrictions on marriage, which
took place indiscriminately between members of the same or of different
clans. The only prohibition had reference to consanguinity, and forbade
all union nearer than the eighth degree or third cousins. These ten
clans were again grouped, more especially in legend or speaking of the
remote past, into two major divisions known as Kotuu (or Otuu), and Hotu
Iti, which correspond roughly with the western and eastern parts of the
island. These divisions were also known respectively as Mata-nui, or
greater clans, and Mata-iti, or lesser clans. The lower portions of the
island were the most densely populated parts, especially those on the
coast, and the settlements on the higher ground appear to have been few
(fig. 91).
In Kotuu, the Marama and Haumoana inhabited side by side the land
running from sea to sea between the high central ground and the western
volcano Rano Kao. They had a small neighbour, the Ngatimo, to the south,
and jointly with the Miru spread over Rano Kao and formed settlements by
the margin of the crater lake. The Miru lived on the high, narrow strip
between the mountain in the apex and the cliff, and mixed up with them
was a lesser people, the Hamea. To the east was another small clan, the
Raa, which is spoken of in conjunction with the Miru and Hamea.
[Illustration:
FIG. 91.
_Note._—The dividing lines shown are not defined boundaries.
]
The principal Hotu Iti clans were the Tupahotu, the Koró-orongo, and the
Hitiuira. The last were generally known as the “Ureohei”; they inhabited
jointly the level piece of ground from the northern bay to the south
coast, and had some dwellings on the eastern headland. Next to them on
the south coast was a small group, the Ngaure.[44] The particular
importance of the clans lies in the fact that, while they may be merely
groups of one body, they may, on the other hand, represent different
races or waves of immigrants. If there have been two peoples on Easter
Island, these divisions are one place where we must at least look for
traces for it.
Legend tells of continual wars between Hotu Iti and Kotuu. In recent
times general fighting seems to have been constant, and took place even
between members of one clan. A wooden sword, or paoa, was used, but the
chief weapon was made from obsidian, and took from it the name of
“mataa.” This volcanic glass is found on the slope of Rano Kao, but the
principal quarries are on the neighbouring hill of Orito. Tradition says
its use was first discovered by a boy who stepped on it and cut his
foot. The obsidian was knapped till it had a cutting edge, and also a
tongue, which latter was fitted into a handle or stick (fig. 92). The
various shapes assumed were dignified by names, fourteen of which were
given, such as “tail of a fish,” “backbone of a rat,” “leaf of a
banana.” It was very usual to pick up these mataa, and hoards were
occasionally found; in one instance fifty or sixty were discovered below
a stone in a cave, and in another case the hammer-stone was found with
them which had been used in the process of squeezing off the flakes. The
weapon was used both as a spear and as a javelin. A site is pointed out
near Anakena, where a man throwing down hill killed another at about
thirty-five yards. The art of making these mataa is, of course,
practically extinct, but one old man, commonly known as “Hé” (fig. 83),
brought us some which he had manufactured himself for the Expedition,
and which were fairly well wrought.
With the exception of the Miru, of which more will be said, there were
no chiefs nor any form of government; any man who was expert in war
became a leader. The warfare consisted largely of spasmodic and isolated
raids; an aggrieved person gathered together his neighbours and
descended on the offenders. It is related incidentally that one man,
going along the south coast, “found war going on,” one set of men having
blocked up another in a cave. Another story is told of six men, called
Gwaruti-mata-keva, of the clan Tupahotu, who lived in a cave in a
certain hillock on the south coast, known as Toa-toa. They went round in
a boat to Hanga Piko, stole fish, and returned rapidly to their cave. A
hundred men from Hanga Piko then came overland to punish the robbery,
and made a fire of grass before the cave in which the men lay hidden.
When the attackers assumed that the enemy were all dead from
suffocation, they went into the cave; but those within had buried their
faces in holes scraped in the earth, and when the men from Hanga Piko
entered, they arose and slew the whole hundred. A more interesting fact
came out incidentally in connection with this gang of Toa-toa,
connecting them with the secret societies found elsewhere in the
Pacific. They were, it was said, in the habit of going about after dark
with their faces painted red, white, and black, and visiting houses,
where they declared they were gods, and demanded food, which the
inhabitants accordingly gave them. The fraud, however, finally came to
light when one day a man, who was travelling with his servant, saw them
washing paint off their faces, “so they knew that they had deceived the
people, and the people gathered together and killed them.”
In these internecine fights fire was very generally set to the enemy’s
dwellings. “He often burnt houses,” a young man said, pointing to an
older one, and the impeachment was not denied. The ahu, too, were raided
and bodies burnt, which seems to be the cause of the burnt bones
recorded by certain travellers; there is no reason to suppose there was
cremation or sacrifice on Easter Island. It was in this sort of warfare
that the last images were overthrown.
[Illustration:
FIG. 92.
[_Brit. Mus._
OBSIDIAN SPEAR-HEADS.
(_Mataa._)
]
While legends record how many people were eaten after each affray, all
living persons deny, with rather striking unanimity, not only that they
themselves have ever been cannibals, but that their fathers were so. If
this is correct, the custom was dying out for some reason before the
advent of Christianity;[45] their grandfathers, the old people admit,
ate human flesh, but, if there were any rites connected with it, they
“did not tell.” The great-grandmother of an old man of the Miru clan
was, according to his account, killed on the high central part of the
island by the Ureohei and eaten. In revenge for the outrage, one of her
sons, Hotu by name, killed sixty of the Ureohei. Another son, who had
pacifist leanings, thought the feud ought then to be ended, but Hotu
desired yet more victims, and there was a violent quarrel between the
two brothers, in which the peace-maker was struck on the head with a
club; for, as Hotu remarked, if they had slain his father, it would have
been different, but really to eat his mother was “no good.”
Our acquaintance with the person said to have been “the last cannibal,”
or rather with his remains, came about accidentally during the time when
I was alone on the island. A little party of us had ridden to the top of
the volcano Rano Kao; and on the southern side of the crater, that
opposite Orongo, some of the natives were pointing out the legendary
sites connected with the death of the first immigrant chief, Hotu-matua.
Suddenly one of them vanished into a crevice in the rocks, and
reappeared brandishing a thigh-bone to call attention to its large size.
I dismounted, scrambled into a little grotto, or natural cave, where a
skeleton was extended; the skull was missing, but the jaw-bone was
present, and the rest of the bones were in regular order; the individual
had either died there or been buried. Bones were in the department of
the absent member of the Expedition, but it was of course essential to
collect them, from the view of determining race, and the natives never
resented our doing so. I therefore passed these out, packed them in
grass in the luncheon-basket, and, sitting down on a rock, asked to be
told the story of the cave. “That,” my attendants replied, “is Ko Tori.”
He was, they said, the last man on the island who had eaten human flesh.
In this hiding-place he had enjoyed his meals, and no one had ever been
able to track him. There had formerly been a cooking-place, but it was
now hidden by a fall of stones. He had died as a very old man at the
other end of the island, apparently in the odour of sanctity; to judge
by the toothless jaw if he had not deserted his sins they must long ago
have deserted him. His last desire was to be buried in the place with
which he had such pleasant connections, and in dutiful regard to his
wishes, or because it was feared that his ghost might otherwise make
itself unpleasant, some of the young men bore the corpse on stretchers
along the south coast and up to the top of the mountain, depositing it
here. The next thing was to get at some sort of date; chronology is
naturally of a vague order, and the most effective method is, if
possible, to connect events with the generation in which they happened.
“Did your grandfather know him,” was asked, “or your father?” The answer
was unexpected. “Porotu,” they said, pointing to one of the old men,
“helped to carry him,” and silence fell on the group. My heart sank; I
had then undone this last pious work and committed sacrilege. To my
great relief, however, strange sounds soon made it clear that the
humorous side had appealed to the escort; they were suffocating with
mirth. “And now,” they said, gasping between sobs of laughter, “Ko Tori
goes in a basket to England.” As I write, Ko Tori resides at the Royal
College of Surgeons, and has done his bit towards elucidating the
mystery of Easter Island.
Sexual morality, as known to us, was not a strong point in life on the
island, but marriage was distinctly recognised, and the absolute loose
liver was a person apart. Polygamy was usual, but many seem to have had
only one wife. The children belonged to the father’s clan, and are often
distinguished by his name being given after their own. At the same time
the clan of the mother was not ignored, and a man would sometimes fight
for his maternal side. If a man had sons by more than one wife, after
his death each claimed the body of his father to lie on the ahu of his
mother’s clan, and the corpse might thus be carried to several in turn,
finally returning to its own destination. We collected a certain number
of genealogical trees, the various dramatis personæ being for this
purpose represented by matches or buttons. It was not a very popular
line of research, the cry being apt to be raised, “Now let’s talk of
something interesting”; but some two hundred names were in this way
placed in their family groups, with details of clan, place of residence
and colour, and some knowledge obtained with regard to many more. It is
not of course enough ground on which to found any theory, but it was
very useful in checking information gathered in other ways. Only in one
case was it possible to get back beyond the great-grandfather of our
informant, but the knowledge of family connections was often greater
than would be found among Europeans. The number of childless marriages
was striking.
The early story of Viriamo (fig. 83), the oldest woman living in our
day, gives a picture of this primitive state of things. She belonged to
the clan of Ureohei, and her family had lived for some generations, as
far back as could be remembered, on the edge of the eastern volcano, not
far from Raraku. The great-grandfather, who was dark, had as his only
wife a white woman of the Hamea. Their son was white, and had two wives,
one of the Tupahotu and one of the Ngaure. By the first, although she
also was white, he had a dark son who married a white wife of his own
clan, Ureohei, but of a different group. Viriamo was the second of their
eight children, all of whom were white save herself and her eldest
brother. Four of the girls died young in the epidemic of smallpox in
1864. Viriamo and two of her sisters were initiated as children into the
bird rite.[46] When older she was tattooed with rings round her forehead
and with the dark-blue breeches. Somewhat later, but still as a young
woman, she went over to Anakena and had her ears pierced, but she never
had the lobe extended, preferring to let it remain small. When asked
about her marriage, she bridled as coyly as a young girl. Her first
union was a matter of arrangement, the husband, who was also of the
Ureohei, giving her father much food, and, if she had refused to accept
the situation, she would, she said, have been beaten. There was no
ceremony of any kind, no new clothes nor feasting; her father simply
took her to her new home and handed her over. The house was near the two
statues with the projecting noses, excavated on the south-eastern slope
of Raraku (fig. 73), and, when she wanted water, rather than cross the
boundary and go round to the lake by the gap, through the hostile
dwellers on the western side, she used to clamber with her vessel up the
boundary rift in the cliff-face. There was one white child, who died
young, but her marriage was not a success, and Viriamo left the man and
went off to live with one of the Miru clan at Anakena. His house already
contained a wife and family, also four brothers, but they all got on
quite happily together. She had five children by this man, who, like
their father, were all white; four of them, however, died in infancy.
This was the result of the parents having most unfortunately fallen foul
of an old man, whose cloak had been taken without his consent, and who
had accordingly prophesied disaster. The remaining child, a daughter,
was living and unmarried when we were on the island. The last husband
was the most satisfactory of the three; he was a Tupahotu living near
Tongariki. She was handed over to him as a matter of family arrangement,
in discharge of a debt, but she was quite amenable to the exchange, and
was very fond of him. He was light in colour, but her only child by this
marriage, our friend Juan, was dark, taking, as he said, “after my
mam-ma.”
The women do not seem, judging by existing remains, to have had always a
happy time. Dr. Keith, who examined the skulls collected by the
Expedition, concludes his report on one of the female specimens as
follows: “The most likely explanation is that the indent of the left
temple was the cause of death, produced by the blow of a club, and that
the suppuration and repair of the right side has been also produced by a
former blow which failed to prove fatal. Two other skulls, also those of
women, show indented fractures in the left temporal region.”
Any deficiency at marriages, in the way of social festivity, was made up
at funerals. These were attended by persons from all over the island,
for “when they were not fighting, they were all cousins.” In answer to
the remark that “considering the population their whole time must have
gone in this way,” it was cheerfully observed that “they had nothing
else to do, so they all went, everybody took food and everybody ate.”
The parents of one of our friends, Kapiera, lived at Anakena, but he was
born on the south side of the island near Vaihu “when his mother went
for a funeral.” The men who knew the tablets went also and sang, but
there seems to have been little or nothing in the way of rites. The
missionaries were impressed with the fact that there was no ceremony of
any kind at a burial.
[Illustration:
FIG. 93.
AHU, HANGA MAIHIKO
Old Image Ahu, converted to semi-pyramid form, with paved approach;
also two stones on which were exposed the corpses of slain men.
]
Most elaborate spells were, however, performed in connection with a man
who had been slain, known as “tangata ika,” or fish-man; the corpse was
kept from resting either day or night while his neighbours went in
pursuit of vengeance. In front of one ahu, on the north coast, some
pieces of the old statues have been formed into a rude chair. On this,
it was said, had been seated the naked body of a man belonging to the
district, Kota-vari-vari by name, who had been killed at Akahanga on the
south coast. One man kept the corpse from falling, while two others sat
behind and chanted songs to aid the avengers. These watchers were
covered with black ashes, wore only feather hats, and carried the small
dancing-paddle known as “rapa” (fig. 116); the chief man in charge of
the ceremony was known as the “timo.” It must have been an eerie scene
as dusk came on. The story is told of a murder near Tongariki. In this
case the victim’s corpse was placed on the ahu and turned over at
intervals by the watchers. Hanga Maihiko, a converted image ahu on the
south coast, is one of those which have a paved approach, and there are
on the pavement two stones—pieces of a hat and a statue—specially used
for exposing “fish-men” (fig. 93). If these charms failed to act, there
was a still more reliable way. The clothes of the victim were buried
beneath the cooking-place of the foe, and when he had partaken of food
prepared there he would certainly die the night following. Some of the
carved tablets were connected with these rites; one was certainly known
as that of the “Ika,” while there is said to have been another called
“Timo,” which was the “list” kept by each ahu of its murdered men.
The custom of exposing the dead was, as has been stated, going on in
living memory. The information already given on this head is confirmed
by the accounts of the missionaries,[47] but burial was also practised,
the mode of disposal being a matter of choice. There were two drawbacks
to exposure: firstly, if the deceased was for any reason an uncanny
person, his ghost might make itself unpleasant—he was safer hidden under
stones; secondly, the body, if left in the open, might be burnt by
enemies; this latter was the reason given for the burial of the last
great chief, Ngaara, who was interred in one of the image ahu on the
western coast. Not only were the ruins of the greater ahu still being
used, but up till 1863 smaller ones were being built. One was pointed
out on the north coast as having been put up for an individual, the
maternal aunt of our guide, the lady having had the misfortune to be
killed by a devil in the night. It was a small structure, ovoidal in
shape, 10 feet in length, with a flat top sloping from a height of 9
feet at the end towards the sea, to 4 feet 6 inches at that towards the
land; there was beneath it a vaulted chamber for bones.
[Illustration:
FIG. 94.—DIAGRAM OF AHU POE-POE (CANOE-SHAPE).
]
Burial cairns, called “ahu poe-poe,” were being made in modern times,
and a man skilled in their construction was amongst those who were
carried off to Peru. The word “poe-poe” is described as meaning a big
canoe, such as their ancestors came in to the island. It is applied to
two types of ahu, one of which is obviously built to resemble a boat; of
this kind there are about twelve in the island. One large one (fig. 94)
measured as much as 178 feet in length, the width being 20 feet, while
the ends, which are made like the bow and stern of a canoe, are about 10
feet to 15 feet in height. The flat top is paved with sea-boulders, and
is surrounded by a row of the same in imitation of the gunwale of a
boat. In one such ahu two vaults were found by us just below the surface
with perfect burials. One was the body of an old man, the other of a
woman with a child. Both had been wrapped in reeds, and with the body of
the woman were some glass beads. On the surface of the ahu were a few
bones, possibly of a body which had been exposed there, but the ahu had
apparently been built for the two interments. It is less obvious why the
same name, “ahu poe-poe,” should be applied to a burial-place which was
wedge-shaped in form. It follows the lines of the image ahu in so far as
having a wall towards the sea flanked on the land sides by a slope of
masonry. It might be held to represent the prow of a boat, but resembles
rather a pier or jetty. Only some six of these were seen, of which the
longest was 70 feet. One in a lonely spot, at the very edge of a high
cliff, which overlooked Anakena Bay, formed a most striking abode for
the dead (fig. 95).
In a few cases the term ahu is given to a pavement, generally by the
roadside, neatly made of rounded boulders and edged with a curb; the
form was said to be ancient. One of those on the west road was reported
as specially dedicated to mata-toa—which signifies victors or
warriors—and the same was said of a differently made ahu on the south
coast.[48]
Neither exposure nor interment was necessarily confined to ahu, and
corpses were frequently disposed of in caverns, as in the case of Ko
Tori. Three instances were mentioned, an uncle and two nephews, where
the corpses, after being exposed, were lowered with a rope down the
crevasses of the cliff of Raraku in order to evade the enemy. One of the
nephews, who had been of the party when the final statues were
overthrown, had met with a tragic end, being drowned by catching his
hand in a rock when diving for lobsters under water. With the exception
of those near the standing statues, we practically never found an earth
burial. This seems to account for the exaggerated estimates of the
number of human remains on the island; it is doubtful if even five
hundred skulls could be collected, but, whether in caves or ruined ahu,
a large proportion of those which exist are very much in evidence.
Memorials of the dead were erected in various places independently of
the actual locality where the corpse rested. Some of these were simply
mounds of earth, which can be seen on various hills; there is a regular
succession on the landward rim of the Raraku crater, opposite to the
great cliff, but one at least of these was a memorial to a man whose
body had been disposed of in the clefts of the cliff. Others of these
independent memorials were in the shape of cairns about 6 feet in
height, known as “pipi-hereko,” and were formerly surmounted by a white
stone. Many of them still exist, and they are particularly numerous on
the high ground above Anakena Cove. The locality was chosen as one which
was but little inhabited, for the taboo for the dead (or pera) extended
to them, and no one went near them in the daylight, on penalty of being
stoned, till the period of mourning had been terminated with the usual
feast. Various voyagers commented on these cairns, which were marked
objects, and Cook thinks that they may have been put up instead of
statues.
It would seem by the following tale, which imposes a somewhat severe
strain on the European imagination, that piles of stones had in the
native mind a certain resemblance to the human figure. “There was once
an old lady who had an arm so long that it could have reached right
across the island. She was a bad old woman, and once a month had a child
to eat, so a certain man determined to put an end to her power for doing
harm. He took her out in a boat to fish, first telling his small son to
collect stones, and after they had gone to put them in piles in front of
the house of the woman, and also to make a fire and much smoke. When the
canoe had got out to sea, he looked back and found the boy had done as
he was told, and glimpses of the cairns could be seen among the clouds
of smoke. Then he called to the old woman, ‘Look, there are men at your
house!’ So she put out her long arm to seize what she thought were the
people going to rob her hut, whereon the man seized the paddle and
brought it down on her arm and broke it; then he killed the old woman
and threw her body into the sea.
[Illustration:
FIG. 95.
AHU POE-POE (WEDGE SHAPE).
]
Life was by no means dull in Easter Island, for if a feast was not being
given to commemorate a departed relation, it was arranged in honour of
one whilst still alive. The “PAINA,” which means simply picture or
representation, was given by the family as a testimonial of esteem to a
father, or possibly a brother who might be either alive or dead; it was
a serious matter, and the original direction for the celebration came
from a supernaturally gifted individual known as an “ivi-atua.” The
paina was a large figure made of woven rods, and the host would clamber
up inside it and look through eyes or mouth; it had a crown made of the
wings of a particular sea-bird, known as “makohe,” and long ears.
Occasionally it was put up on a special spot, where, for example, a man
had been killed, but the interesting point in connection with the paina
is that the usual place for erection was in front of an image ahu on its
landward side, and at most, or all, of the large ahu, there can still be
seen, in the grass at the foot of the paved slope, the holes where the
paina have stood. It was kept in place by four long ropes, one of which
passed over the ahu. The feast was held in the summer, and lasted from
two to four days; at any given ahu there might be only one in the season
or as many as five. The drawbacks, which would have seemed obvious to
such a locality, do not seem to have clouded the entertainment; the
feasting was great, and consisted largely of rats which were caught in
the hen-houses. The recollection of these entertainments and the crowds
who attended them were very vivid, and Viriamo’s eyes brightened as she
told of the singing, dancing, and feasting of her youth.
There are records of another figure which appears to have been different
from the paina; it was clothed and known as “KO PEKA.” The Spanish
Expedition in 1770 says that the islanders brought down to the beach, on
the day when the three crosses were set up, an idol about 11 feet high
like a “Judas,” stuffed with straw; it was all white, and had a fringe
of black hair hanging down its back. They put it up on stones and sat
cross-legged around it, howling all night by the light of flares. As no
information was volunteered to us about such celebrations, the natives
were asked if they had ever known a similar figure, and an old man at
once replied that there had existed one just like the description, made
of reeds, as a memorial of a dead wife or “fine” child; it stood in
front of the house, or was sometimes carried to a hillock where the
people assembled to mourn. One of the officers of the La Pérouse
Expedition also described a figure seen near a platform; it was 11 feet
in height, clothed in white tapa (“_étoffe blanche du pays_”); it had
hanging round the neck a basket covered with white, and by the side of
this bag the figure of a child 2 feet long. This seems to confirm the
information that it was intended to represent a woman.
Another great festivity, given for a father either living or dead, was
the “KORO.” This was a house-party on a very extended scale. A special
dwelling made with poles and thatched was put up, and, according to
accounts, which surround it no doubt with a halo from the past, measured
some hundreds of feet in length and 20 feet in height. An old man stated
that at a celebration at which he was present there were “a hundred
guests,” a number which is probably a guess, but the addition that there
were “ten cooking-places” sounds like memory. Invitations to these
festivities were much in request, as there was “no work to do”; presents
of food were brought to the hero who distributed them to the party. They
seem to have lasted indefinitely, going on for months, and the time was
passed with various entertainments. The old people sang, the young
people danced, and the host, who lived in a little house near, came and
looked on. On the last day there was a great feast, and the house was
broken down with the aid of the carved wooden lizards, which are
associated with the island (fig. 117). We were puzzled in coming across
a rough stone building, near Anakena, which seemed to be neither ahu,
dwelling, nor chicken-house; it had been, the men told us, a shelter for
the posts of the koro, where they were kept in readiness for the next
celebration.
There was yet another entertainment which is said to have been in honour
of a mother, as a koro was of a father. In at least four different
places on the island are to be seen a dancing-ground known as “KAUNGA.”
It is a narrow strip paved with pebbles, over 200 feet in length by 2
feet in width, and not unlike the paved approach to some of the ahu. A
demonstration was given of the way it was used. The dancers, “fine men,
fine women,” as was explained with emphasis, proceeding along it single
file, holding rapa in both hands. In connection with some or all of the
kaunga there was a house where the party remained indoors for a long
time previous to the dances, in order to “get their complexions good,” a
touch which shows that a white skin was admired.
These feasts were held in certain months only, determined by the
appearance of the heavens after nightfall. On the extremity of the
eastern headland there is an outcrop of boulders, one of which is
incised with a spiral design; the place is known as “Ko Te
Papa-ui-hetuu,” or, “The Rock-for-seeing-stars,” and here the old men
came to watch the constellations. About two hundred yards from these
boulders there is another engraved stone on which ten cup-shaped
depressions are visible; this represented, it is said, “a map of the
stars.”
The season for the Paina depended on the position of the three central
stars of Orion, with regard to which the following story is related. A
certain married woman, on going down to bathe, was carried off by a
stranger. When her husband discovered this, he slew her in his anger,
and she fled up to be a star. The husband then took their two boys, one
in each hand, and followed her to the sky, where the three form the belt
of Orion. The wife, however, would have nothing to do with them, and
remained in a separate part of the heavens. This is the only nature myth
which we encountered on the island.
CHAPTER XVI
NATIVE CULTURE IN PRE-CHRISTIAN TIMES (_continued_)
Religion—Position of the Miru Clan—The Script—The Bird Cult—Wooden
Carvings.
Religion
The religion of the Islanders, employing the word in our sense, seems
always to have been somewhat hazy,[49] and the difficulty in grasping it
now is increased by the fact that since becoming Roman Catholics they
dislike giving the name of “atua,” or god, to their old deities; it only
drops out occasionally. They term them “aku-aku,” which means spirits,
or more frequently “tatane,” a word of which the derivation is obvious.
The confusion of ideas was crystallised by a native, who gravely
remarked that they were uncertain whether one of these beings was God or
the Devil, so they “wrote to Tahiti, and Tahiti wrote to Rome, and Rome
said he was not the Devil, he was God”; a modern view being apparently
taken at headquarters of the evolution of religious ideas. Both these
words, tatane and aku-aku, will be employed for supernatural beings,
without prejudice to their original character, or claims to divinity;
some of them were certainly the spirits of the dead, but had probably
become deified; the ancestors of Hotu-matua were reported to have come
with him to the island. They existed in large numbers, being both male
and female, and were connected with different parts of the island; a
list of about ninety was given, with their places of residence. No
worship was paid, and the only notice taken of these supernatural
persons was to mention before meals the names of those to whom a man
owed special duty, and invite them to partake; it was etiquette to
mention with your own the patron of any guest who was present. There was
no sacrifice; the invitation to the supernatural power was purely
formal, or restricted to the essence of the food only. Nevertheless, the
aku-aku, in this at least being human, were amiable or the reverse
according to whether or not they were well fed. If they were hungry,
they ate women and children, and one was reported as having a proclivity
for stealing potatoes; if, on the contrary, they were well-disposed to a
man, they would do work for him, and he would wake in the morning to
find his potato-field dug, which, as our informant truly remarked, was
“no like Kanaka.”
The aku-aku appeared in human form, in which they were indistinguishable
from ordinary persons. One known as Uka-o-hoheru looked like a very
beautiful woman, and was the wife of a young Tupahotu who had no idea
she was really a tatane. She lived with him at Mahatua on the north
coast, and bore him a child. One very wet day she was obliged to leave
the house to take fresh fire to the cooking-place where it had gone out.
When she returned, her husband was angry that she had no red paint on
her face, and, not heeding her explanation that the rain had washed it
off, took a stick to beat her. She ran away, and he followed, till at
last she sat down on the edge of the eastern headland, where there is
now an ahu known by her name. When by and by he came up, she told him to
go back and look after the child, and fled away like a rushing whirlwind
over the sea and was no more seen.
Two other female tatane are reported to have lived together in a cave on
the cliff-side of Paréhé,[50] whose names were Kava-ara and Kava-tua.
They heard all men tell of the beauty of a certain Uré-a-hohové, a young
man who lived near Hanga Roa; so they went down to see him, put him to
sleep, and carried him on his mat up to their cave, where they left him.
Before going away they told an old woman, also an aku-aku, that she was
not to go and look into the cave. This she naturally proceeded to do,
and, finding Uré, warned him to eat nothing the two tatane might give to
him, supplying him herself with some chicken. When therefore his captors
came back and offered him food, he only pretended to take it, and ate
the chicken instead. They then went away again. The old woman came back,
and said, “If cockroaches come, kill them; if flies come, kill them; but
if a crab comes, do not kill it.” Uré did as he was told, and killed the
cockroaches and flies, which were other tatane; but the crab he did not
kill, it was the old woman. Meanwhile for many days the father of Uré
wept for him, till some men sailing under the cliff while fishing, heard
a song, and looking up saw the missing man; but they would not go and
fetch him, though the father gave them much food, for the cliff was
steep and the cave difficult to reach. At last a woman volunteered for
the task, and was lowered over the cliff in a net, and by this means
succeeded in fetching Uré safely to the top. The history ends with his
return to his home, and does not mention if, in correct fashion, he
married his fair deliverer.
Aku-aku were not immortal. A man called Raraku, after whom the mountain
is said to have been named, caught a big “heke,” which seems to have
been an octopus, in the sea near Tongariki and ate it, with the result
that he went mad, and all people gave chase to him. He caught up a
wooden lizard (fig. 117), and, using it as a club, ran amok among tatane
across the north shore and down the west coast, killing them right and
left; the names of twenty-three were given who thus met their fate.
Human beings, on the other hand, were liable to be attacked by tatane,
more particularly at night, when there was risk, not only to their
bodies, but also to their own spirits,[51] which were at large while
they slept. It is still firmly believed that in dreams the soul visits
any locality present to the thought. On one of the ahu is a rough
erection of slabs, said to be the house of the aku-aku Mata-wara-wara,
or “Strong-Rain.” He had as a partner another aku-aku called
Papai-a-taki-vera, and they arranged between them that Mata should bring
on rain, while Papai constructed a house of reeds which was only there
at night; then when the spirits of sleeping people, which were wandering
abroad, became cold with the rain, they went into the house and the
tatane killed them. The unfortunate sleeper waked in the morning feeling
distinctly unwell, he lingered on for two or three days, and then died.
It was not essential to life to have a soul, but you could not really
get on comfortably without it. No knowledge survives of any belief or
ideas with regard to a future state. The spirit, it was said, appeared
occasionally for five or ten years after a man’s death and then
vanished.
Pan in the shape of tatane is by no means dead. Not only do such beings
haunt the crater of Rano Raraku, but tales are told of weird apparitions
at dusk which vanish mysteriously into space.
There were no priests, but certain men, known as “koremaké,” practised
spells which would secure the death of an enemy, and there was also the
class known as “ivi-atua,” which included both men and women. The most
important of these ivi-atua, of whom it was said there might be perhaps
ten in the island, held commune with the aku-aku, others were able to
prophesy, and could foresee the whereabouts of fish or turtle, while
some had the gift of seeing hidden things, and would demand
contributions from a secreted store of bananas or potatoes, in a way
which was very disconcerting to the owner.
There was practically only one religious function of a general nature;
it was very popular and had a surprising origin. Attention was attracted
on the south coast by a particularly long stoep of rounded pebbles
measuring 139 feet, and obviously connected with a thatched house now
disappeared. That, our guides said in answer to a question, “is a
haré-a-té-atua, where they praised the gods.” “What gods?” “The men who
came from far away in ships. They saw they had pink cheeks, and they
said they were gods.” The early voyagers, for the cult went back at
least three generations, were therefore taken for deities in the same
way as Cook was at Hawaii. The simplest form of this celebration took
place on long mounds of earth known as “miro-o-orne,” or earth-ships, of
which there are several in the island, one of them with a small mound
near it to represent a boat. Here the natives used to gather together
and act the part of a European crew, one taking the lead and giving
orders to the others. A more formal ceremony was held in a large house.
This had three doors on each side by which the singers entered, who were
up to a hundred in number, and ranged themselves in lines within; in one
house, of which a diagram was drawn, a deep hole was dug in the middle,
at the bottom of which was a gourd covered with a stone to act as a
drum. On the top of this a man danced, being hidden out of sight in the
hole.
In other cases, two, or perhaps three, boats were constructed inside the
house, the masts of which went through the roof; these boats were manned
with crews clad in the garments of European sailors, the gifts from
passing vessels being kept as stage properties. Fresh music was composed
for every occasion, and in one song, which was quoted, much reference is
made to the “red face of the captain from over the seas.” The position
of chief performer was one of great honour, being analogous, on a
glorified scale, to the leader of a cotillon of our own day. It was
stated by an old man that his great-grandfather had so acted, and even
the words sung were still remembered. Te Haha, a Miru (fig. 83), gave us
to understand that he had been a great social success in his youth, and
counted up three koro, and seven haré-até-atua at which he had been
present. As he was a handsome old man, and was connected with the court
of the chief Ngaara, his pride of recollection was very probably
justified. Juan, mixing up, no doubt, recollections of a later date,
gave a vivid representation on one of these spots of the pseudo-captain
striding about and using very strong language, while he called upon the
engineer to “make more smoke so that the ship should go fast.”
THE MIRU CLAN
On the border-line, between religion and magic, wherever, if anywhere,
that line exists, was the position of the clan known as the Miru.
Members of this group had, in the opinion of the islanders, the
supernatural and valuable gift of being able to increase all food
supplies, especially that of chickens, and this power was particularly
in evidence after death. It has been known that certain skulls from
Easter are marked with designs, such as the outline of a fish; these are
crania of the Miru, and called “puoko-moa,” or fowl-heads, because they
had, in particular, the quality of making hens lay eggs (fig. 96). Hotu,
the Miru, whose mother, it may be remembered, was the victim of a
cannibal feast, made his own skull an heirloom, as “it was so extremely
good for chickens,” that he did not wish it to go out of the family. His
son gave it to a relative, who was the father of an old man from whom we
managed to obtain it. When the time came to hand it over to us, the late
owner began to cling to it affectionately, and say that he “wept much at
the thought of its going to England”; as, however, the bargain had
already been completed, we remained obdurate, and at the time of writing
Hotu resides with Ko Tori at the Royal College of Surgeons.
[Illustration:
FIG. 96.
[_Butterworth_
A MIRU SKULL WITH INCISED DESIGN.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 97.
ANAKENA COVE.
Hill on left has terraced summit.
]
The Miru were unique in other ways; they were the only group which had a
headman or chief, who was known as the “ariki,” or sometimes as the
“ariki-mau,” the great chief, to distinguish him from the “ariki-paka,”
a term which seems to have been given to all other members of the
clan.[52] The office of ariki-mau was hereditary, and he was the only
man who was obliged to marry into his own clan. It was customary when he
was old and feeble that he should resign in favour of his son. There are
various lists of the succession of chiefs, counted from the first
immigrant, Hotu-matua. The oldest lists are those given by Bishop
Jaussen[53] and by Admiral Lapelin,[54] which contain some thirty names.
Thomson gives one with fifty-seven. In our day there was admittedly much
uncertainty about the sequence, but the number was said to be
thirty,[55] and two independent lists were obtained. All these
categories differ, though they contain many of the same names,
particularly at the beginning and end.
The last man to fill the post of ariki with its original dignity was
Ngaara; he died shortly before the Peruvian raid, and becomes a very
real personage to anyone inquiring into the history of the island. He
was short, and very stout, with white skin, as had all his family, but
so heavily tattooed as to look black. He wore feather hats of various
descriptions, and was hung round both back and front with little wooden
ornaments, which jingled as he walked. When our authorities can remember
him his wife was dead and he lived with his son Kaimokoi. It was not
permitted to see them eat, and no one but the servants was allowed to
enter the house. His headquarters were at Anakena, the cove on the
island where, according to tradition, the first canoe landed. It is
unique in having a sandy shore, and is surrounded by an amphitheatre of
low hills. Behind it to the west rises the high central ground of the
island, beyond it, on the other side, is the eastern plain; it thus
approximately terminates the strip of land held by the Miru (fig. 97).
There are now at Anakena the remains of six ahu, a few statues, and the
foundations of various houses. Ngaara held official position for the
whole island, but he was neither a leader in war, nor the fount of
justice, nor even a priest; he can best be described as the custodian of
certain customs and traditions. The act most nearly approaching a
religious ceremony was conducted under his auspices, though not by him
personally. In time of drought he sent up a younger son and other
ariki-paka to a hill-top to pray for rain: they were painted on one side
red, on the other black with a stripe down the centre. These prayers
were addressed to Hiro, said to be the god of the sky, a supernatural
being in whom we seem getting nearer the idea of a divinity, as distinct
from a spirit of the dead, and of whom we would gladly have learnt more
than could be discovered.
The ariki-paka had other duties besides praying for rain; they made
“maru,” or strings of white feathers tied on to sticks, which they
placed among the yams to make them grow. They buried a certain small
fish among the sugar-canes to bring up the plants, and when a koro was
being held, and it was consequently particularly desirable that the
fowls should thrive, an ariki-paka painted a design in red, known as the
“rei-miro,” below the door of the chicken-house (fig. 115).
Te Haha, the “social success,” who was an ariki-paka in the entourage of
Ngaara, gave graphic descriptions of life at Anakena when he was a boy.
If, he said, people wanted chickens, they applied to the Ariki-mau, who
sent him with maru, and his visits were always attended with
satisfactory results.
Ngaara never consumed rats, and one day, coming across the boy watching
rats being cooked, he was extremely angry, for it transpired that, if Te
Haha had eaten them, his power for producing chickens would have
diminished; presumably because he would have imbibed ratty nature, which
was disastrous to eggs and young chickens. The Ariki, however, made
himself useful to him on occasion. The younger Miru had long hair
reaching to his heels, and one day, when he was asleep in a cave, some
one cut it off. So he went to Ngaara, who told him to bring ten
coconuts, which he broke and put in pieces of the sacred tree,
“ngau-ngau”; the spell blasted the offender, who promptly died. Ngaara
himself attended the inauguration of any house of importance. The wooden
lizards were put formally on each side of the entrance to the porch, and
the Ariki and an ivi-atua, who “went with him like a tatane,” were the
first to eat in the new dwelling: only the houses with stone foundations
were thus honoured. The Ariki was visited one month in the year by “all
people,” who brought him the plant known as pua on the end of sticks,
put the pua into his house, and retired backwards.
He also held receptions on other occasions, seated on the broken-off
head of an old image, which was pointed out on a grassy declivity among
the hills behind Anakena; these were special occasions for criticising
the tattoo. Those who were well tattooed were sent to stand on one hill
slope, whilst those who were badly done were sent to another; the Ariki
and men behind him laughed contemptuously at the latter, which, as the
process was permanent and could not be altered, seems slightly unkind.
These receptions were also attended by men who had made boats, and by
twins, to whom the Ariki gave a “royal name.” Such children were not, as
in so many countries, considered unlucky, but it was necessary that at
birth they should live in a house apart, otherwise they would not
survive. This superstition still exists. Shortly before our arrival a
woman in the village had given birth to twins, for whom a little grass
house was put up; another woman went in and brought them out to the
mother to nurse.
THE SCRIPT
Closely connected with the subject of the Miru clan is that of the
method of writing. While we can only catch glimpses of the image
cult through the mists of antiquity, the tablets, known as
“koháu-rongo-rongo,”[56] were an integral part of life on the island
within the memory of men not much past middle age (fig. 98). The
highest authority on them was the ariki Ngaara. It was tantalising
to feel how near we were to their translation and yet how far. Te
Haha had begun to learn to write, but found that his hand shook too
much, besides, as he explained, Ngaara used “to send him to the
chickens.” Juan had had the offer of learning one form of such
script, but, not unnaturally, had looked upon it with some contempt,
preferring European accomplishments. The information which could be
gathered was, therefore, with one exception, which will be noted
later, simply that of the layman, or man in the street, who had been
aware of the existence of the art and seen it going on around him,
but had no personal knowledge.
The tablets were of all sizes up to 6 feet. It was a picturesque sight
to see an old man pick up a piece of banana-stem, larger than himself,
from among the grove in which we were talking, and stagger along with it
to show what it meant to carry a tablet, though, as he explained, the
sides of the tablet were flat, not round like the stem. It is said that
the original symbols were brought to the island by the first comers, and
that they were on “paper,” that when the paper was done, their ancestors
made them from the banana plant, and when it was found that withered
they resorted to wood. Every clan had professors in the art who were
known as rongo-rongo men (“tangata-rongo-rongo”). They had houses apart,
the sites of which are shown in various localities. Here they practised
their calling, often sitting and working with their pupils in the shade
of the bananas; their wives had separate establishments. In writing, the
incision was made with a shark’s tooth: the beginners worked on the
outer sheaths of banana-stems, and later were promoted to use the wood
known as “toro-miro.”[57]
The glyphs are, as will be seen, so arranged that when the figures of
one row are right way up, those of the one immediately below it are on
their heads; thus only alternate rows can, at the same time, be seen in
correct position (fig. 98). The method of reading was, according to Te
Haha, to read one row from left to right, then come back reading the
next from right to left, the method known as boustrophedon, from the
manner in which an ox ploughs a furrow. The finished ones were wrapped
in reeds and hung up in the houses. According to two independent
authorities they could only be touched by the professors or their
servants, and were taboo to the uninitiated, which, however, does not
quite agree with other statements, nor with that of the missionaries
that they were to be found in “every house.” They were looked upon as
prizes to be carried off in war, but they were often burnt with the
houses in tribal conflict.
[Illustration:
FIG. 98.
[_Brit. Mus._
PORTION OF AN INCISED TABLET (Kohau-rongo-rongo).
]
Ngaara is said to have had “hundreds of kohau” in his house, and
instructed in the art, which he had learnt from his grandfather. He is
described, with a vivid personal touch, as teaching the words, holding a
tablet in one hand and swaying from side to side as he recited. Besides
giving instruction, he inspected the candidates prepared by other
professors, who were generally their own sons; he looked at their kohau
and made them read, on which he either passed them, clapping if they did
well, or turned them back. Their sponsors were made personally
responsible. If the pupils acquitted themselves creditably, presents of
kohau were made to the teachers; if the youth failed, the tablets of the
instructor were taken away.
Every year there was a great gathering of rongo-rongo men at Anakena,
according to Te Haha, as many as several hundreds of them came together.
The younger and more energetic of the population assembled from all
districts in the island to look on. They brought “heu-heu” (feathers on
the top of sticks), tied pua on to them, and stuck the sticks in the
ground all round the place. The inhabitants of the neighbouring
districts brought offerings of food to Ngaara, that he should be able to
supply the multitude, and the oven was “five yards along.” The gathering
was near the principal ahu, midway between the sandy shore and the
background of hills. The Ariki and his son Kaimokoi sat on seats made of
tablets, and each had a tablet in his hand; they wore feather hats, as
did all the professors. The rongo-rongo men were arranged in rows, with
an alley-way down the centre to the Ariki. Some of them had brought with
them one tablet only; others as many as four. The old ones read in turn,
or sometimes two together, from the places where they stood, but their
tablets were not inspected. Te Haha and his comrades stood on the
outskirts, and he and one other lad held maru in their hands. If a young
man failed, he was called up and his errors pointed out; but if an old
man did not read well, Ngaara would beckon to Te Haha, who would go up
to the man and take him out by the ear. Our informant repeated this part
of the story identically months later, and added that the Ariki would
say to the culprit, “Are you not ashamed to be taken out by a child?”;
the offender’s hat was taken away, but the tablet was not inspected.
The entire morning was spent in hearing one half of the men read; there
was an interval at midday for a meal, after which the remainder recited,
the whole performance lasting till evening. Fights occasionally ensued
from people scoffing at those who failed. Ngaara would then call Te
Haha’s attention to it, and the boy would go up to the offenders with
the maru in his hand and look at them, when they would stop and there
would be no more noise. When the function was over, the Ariki stood on a
platform borne by eight men and addressed the rongo-rongo men on their
duties, and doing well, and gave them each a chicken. Another old man,
Jotefa, gave a different account of the great assembly, by which the
Ariki sat on his stoep and the old men stood before him and “prayed”;
according to this version they either did not bring their tablets or
their doing so was voluntary. In addition to the great day, there were
minor assemblies at new moon, or the last quarter of the moon, when the
rongo-rongo men came to Anakena. The Ariki walked up and down reading
the tablets, while the old men stood in a body and looked on.
Ngaara used also to travel round the island, staying for a week or two
in different localities with the resident experts. Another savant on the
south coast was said to be “too big a man to have a school,” and also
went about visiting and inspecting learned establishments in the same
manner.
Ngaara, before the end, fell on evil days. The Ngaure clan was in the
ascendancy, and carried off the Miru as slaves; the Ariki was taken to
Akahanga on the south coast with his son, Kaimokoi, and grandson,
Maurata. They were there five years in captivity, and the “Miru cried
much”; at the end of that time the clan united with the Tupahotu and
rescued the old man. He was then ill, and died not long afterwards at
Tahai, on the west coast, near Hanga Roa, while living with his
daughter, who had married a Marama. For six days after his death
everyone worked at making the sticks with feathers on the top (heu-heu),
and they were put all round the place. He was buried in the ruined image
ahu at Tahai, his body being carried on three of the tablets, and
followed through a lane of spectators by the rongo-rongo men; the
tablets were buried with him. His head paid the penalty of its
greatness, and was subsequently stolen; its whereabouts was unknown. Ten
or fifteen of his tablets were given to old men; the rest went to a
servant, Pito, and on his death to Maurata. When Maurata went to Peru,
Také, a relative of Te Haha, obtained them, and Salmon asked Te Haha to
get hold of them for him. Také, however, unfortunately owed Te Haha a
grudge, because when Te Haha was in Salmon’s service, and consequently
well off, he did not give him as many presents as his relative thought
should have been forthcoming, and he consequently refused to surrender
them. They were hidden in a cave whose general locality was surmised,
but Také died without making known the exact site, and they could never
be found. Kaimokoi’s tablets were burnt in war.
The question remains what were the subjects with which the tablets
dealt, and in what manner did they record them? Various attempts have
been made to deal with a problem which will probably never be wholly
solved. Twice before our own day native assistance has been sought to
decipher them. It will be remembered that the existence of these glyphs
was first reported by the missionaries; but even at that time, when
volunteers were asked for who could translate them, none came forward.
Bishop Jaussen, Vicaire Apostolique of Tahiti, managed to find in that
island a native of Easter among those brought there to work on the
Brander plantations, who was supposed to understand them, and who read
them after the boustrophedon method. From the information given by him,
the Bishop was satisfied that the signs represented different things,
such as sun, stars, the ariki, and so forth, and has given a list of the
figures and their equivalent. At the same time he held that each one was
only a peg on which to hang much longer matter which was committed to
memory. The other attempt to obtain a translation was that of Paymaster
Thomson, of U.S.S. _Mohican_, in 1886. There was then living an old man,
Ure-vae-iko by name, who was said to be the last to understand the form
of writing; he declined to assist in deciphering them on the ground that
his religious teachers had said it would imperil his soul. Photographs,
however, were shown, and, by the aid of stimulants, he was induced to
give a version of their meaning, the words of which were taken down by
Salmon. It was, however, remarked that when the photographs were
changed, the words proceeded just the same.
Inquiries were made by the Expedition about this old man, and it was
agreed by the islanders that he had never possessed any tablets nor
could he make them, but that he had been a servant of Ngaara and had
learnt to repeat them. Before leaving the island we went with the old
men through the five translations given by Thomson. Of three nothing was
known; one which describes the process of creation was recognised as
that of a kohau, but looked at a little askance, as there were Tahitian
words in it. The last was laughed out of court as being merely a
love-song which everyone knew.
Our own early experiences had resembled those of the Americans.
Photographs of tablets, which were produced merely to elicit general
information, were to our surprise promptly read, certain words being
assigned to each figure; but after a great deal of trouble had been
taken, in drawing the signs and writing down the particular matter, it
was found that any figure did equally well. The natives were like
children pretending to read and only reciting. It was noted, however,
with interest, that in perhaps half a dozen cases different persons
recited words approximately the same, beginning, “He timo te ako-ako, he
ako-ako tena,” and on inquiry it was said that they were derived from
one of the earliest tablets and were generally known. It was “like the
alphabet learned first”; Ure-vai-iko had stated that they were the
“great old words,” all others being only “little ones.” To get any sort
of translation was a difficult matter, to ask for it was much the same
as for a stranger solemnly to inquire the meaning of some of our own old
nursery rhymes, such as “Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle”—some
words could be explained, others could not, the whole meaning was
unknown. It seems safe, however, to assume that at least we have here
the contents of one of the old tablets.
With regard to other kohau, a list was obtained of the subjects with
which they were believed to deal. These amounted to thirteen in all,
most of the names being given by several different persons. We have seen
that there was a kohau of the “Ika,” the murdered men; this was known to
only one professor, who taught it to a pupil, and the two divided the
island between them, the master taking the west and north coast to
Anakena and the pupil the remainder. A connected, or possibly the same,
tablet was made at the instance of the relatives of the victim and
helped to secure vengeance. Certain kohau were said to be lists of wars;
some dealt with ceremonies, and others formed part of ceremonies
themselves. They were in evidence at koro, where Ngaara and the
professors used to come and “pray for the father,” and a woman went on
to the roof of the house holding the “Kohau-o-te-puré” (prayer tablet).
In another case, a woman who wished to honour her father-in-law, and at
the same time secure fertility, set up a pole round which she walked
holding a child and a tablet, given her by Ngaara, while he and other
rongo-rongo men who brought their kohau at his order stood by and sang.
Perhaps the most interesting tablet was one known as the
“Kohau-o-te-ranga.” The story was told to us sitting on the foundation
of a house on the east side of Raraku, the aspect which is not quarried.
This house, it was said, had been the abode of two men, who were old
when the informant was a boy, and who taught the rongo-rongo; some days
ten students would come, other days fifteen. The wives and children of
the old men lived in another house lower down the mountain. One of the
experts, Arohio by name, was a Tupahotu, and had as a friend another
member of the same clan called Kaara. Kaara was servant to the Ariki,
and had been taught rongo-rongo by him, and Ngaara, trusting him
entirely, gave into his care this most valuable kohau known as “ranga.”
It was the only one of the kind in existence, and was reported to have
been brought by the first immigrants; it had the notable property of
securing victory to its holders, in such a manner that they were able to
get hold of the enemy for the “ranga”—that is, as captives or slaves for
manual labour. Kaara, anxious to obtain the talisman for his own clan,
stole the kohau and gave it to Arohio, who kept it in this house. When
Ngaara asked for it, the man said that it was at Raraku, but before the
Ariki could get hold of it, Arohio sent it back to Kaara, and these two
thus sent it backwards and forwards to one another, lying to Ngaara when
needful. The Ariki seems to have taken a somewhat feeble line, and,
instead of punishing his servant, merely tried to bribe him, with the
result that he never again saw his kohau. The son of Arohio sold it to
one of the missionaries, and it is presumably one of those which went to
Tahiti. The matters with which it would naturally have been supposed
that the rongo-rongo would deal, such as genealogies, lists of ariki, or
the wanderings of the people, were never mentioned.
We were fortunately just in time to come across a man who had been able
to make one species of glyphs, though he was no longer, alas! in the
hey-day of his powers. We were shown one day in the village a piece of
paper taken from a Chilean manuscript book, on which were somewhat
roughly drawn a number of signs, some of them similar to those already
known, others different from any we had seen (fig. 99). They were found
to have been derived from an old man known as Tomenika. He was, by
report, the last man acquainted with an inferior kind of rongo-rongo
known as the “tau,” but was now ill and confined to the leper colony. We
paid a visit to him armed with a copy of the signs, but found him inside
his doorway, which it was obviously undesirable to enter, and
disinclined to give help; he acknowledged the figures as his work,
recited “He timo te ako-ako,” and explained some of the signs as having
to do with “Jesus Christ.” The outlook was not promising.
Another visit, however, was paid, this time with Juan’s assistance, and
though the old man appeared childish, and the natives frankly said that
“he had lost his memory,” things went better.
He was seated on a blanket outside his grass-hut, bare-legged, wearing a
long coat and felt hat; he had piercing brown eyes, and in younger days
must have been both good-looking and intelligent. He asked if we wanted
the tau, and requested a paper and pencil. The former he put on the
ground in front of him between his legs, and took hold of the pencil
with his thumb above and first finger below; he made three vertical
lines, first of noughts then of ticks, gave a name to each line, and
proceeded to recite. There was no doubt about the genuineness of the
recitation, but he gabbled fast, and when asked to go slowly so that it
could be taken down, was put out and had to begin again; he obviously
used the marks simply to keep count of the different phrases. At the end
of the visit he offered to write something for next time. We left some
paper with him, and on our return two or three days later he had drawn
five lines horizontally, of which four were in the form of the glyphs,
but the same figure was constantly repeated, and there were not more
than a dozen different symbols in all. It was said by the escort to be
“lazy writing.” Tomenika complained that the paper was not “big enough,”
so another sheet was given, which was put by the side of the first and
the lines continued in turn horizontally. He drew from left to right
rapidly and easily. Unfortunately, it did not seem wise to touch the
paper, but the writing was copied, by looking over it as he went on,
with the sincere hope that his blanket did not contain too many
inhabitants of some infectious variety. The recitation was partly the
same as on the previous occasion, the signs taking the place of ticks;
anything from three or four to ten words were said to each sign. If he
made a variation when asked to repeat, it was in transposing the order
of two phrases; evidently the signs themselves were not to him, now at
any rate, connected with particular words.
When we subsequently went with our escort into the meaning of the words,
it was found that the latter half of each phrase generally consisted of
one of the lower numericals preceded by the word “tau,” or year—thus,
“the year four,” “the year five,” etc.; the numbers, roughly speaking,
ran in order of sequence up to ten, recommencing with each line. The
first part of the phrase was generally said to be the name of a man, but
of this it was difficult to judge, as children were called after any
object or place; thus “flowering grass” might be the name of a thing, or
of a place, or of a man called after either the object or the locality.
Happily, one of the most reliable old men, Kapiera by name, had at one
time lived with Tomenika, who was said to have been in those days always
busy writing; and he was able to explain the general bearing of the tau.
When a koro was made in honour of a father, an expert was called in to
commemorate the old man’s deeds, “how many men he had killed, how many
chickens he had stolen,” and a tablet was made accordingly. There was,
in addition, a larger tablet containing a list of these lesser ones, and
giving merely the name of each hero and the year of his koro. It would
read somewhat thus, “James the year four, Charles the year five,” and so
forth, going up to the year ten, when the numbers began again. If there
were two koro in a year, they came under the same numeral. It was this
general summary which had been recited by Tomenika, and, though there
was a certain amount of confusion, each line seems to have represented a
decade. In addition, as will be seen, “James” and “Charles” each had a
kohau of their own.
Kapiera was able to give a specimen of the lesser tau; it illustrates
interestingly the general method of condensation in which, even in the
recitations, a few words assume or implicate extended knowledge. It ran
thus, “Of Kao the year nine,” “Ngakurariha the eldest”; then come five
men’s names followed by the name of a fish; then a doubtful word; then
“that side island my place.” “I see Ngakurariha at the koro.” The story,
as explained, was that Kao, a man of Vinapu on the south coast, and
Ngakurariha, his eldest son, went to Mahatua on the north side and
stayed with the five men whose names are given, who were brothers, and
learnt from them the tau. Having done this, they proceeded to murder
them, and went and took a fish, then returned to Rano Kao, made a koro
and the tau.
The tau was, it was said, originally made by an ancestor of the first
immigrant chief, Hotu-matua; it was not taboo in the same way as the
other rongo-rongo, and was not known to Ngaara. There were, about the
beginning of last century, only three personages acquainted with it. One
was Omatohi, a Tupahotu, whose son, Tea-a-tea, was Tomenika’s
foster-father and instructor in the art. It was said by Tomenika himself
and by others that he “only knew part,” and there were other signs with
which he was not acquainted, for his foster-father had died before he
knew all.
A great effort was subsequently made to get further information from
Tomenika, more particularly as to the exact method of writing, but he
was back in his hut very ill, and all conversation had once more to be
done through the doorway. Every way that could be thought of was tried
to elicit information, but without real success. He did draw two fresh
symbols, saying first they were “new” and then “old,” and stating they
represented the man who gave the koro, but “there was no sign meaning a
man.” “He did not know that for ariki, the old men did,” “the words were
new, but the letters were old,” “each line represented a koro.” An
attempt to get him to reproduce any tau made by himself was a failure.
The answers, on the whole, were so wandering and contradictory, that
after a second visit under those conditions, making five in all, the
prospect of getting anything further of material value did not seem
sufficient to justify the risks to others, however slight. As the last
interview drew to a close, I left the hut for a moment, and leant
against the wall outside, racking my brains to see if there was any
question left unasked, any possible way of getting at the information;
but most of what the old man knew he had forgotten, and what he dimly
remembered he was incapable of explaining. I made one more futile
effort, then bade him good-bye and turned away. It was late afternoon on
a day of unusual calm, everything in the lonely spot was perfectly
still, the sea lay below like a sheet of glass, the sun as a globe of
fire was nearing the horizon, while close at hand lay the old man
gradually sinking, and carrying in his tired brain the last remnants of
a once-prized knowledge. In a fortnight he was dead.
[Illustration:
FIG. 99.
TOMENIKA’S SCRIPT.
]
No detailed systematic study of the tablets has as yet been possible
from the point of view of the Expedition, but it seems at present
probable that the system was one of memory, and that the signs were
simply aids to recollection, or for keeping count like the beads of a
rosary. To what extent the figures were used at will, or how far each
was associated with a definite idea it is impossible to say. Possibly
there was no unvarying method; certain ones may conveniently have been
kept for an ever-recurrent factor, as the host in the tau, and in
well-known documents, such as “he timo te ako-ako,” they would doubtless
be reproduced in orthodox succession. But in the tablets which we
possess the same figures are continually repeated, and the fact that
equivalents were always having to be found for new names, as in that of
the fish-man, or ika, suggest that they may have been largely selected
by the expert haphazard from a known number. As Tomenika said, “the
words were new, but the letters were old,” or to quote Kapiera to the
same effect, they were “the same picture, but other words.” It will be
noted how few men are reported to have known each variety of
rongo-rongo, and that while Ngaara looked at the tablets of the boys,
apparently to see if they were properly cut, it was in the recitation
only of the older men that accuracy was insisted on. The names which
Bishop Jaussen’s informant assigned to some five hundred figures may or
may not be accurate, but whether the native or anyone else could have
stated what the signs conveyed is another matter. It is easy to give the
term for a knot in a pocket-handkerchief, but no one save the owner can
say whether he wishes to remember to pay his life insurance or the date
of a tea-party.
In trying to enter into the state of society and of mind which evolved
the tablets there are two points worth noticing. Firstly, the Islanders
are distinctly clever with their hands and fond of representing forms.
Setting aside the large images, the carving of the small wooden ones is
very good, and the accuracy of the tablet designs is wonderful. Then
they have real enjoyment in reciting categories of words; for example,
in recounting folk-tales, opportunity was always gleefully taken of any
mention of feasting to go through the whole of the food products of the
island. In the same way, if a hero went from one locality to another,
the name of every place _en route_ would be rolled out without any
further object than the mere pleasure of giving a string of names. This
form of recitation appears to affect them æsthetically, and the mere
continuation of sound to be a pleasure. Given, therefore, that it was
desired to remember lists of words, whether categories of names or
correct forms of prayer, the repetition would be a labour of love, and
to draw figures as aids to recollection would be very natural.
Nevertheless, the signs themselves have no doubt a history, which as
such, even apart from interpretation, may prove to be signposts in our
search for the origin of this mysterious people.
[Illustration:
FIG. 100.
CRATER LAKE, RANO KAO: ORONGO VILLAGE AND SCULPTURED ROCKS ON THE
RIGHT.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 101.
ANA KAI-TANGATA.
Cave on right, site of cannibal feasts during bird rites.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 102.
PAINTINGS ON ROOF OF ANA KAI-TANGATA.
Top, a bird superimposed on a European ship.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 103.
ORONGO, END HOUSES AND CARVED ROCKS
]
THE BIRD CULT
Knowledge of the tablets was confined to a few, and formed a
comparatively small element of life in the island; the whole of social
existence revolved round the bird cult, and it was the last of the old
order to pass away. The main object of the cult was to obtain the first
egg of a certain migratory sea-bird, and the rites were connected with
the western headland, Rano Kao. Little has yet been said of this
volcano, but, from the scenic point of view, it is the most striking
portion of the island. Its height is 1,300 feet, and it possesses a
crater two-thirds of a mile across, at the bottom of which is a lake
largely covered with weeds and plant life. On the eastward, or landward
face, the mountain, as already explained, slopes downward with a smooth
and grassy incline, and the other three sides have been worn by the
waves into cliffs over 1,000 feet in height. On the outermost side the
sea has nearly forced its way into the crater itself; and the ocean is
now divided from the lake at this point by only a narrow edge, along
which it would be possible but not easy to walk with safety. At some
near date, as geological ages reckon, the island will have a magnificent
harbour (figs. 100 and 108). Off this part of the coast are three little
islets, outlying portions of the original mountain, which have as yet
withstood the unceasing blows of the ocean. Their names are Motu Nui,
Motu Iti, and Motu Kao-kao, and on them nest the sea-birds which have
for unknown centuries played so important a part in the history of the
island. On the mainland, immediately opposite these islets, there is on
the top of the cliff a deserted stone village; it is known as Orongo,
and in it the Islanders awaited the coming of the birds. It consists of
nearly fifty dwellings arranged in two rows, both facing the sea, and
partly overlapping; the lower row terminates just before the narrowest
part of the crater wall is reached. The final houses are built among an
outcrop of rocks; they are betwixt two groups of stones, and have in
front of them a small natural pavement. The stones nearest the cliff
look as if at any moment they might join their brethren in headlong
descent to the shore below (fig. 103). Both the upstanding rocks and
pavement are covered with carvings; some of them are partly obliterated
by time, and can only be seen in a good light, but the ever-recurrent
theme is a figure with the body of a man and the head of a bird;
portions of the carvings are covered by the houses, and they therefore
antedate them.
The whole position is marvellous, surpassing the wildest scenes depicted
in romance. Immediately at hand are these strange relics of a mysterious
past; on one side far beneath is the dark crater lake; on the other, a
thousand feet below, swells and breaks the Pacific Ocean, it girdles the
islets with a white belt of foam, and extends, in blue unbroken sweep,
till it meets the ice-fields of the Antarctic. The all-pervading
stillness of the island culminates here in a silence which may be felt,
broken only by the cry of the sea-birds as they circle round their
lonely habitations.
The stone village formed the scene of some of our earliest work during
our first residence at the Manager’s house; for some weeks, weather
permitting, we rode daily up the mountain, an ascent which took about
fifty minutes, and spent the day on the top studying the remains, and
picking the brains of our native companions. Some of the houses have
been destroyed in order to obtain the painted slabs within, but most are
in fair, and some in perfect, preservation. The form of construction
suitable to the low ground has perhaps been tried here and abandoned,
for some of the foundation-stones, pierced with the holes to support the
superstructure of stick and grass, are built into the existing
dwellings. The present buildings (fig. 104) are well adapted to such a
wind-swept spot; they are made of stone laminæ, with walls about 6 feet
thick; the inside walls are generally lined with vertical slabs, and
horizontal slabs form the roof.
The greater number are built at the back into rising ground, and their
sides and top are covered with earth; the natives call them not “haré,”
or houses, but “ana,” or caves. Where space permits it, the form is
boat-shaped, but some have been adapted to natural contours.[58] The
dwellings vary in shape and size, from 52 feet by 6 feet to 8 feet by 4
feet; the height within varies from 4 feet to over 6 feet, but it is the
exception to be able to stand upright. In some cases they open out of
one another, and not unfrequently there is a hatch between two through
which food could be passed. The doorway, with its six foot of passage,
is just large enough to admit a man. Into each of them, armed with ends
of candles, we either crawled on hands and knees, or wriggled like
serpents, according to our respective heights. The slabs lining the
wall, which are just opposite the doorway, and thus obtain a little
light, are frequently painted; some of them have bird and others native
designs, but perhaps the most popular is a European ship, sometimes in
full sail, and once with a sailor aloft in a red shirt (fig. 105).
Inside the houses we found the flat, sea-worn boulders which are used as
pillows and often incised with rough designs; there were also a few
obsidian spear-heads, or mataa, and once or twice sphagnum from the
crater, which was used for caulking boats, and also as a sponge to
retain fresh water when at sea. Outside many of the doors are small
stone-lined holes, which we cleared out and examined. They measure
roughly rather under 2 feet across by some 15 inches in depth. Our
guides first told us that they were “ovens,” but, as no ash was found,
it seems probable that their second thoughts were right, and they were
used to contain stores.
[Illustration:
FIG. 104.
CENTRAL PORTION OF ORONGO VILLAGE.
Left, house which contained image; centre, three houses opening on
small quadrangle; right, canoe-shaped house with double entrance.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 105
PAINTED SLABS FROM HOUSES AT ORONGO.
I. Two pictorial representations of ao.
II. A face adorned with paint. A European ship.
[Height of slabs, 3 ft. to 3 ft. 6 in.]
]
The groups of dwellings have various names, and are associated with the
particular clans, who, it is said, built them. One house, which stands
near the centre of the village, Taura-renga by name, is particularly
interesting as having been the dwelling of the statue Hoa-haka-nanaia,
roughly to be translated as “Breaking wave,” now resident under the
portico of the British Museum (fig. 31). Lying about near by were two
large stones, which had originally served as foundations for the
thatched type of dwelling, but had apparently been converted into
doorposts for the house of the image; on one of them a face had been
roughly carved (fig. 107). The statue is not of Raraku stone, and it
will be realised how entirely exceptional it is to find a statue under
cover and in such a position. The back and face were painted white, with
the “tracings” in red. The bottom contracts, and was embedded in the
earth, though a stone suspiciously like a pedestal is built into a near
wall. The house had to be broken down in order to get the figure out.
According to the account of the missionaries, three hundred sailors and
two hundred Kanakas were required to convey it down the mountain to
H.M.S. _Topaze_ in Cook’s Bay. The memory of the incident is fast
fading, but our friend Viriamo repeated in a quavering treble the song
of the sailors as they hauled down their load.[59] The figure is some
eight feet high and weighs about four tons.
Day by day, as we worked, we gazed down on the islets. The outermost,
which, as its name Motu Nui signifies, is also the largest, is more
particularly connected with the bird story, which we were gradually
beginning to grasp, and at last the call to visit it could no longer be
resisted (fig. 109). It was not an easy matter, for _Mana_ was away; the
boats of the natives left a good deal to be desired in the way of
seaworthiness, and it was only possible to make the attempt on a fine
day. Finally, on arrival at the island, it required not a little agility
to jump on to a ledge of rocks at the second the boat rose on the crest
of the waves, before it again sank on a boiling and surging sea till the
heads of the crew were many feet below the landing-place. We managed,
however, between us to get there three times in all. Once, when I was
there without S., there was an anxious moment on re-embarking. No one
quite knew what happened. Some of the crew said that the gunwale of the
boat, as she rose on a wave, caught under an overhanging shelf of rock,
others were of the opinion that the sudden weight of the last man, who
at that moment leapt into the boat, upset her balance; anyway, this tale
was very nearly never written. Once landed on the island, the surface is
comparatively level and presents no difficulties; it is about five acres
in extent, the greater part is covered with grass, and in every niche
and cranny of the rock are sea-birds’ nests. By a large bribe of tobacco
one of the most active old men was induced to accompany us, and to point
out the sites of interest. Later, we followed up the story at Raraku,
and so little by little at many times, in divers places, and from
various people was gathered the story of the bird cult which follows.
Not many sea-birds frequent this part of the Pacific, but on Motu Nui
some seven species find an abiding-place. Some stay for the whole year,
some come for the winter, and yet others for the summer. Among the last
is a kind known to the natives as manu-tara[60]; it arrives in
September, the spring of the southern hemisphere. The great object of
life in Easter was to be the first to obtain one of the newly laid eggs
of this bird. It was too solemn a matter for there to be any general
scramble. Only those who belonged to the clan in the ascendancy for the
time being could enter on the quest. Sometimes one group would keep it
in their hands for years, or they might pass it on to a friendly clan.
This selection gave rise, as might be expected, to burnings of hearts;
the matter might be, and probably often was, settled by war. One year
the Marama were inspired with jealousy because the Miru had chosen the
Ngaure as their successors, and burnt down the house of Ngaara. This
was, perhaps, the beginning of the fray when the old Ariki was carried
off captive.
[Illustration:
FIG. 106.
_W. A. M. & Co._] [_Brit. Mus._
BACK OF STATUE FROM ORONGO,
Showing raised ring and girdle, also incised figures of bird-man, ao,
and Ko Mari.
(For front of statue, see fig. 31.)
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 107.
CARVED DOOR-POST, ORONGO.
]
The fortunate clan, or clans, for sometimes several combined, left
nothing to chance; in fact, as soon as one year’s egg had been found,
the incoming party made sure of their right of way by taking up their
abode at the foot of Rano Kao—namely, at Mataveri. Here there were a
number of the large huts with stone foundations; in these they resided,
with their wives and families. One of our old gentlemen friends first
saw the light in a Mataveri dwelling, when his people were in residence,
or, to use the proper phraseology, when his clan were “the Ao.”[61] This
name “ao” is also given to a large paddle, as much as 6 feet in length,
used principally, if not exclusively, in connection with bird rites and
dancing at Mataveri. In some specimens a face is fully depicted on the
handle; in others the features have degenerated to a raised line merely
indicating the eyebrows and nose. There are pictures of it on slabs in
the Orongo houses, in which the face is adorned with vertical stripes of
red and white after the native manner, as described by the early
voyagers (figs. 105 and 118).
Naturally the months passed at Mataveri were occupied by the residents
in feasting as well as in dancing, and equally naturally the victims
were human. It was to grace one of these gatherings, when the Ureohei
were the Ao, that the mother of Hotu, the Miru, was slain in a way which
he considered outraged the decencies of life, and it was in revenge for
another Mataveri victim that the last statues were thrown down. It is
told that the destined provender for one meal evaded that fate by hiding
in the extreme end of a hut, which was so long and dark that she was
never found. Some of these repasts took place in a cave in the sea-cliff
near at hand. Here the ocean has made great caverns in a wall of lava,
into which the waves surge and break with booming noise and dashing
spray. The recess which formed the banqueting-hall is just above
high-water mark, and is known as “Ana Kai-tangata,” or Eat-man Cave
(fig. 102). The roof is adorned with pictures of birds in red and white;
one of these birds is drawn over a sketch of a European ship, showing
that they are not of very ancient date (fig. 103).
When July approached, the company, or some of them, wound their way up
the western side of the hill, along the ever-narrowing summit to the
village of Orongo; the path can just be traced in certain lights, and is
known as the “Road of the Ao.” They spent their time while awaiting the
birds in dancing each day in front of the houses; food was brought up by
the women, of whom Viriamo was one. The group of houses at the end among
the carved rocks was taboo during the festival, for they were inhabited
by the rongo-rongo men, the western half being apportioned to the
experts from Hotu Iti, the eastern to those from Kotuu. “They chanted
all day; they stopped an hour to eat, that was all.” They came at the
command of Ngaara, but it is noteworthy that he himself never appeared
at Orongo, though he sometimes paid a friendly call at Mataveri.
A short way down the cliff immediately below Orongo is a cave known as
“Haka-rongo-manu,” or “listening for the birds”; here men kept watch day
and night for news from the islet below.
The privilege of obtaining the first egg was a matter of competition
between members of the Ao, but the right to be one of the competitors
was secured only by supernatural means. An “ivi-atua,” a divinely gifted
individual, of the kind who had the gift of prophecy, dreamed that a
certain man was favoured by the gods, so that if he entered for the race
he would be a winner, or, in technical parlance, become a bird-man, or
“tangata-manu.” The victor, on being successful, was ordered to take a
new name, which formed part of the revelation, and this bird-name was
given to the year in which victory was achieved, thus forming an easily
remembered system of chronology. The nomination might be taken up at
once or not for many years; if not used by the original nominee, it
might descend to his son or grandson. If a man did not win, he might try
again, or say that “the ivi-atua was a liar,” and retire from the
contest. Women were never nominated, but the ivi-atua might be male or
female, and, needless to say, was rewarded with presents of food. There
were four “gods” connected with the eggs—Hawa-tuu-také-také, who was
“chief of the eggs,” and Maké-maké, both of whom were males; there were
also two females, Vie Hoa, the wife of Hawa, and Vie Kenatea. Each of
these four had a servant, whose names were given, and who were also
supernatural beings. Those going to take the eggs recited the names of
the gods before meat, inviting them to partake.
[Illustration:
FIG. 108.
RANO KAO FROM MOTU NUI.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 109.
MOTU NUI AND MOTU ITI.
]
The actual competitors were men of importance, and spent their time with
the remainder of the Ao in the stone houses of the village of Orongo;
they selected servants to represent them and await the coming of the
birds in less comfortable quarters in the islet below. These men, who
were known as “hopu,” went to the islet when the Ao went up to Orongo,
or possibly rather later. Each made up his provisions into a “pora,” or
securely bound bundle of reeds; he then swam on the top of the packet,
holding it with one arm and propelling himself with the remaining arm
and both legs. An incantation, which was recited to us, was said by him
before starting. In one instance, the ivi-atua, at the same time that he
gave the nomination, prophesied that the year that it was taken up a man
should be eaten by a large fish. The original recipient never availed
himself of it, but on his death-bed told his son of the prophecy. The
son, Kilimuti, undeterred by it, entered for the race and sent two men
to the islet; one of them started to swim there with his pora, but was
never heard of again, and it was naturally said that the prophecy had
been fulfilled. Kilimuti wasted no regret over the misfortune, obtained
another servant, and secured the egg; he died while the Expedition was
on the island.
The hopu lived together in a large cave of which the entrance is nearly
concealed by grass. The inside, however, is light and airy; it measures
19 feet by 13, with a height of over 5 feet, and conspicuous among other
carvings in the centre of the wall is a large ao more than 7 feet in
length. A line dividing the islet between Kotuu and Hotu Iti passed
through the centre of the cave, and also through another cave nearer the
edge of the islet; in this latter there was at one time a statue about 2
feet high known as Titahanga-o-te-henua, or The Boundary of the
Land.[62] As bad weather might prevent fresh consignments of food during
the weeks of waiting, the men carefully dried on the rocks the skins of
the bananas and potatoes which they had brought with them, to be
consumed in case of necessity. It was added with a touch appreciated by
those acquainted with Easter Island, that, if the man who thus practised
foresight was not careful, others who had no food would steal it when he
was not looking.
The approach of the manu-tara can be heard for miles, for their cry is
their marked peculiarity, and the noise during nesting is said to be
deafening; one incised drawing of the bird shows it with open beak, from
which a series of lines spreads out fanwise, obviously representing the
volume of sound; names in imitation of these sounds were given to
children, such as “Pir-uru,” “Wero-wero,” “Ka-ara-ara.” It is worth
noting that the coming of the tara inaugurates the deep-sea fishing
season; till their arrival all fish living in twenty or thirty fathoms
were considered poisonous. The birds on first alighting tarried only a
short time; immediately on their departure the hopu rushed out to find
the egg, or, according to another account, the rushing out of the hopu
frightened away the birds. The gods intervened in the hunt, so that the
man who was not destined to win went past the egg even when it lay right
in his path. The first finder rushed up to the highest point of the
islet, calling to his employer by his new name, “Shave your head, you
have got the egg.” The cry was taken up by the watchers in the cave on
the mainland, and the fortunate victor, beside himself with joy,
proceeded to shave his head and paint it red, while the losers showed
their grief by cutting themselves with mataa.
The defeated hopu started at once to swim from the island to the shore,
while the winner, who was obliged to fast while the egg was in his
possession, put it in a little basket, and, going down to the
landing-rock, dipped it into the sea. One meaning of the word hopu is
“wash.” He then tied the basket round his forehead and was able to swim
quickly, as the gods were with him. At this stage sometimes accidents
occurred, for if the sea was rough, an unlucky swimmer might be dashed
on the rocks and killed. In one instance, it was said, only one man
escaped with his life, owing, as he reported, to his having been warned
by Maké-maké not to make the attempt. When the hopu arrived on the
mainland, he handed over the egg to his employer, and a
tangata-rongo-rongo tied round the arm which had taken it a fragment of
red tapa and also a piece of the tree known as “ngau-ngau,” reciting
meanwhile the appropriate words. The finding was announced by a fire
being lit on the landward side of the summit of Rano Kao on one of two
sites, according to whether the Ao came from the west or east side of
the island.
[Illustration:
FIG. 110.
A ROCK AT ORONGO CARVED WITH FIGURES OF BIRD-MEN.
Sculptured surface, 6 ft. by 5 ft.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 111.
[_Pitt Rivers Mus._
BOUNDARY STATUE FROM MOTU NUI.
[Measure shown = 1 ft.]
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 112.
[_Brit. Mus._
STONE EXHUMED AT ORONGO, 1914.
Bird-man in low relief with egg in hand. Length of carving, 36·5 cm.
]
It will be remembered that on the rocks which terminate the settlement
of Orongo the most numerous of the carvings is the figure of a man with
the head of a bird; it is in a crouching attitude with the hands held
up, and is carved at every size and angle according to the surface of
the rock (fig. 110). It can still be counted one hundred and eleven
times, and many specimens must have disappeared: all knowledge of its
meaning is lost. The figure may have represented one of the egg gods,
but it seems more probable that each one was a memorial to a bird-man;
and this presumption is strengthened by the fact that in at least three
of the carvings the hand is holding an egg (fig. 112). The history of
another figure, a small design which is also very frequent, still
survives and corroborates this by analogy; within living memory it was
the custom for women of the island to come up here and be immortalised
by having one of these small figures (“Ko Mari”) cut on the rock by a
professional expert. We know, therefore, that conventional forms were
used as memorials of certain definite persons.[63]
The bird-man, having obtained the egg, took it in his hand palm upwards,
resting it on a piece of tapa, and danced with a rejoicing company down
the slope of Rano Kao and along the south coast, a procedure which is
known as “haka epa,” or “make shelf,” from the position of the hand with
regard to the egg. If, however, the winner belonged to the western
clans, he generally went to Anakena for the next stage, very possibly
because, as was explained, he was afraid to go to Hotu Iti; some victors
also went to special houses in their own district, otherwise the company
went along the southern shore till they reached Rano Raraku.
Amongst the statues standing on its exterior slope, there is shown at
the south-west corner the foundations of a house (no. 7, fig. 60). This
is the point which would first be approached from the southern coast,
and here the bird-man remained for a year, five months of which were
spent in strict taboo. The egg, which was still kept on tapa, was hung
up inside the house and blown on the third day, a morsel of tapa being
put inside. The victor did not wash, and spent his time in “sleeping all
day, only coming out to sit in the shade.” His correct head-dress was a
crown made of human hair; it was known as “hau oho,” and if it was not
worn the aku-aku would be angry. The house was divided into two, the
other half being occupied by a man who was called an ivi-atua, but was
of an inferior type to the one gifted with prophecy, and apparently
merely a poor relation of the hero; there were two cooking-places, as
even he might not share that of the bird-man. Food was brought as gifts,
especially the first sugar-cane, and these offerings seem to have been
the sole practical advantage of victory; those who did not contribute
were apt to have their houses burnt. The bird-man’s wife came to Raraku,
but dwelt apart, as for the first five months she could not enter her
husband’s house, nor he hers, on pain of death. A few yards below the
bird-man’s house is the ahu alluded to on p. 191 (fig. 60); it consists
merely of a low rough wall built into the mountain, the ground above it
being levelled and paved. It was reserved for the burial of bird-men;
they were the uncanny persons whose ghosts might do unpleasant
things—they were safer hidden under stones. The name Orohié is given to
the whole of this corner of the mountain, with its houses, its ahu, and
its statues. To this point the figures led which were round the base of
the hill. If they were re-erected, they would stand with their backs not
to the mountain, but to Orohié.[64] As the bird-man gazed lazily forth
from the shade of his house, above him were the quarries with their
unfinished work, below him were the bones of his dead predecessors,
while on every hand giant images stood for ever in stolid calm. It is
difficult to escape from the question, Were the statues on the mountain
those of bird-men?
The hopu also retired into private life; if he were of the Ao, he could
come to Orohié, but he might, if he wished, reside in his own house,
which was in that case divided by a partition through which food was
passed; it might not be eaten with his right hand, as that had taken the
egg. His wife and children were also kept in seclusion and forbidden to
associate with others.
The new Ao had meanwhile taken up their abode at Mataveri. From here a
few weeks after their arrival they went formally to Motu Nui to obtain
the young manu-tara, known from their cry as “piu.” After the brief
visit of the birds when the first egg was laid, they absented themselves
from the islet for a period varyingly reported as from three days to a
month. On their return they laid plentifully, and, as soon as the
nestlings were hatched, the men of the celebrating clan carried them to
the mainland, swimming with them in baskets bound round the forehead
after the manner of the first egg. They were then taken in procession
round the island, or, according to another account, only as far as
Orohié. It was not until the piu had been obtained that it was
permissible to eat the eggs, and they were then consumed by the
subservient clans only, not by the Ao. The first two or three eggs, it
was explained, were “given to God”; to eat them would prove fatal. Some
of the young manu-tara were kept in confinement till they were full
grown, when a piece of red tapa was tied round the wing and leg, and
they were told, “Kaho ki te hiva,” “Go to the world outside.” There was
no objection to eating the young birds. The tara departed from Motu Nui
about March, but a few stragglers remained; we saw one bird and obtained
eggs at the beginning of July, but the natives failed to get any for us
in August. When in the following spring the new bird-man had achieved
his egg, he brought it to Orohié and was given the old one, which he
buried in a gourd in a cranny of Rano Raraku; sometimes, however, it was
thrown into the sea, or kept and buried with its original owner. The new
man then took the place of his predecessor, who returned to ordinary
life.
The last year that the Ao went to Orongo, which is known as “Rokunga,”
appears to have been 1866 or 1867. The names of twelve subsequent years
are given, during which the competition for the egg continued, and it
was still taken to be interred at Raraku. The cult thus survived in a
mutilated form the conversion of the island to Christianity, which was
completed in 1868; it is said that once the missionaries saw the Ao
dancing with the egg outside their door in Hanga Roa and “told the
people it was the Devil.” It must have been celebrated even after the
assembly of the remains of the clans into one place, which occurred
about the same time, but it was finally crushed by the secular
exploiters of the island, whose house at Mataveri, that of the present
manager, rests on the foundation-stones of the cannibal habitation (fig.
25). The cult admittedly degenerated in later years. A new practice
arose of having more than one bird-man, with other innovations. The
request to be given the names of as many bird-years as could be
remembered met with an almost embarrassing response, eighty-six being
quoted straight away; some of these may be the official names of
bird-men and not represent a year, but they probably do so in most
cases; chronological sequence was achieved with fair certainty for
eleven years prior to the final celebration at Orongo. In addition to
the bird-name, the names of both winner and hopu were ascertained, with
those of their respective clans.
[Illustration:
FIG. 113.
Porotu acted as a hopu. He refused to be photographed, and the sketch
was surreptitiously made whilst obtaining the account of his
official experiences. He also assisted in carrying the remains of Ko
Tori (p. 225).
TAKE AND MANU
]
Two other ceremonies were mentioned in connection with Orongo and Motu
Nui, but to obtain detailed information was very difficult. It finally
transpired that of “také” no first-hand knowledge existed, as the rites
had been abandoned thirty years before the coming of the missionaries.
All that can be safely said is that those concerned went into retreat on
Motu Nui, living, it was stated, in the cave where the hopu awaited the
birds; the period was generally given as three months. A vigorous
discussion took place on the subject between Viriamo and Jotefa, the
oldest man in the village, seated on a log in the garden of the old
lady. She was positive, in agreement with other authorities, that také
was for children—“the boys and girls went in a canoe to the island”; he
firmly adhered to the statement that his father went for také, after he,
the son, was born. Tomenika stated that také formed the subject of one
of the tablets, and drew one of its figures, which bears no resemblance
to any other known symbol.
[Illustration:
FIG. 114.
BIRD-CHILD (_POKI-MANU_).
Ceremonial ornamentation, from a drawing made by natives.
]
The details of manu were more satisfactory. It was known as “te manu mo
te poki,” or, “the bird for the child,” and the child so initiated
became a “poki-manu,” or “bird-child.” It could not be found that any
special benefit resulted from it, but a child whose parents had not
performed the ceremony, and whose love affairs, for instance, went
wrong, might even kill his father in revenge for the omission. An
expert, known as “tangata-tapa-manu,” the man who, as Dr. Marett would
tell us, “knew the right things to say,” was called in and given a hen’s
egg—on this last point much stress was laid; he was at the same time
told the child’s name, which was subsequently inserted in the ritual.
The child was shaved, decorated with white bands, and hung round with
coconuts, or, as these were not readily obtainable in Easter Island,
with pieces of wood carved to represent them called “tahonga.” A number
of children, each with an expert, then went up to Orongo; the correct
month was December, and the Ao were therefore below at Mataveri. Jotefa,
on whose final account I principally rely, stated that he and nine other
children, with their parents, and ten tangata-tapa-manu, went to Orongo
from his home on the north coast, a distance of some eleven miles; they
took with them ten chickens. The party danced in front of all the
houses, went to the carved rocks at the end, and, coming back, stood in
a semicircle in front of the door of Taura-renga, the house of the
statue, the experts being behind and all singing; no offering was made
to the image. Another authority stated that the parents and children
went on the roof of the house, the experts being below, and the parents
gave chickens to the men. Jotefa’s party returned to their home, had a
feast, and gave more food to the professionals. The tangata-tapa-manu
subsequently repeated the ritual at any koro which were being held in
the island, the object apparently being to make public the child’s
initiation.
If, by reason of the state of the island, it was not possible to go to
Orongo, the ceremony could take place at any of the big ahu with images.
Viriamo, whose home, as will be remembered, was near Raraku, said with
much pride that she was a “poki-manu”; she and her three younger sisters
had been taken at the same time to the ahu of Orohié. Both parents went,
and the mother took two chickens, one in each hand, and the mother and
children stood upright and the “maori sang”; they did not go to Orongo
because there was war. A drawing was made for us by Juan and the old men
of the poki-manu in ceremonial attire (fig. 114); it was particularly
interesting to find, when it was handed in, that circles of white
pigment were made on the child’s back, and also on each buttock, in a
way which recalls the adornment of the Anakena image (fig. 65).
WOODEN CARVINGS
The stone sculpture of Easter Island belongs to an era which is now
forgotten; there are a number of wooden carvings which, whatever their
original age, are connected with a recent past, and even in a limited
sense with the present.
The most important of these works, the tablets, have already been dealt
with, and mention has been made of the lizard figures, they have the
head of that animal on a human body (fig. 117). The “ao,” the large
dancing-paddle, and the smaller one, the “rapa,” are of much the same
character, though used on different occasions (figs. 116 (_a_), 118).
The “ua” is a club, on the handle of which are two heads back to back;
these clubs were dignified with individual names. The “paoa” was a
wooden sword. There were also bird ornaments carved in wood which were
worn on the last day of the koro and by Ngaara. The “rei-miro” is a
breast ornament of a crescent shape, with a face at one or both ends; it
is found depicted on the Orongo rocks and frequently on the tablets. It
was especially a woman’s decoration, but a number of small ones were
said to have been worn by Ngaara. The specimen in the British Museum is
embellished with glyphs, of which no account was forthcoming (fig. 115).
OBJECTS CARVED IN WOOD.
[Illustration:
FIG. 115.
[_Brit. Mus._
REI-MIRO, A BREAST ORNAMENT.
16 inch.
]
[_Brit. Mus._
[Illustration:
FIG. 116.
(_a_) RAPA.
Dancing-paddle.
38 in.
(_b_) UA.
Club with two faces.
60 in.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 117.
MOKO-MIRO.
Lizard’s head on human body.
15 in.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 118.
[_Univ. of California._
AO
Dancing-paddle. Usual length
about 6 ft.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 119.
WOODEN IMAGES (_MOAI-MIRO_).
Female Image.
(_Moai Papa._)
Male Image.
(_Moai Tangata._)
Male Image showing Ribs.
(_Moai Kava-kava_).
Front view. Profile.
]
Wooden objects which are peculiarly interesting are the small male and
female figures some twenty to thirty inches in height; the natives term
them “moai,” adding the word “miro,” or wood (fig. 119). In a certain
number of these the ribs are very prominent, giving the effect of
emaciation; they are called “moai kava-kava,” or the statues with ribs.
It has been suggested that this represents the condition in which the
first inhabitants reached the island, but such an explanation is
strenuously denied by the present people, who assert that their
ancestors arrived with plenty of food. The figures have long ears, like
the statues in stone, and a marked feature is their little goatee
beards. These beards are found in three or four statues at Raraku, in a
head in relief on Motu Nui, and one is indicated in fig. 31. But the
most striking link with the stone figures is the back, where there is a
ring similar to that found on the larger statues: the girdle and M-like
design below it also appear in varying degree (fig. 120). A comparative
study of the backs of the wooden images has suggested the idea[65] that
this M-like marking in stone may be simply the last stage of an
evolution in design, which originally showed the lines of the lower
portion of the back and thigh.[66] It would be satisfactory if, in the
same way, the triple belt could be connected with the ribs and the ring
with the vertebræ, but for this the evidence is less conclusive,
although the ribs of the body with the lizard head closely approach the
conventional. It must be remembered that the figures are nude, and that
therefore these designs can scarcely represent any form of dress. There
is a pronounced excrescence on the buttocks in the wooden figures, which
is also a mystery, but which recalls the way in which the rings on the
image found at Anakena (fig. 65) and those on the poki-manu (fig. 114)
emphasise the same part of the anatomy. The heads are embellished with
ornaments, some of which are bird designs (fig. 121). These figures were
worn by men only, and hung round the neck on important occasions; they
were parts of the festival dress at Mataveri and at the koro.
The tradition of the origin of the wooden images is one of the best
known and uniformly narrated, but obviously bears the marks of
endeavouring to explain facts whose genesis has been forgotten. It runs
thus: Tuukoihu, an ariki, and one of the first immigrants, was a clever
man or “tangata-maori”; he had two houses, one at Ahu Tepeu on the west
side and one at Hanga Hahavé on the south coast—the foundations of both
are shown. One night, when he was sleeping at the latter dwelling, two
female aku-aku appeared to him, by name Papa Ahiro and Papa Akirani.[67]
When he awoke he took the wood called toro-miro, and carved two figures
with faces, arms, and legs, just as he had seen the aku-aku. When he had
finished the work, he went over to Hanga Roa to fish. He slept there,
and returned at daybreak, going back by the quarry of the stone hats.
Two male aku-aku, by name Ko Hitirau and Ko Nuku-te-mangoa, were
sleeping by the way, but were aroused on his approach by two more
aku-aku, whose names are given, who told them that there was a man
coming who would notice that their ribs were exceedingly “bad.” The two
sleepers awoke, saw Tuukoihu, and asked him, “Have you seen anything?”
He discreetly replied “nothing,” and they disappeared. They again met
him on the road and put the same question, to which he gave the same
answer. When he got to his house, he made two statues with ribs to
represent the apparitions. After dark they prowled round the house,
listening, with their hands up to their ears, to hear if he gossiped
about what he had seen, intending if he did so to kill him. The Ariki,
however, held his tongue. Later he went to his other home; there he took
the wooden moai, both male and female, and made them walk. The house
bears the lengthy name of “The House of the Walking Moai of Tuukoihu,
the Ariki,” and is the large one whose measurements were given on p.
216. Tuukoihu once lent a moai-miro to a man, whose house took fire
while it was in his possession. The Ariki, on hearing of the disaster,
told the image to fly away, which it promptly did, and was subsequently
found in the neighbourhood unharmed.
Wooden figures are said to have been made in a considerable variety of
forms, some of them being in a sitting position, others with hands
crossed, etc.; names were bestowed on them—twenty-one such were repeated
to us. It was not found possible to ascertain exactly what they are all
intended to portray, the information being somewhat confused and
contradictory, but on the whole the female figures and those with ribs
seem to have been considered to be supernatural beings; they are
generally called aku-aku, and sometimes atua, while the others represent
men. It appears probable that they are portraits, or memorial figures,
of which the older may have attained to deification: this is confirmed
by the fact that there is one such figure at the Pitt Rivers Museum at
Oxford, with short ears, which is said to have been made to represent
Captain Cook.
[Illustration:
FIG. 120.
[_Brit. Mus._
BACKS OF WOODEN IMAGES.
Showing resemblance to stone figures and possible evolution of
conventional design from natural lines of figure.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 121.—BIRD DESIGN FROM HEAD OF WOODEN IMAGE.
(_Brit. Mus._)
]
When our friend Kapiera was a boy, there were about ten experts in the
island, who made wooden articles of various descriptions, including the
images, of whom three at least were alive in our time. Te Haha, who was
one of the old workmen, could still be seen sitting in his garden
engaged in carving moai miro. We have, therefore, a craft existing in
modern days which can be traced back to pre-Christian culture, and which
has strong affinities with the prehistoric stone figures. There is, of
course, no sentiment connected with the figures of to-day; they are
roughly done, and merely for sale. The trade is extended to copies of
stone images which are bought by unsuspecting visitors, with
circumstantial tales as to their history or discovery which would
deceive the very elect. The statues on the ahu near the village, which
are made of stone from Raraku, have had pieces cut off them to
manufacture into these articles. One Kanaka had in our day a still more
brilliant idea which saved him all trouble, he sold a fragment of this
rock at a high price to a passing vessel as the “last morsel of image
stone to be found in the island.” Local opinion regarding the
intelligence of the visitors is not high. One man brought to us a wooden
figure for sale which he said was “very old.” “Indeed,” remarked my
husband, “it has grown up quickly; it was a new-born infant when I saw
it being carved in the village a few weeks ago.” “Ah,” said the proud
possessor, slightly disappointed, but nursing his creation like a child
and stroking it affectionately, “he very fine, muy antiqua, I keep him
for ships; capitano man-o-wari, all same damn fool.”
CHAPTER XVII
CAVES AND CAVE-HUNTING
Residential Caves—Caves as Hiding-Places for Treasure—Burial Caves.
Easter Island, from its geological formation, is a land of underground
cavities; between the harder volcanic strata lie softer deposits, which
have been gradually washed away, either by subterraneous streams or, as
in certain localities round the coast, by the action of the waves,
leaving above and below the more durable substance. There are thus
formed grottoes and crannies innumerable; they were used, as has been
seen, for sleeping-places and for burial, and they also came in handy as
treasure deposits. Large caves are comparatively rare, though in one
district underground ways filled with water extend to a great length,
and the whole surface rings hollow to the tread of a horse.
We daily examined such caves and grottoes as came under our notice; and
systematically excavated some half-dozen, which had apparently been used
in former days as native habitations. Below the floor of one, Mr.
Edmunds had already discovered a small chamber walled and roofed with
slabs, which the natives said had been used as a place of hiding in
cannibal days; but generally the earth deposit is very shallow, and the
yields were the same only as those of the houses at Orongo, a few spear
heads, bone needles, and sea-shells whose contents had been used for
food. There were few objects among the natives which lent themselves to
preservation for any length of time; they never made pottery, although
there is clay in the island; wooden articles would generally rot, and
they had no form of metal. This reflection reconciled us in some degree
to what was otherwise a disappointment, our inability to reach the most
thrilling of the caves, which are half-way up the great sea-cliffs; they
can be seen from the ocean, and are known to have been used, but the
original track has either been washed away by the encroaching waves or
lies in a tumbled mass on the beach below. A special voyage was made
round the island in _Mana_ with the object of studying these caves; some
of the Expedition went in the yacht, and signalled their situation to a
second party, who rode along the coast and placed marks on the cliff as
a guide for subsequent exploration. We finally, however, gave up the
idea of attempting to reach them; it would have been possible, no doubt,
to have done so from the top, with a rope and experienced climbers, but
a certain amount of danger would have been inevitably involved, and,
considering the smallness of our numbers and the circumstances, we felt
it unwise to take the risk of accident. We do not believe, in view of
our experience elsewhere, that they are likely to contain anything of
material value, but, in any case, they remain unrifled for our
successors.
Articles which were considered of value by the owners were kept, not in
these larger caves, but in little holes and crannies where they could be
easily concealed. This practice still continues, both for legitimate and
illegitimate purposes; it made it, for example, impossible to trace the
stores which were stolen soon after our arrival. The natives are
naturally secretive, and do not confide the whereabouts of their
hiding-places, so that when a man dies his hoard is lost. One old leper,
who was said to have some five tablets, reported to his friends that
when Mr. Edmunds was making a wall on the estate, the men went so near
his cache that he was in momentary dread of its discovery, but they
passed it by; he died soon after, and all knowledge of it was lost. The
most tragic story is the authenticated one of a man who disappeared with
his secret store. He had been bargaining with visitors, and went to
fetch for sale some of his hidden possessions; he was never heard of
again. Presumably some accident happened, and he either fell down a
cliff or was buried alive. Sometimes a man on his death-bed will give
directions to his son as to where things are hidden, but natural
landmarks alter, and this information seems seldom sufficient to enable
the place to be recognised; treasure-hunting on Easter Island is
therefore a most disappointing pursuit, as we found to our cost. Soon
after our arrival a man died in the village who was said to have things
hidden among the rocks in a part of the coast not far from the village.
His neighbours turned out to dig. We offered high rewards for anything
found, which were to be doubled if the objects were left untouched till
our arrival on the scene, and we wasted much time ourselves
superintending the search, but nothing appeared. A young man volunteered
the information that he had a cave on Rano Kao where his father had
hidden things, and another half-day was spent in riding to the spot; the
whereabouts had only been described generally, and he could not find the
place.
Yet another day we rode round the eastern headland to find some stone
statues, the locality of which had been confided to Juan by the old man
Kilimuti, who was a member of his family. The search was again in vain,
and Juan indignantly characterised his ancient relative as “a liar.” An
interesting, but equally futile, expedition was made to look for a
tablet, said to have been hidden by a rongo-rongo man near Anakena; the
cave in this case proved to have an entrance like a well, artificially
built up, and to be a long, natural, subterranean chamber. There were
certain traces which might have been those of decayed wood, but nothing
more. We subsequently discovered that this sort of thing is usual; the
natives possess, not “castles in Spain,” but caves in certain localities
which they speak of definitely as “theirs,” but which are quite as
reluctant to materialise as any southern château.
Mr. Edmunds assured us, with amused sympathy, that his initial
experiences and disillusionment had been precisely similar to our own.
The natives themselves, nevertheless, continue to hunt with undiminished
zeal for these hidden articles, whose value is well known; it is the one
form of work which they enjoy. Rumour had come from Tahiti, shortly
before we reached the island, that articles were hidden in a recess in
the coast not far from the Cannibal Cave; the whole place was dug over
and ransacked by treasure-hunters from the village, without result so
far as we ever heard.
Caves were frequently used as places of burial. Generally, as in the
case of Ko Tori, an isolated corpse was placed in a grotto, but on Motu
Nui we came across two subterranean chambers which had been definitely
prepared as vaults. One of these had obviously not been visited for some
time, as a considerable amount of clearance had to be effected before it
could be reached. The entrance proved to be a small, properly
constructed doorway, two feet high and eleven inches in width, from
which a short passage descended at a sharp angle. To wriggle down this
narrow way felt much like a rabbit going into a burrow. The cave below
proved to be a circular vault, under ten feet in diameter. Four corpses
lay side by side on the floor, while a fifth had been hurriedly shoved
in, head foremost, through the doorway above. The ceiling and walls were
artificially made and covered with white pigment. On the walls were
three heads, carved in relief, the only ones encountered; they were
adorned with touches of red paint. The one which was best wrought was
twenty inches in length, and projected some two to three inches from the
surface of the wall; it had a pronounced “imperial.” The sides of the
cave were also adorned with incised drawings of birds. In order to copy
these carvings by the light of a small candle, it was necessary to
encamp among the damp mould of the floor in contact with the remains of
the dead. The proceeding felt not a little gruesome, even to a now
hardened anthropologist, and the return to daylight was very welcome.
The other cave on the islet was very similar, but smaller in size, and
the carvings were not so good. The corpses which it contained had
evidently been buried in tapa. No information of special interest was
forthcoming to account for these burials on Motu Nui; if they were
associated with any particular family or class the fact has been
forgotten.
The custom is said to have existed of enclosing such articles as chisels
and fish-hooks in the wrappings of a corpse, and it is recorded that the
bird-man’s egg sometimes accompanied him to his last home; the idea also
of placing her _prie-Dieu_ in Angata’s grave seemed to be a survival of
such a practice. With the one exception, however, of the beads in the
canoe-shaped ahu, we never found any objects with the dead. The natives
who were generally most anxious to reach the inaccessible caves in the
hope of treasure, felt no interest in one which can be seen from below
to have a wall across the mouth, and which was said to be a place of
burial; they considered that it would contain nothing of value. It seems
therefore probable that belongings buried with the deceased were
speedily stolen and have not been available in the memory of this
generation. It is difficult to suppose that any fear of punishment here
or hereafter would deter an Easter Islander from appropriating any such
article for which he had a fancy.
There may still be accidental discoveries in grottoes of forgotten
hoards, or a few things treasured in this way by old men may be
disclosed, but personally we are persuaded that the secret of this land
must be sought elsewhere than in its caves.
[Illustration:
FIG. 122.
AHU OROI.
An outcrop of rock utilised as an image ahu.
]
CHAPTER XVIII
LEGENDS
First Arrival on the Island—The Long Ears exterminated by the Short
Ears—The Struggle between Kotuu and Hotu Iti.
It remains to be seen what accounts the islanders give of their origin
and history in addition to the vague fragments already quoted. These
legends fall into three groups, which, though they touch at some points,
are in reality separate, and their relation to one another in point of
time cannot be certainly ascertained. It need hardly be said that, like
all such legends, they cannot be regarded as more than suggestive; when
the mysteries have been solved, it will no doubt be easy to see where
they have been founded on fact, and where error has crept in, and
essential points distorted or forgotten; meanwhile, the clues they
afford can only be partial. These groups deal respectively, firstly with
the arrival of the islanders under Hotu-matua; secondly with the
destruction of the Long Ears; and thirdly with the war between the two
sides of the island, Kotuu and Hotu Iti. The stories have necessarily
been somewhat abbreviated.
FIRST ARRIVAL ON THE ISLAND
The ancestors of the present inhabitants came, it is said, from two
neighbouring islands known as Marae Renga and Marae Tohio. Here, on the
death of the chief, Ko Riri-ka-atea, a struggle for supremacy arose
between his two sons, Ko Te Ira-ka-atea and Hotu-matua, in which Hotu
was defeated. Now there was on one of the islands a certain Haumaka, who
had tattooed Hotu, and received from him in return a present of
mother-of-pearl which had been given to Hotu’s father by an individual
called Tuhu-patoea. Tuhu had seen that the men who went down to get
pearls were eaten by a big fish, so he invented a net by which the
precious shell could be obtained without risk, and the pearl so procured
he had presented to his chief, Ko Riri. This man, Haumaka, had a dream,
and during it his spirit went to a far country, and when he awoke he
told six men, whose names are given, to go and seek for it; they were to
look for a land where there were three islets and a big hole, also a
long and beautiful road. So the six men went, each on a piece of wood,
and they found the three islets, Motu Nui, Motu Iti, Motu Kao-kao, and
the big hole, which was the crater of Rano Kao. They landed on that part
of the island and planted yams, and then walked round the island,
beginning by the south coast.
When they were near Anakena, one of them, Ira, saw a turtle and tried to
take it, but it was too heavy for him to lift, so the other five went to
help, but it was still too heavy for them, and it struck out and injured
one named Kuku; he was taken to a neighbouring cave and begged the
others not to leave him, but his companions made five cairns outside the
cave[68] and departed, and Kuku died in the cave. The men went to Hanga
Roa and on to Orongo. A sixth man then appeared on the scene, but whence
he came is not known, and the other five told him that “this was a bad
land,” for when they had planted yams, grass had grown up. Then the men
went to Motu Nui and slept there, and in the morning, when they woke,
two boats were seen approaching. The vessels were bound together, but as
they came near the land the cord which united them was cut. The name of
the one boat was “Oteka,” and in it were Hotu-matua and his wife,
Vakai-a-hiva; and the name of the other boat was “Oua,” and in it were a
certain Hinelilu and his wife, Avarepua. Ira called to them, and told
them also that “this was a bad land”; to which Hotu-matua replied that
they too came from a bad land, “when the sea is low we die few, when the
sea is high we die many.”
Then the boats divided, and Hotu-matua went round the south and east
coasts, and Hinelilu by the west and north. Hotu wished to be the first
to reach Anakena, which the previous arrivals had told him was a good
place to land, so when he saw the other vessel approaching, he “said to
himself a word,” which made his own boat go fast and Hinelilu’s go slow;
so he got first to the cove. A son was born there to Vakai and named Ko
Tuumaheke. Hinelilu was a man of intelligence, and wrote rongo-rongo on
paper he brought with him. Amongst those who came in the boats was the
ariki Tuukoihu, the maker of the wooden images; two of his sons and two
grandsons have given their names to four subdivisions of the Miru clan.
Among Hotu-matua’s company there was a concealed passenger whose name
was Oroi; he was an enemy of Hotu, who had killed his children in the
place whence they came, and had hidden himself on board. He got on shore
at Anakena, without anyone having guessed at his presence, and killed
everyone. One day the five children of a man named Aorka went to bathe
at Owaihi, a small cove east of Anakena, and as they lay on a rock in
the sea, Oroi came from behind and killed them and took out their
insides. When they did not return, the father said to the mother, “Where
are the children?” The mother said, “On the rock”; but when Aorka went
to look, the rock was covered with water, for it was high tide; when by
and by the water went down, he saw the five children and that they were
dead. Aorka then told Hotu-matua: “Oroi, that bad man, is here, for he
has killed my children.” Now Hotu-matua went to see his daughter who was
married, and as he went Oroi put a noose in his path and tried to catch
his foot in it, but Hotu stepped on one side. When he had finished his
visit to his daughter, he said to her and her husband, “Follow me as I
go home.” And as he returned he saw that the cord was still there, and
his enemy hidden behind the rock. This time Hotu-matua intentionally
stepped on to the rope and fell, and when Oroi came up, he got hold of
him and killed him, and then called to his daughter and son-in-law to
see that he was dead. When, however, they put the corpse in the oven to
cook him he came to life again, so they had to take him over to the
other side of the island to where the ahu is called Oroi (fig. 122), and
there he cooked quite satisfactorily, and they ate him.
Hotu-matua had many sons from whom the different clans are descended,
and whose names they bear. He quarrelled with the eldest, Tuumaheki, and
with his own wife, Vakai; the two having behaved badly to him, he
finally gave up his position to Tuumaheki and retired to the top of Rano
Kao, where he lived on the south side of the crater, that opposite to
Orongo. He was old and blind and became also very ill; his elder sons
came to see him, but he kept asking for Hotu-iti, the youngest, who was
his favourite. When Marama appeared, the old man felt the calf of his
leg, and said, “You are not Hotu-iti, you are Marama; where is
Hotu-iti?” Koro-orongo answered as if he were Hotu-iti, and said, “I am
here,” but he lied, and his father took hold of his leg, and said again,
“You are not Hotu-iti”; and the same thing happened with Ngaure, and
Raa, and Hamea, and the others; and at last came Hotu-iti, and
Hotu-matua knew him, for he was small, and his leg was slight, and said
to him, “You are Hotu-iti, of Mata-iti, and your descendants shall
prosper and survive all others.” And he said to Kotuu, “You are Kotuu,
of Mata-nui, and your descendants shall multiply like the shells of the
sea, and the reeds of the crater, and the pebbles of the beach, but they
shall die and shall not remain.” And when he had said this he left his
house, and went along to the cliff where the edge of the crater is
narrowest, and stood on it by two stones, and he looked over the islet
of Motu Nui towards Marae Renga, and called to four aku-aku in his old
home across the sea, “Kuihi, Kuaha, Tongau, Opakako, make the cock crow
for me,” and the cock crew in Marae Renga, and he heard it across the
sea; that was his death signal, so he said to his sons, “Take me away.”
So they took him back to his house, and he died. Thus Hotu-matua came to
his end and was buried at Akahanga.
Many of the gods of Marae Renga, who were the ancestors of Hotu-matua,
came with him in his boat, and he knew they were there though the others
did not see them. The names of eleven of them were given, four of which
were independently quoted as amongst the aku-aku associated with
Akahanga.
THE STORY OF THE LONG EARS
Now the Long Ears (“Hanau Epé”) and Short Ears (“Hanau Momoku”) lived
together mixed up all over the land, but one of the Long Ears, Ko Ita by
name, who lived at Orongo, had in his house the bodies of thirty boys,
whom he had killed to eat. Among his victims were the seven sons of one
man, Ko Pepi. Ko Pepi went mad, and ran round and round till he fell
down, and his brothers took their mataa and killed the Long Ears at
Vinapu and at Orongo. They were joined by the other Short Ears, till the
Long Ears took refuge in the eastern headland, across which they then
dug a ditch and filled it with brushwood in order to make a fire in
self-defence. Now a body of the Short Ears were drawn up in array in
front of the ditch, but another party were shown the way round at night
by an old woman, and thus turned their flank; so when morning dawned the
Long Ears found themselves attacked both from behind and before, and
then were swept into the ditch of their own making.[69] There they were
all burnt except two, who made their way to a cave, near Anakena, where
they hid, but they were dug out of it and killed, calling aloud
“Oroini,” the meaning of which is not known.
Such is the outline of these stories; the most definite and agreed
points are the most incomprehensible—namely, the landing of the six men
prior to that of the main wave, and the concealed arrival of Oroi. The
sons of Hotu-matua are not known exactly. Kotuu is sometimes identified
with Ko Tuumaheki, and is sometimes a separate person. Miru occasionally
figures as one of them, which is inconsistent with the statement that
four of Tuukoihu’s descendants are the ancestors of four subdivisions of
that clan. Miru is also the name given in all the lists to Tuumaheki’s
son, the third ariki. Hotu Iti was always a district, never the name of
a clan. On the most interesting point—namely, the origin of the Long
Ears—there is the most vagueness. According to Kilimuti, who was a
recognised authority, and whose account of the landing has been
followed, Hotu-matua and those in his boat were the Short Ears, Hinelilu
and the crew of the second boat the Long Ears. When asked how it was
that the two came together, he merely replied that it was in the same
way as we ourselves had various nationalities on the yacht. According to
this authority, the destruction in the ditch took place in the time of
Hotu-matua’s children. Another version, given by three old men in
conclave, was that the Long Ears came into existence on the island
through the “mana” of the third ariki. Discussion one day waxed quite
fierce on the point till Te Haha’s wife, who was a shrewd middle-aged
woman, turned and said, “Never mind them, Mama, they don’t know anything
about it,” which probably summed up the situation. The story of the
ditch and the final extinction is well-established legend. The term Long
Ears seemed to convey to the natives not the custom of distending the
ears, but having them long by nature.
It is interesting to compare the versions of these stories given to the
Expedition with those taken down from Salmon by Paymaster Thomson of the
_Mohican_. The statement made by him, and repeated by various
travellers, probably from the same source, that Hotu-matua came from the
east, was never met with by us. Kilimuti did not know whence he came;
the direction in which Hotu-matua looked when dying would be west, or
more accurately, south-west. Juan put the home of the first immigrants
in the Paumotu; as a young man his knowledge of legend was a step
further from the original, but it was often useful as summing up the
general impression he had received. According to the _Mohican_ story the
six early arrivals included the brother of Hotu-matua and his wife; Oroi
had been the rejected suitor of this lady, and it was the competition
for her favour which had caused the quarrel with the family. The same
authority states that Hotu was in the boat which went by the south and
east and his wife Vakai in the other; Hinelilu does not appear. Hotu is
depicted as dividing the land between his sons, but there is no mention
of the ultimate triumph of the descendants of Hotu-iti over those of
Kotuu, which, as told to us on more than one occasion, was the chief
point in the story. The finale, in which the old man looked towards his
old home, is omitted. The Long Ears suddenly appear on the island at a
much later time.[70] The story of the ditch is much the same.
WARS BETWEEN KOTUU AND HOTU ITI
Kainga was a great man, and he lived near Tongariki. He had three young
sons; two of them lived with him, one of whom was named Huriavai, and
the other was called Rau-hiva-aringaerua (literally, “Twin two faces”),
for he had been born with two faces, one of which looked before and the
other behind. Kainga’s third son was named Mahanga-raké-raké-a-Kainga;
he was not treated well at home, and had been adopted by a woman who
lived not far away, and there he had much fish to eat. Now one day two
men came to Kainga’s house and slept there; they were Marama from Hanga
Roa, and their names were Makita and Roké-ava. Kainga killed two
chickens, and cooked the food and took it to his guests. Roké was
asleep, and Makita said, “What is this?” and Kainga replied, “Chicken,”
and Makita said, “I do not like it; I want man.” Kainga did not like to
refuse, and went outside and said to his two boys, “Go and tell Mahanga
to come here.” So the children went and gave the message. When Mahanga
heard it, he cried, but when he had done weeping he went back with his
brothers. Kainga said to him, “Lie down and go to sleep,” and Kainga
took a club and hit the child on the head and killed him. Then he cooked
part of the body and gave it to Makita, saying, “Here is food,” and went
back to the cooking-place. Makita saw that it was human flesh, and
wakened Roké and told him, and Roké was alarmed, and said, “I do not
like it.” He broke the house of Kainga, and hurried away. Makita also
departed quickly. Kainga was very angry, and said to the two men, “Why
do you throw away my food?” And he took the body of the child and
wrapped it in reeds and put it on the ahu.
Kainga then said, “Bring me much wood to make a boat”; and all men
worked at the boat of Kainga, and he gave them much food—chickens and
potatoes and bananas, sugar-cane, hens and fish and eels—but they did
not make it well. Then Kainga sent for Tuukoihu, the chief who lived at
Ahu Tepeu, on the western side, and said, “Come to me to make the boat”;
and Tuukoihu came, and he made a good boat twenty fathoms long, and when
it was finished it was launched, and thirty men went in it to row. Now
Makita and Roké and the people from Hanga Roa and that part of the
island had taken refuge on Motu Nui and other islets of the coast off
Rano Kao. Kainga went in the boat to Motu Nui and rowed all round it,
and Kainga called to the people on the island, “Come out that I may see
you”; and they were all very frightened of Kainga because he was a big
man, so one after another all the men on the island came out that he
might see them, and he said, “Are there no more?” and they looked and
saw that there were two more hidden; so they brought them out, and they
were Makita and Roké, and Makita he slew, but Roké he let go.
* * * * *
Now there was war between one side of the island and the other side. The
Koro-orongo, the Tupahotu, the Ureohei and Ngaure fought the Haumoana,
Miru, Marama, Hamea, and the Raa. Kainga fought with his spear against
one of the Miru named Toari, and was angry because he could not kill
him. He went to his house and killed a white cock and gave it to the
child Huriavai to eat, and then he took five mataa and bound them on
wood. That evening Huriavai went to sleep; he dreamed that the white
cock was coming towards him, and that he threw a stone at the bird and
killed it, and he waked up afraid. Kainga said, “What is it, child?” and
the boy answered, “It is the white cock; he is dead”; and Kainga was
glad of the dream, and said joyfully, “He is dead! To-morrow morning
early, at five o’clock, we will go and fight.” So on the morrow he took
the five mataa in his hand and Huriavai on his back. The men of Hotu Iti
fought the men of Anakena and Hanga Roa. Kainga did not go into the
battle, but he stood a little way off with the child, and he saw that
Toari no one could kill, and he said to the child, “Go, boy, and take
two spears.” Huriavai was frightened, but he took two spears and went
into the battle. The men of Anakena came to kill the boy, but he did not
run away. They threw their spears, but they glanced off the child. Then
all Kainga’s men came forward, and they threw their spears at Toari; but
Huriavai threw one spear, and he killed him and he lay dead. Kainga saw
his enemy was slain, and took the boy on his back and went away quickly.
When Kainga was gone, all the people of Hotu Iti fled, and the people of
Anakena pursued, and they killed all the people of Hotu Iti, thousands
and thousands and thousands, women and children and little children, big
children and young men, and old men who could not walk away quickly.
Some of those who escaped took refuge in the cave known as Ana Te
Ava-nui, and others fled to the island of Marotiri (fig. 123). Kainga
went to Marotiri, but Huriavai hid in a hole on the mainland opposite;
his brother, who had two faces, was killed by a man named
Pau-a-ure-vera. The face behind said, “I see Pau-a-ure-vera; he comes to
me with a spear in his hand. You look too.” But the face in front said,
“I do not like to look; you look.” The face behind was angry, and said,
“You look too.” And while the two faces talked, Pau struck the boy with
his spear in the neck, and he fell dead, and Kainga saw from the island
the fall of his son.
[Illustration:
FIG. 123.
EASTERN HEADLAND AND ISLAND OF MAROTIRI.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 124.
ANA HAVEA.
The figure in the sea stands at a spring of fresh water.
]
The day after the battle, when Hotu Iti had been vanquished, Poié, who
was one of the Haumoana and a big man, came to live at Ana Havea, the
cave near Tongariki (fig. 124), and took a large boat with thirty men
and went to the island of Marotiri. On the island were many thousands of
the people of Hotu Iti, but among them there was one man, Vaha; his
father was of Hotu Iti, but his mother was of Anakena. He was the father
of Toari, who was killed by Huriavai, so he hated the men of Hotu Iti,
but no man dared kill him. When Poié came in his boat, he said to Vaha,
“Give me men to cook.” Vaha gave him one thousand in the boat, and Poié
went back to the shore and gave each of the men of Anakena a man to eat;
he took thousands of children by the leg and dashed them against the
stone. Every day he did the same again, and brought a thousand men from
Marotiri. One day, when the boat came back, a man called Oho-taka-tori,
a Miru, was at Ana Havea and saw Poié throwing the men on shore, and
among them a man named Hanga-mai-ihi-te-kerau; and Oho-taka-tori said to
Poié, “Give me for my fish that man with a fine name.” Poié said, “I
give no fish with a fine name to you who begin work at nine o’clock in
the morning.” Oho was angry with Poié; he was wearing a hat with cocks’
feathers sticking out in front, and he turned it round back side front,
and went to the house of his daughter, who had married a man of Hotu Iti
called Moa, and lived near Tongariki. He said to her, “Do not let your
husband mourn for the men of Hotu Iti”; the girl replied, “He does not
tell me, but I think he mourns much.” She gave her father food to eat,
and he went to his own home, the other side of the island. When Moa came
in from digging potatoes, his wife said, “Your father-in-law has been
here, and he said that you were not to cry for the men of Hotu Iti”; and
Moa replied, “I must mourn, but you are of Hanga Roa,” and he did not
eat any potatoes, but wept.
The men who had not taken refuge on Marotiri were, as has been told, in
Ana Te Ava-nui,[71] and the men of Anakena had made twenty holes in a
row in the cliff above, and they stood in the holes one behind the
other, and lowered a net over the edge of the cliff with two men in it
with spears, and the men in the holes held the rope and let down the
net, and the men in the net shouted to them “Pull up,” or “Give way,”
till they were opposite the cave, and then they killed the men in the
cave with their spears, and three brothers of Oho worked with these men.
At five o’clock in the evening, when his wife did not know, Moa took all
sorts of food, and buried them so that no man should see, and at seven
o’clock he said to his wife, “Give me the big net,” and she said, “Are
you going to take fish?” and he said, “Yes,” but he lied; he was going
to Te Ava-nui. He took the net and the food. By and by he left the net
behind, but he kept the food and went to Maunga Tea-tea.[72] There were
many of Poié’s men there, and all over Poike, but they were asleep. He
gathered there eight branches of palm, put them on his back, and went to
the cave, and all the men on the top of the cliff were asleep, and Moa
went down the cliff by the track and entered the cave. The men inside
did not sleep. They said, “Who are you?” and he said, “Hush, I am Moa.”
There were only thirty men alive. For two and a half months they had had
nothing to eat in the cave, and only the strongest were left. Moa gave
the men the juice of the sugar-cane like water, and little bits of
potato, and then he asked, “Where are the bones of the warrior
Peri-roki-roki?” They replied, “He is down there.” So Moa said, “Bring
them to me”; and Moa made fish-hooks of bone, and bound a hook to a palm
branch; then he said to the men, “I have made one for you; make seven,”
and he went back. When the net came down in the morning, the men in the
cave caught it with the hooks on the branches of palm, and the men in
the net called to those above to “drag up,” but the men gave more line,
and the men in the cave killed the men in the net, and then they climbed
up the rope and killed all the men at the top except the brothers of
Oho, those they did not kill.
Three days before this the men on Marotiri had rid themselves of Vaha;
it was in this way. The boy Huriavai, who was in a hole on the mainland,
was very hungry, for he was not old enough to catch fish, and he ate
seaweed. Vaha on the island opposite took the stem of a banana and cut
it into pieces, so that it looked like yams, and put it where the boy
could see it, and Huriavai said, “My father has plenty of food.” So he
swam across, and Vaha killed him. Then Vaha took the corpse and swam
with it to the mainland. It was dark, but Kainga listened, and heard the
swish of the water, and he too went into the sea and followed him, and
when he got to shore he hid behind a big stone, and when he saw Vaha
coming, carrying on his back the body of the child, he wept, and Kainga
said, “Who are you?” and he replied, “I am Vaha”; and Kainga said, “I am
Kainga, the slayer of Vaha.” And he slew him, and took the corpse of
Huriavai to the ahu, and then came and took the body of Vaha as fish-man
for food, brought it to Marotiri, and gave pieces to all the people on
the island. There were thirty men then left there, but they had no fire,
so they cooked the flesh in their armpits.
Three days after this the men from Te Ava-nui came along, and they
shouted across from the mainland, “We have killed the men in the net”;
and Marotiri shouted back, “We too have killed a man,” and they were all
full of joy. The island men swam ashore, and they killed all the men at
Ana Havea. The men from Marotiri went in one direction and the men from
Te Ava-nui in another, killing and slaying every one; but Kainga went
with neither, for he wished to find Poié. He went to Ana Havea, but his
enemy had fled, and he followed him all along the south coast, till they
were not far from Vaihu. Poié was a very big man, but Kainga was a
little one, and he had nothing to eat. He called to Poié, “You have
food, I have none; I shall not kill you, I will go back; but another day
I will kill you.” The two parties of Hotu Iti men had now joined one
another, and Kainga went with them. Men and old men, old women and
children they killed all, but the fine women they took; the sixty men
divided the women between them. A man would say to a woman, “Do you like
me?” and if she said “No,” then he killed her. Kainga told the men from
Te Ava-nui to go to one place, and the men from Marotiri to go to
another, and live with their wives and beget children, and so they did;
but Poié went to Hanga Roa.
* * * * *
Kainga told a Tupahotu called Maikuku to give his daughter to Poié, so
she went to him and bore him many children, and one day, when years had
gone by, Kainga called together his men and went over at night to the
other side of the island to fight. Maikuku was staying in the house of
his daughter, and Kainga had told him, “If Poié is not in the house,
sleep with your head outside the door”; and Kainga came and looked and
saw that the head of Maikuku was outside, and he said to him, “Then Poié
is not here?” and he said, “No, he has gone to the sea.” The
grand-daughter of Maikuku heard, and was angry for her father, and she
went a little way up the hill outside, and cried aloud, “The enemy are
coming to fight, and your father-in-law is very bad, although he has had
bananas and fish and much to eat.” Poié heard the child speak, and he
and his five brothers hid their net and the fish, and they ran along the
coast towards Rano Kao, and Kainga went too, and then they swam to Motu
Nui. Kainga followed, and they went on to Motu Iti and then swam to the
land again, and came ashore at the foot of the cliff below Orongo, and
Poié’s brothers tried to run up the hill, but Kainga’s men caught them
and killed four. As Poié came up, the blood of his brothers flowed down,
and he wept; but Poié they did not kill, because he had married the
daughter of Maikuku, and because they were all afraid. Now Kirireva, a
child of Hotu Iti, whose father had been killed by Poié, stayed at
Orongo, and the child asked if they were not going to kill Poié, and the
old men said, “No, we have already killed four.” Kirireva shaved all his
hair and his eyebrows, and put on red paint and told Poié to stand up,
and he ran three times between his legs, and the third time Poié fell,
and the boy killed him with a club because he had slain his father. Now,
when Poié was dead, Kotuu was finished and Hotu Iti victorious according
to the words of Hotu-matua.
The middle part of this story is briefly told by Thomson, but his
account differs in important points from the foregoing. Moa is
represented as the son of Oho-taka-toré, instead of his son-in-law, and
his action is designed to avenge his father; this is a more
comprehensible version. Kainga is dead. Huriavai is on Marotiri, and on
swimming ashore is killed by one of the enemy. Vaha is Huriavai’s
friend, who kills the slayer, and swims back to Marotiri with the
enemy’s body.
Our informant, Kapiera, was quite positive that the events took place
during the time of Ngaara’s grandfather, and refused to be dislodged
from his position because Juan pertinently pointed out that this was
inconsistent with the boat being made by Tuukoihu, who landed with
Hotu-matua.
CHAPTER XIX
THE PRESENT POSITION OF THE PROBLEM
“_Do not be afraid of making generalisations because knowledge is as yet
imperfect or incomplete, and they are therefore liable to alteration. It
is only through such generalisations that progress can be made._”—Dr. A.
C. Haddon as President of the Folk Lore Society, 1919.
As we leave Easter Island, we pause to review our evidence and find how
far we have progressed towards the solution of its problems.
We may dismiss the vague suggestion that the archæological remains in
the island survive from the time when it was part of a larger mass of
land. Whatever may be the geological story of the Pacific, no scientific
authorities are prepared to prove that such stupendous changes have
taken place during the time which it has been inhabited by man.[73]
Instead of indulging in surmises as to the state of the world in a
remote past, it is safer to begin with existing conditions and try to
retrace the steps of development. It has already been seen that various
links connect the people now living on Easter Island with the great
images. Tradition is not altogether extinct; in a few cases the names of
the men are actually remembered who made the individual statues, and
also those of their clans which are still in existence. But the two
strongest bonds are the wooden figures and the bird cult. The wooden
figures were being made in recent times, and they have a design on the
back resembling that on the stone images, while they also possess the
same long ears. There is no reason why a defunct type should have been
copied, and it is probable that they date at least as far back as the
same epoch. The bird cult also was alive in living memory. It is allied
to that of the statues by the residence of the bird-man among the
images, by the fact that the bird rite for the child was connected with
them, and above all by the presence of a statue of typical form in the
centre of the village at Orongo.
Assuming then, at any rate for the sake of argument, that the stone
figures were the work of the ancestors of the people of to-day, the next
step is to inquire who these people are. Here for a certain distance we
are on firm ground. They are undoubtedly connected with those found
elsewhere in the Pacific; much of their culture is similar; and even the
earliest voyagers noted that their language resembled that found on the
other islands. The suggestion that Easter Island has been populated from
South America may therefore, for practical purposes, be ruled out of the
question. If there is any connection between the two, it is more likely
that the influence spread from the islands to the continent.
Having reached this point, however, we are faced by the larger problem.
Who were the race or races who populated the Pacific? Here our firm
ground ends, for this is a very complicated subject, with regard to
which much work still remains to be done. It is impossible as yet to
make any broad statement, which is not subject to qualification, or
which can be implicitly relied on.
The Solomon group and other islands off the coast of Australia are
inhabited by a people known as Melanesians, who have dark skins, fuzzy
hair, and thick lips, resembling to some extent the natives of Africa;
this area is called Melanesia. Certain outlying islets are, however,
populated by a different race, who possess straight or wavy hair and
fairer skins. Eastward of a line which is drawn at Fiji this whiter
race, called Polynesian, predominates, and the eastern part of the
Pacific is known as Polynesia.
Broadly speaking, the theory generally accepted has been that negroid
people are the earliest denizens, and that the lighter race came down
into Melanesia through the Malay peninsula, and thence passed on through
Melanesia in a succession of waves. A large proportion of the invaders
were probably of the male sex, and took wives from amongst the original
inhabitants. They absorbed in many ways the culture of the older people,
but did not wholly abandon their own. It is suggested, for instance,
that while as a whole the conquerors adopted existing religions, the
secret societies, so often found in the Pacific, are connected with
their own rites and beliefs, which were guarded as something sacred and
apart.
It will easily be seen that the task of tracing these migrations is by
no means simple. Canoes, carrying fighting men or immigrants, bent on
victory or colonisation, passed continually from one island to another,
and each island has probably its own very complicated history. The
Maoris of New Zealand, for example, are a Polynesian race, but there are
also traces there of a darker people. Absolutely negroid elements are
found as far east as the Marquesas. Our servant Mahanga, whose features
are of that type, came from the Paumotu Islands (fig. 89).
The marvellous feats of seamanship performed in these wanderings, often
against the prevailing trade wind, would be incredible if it were not
obvious that they have been actually accomplished. The loss of life was
doubtless very great, and many boats must have started forth and never
been heard of more. The fact remains, however, that native canoes have
worked their way over unknown seas as far north as the Hawaiian or
Sandwich Islands, and that somehow or other they reached that little
spot in the waste of waters now known as Easter Island. The nearest land
to Easter now inhabited, with the exception of Pitcairn Island, is in
the Gambier Islands, about 1,200 miles to the westward; the little coral
patch of Ducie Island, which lies between the two, is nearly 900 miles
from Easter, and has no dwellers. It has been suggested that the
original immigrants may have intended to make a voyage from one known
island to another and have been blown out of their course. However this
may be, a long voyage must have been foreseen, or the boats would not
have carried sufficient provisions to reach so distant a goal. It is
even more strange to realise that, if the mixture of races found among
the islanders occurred after their arrival, more than one native
expedition has performed the miracle of reaching Easter Island.
[Illustration: This page contains a map of the Pacific Ocean.]
The traditions of the present people do not, as has been seen, give very
material assistance as to the composition of the crew nor how they
reached the island. They tell us that their ancestors were compelled to
leave their original home through being vanquished in war. This was a
very usual reason for such migrations, as the conquered were frequently
compelled to choose between voluntary exile or death; but to account for
the discovery of the island they are obliged to take refuge in the
supernatural and explain that its whereabouts were revealed in a dream.
The story of Hotu-matua gives no suggestion that the Island was already
inhabited, save for one very vague hint. The six men who formed the
first detachment of the party were told that the island as revealed in
the dream possessed not only a great crater, but also “a long beautiful
road.” The Long Ears, who according to tradition were exterminated by
the Short Ears, may have been an earlier race, but it cannot be claimed
that the story tells us so. The two peoples are represented as coming
together, or as living side by side on the island. The whole account is
rendered more puzzling by the fact that, while the Short Ears are said
to have been the ancestors of the present people, the fashion of making
long the lobe of the ear prevailed on the island till quite recently.
It is noteworthy, however, that a legend exists elsewhere which
definitely reports that the later comers did find an earlier people in
possession. According to the account of Admiral T. de Lapelin,[74] there
is a tradition at Mangareva in the Gambier Islands to the effect that
the adherents of a certain chief, being vanquished, sought safety in
flight; they departed with a west wind in two big canoes, taking with
them women, children, and all sorts of provisions. The party were never
seen again, save for one man who subsequently returned to Mangareva.
From him it was learned that the fugitives had found an island in the
middle of the seas, and disembarked in a little bay surrounded by
mountains; where, finding traces of inhabitants, they had made
fortifications of stone on one of the heights. A few days later they
were attacked by a horde of natives armed with spears, but succeeded in
defeating them. The victors then pitilessly massacred their opponents
throughout the island, sparing only the women and children. There are
now no stone fortifications visible at Anakena, but one of the hill-tops
to the east of the cove has, for some reason or other, been entrenched
(fig. 96).
Turning to more scientific evidence, we find that the Islanders have
always been judged to be of Polynesian race, as indeed would naturally
be expected from the easterly position of the island in the Pacific
Ocean. They have certainly traces of that culture, and the great
authority on the subject, Mr. Sydney Ray, has pronounced the language to
be Polynesian. The surprise, therefore, which the results of the
expedition have brought to the anthropological world, is the discovery
of the extent to which the negroid element is found to prevail there
both from the physical and cultural points of view.
Melanesian skulls are mainly of the long-headed type, while Polynesian
are frequently broad-headed. A collection of fifty-eight skulls was
brought back from Easter and examined by Dr. Keith. He says in his
report: “The Polynesian type is fairly purely represented in some of the
Easter Islanders, ... but they are absolutely and relatively a
remarkably long-headed people, and in this feature they approach the
Melanesian more than the Polynesian type.” A similar statement was quite
independently made to the Royal Geographical Society on this head. In
the discussion which followed the reading of a paper on behalf of the
Expedition, Capt. T. A. Joyce of the British Museum, remarked that a few
years ago he had examined the skulls brought back from Easter Island by
the late Lord Crawford. “I then,” he continued, “wrote a paper which I
never published. It remained both literally and metaphorically a
skeleton in my cupboard, because I could not get away from the
conclusion that in their measurements and general appearance these
skulls were far more Melanesian than Polynesian.”[75] In speaking of
skulls, Dr. Keith makes the interesting remark that the Islanders are
the largest-brained people yet discovered in the islands or shores of
the Pacific, and shows that their cranial capacity exceeds that of the
inhabitants of Whitechapel.
In the culture of the island also, the Melanesian influence is very
strong. The custom of distending the lobe of the ear is much more
Melanesian than Polynesian. Dr. Haddon has pointed out that an early
illustration of an Easter Island canoe depicts it with a double
outrigger, after a type found in the Nissan group in Melanesia.[76] An
obsidian blade has been found in the area of New Guinea influenced by
Melanesian culture, which has been described and figured by Dr.
Seligman[77]; he draws attention to its striking likeness to the mataa
of Easter Island. Weapons of the same type, and wooden figures in which
the ribs are a prominent feature, have been found in the Chatham
Islands,[78] but the respective amount of Polynesian and Melanesian
culture in these islands is as yet under discussion.
The most striking evidence is, however, found in connection with the
bird cult. It has been shown by Mr. Henry Balfour that a cult with
strong resemblance to that of Easter existed in the Solomon Islands of
Melanesia. It is there connected with the Frigate-bird, a sea-bird which
usually nests in trees and is characterised by a hooked beak and gular
pouch. In treeless Easter Island the sacred bird is the Sooty Tern,
which is without the gular pouch and has a straight beak. In many of the
carvings on the island, however, the sacred bird is represented with a
hooked beak and a pouch (fig. 112). “This seems to point to a
recollection retained by the immigrants into Easter Island of a former
cult of the Frigate-bird which was practised in a region where this bird
was a familiar feature, and which was gradually given up in the new
environment when this bird, though probably not unknown, was certainly
not abundant”;[79] the cult being transferred to the locally numerous
Tern.
[Illustration:
FIG 125.
BIRD AND HUMAN DESIGNS.
1, 2, 3, 4, from the Solomon Islands.
1_a_, 2_a_, 3_a_, 4_a_, from the script, Easter Island.
BIRD HEADS ON HUMAN BODIES.
5. Wooden float for fishing-net, Solomon Islands.
5_a._ Painting from an Orongo house, Easter Island.
HUMAN HEADS WITH BIRD CHARACTERISTICS.
6. On a bird body. Float for net, Solomon Islands.
7. On a human body. Canoe-prow god, Solomon Islands.
8. Profile of a stone statue, Easter Island.
BIRD-HUMAN FIGURES IN THE SOLOMON ISLANDS AND EASTER ISLAND.
Selected from the figures illustrating an article by H. Balfour,
Curator of the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford . _Folk Lore_, December
1917.
]
Figures were also made in the Solomon Islands composed partly of bird
and partly of human form. Bird heads appear on human bodies, as in
Easter Island, and also human heads on bird bodies (fig. 125). It is
noteworthy that, even when the head which is drawn on the bird body is
human, it is depicted with bird-like characteristics, the lower part of
the face being given a beak-like protrusion, till sometimes it is almost
impossible to distinguish whether the head is that of a man or a bird
(no. 6). This prognathous type, with the protrusion of the lower facial
region, appears to have become a convention, and it is found in figures
where the body as well as the head are human (no. 7). This is the kind
found in a modified form in the Easter Island stone figures; they differ
from any normal human type in either Polynesia or Melanesia.
It is impossible as yet to give with any certainty a connected account
of the early history of Easter Island, but as a working hypothesis the
following may perhaps be assumed. There was an original negroid element
which brought with it the custom of distending the ear, the wooden
figures, and also the bird cult. A whiter wave succeeded which mingled
with the first inhabitants, and the next generation adopted the fashion
of the country in stretching the lobe of the ear, and carried on the
bird cult. At some time in the course of settlement war arose between
the earlier and later comers, in which the former took refuge in the
eastern headland and were largely exterminated.
If these suppositions are so far correct, the story of the landing of
Hotu-matua and the establishment of his headquarters at Anakena refer to
the Polynesian immigration, and it seems reasonable to look to the Miru,
who are settled in that part of the island, and perhaps also to the
allied clans of the Marama and Haumoana, who together form the chief
inhabitants of the district of Kotuu, as the more direct descendants of
the Polynesian settlers. In confirmation of this we find that the ariki,
or chief, the only man who was necessarily of pure descent, is said to
have been “quite white.” The inscribed skulls, which are those of the
Miru, are reported to be of the Polynesian type. It is a somewhat
striking fact also that the ariki, in spite of his prominent position in
the island, took no part in the bird cult ceremonies.
In endeavouring to arrive at even an approximate date for these
immigrations to the island, evidence outside its borders is likely to
prove our best guide. In the present state of our knowledge we cannot
even guess how long the negroid element has been in the Pacific, but the
lighter races are believed to have entered it not earlier than the
Christian era. The colonisation of the Paumotus is placed at A.D.
1000,[80] and it has been suggested by Volz that the Polynesian wave
reached Easter Island about A.D. 1400.
There is at present no evidence to show whether the great works were
initiated by the earlier or the later arrivals. There are other
megalithic remains in the Pacific, notably great walls of stone in the
Caroline Islands. The Expedition found a stone statue in Pitcairn,[81]
but we have as yet no complete information with regard to these works or
the circumstances of their construction. The Polynesians are accredited
with having carried with them the fashion of erecting such monuments,
but, if they brought it to Easter Island, the form which it took was
apparently governed by conventions already existing in the island.
On the other hand, it seems possible that the makers of the images may
have come from a country where they were accustomed to model statues in
wood, and finding no such material in the island, substituted for it the
stone of Raraku. Sir Basil Thomson has pointed out that there were in
the Marquesas wooden statues standing on erections of stone and also
wooden dolls. Further knowledge of what exists elsewhere will probably
throw light on the matter, but it is, in any case, owing to the fact
that there is to be found at Easter a volcanic ash which can be easily
wrought that we have the hundreds of images in the island.
With regard to the duration of the image era, it has been shown that the
number of statues, impressive as it is, does not necessarily imply that
their manufacture covered a vast space of time. It must, however, in all
probability have extended over several centuries. As to its termination,
the worship is reported as having been in existence in 1722; at any rate
the ahu and statues were then in good repair. By 1774 some of the
statues had fallen, and by about 1840 none remained in place. It seems,
therefore, on the whole, most likely that the cult, and probably also
the manufacture of the images, existed till the beginning of the
eighteenth century. The alternative explanation can only be that though
the cult had long been dead the statues remained in place, not
materially injured either by man or weather, until Europeans first
visited the island, and that then an era of devastation set in which in
a hundred years demolished them all. This, though not actually
impossible, does not seem equally probable.
We know that a large number, probably the majority, of the statues came
to their end through being deliberately thrown down by invading enemies.
The legendary struggles between Kotuu and Hotu Iti, in which Kainga
played so prominent a part, are always spoken of as comparatively recent
history, and one old man definitely asserted that they took place in the
time of the grandfather of the last ariki, which may be as far back as
the eighteenth century. If these wars occurred between the visit of the
Dutchmen in 1722 and that of the Spaniards in 1770, it is at least
possible that it was during their course that the manufacture of the
images ended and their overthrow began. It will be remembered that,
while Roggeveen speaks of the island as cultivated and fertile, the
navigators fifty years later are greatly disappointed with the barren
condition in which they find it. In the curious absence, however, of any
reference in these legends to the conditions of the images, this must
remain, for the present at any rate, as surmise only.
It would be interesting to know more clearly the part played by the
advent of the white men in the evolution of the culture of the island.
While it cannot be definitely stated that it was their arrival which, by
detracting from the reverence paid to the statues, hastened their
downfall, we know that it largely affected native conceptions. Not only
was it the probable cause of the abandonment at the end of the
eighteenth century of the practice of distending the lobe of the
ear,[82] but it inspired a new form of worship. It is interesting to see
in the drawings of foreign ships, which appear side by side with older
designs, a new cult actually in course of intermingling with the old
forms. Did we not possess the key to them, these pictures would add one
more to the mysteries of the island.
Such evidence as can be obtained from the condition of the images points
to the fact that it cannot be indefinite ages since they were completed.
For example, in certain statues, those which are generally considered
the most recent, the surface polish still remains in its place in the
cavity representing the eye, and on parts of the neck and breast where
it has been somewhat sheltered by the chin, notwithstanding the fact
that the soft stone is one that easily weathers (_Frontispiece_).
The question as to what the statues represent is not yet fully solved.
It seems probable that the form was a conventional one and was used to
denote various things. Some of the statues may have been gods; the name
of a single image on an inland ahu, one of the very few which were
remembered, was reported to be “Moai Te Atua.” It is, however, probably
safe to regard ahu statues as being in general representations of
ancestors, either nearer or more distant, this does not necessarily
exclude the idea of divinity. The hat may have been a badge of rank;
warriors in Tahiti wore a certain type of hat as a special mark of
distinction.[83] Reasons have been given for suggesting that the images
on Raraku may have been memorials of bird-men; and we know that some of
the statues, as those on the southern slope of Raraku and in Motu Nui,
denoted boundaries. Lastly, it is not impossible that some of the
figures, such as those approaching the ahu of Paukura, were simply
ornamental, “to make it look nice.” The nearest approach which we
ourselves have to such divers employment of the same design is in our
use of the Latin cross. Fundamentally a sacred sign, it is used not only
to adorn churches and for personal ornament, but also to mark graves and
denote common and central grounds, such as the site of markets and other
public places. It is also used to preserve the memory of certain spots,
as for instance, Charing Cross, where the body of Queen Eleanor rested.
The last problem to be considered is that dealing with the tablets. An
account has been given elsewhere of what is known of their general
meaning. The figures themselves may be classed as ideograms—that is,
signs representing ideas—but it is doubtful, as has been shown, if a
given sign always represented the same idea. Each sign was in any case a
peg on which to hang a large amount of matter which was committed to
memory, and is therefore, alas! gone for ever.
No light has yet been thrown on the origin of the script. No other
writing has been found in the Pacific, if we except a form from the
Caroline Islands, and a few rock carvings in the Chatham Islands, whose
connection with the glyphs of Easter Island is as yet very doubtful.
It would be satisfactory, in view of the relation of the Miru ariki to
the tablets, and the tradition that they came with Hotu-matua, if
internal evidence could show that it was of Polynesian origin.
Unfortunately for this theory, the Melanesian bird figures largely among
the signs. It is, of course, conceivable that they may have undergone
local adaptation. While it is not probable that we shall ever be able to
read the tablets, it is not impossible that further discovery may throw
light on the history of the signs, and show to what extent the script
has been imported from elsewhere, or how far it is, with much of its
other culture, a product of the isolation of Easter Island.
PART III
_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE EASTER ISLAND TO SAN FRANCISCO_
CHAPTER XX
PITCAIRN ISLAND
Lieutenant Bligh went to the Pacific in 1788, in command of H.M.S.
_Bounty_, with orders to obtain plants of the bread-fruit, and
introduce it into the English possessions in the West Indies.
He spent six months at Tahiti, collecting the fruit, and there the
crew fell victims to the charms of its lotus-eating life, its
sunshine, its flowers, and its women. Soon after the ship sailed the
majority of the men mutinied, being led by Christian, the Master’s
mate. They set Bligh and eighteen others adrift in an open boat, and
returned in the ship to Tahiti. Subsequently, fearing that retribution
might follow, Christian and eight fellow mutineers left Tahiti on the
_Bounty_, taking with them nine native women, and also some native men
to act as servants. For years their fate remained a mystery.
The refuge found by the party was the lonely island of Pitcairn. They
took out of the ship everything that they required, and then sank the
vessel, fearing that her presence might betray them. The new
habitation proved anything but an amicable Eden. The native servants
were ill-treated by their masters, and in 1793 rose against them,
murdering Christian and four other white men; but were finally
themselves all killed by the Europeans. The women also were
discontented with their lot, and in the following year they made a
raft in order to quit the island, an attempt which was of course
foredoomed to failure.
Of the four mutineers left, one, McCoy, committed suicide through an
intoxicating drink made from the ti plant. Another, Quintal, having
threatened the lives of his two comrades, Adams and Young, was killed
by them with an axe, in self-defence. A woman who witnessed the scene
as a child, survived till 1883, and we were told by her grandchildren
that her clearest recollection was the blood-spattered walls and the
screaming women and children. Young, who had been a midshipman on the
_Bounty_, died shortly after, and in 1800 John Adams (_alias_
Alexander Smith) was left the sole man on the island, with the native
women and twenty-five children.
Later ensued not the least strange part of the story. Adams was
converted by a dream, and awoke to his responsibility towards the
younger generation. He taught them to read from a Bible and
Prayer-book saved from the _Bounty_, and the offspring of the
mutineers became a civilised and God-fearing community.
The small colony were first found by an American ship, the _Topaz_, in
1808, but little seems to have been heard of the discovery, and six
years later H.M. ships _Briton_ and _Tagus_, sailing near the island,
were much astonished at being hailed by a boat-load of men who spoke
English.
By 1856 the population of Pitcairn numbered about one hundred and
ninety, and they were removed, by their own request, to the larger
Norfolk Island. Six homesick families, however, against the strong
advice of Bishop Selwyn, subsequently returned to Pitcairn.
In the afternoon of Wednesday, August 18th, 1915, the last vestige of
the long coast of Easter Island dipped below the horizon. We realised
that we were homeward bound. Owing to the war, and our prolonged
residence on the island, it was no longer possible to keep to the plan
made before leaving England and follow up Easter trails elsewhere in the
Pacific. We decided, however, to adhere to the original arrangement of
going first to Tahiti, and then to make the return voyage by the Panama
Canal, which was now open. One of our principal objects in visiting
Tahiti was to collect all the letters, newspapers, and money which had
been forwarded to us there during the last twelve months. With the
exception of one stray letter, written the previous November, we had had
no mail since _Mana’s_ first return to the island a year before. It
seemed desirable to visit Pitcairn Island on the way thither; it was but
little out of our route, and was said to have prehistoric remains.
We had a very good voyage for the 1,100 miles from Easter to Pitcairn,
staggering along with a following wind. The wind was indeed so strong
that we became anxious for the safety of the dinghy in her davits, and
swung her inboard for, I believe, the only time on the voyage. We
arrived at Pitcairn on August 27th. The island, as seen from the sea,
rises as a solitary mass from the water. It is apparently the remaining
half of an old crater, and is some two miles in width. An amphitheatre
of luxuriant verdure faces northwards; its lowest portion, or arena, is
perhaps 400 feet above sea-level, and rests on the top of a wall of grey
rock. The other three sides of the amphitheatre are encircled by high
precipitous cliffs. The green gem, in its rocky setting, was a
refreshing change after treeless Easter Island.
[Illustration:
FIG. 126.
PITCAIRN ISLAND FROM THE SEA.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 127.
PITCAIRN ISLAND: CHURCH AND RESIDENCE OF MISSIONARIES.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 128.
PITCAIRN ISLAND: BOUNTY BAY.
]
_Mana_ was welcomed by a boat-load of sturdy men, who were definitely
European in appearance and manner; they were mostly of a sallow white
complexion, though a few had a darker tinge. They spoke English, though
with an intonation different from that of the Dominions, America, or the
Homeland. A local patois is sometimes used on the island which is a
mixture of English and Tahitian, but pure Tahitian is not understood. A
graceful invitation was given by the Chief Magistrate, Mr. Gerard
Christian, to come and stay on shore, and was accepted for the following
day, which, the Islanders said, “will be the Sabbath.” This was a
somewhat surprising statement, as the day was Friday, and caused a
momentary wonder whether something had gone wrong with the log of
_Mana_. “We will explain all that later,” added our hosts.
The next morning therefore the big ten-oared boat turned up again, Mr.
Christian bringing us the following kind letter from the missionaries,
who we now learned were on the island. It was addressed “To the
Gentlemen concerned.”
PITCAIRN ISLAND.
27. 8. 1915.
“DEAR SIR AND MADAM,
“It is with pleasure that we extend this invitation to you to share
with us the few comforts of our little Island home. We cannot offer
luxury, we live simply yet wholesomely. Should you be planning to
sleep ashore, it will be well to bring your pillows, towels and toilet
soap. We trust that your stay will be attended with success.
“Yours very cordially,
“MR. and MRS. M. R. ADAMS.”
We suggested bringing food, but that was declined as unnecessary. The
trip to the shore, even in so big a boat, is somewhat adventurous. The
landing-place is in Bounty Bay, below the precipitous cliffs off the
north-east corner of the island, beneath whose waters were sunk the
remains of His Majesty’s ship. The shore is reached, even under
propitious circumstances, through a white fringe of drenching surf;
happily the Islanders are excellent oarsmen, for the boat is apt to
assume the vertical position usually associated with pictures of Grace
Darling. A lifeboat sent as a gift from England in 1880 has proved too
short for the character of the waves. The village is gained by a steep
path, cut at times in the rock, and at the summit we found standing
under the trees a group in white Sunday attire waiting to welcome us.
We were now beginning to understand the meaning of the difference in
days. Service used to be held at Pitcairn after the manner of the Church
of England, but in 1886 the island was visited by one of the American
sect calling themselves “Seventh Day Adventists.” The Society is
Christian, but the members regard as binding many of the Old Testament
rules. Saturday is observed as the divinely appointed day of rest, pork
is considered unclean, and a tenth part of goods is set aside for
religious purposes. Special attention is paid to Biblical prophecy, and
the end of the world is thought to be near. It was not difficult to
convert the reverent little community on Pitcairn to views for which it
was claimed that they were the plain teaching of the Bible, and various
persons were shortly baptised in the sea.
The group who awaited us were headed by our most kind hosts, the
missionary and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, who were of Australian
birth.[84] Sunday school was just over and service about to begin. It
was held in an airy building filled with a large congregation. The
sermon was on prophecy as found in the books of Daniel and Revelation,
and fulfilled in the division of the Empire of Alexander the Great. It
was depressing to be told that the late war is only the beginning of
trouble.
We went back with Mr. and Mrs. Adams to luncheon, which was served at
2.30, and composed principally of oranges and bananas. It was a very
dainty if, to some of us who had breakfasted at 7 o’clock, a rather
unsubstantial repast. Our hosts were vegetarians and had only two meals
a day, but subsequently kind allowance was made for our less moderate
appetites. I was glad of a rest in the afternoon, but S., who attended a
second service, said it had been the most interesting part of the Sunday
observances; it was a less formal gathering, when personal religious
testimonies were given by both young and old. Later we were shown a
little settlement of huts in the higher part of the island, where once a
year the community retire for ten days and have a series of camp
meetings.
The teachings of the new religion are practically observed. The tithe
barn, at the time of our visit, held £100 worth of dedicated produce
which was awaiting shipment. It was the prettiest sight to see the
fruits of the earth, being brought into it, in the form of loads of
various tropical produce. The whole community abstains from alcohol and,
nominally at any rate, from tobacco, though one old gentleman was not
above making an arrangement for a private supply from the yacht. Tea and
coffee are thought to be undesirable stimulants, and even the export of
coffee was beginning to be discouraged. The place suffers admittedly
from the social laxity characteristic of Polynesia; but the evil is
being combated by its spiritual leaders, and is cognisable by law. The
whole atmosphere is extraordinary; the visitor feels as if suddenly
transported, amid the surroundings of a Pacific Island, to Puritan
England, or bygone Scotland. It is a Puritanism which is nevertheless
light-hearted and sunny, without hypocrisy or intolerance.
The general influence of the missionaries seemed very helpful to the
little community, and they also conducted a school for its younger
members. Most of the inhabitants can read, but the subject matter of
books is too far away for them to be of much interest, and the only
application, it was noticed, which was made to the yacht for literature,
was for picture papers of the war. We gave by request an hour’s talk on
the travels of the _Mana_, and it was listened to with apparent
understanding, or at any rate with politeness; the chief interest shown
was in the manner of life of the Easter Islanders, about which many
questions were asked.
The houses are substantially built of wood with good furniture. A
well-made chest of drawers was a birthday present to the missionary’s
wife from the young men of the island. There is a separate bedroom or
cubicle for nearly every inhabitant, and some houses have a room set
apart for meals. Hospitality was shown without stint, and we were
entertained during our stay to a series of attractive repasts in various
homes; our hosts bore such names as Christian, Young, and McCoy. Meat is
limited to goat or chicken, but there is a profusion of tropical
produce, and oranges are too numerous to gather. The coconut trees are
unfortunately dying. Each household has a share of the ground rising
behind the village, and the hillside is traversed by shady avenues of
palms and bananas, which afford at every turn glimpses of outstanding
cliffs and the brilliant blue of the ocean. The standard of life
compares very favourably with that of an English village, and is
immeasurably superior to that achieved on Easter Island under similar
circumstances.
Pitcairn has the dignity of being a democratic self-governing community,
with a Magistrate and two houses of legislature. The present
Constitution was suggested by the Captain of H.M.S. _Champion_ in 1892,
and superseded an earlier one. The Lower House, known as “the
Committee,” comprises a Chairman and two members, also an official
Secretary; it makes regulations which are submitted to the Upper House
or “Council.” The Council consists of the Chief Magistrate, with two
assessors and the Secretary, and it acts also as a court of justice. The
two committee members and a constable are nominated by the magistrate,
but the other officials are elected annually by all inhabitants over
eighteen years; Pitcairn was therefore the first portion of the British
Empire to possess female suffrage.
It was interesting to see the Government Records, though the present
book does not go back beyond above fifty years, earlier ones having
apparently disappeared. This contained the Laws of 1884 revised in 1904;
regulations for school attendance; a category of the chief magistrates;
a chronicle of visits from men-of-war and mention of Queen Victoria’s
presents, consisting of an organ in 1879 and newly minted Jubilee coins
received in 1889. There were also recorded the births, marriages, and
deaths of the island since 1864; and a description of the various brands
adopted by respective owners for their goats, chickens, and trees.
Among the legislative enactments was more than one concerned with the
preservation of cats, the object being to keep down rats. Thus the laws
of 1884 direct that:
“Any person or persons after this date, September 24th, 1884,
maliciously wounding or causing the death of a cat, without permission,
will be liable to such punishment as the Court will inflict.... Should
any dog, going out with his master, fall in with a cat, and chase him,
and no effort be made to save the cat, the dog must be killed; for the
first offence—fine 10s. Cats in any part of the island doing anyone
damage must be killed in the presence of a member of Parliament.”
Illicit medical practice is forbidden, and the regulation on this head
runs as follows:
“It may be lawful for parents to treat their own children in case of
sickness. But no one will understand that he is at liberty to treat, or
give any dose of medicine, unless it be one of his own family, without
first getting licence from the President. Drugs may not be landed
without permission.”
More recent laws enact, that each family may keep only six breeding
nannies; and that coconuts may only be gathered under supervision of the
Committee or in company with their owners of the same patch, in case of
want, however, they may be plucked for drinking. Persons killing fowls
must present the legs (_i.e._ the lower portion which bears the brand)
to a member of the Government.
With the entries of deaths are recorded their known, or presumed, cause;
those occasioned by accident are somewhat numerous, and include fatal
results from climbing cliffs after birds, chasing goats, and falling
from trees. Wills can be made by simply writing them in the official
book, but entries under this head were not numerous.
The island is in the jurisdiction of the British Consul at Tahiti, but
the Magistrate explained sadly that it was then two years since it had
been possible for his superior to send any instructions. In very serious
matters, such as murder or divorce, reference is necessary to the High
Commissioner at Fiji, and five years may elapse before an answer is
received.
It is indeed comparatively simple to communicate from Pitcairn with the
outside world, particularly now that it lies near the route from Panama
to New Zealand. Warning of the approach of a vessel is given by the
church bell, and all hands rush forthwith to launch the boat and pull
out to the ship. It is reported that once the bell sounded whilst a
marriage was being celebrated, the crowded church emptied at once, and
the bride, bridegroom, and officiator were left alone. Sooner or later a
letter can thus be handed on board, but to obtain a reply is another
matter; no steamer will undertake to deliver passengers, goods, or mails
to the island. It does not pay to spend time over so small a matter, the
liner may pass in the night, or the weather at the time may render
communication with the shore impossible. During our visit notice was
given that a ship was approaching; the men, who were at the time engaged
in digging for the Expedition, threw down their tools and the boat
started for the vessel, only to founder among the breakers of Bounty
Bay. The place is too remote to be visited by the trading vessels which
visit the Gambier Islands, and as there is no anchorage, it is by no
means easy for the Islanders to keep any form of ship on their own
account. In normal times a British warship calls every alternate year,
but its visits were suspended during the war. Of the two islands,
Easter, which has at least definite bonds with a firm on the mainland,
is on the whole the easier of access.
The economic problem of Pitcairn lies in the difficulty of making it
self-supporting. Food and housing materials abound, but clothes, tools,
and similar articles must be obtained from elsewhere; while to secure in
return a market for its small exports is almost impossible. It is
sometimes said that as the result, the inhabitants have grown so
accustomed to be objects of interest and charity, that they have become
pauperised and expect everything to be given them freely by passing
ships. This was certainly not our experience. They made us a large
number of generous gifts, such as bundles of dried bananas and specimens
of their handiwork—hats, baskets, and dried leaves, cleverly embroidered
and painted. On the other hand they took with gratitude any articles
which were given by us, either as presents or in return for the things
we purchased. One request has been received since we left the island; it
was made with many apologies by the Chief Magistrate, and was for a
Bible of the Oxford Teachers’ Edition.
The position, however, is unsatisfactory, and it seems very desirable
that if possible more frequent communication should be established. In
any case it is to be hoped that now peace reigns, a warship may visit
the place at least once a year.
It is frequently suggested that the Pitcairners must have deteriorated
in physique by intermarriage; as far, however, as we were able to
observe, such is not the case. It has been remarked, indeed, that a
large number have lost their front teeth, but in this they are not
unique. Dr. Keith observes, in the report previously alluded to, that
many Pacific Islanders are extremely liable to disease and loss of
teeth. The effect of such disease is, he states, to be seen in every one
of the skulls from Easter regarded as belonging to a person of over
twenty-five years; “tooth trouble is even more prevalent in Easter
Island than in the slums of our great towns.”
We were asked to collect pedigrees on Pitcairn and make observations
from the point of view of the Mendelian theory; this would, however,
have been a very long and troublesome business, and we did not feel
assured that the results would be sufficiently exact to justify it.
While there has possibly been no fresh infusion of South Sea blood, the
islanders have constantly been in contact with white men. Between 1808
and 1856, three hundred and fifty vessels touched at Pitcairn, and on
various occasions shipwrecked mariners and others have taken up their
abode on the island, and intermixed with the population.
The Pitcairn Islanders have been described as the “Beggars of the
Pacific,” and, on the contrary, have also been depicted as saints in a
modern Eden. Needless to say they are neither the one nor the other, but
inheritors of some of the weaknesses and a surprising amount of the
strength of their mixed ancestry.
From the point of view of its main and scientific object, our visit had
satisfactory results. The island was uninhabited when the mutineers
arrived, but there were traces of past residents. The sites of three
“marae,” or native structures, among the undergrowth were pointed out.
They are said to have been preserved by the first Englishmen, but were
unfortunately destroyed comparatively recently and very little of them
is still preserved. The old people could remember when bones could be
seen lying about in their vicinity. The islanders most kindly offered to
dig out what still existed of these remains, and two days running the
whole population turned out for excavation. The most interesting of the
erections proved to be one situated on the cliff looking down on to
Bounty Bay; we were only able roughly to examine it on the morning of
our departure. It appeared to have been made of earth, not built of
stone, and by clearing away some of the scrub we were able to arrive at
the conclusion that it had been an embankment some 12 feet high, built
on the immediate edge of the vertical cliff, and had had two faces. The
face that was directed seawards was almost vertical, whilst the one
towards the land formed an inclined plane, that measured 37 feet between
its highest and its lowest points. It seemed clear that both sides had
been paved with marine boulders. In general character it resembled to
some extent one of the semi-pyramid ahu of Easter, but dense vegetation
and tree growth rendered it impossible to speak definitely, and the form
may have been determined by the shape of the cliff. It was remembered
that three statues had stood on it, and that one in particular had been
thrown down on to the beach beneath. The headless trunk of this image is
preserved; it is 31 inches in height, and the form has a certain
resemblance to that of Easter Island, but the workmanship is much
cruder. There is said to have been also a statue on a marae on the other
side of the island.
There are interesting rock carvings in two places, both of which are
somewhat difficult to reach. S. managed however to photograph one set,
and a dear old man undertook the scramble to the other site, which was
practically inaccessible to booted feet, and made drawings of them for
the Expedition.
Then we had a great whip-up for any stone implements which might have
been found; Miss Beatrice Young most kindly assisted and induced the
owners to bring out their possessions. Over eighty were produced. The
Islanders were much pleased to think that their contribution would be
numbered among the treasures of the British Museum, but the argument
that “a hundred years hence they would still be there” left them cold;
for, as they explained, “the end of the world would have come before
then.”
We spent in all four nights on the island, which forms, we believe, a
record sojourn for visitors; it is a very happy memory. A large portion
of the population asked for passages to Tahiti, but the hearts of most
failed before the end, and we on our part drew the line at taking more
than two men, who would work their passage. Those who finally came with
us were brothers, Charles and Edwin Young, descendants of Midshipman
Young. They arrived on board with their hats wreathed with flowers—true
Polynesian fashion—accompanied by many friends and relatives. Charles
had been on one of the island trading vessels, but Edwin had never
before left his home (fig. 132).
From Pitcairn we made for Rapa, known as Rapa-iti or Little Rapa, to
distinguish it from Rapa-nui or Great Rapa; which, as has been seen, is
one of the names for Easter. It is a French possession and only visited
by a vessel occasionally. It is seven hundred miles from Pitcairn, and
was somewhat out of our route for Tahiti, but the Sailing Directions
reported a number of prehistoric buildings, which they termed “forts.”
We were anxious to inspect them and see what relation, if any, they bore
to buildings on Easter Island; but disappointment, alas! awaited us. The
side of the island on which is the settlement was at the time of our
visit the windward aspect; there was a strong breeze and quite a heavy
sea. We remained abreast the village for some hours awaiting the pilot,
who is said to come off to visiting vessels, but no one appeared, nor
was any signal made on the shore. Either they were afraid of us, or did
not like the look of the weather. It was not one of the islands we had
originally intended visiting, and we had no chart.
We had to sail the ship the whole time in order to keep our station, and
eventually our forestay gave out; this meant putting her instantly
before the wind, or we should have been dismasted. We therefore ran
under the lee of the land and made good our damage. It would have taken
a long time to thrash back to our original station, so we reluctantly
gave up the attempt to make a landing. The coast is extremely fine,
bold, and precipitous, but that, and the illustration given, is all that
we can tell of Rapa.
[Illustration:
FIG. 129.—THE ISLAND OF RAPA.
]
CHAPTER XXI
TAHITI, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS, SAN FRANCISCO
Tahiti—Voyage to Hawaiian Islands—Oahu, with its capital Honolulu—Visit
to Island of Hawaii—San Francisco—The Author returns to England.
TAHITI
Wallis is the first European known certainly to have seen Tahiti. He
visited it in 1767, and was followed two years later by Cook. The
predominant chiefs on the island at this time were Amo and his wife
Purea, of the district of Paparo on the south coast. They are chiefly
notorious as the founders of the great marae—or “temple”—of Mahaiatea,
which they built in honour of their infant son, Teriiere. This work
must have been in progress when Wallis anchored on the other side of
the island. The demands which they made on their fellow natives in
order to secure its erection were so extortionate that a rising took
place against them; and by the time Cook made his first appearance
they were shorn of much of their glory. Subsequently various other
navigators visited the island. Cook anchored there a second time, and
H.M.S. Bounty made a prolonged sojourn. In 1797 thirty missionaries
arrived, sent from England by the London Missionary Society.
By this time another native family was in the ascendant, whose
territory was on the north coast. They have become known as the
Pomare, a name crystallised by the missionaries, but which was in
reality only one of the minor appellations which had been adopted,
native fashion, by the chief of the day. Pomare II. was baptised in
1819.
About forty years later Roman Catholic missionaries arrived, and a
struggle for ascendancy took place between them and the London
Society. The Home Government refused to support the Protestants. Queen
Pomare IV., therefore, though she much preferred the English, was
compelled to apply for a French protectorate, which was established in
1843. On the death of the old Queen in 1877, the French recognised her
son, Pomare V., who had married his cousin Marau. The new Queen was
the daughter of a chiefess known as Arii Taimai, who had married an
English Jew named Salmon.[85] Miss Gordon Cumming, who visited the
island at the time, gives an interesting account of the procession
round the island to proclaim the new sovereigns, in which she herself
took part. In 1880 Pomare handed over his claims to the French
Government, by whom the island was then formally annexed.
We sighted Tahiti on the 16th of September, 1915, sailed along its coast
with interest, and anchored in the afternoon at Papeete on the north
shore. It was wonderful to return once more to the great world, even in
its modified form at Tahiti, and the Rip van Winkle sensation was most
curious. The Consul, Mr. H. A. Richards, was early on board with a kind
welcome, and sent us round the longed-for sacks containing a year’s
accumulation of letters and newspapers. The mail, however, brought bad
personal news, and though life had to go on as usual, recollections of
the island have suffered from every point of view.[86]
Tahiti, as seen from the sea, with its mass of broken mountains covered
with verdure, is undoubtedly very beautiful; and the sunset effects over
the neighbouring island of Moorea are particularly striking. The lagoon
too is fascinating, and refreshing expeditions were made in the motor
launch to study the wonders of its protecting coral reef. When on land,
however, the charm of the island is somewhat dissipated. The inhabited
strip round the coast, which varies from nothing up to some two miles in
width, is covered with bungalows and little native properties, and is so
full of coconuts and palms that all effect of the mountains is lost.
Though it was only the month of September at the time of our visit it
was very hot and airless, making all mental and physical exertion an
effort. I went one morning for a walk at 6.30 in the hope of better
things, but even then it felt as if Nature had forgotten to open her
windows. The wild charm of romance which greeted the early voyagers and
which must have assuaged the struggle of the first missionaries is now
no more. Papeete is civilised: it is a port for the mail steamers
between America and New Zealand. It is under French rule, but a large
proportion of business is in the hands of the British and also of the
Chinese.
We lived at the hotel, as _Mana_ had to go on the slip, and had an
interesting fellow-guest in an American geologist. He was travelling in
the Pacific with the object of proving that it had never been a
continent, but that the islands were sporadic volcanic upheavals from
the ocean bed. He had found himself involved in the everlasting quarrel
between geologists and biologists, who each want the world constructed
to prove their own theories. In this case a biologist wished for
continuity of land to account for the presence of the same snail in
islands far removed. Our friend had contended that the molluscs might
have travelled on drift-wood, but was told in reply that salt water did
not “suit their constitution.” He had then argued that they could easily
have gone with the food in native canoes. “Anyhow,” he concluded, with a
delightful Yankee drawl, “to have the floor of the ocean raised up
fifteen thousand feet, for his snails to crawl over, is just too much.”
S. was presented by the Consul to the French Governor, and I called,
according to instructions, to pay my respects to his wife, who proved to
be both young and charming. She was good enough subsequently to send an
invitation to a tea-party, which differed interestingly from similar
functions at home. It took place in a large room where twenty chairs,
covered with brocade, were arranged in a circle which was broken only by
a settee. On this sat the hostess, and by her side, either as the
greatest stranger, or as having taken the precaution to be an early
arrival, the Stewardess of the _Mana_. One by one the chairs filled up,
and each fresh arrival, after greeting her entertainer, went round and
shook hands with every one already there. The hostess retained her seat,
from which she conversed across to various points of the circle. No one
moved except that when a delightful tea came in, it was handed round by
the young girls; no servant appeared—they are almost impossible to get.
The Governor earned our particular gratitude by his kindness in sending
daily a copy of the war bulletin, which arrived by wireless from
Honolulu and New Zealand; though the installation was not at the time
sufficiently advanced to be capable of sending out messages.
The Germans were interned in the bay on what was known as Quarantine
Island, and were employed to do a certain amount of leisurely work on
the roads, at a comparatively high rate of pay; at the same time the
French subjects, native and half-caste, had been called up for much
harder military service and received the standard remuneration, which
was much lower. It was commonly reported that the latter had sent in a
petition humbly begging that they might be considered as German
prisoners.
[Illustration:
FIG. 13O.
OCÉANIE FRANÇAISE ANCIEN TAHITI
A TAHITIAN PICTURE POST-CARD,
Used as menu card at a luncheon given by the ex-Queen Marau.
1. Papeete, capital of Tahiti, with the Island of Moorea in the
distance. From a sketch by Miss Gordon Cumming. 2. Queen Pomare IV.
3. King Pomare V. 4. Titaua, sister of Queen Marau. 5. The harbour
of Papeete. 6. Himène (or chorus) singers: performance in honour of
Accession of Pomare V and Marau. From a sketch by Miss Gordon
Cumming, 1877. 7. Queen Marau, with autograph.
]
During our time on the island the anniversary occurred of the visit of
Von Spee’s fleet on their way to Easter Island, and the trees were
adorned with official notices proclaiming a public holiday in memory of
the French victory. What happened on that occasion is not precisely
clear, and each person gives a different account. It seems, however,
that as the cruisers _Scharnhorst_ and _Gneisenau_ appeared without any
proper announcement, the shore batteries fired across their bows to stop
them. The Germans replied, and some houses in the town were set on fire.
The French gun-boat _Zelée_ was sunk in the harbour, also a German ship
which had been taken as a prize. The custodian of the coal supply set it
on fire to prevent it from falling into the enemy’s hands; this action
was subsequently justified, as it transpired that the Germans had given
out that they were going to Papeete in order to obtain coal. After a
certain number of shots had passed in both directions, the enemy went on
their way.
We had particular pleasure in making the acquaintance of the late Queen,
widow of Pomare V., an able and cultured lady, who lives in a villa in
Papeete, and calls herself simply “Madame Marau Taaroa.” She was kind
enough to lend us a valuable book written by her mother, Arii Taimai,
which tells the history of the island as related by family traditions
and combines with this account the information given by the early
voyagers. Her charming daughter, Princess Takau Pomare, who had been
educated in Paris, placed us under a great obligation by constituting
herself our cicerone. She took us to see the monument on Venus Point,
erected to mark the spot where Cook observed the transit of Venus; and
also the Pomare mausoleum. Miss Gordon Cumming records that it was the
ancient habit at Tahiti for the dead to be placed in a house, watched
till only dust and ashes remained, and then buried securely in the
mountain to guard against possible desecration; this custom, she states,
still survived in her day in the case of departed royalty.
We had also a delightful motor drive with the Princess to some family
property on the south side of the island, lunching at a small hotel
which was nothing if not up-to-date, being dignified with the name of
the Tipperary Hotel. The proprietor, a Frenchman, advertised it by
stating that while it was a “long, long way to Tipperary,” it was only a
short way to his establishment. He had adorned the walls of the
dining-room with large frescoes of the flags of the Allies, leaving, as
he explained, “plenty of room for Holland, Greece, and America.”
The marae of Tahiti have vanished, but on the way back we stopped to see
all that remains of a once famous pile. Nothing now exists but a mass of
overgrown coral stones, converted into a lime kiln. Fortunately Cook and
his companion Banks both visited Mahaiatea in its glory and have left us
descriptions, and we have also a drawing of it. It is obvious that these
structures in no way resembled the ahu of Easter Island. Mahaiatea was a
pyramid of oblong form with a base 267 ft. by 71 ft.; it was composed of
squared coral stones and blue pebbles, and consisted of eleven steps
each some 4 ft. in height. It impressed Banks as “a most enormous pile,
its size and workmanship almost surpassing belief.”[87] The pyramid
formed one side of a court or square, the whole being walled in and
paved with flat stones.
Marae, as Arii Taimai explains, were sacred to some god; but the god was
only a secondary affair; a man’s whole social position depended on his
having a stone to sit on within his marae enclosure. Cook was asked for
the name of his marae, as it was not supposed possible that a chief
could be without one, and took refuge in giving the name of his London
parish, Stepney.
Princess Takau kindly acted as interpreter when we went to look up the
Easter Islanders who came here to work on the Brander plantation and who
still form a little colony. One of our main objects in visiting Tahiti
had been to inspect the tablets and Easter Island collection of Bishop
Jaussen who died in 1892. In this we met with disappointment; the
present authorities, whom we saw more than once, took no interest at all
in the subject, and said that on Bishop Jaussen’s death, the Brothers
had sent the articles home as curios to their friends in Europe. They
gave us an address in Louvain, which it has not of course up to the
present been possible to follow up.
[Illustration:
FIG. 131.
MARAE MAHAIATEA TAHITI.
(From _A Missionary Voyage in the Ship Duff, 1796–98._)
]
[Illustration:
FIG. 132.
CHARLES AND EDWIN YOUNG.
The great-great-grandsons of Midshipman Young, the only commissione
officer among the mutineers of the _Bounty_ who took refuge on
Pitcairn Island, 1790.
]
Our crew underwent some alterations at Tahiti. The post of engineer had
been filled by a Chilean, and one deck hand had already gone home as a
reservist; two more now desired to return direct to “serve their
country,” one of these was my friend Bailey, the cook. As he had had no
opportunity of spending his wages, he was, on being paid off, quite a
millionaire. He invested in a number of white washing suits and took up
his residence at our hotel. I was presented with his photograph clad in
the new raiment. An officer travelling to England from New Zealand was
kind enough to undertake to give him some care on the journey, and
managed to get him safely home, though most of his fortune had
disappeared _en route_. He took service as a ship’s cook, and we saw his
name subsequently, with most sincere regret, in a list of “missing.”
Bailey’s place was taken by an American, who had formed part of the crew
which had been discharged from a ship which they had brought to Tahiti
from California. He declined to come on board till just before we
sailed, as he was engaged for a prize-fight with a noted coloured
champion; the prospective fight excited a good deal of local interest,
but ended lamentably in the white man being knocked out at the first
blow. As we were still short-handed, we arranged with our two Pitcairn
Islanders to come on with us to England; Charles Young was signed on as
deck hand, and Edwin, who was of less strong physique, as steward. They
both gave every satisfaction, and Edwin, though he had of course to be
taught his duties, was the best steward we ever had.
We had considerable conversation with our Consul, Mr. Richards, on the
subject of Pitcairn, in which he has always taken great interest, doing
all that he could for the Islanders. He had been anxious if possible to
make a stay there of some duration, feeling, no doubt rightly, that the
only way to solve its difficulties was for someone to dwell there long
enough to see the situation, not as a visitor, but as a resident.
Circumstances had not, so far, rendered this feasible, but it is to be
hoped it may still be accomplished.
It was impossible to make a direct passage from Tahiti to Panama, as the
Trade Wind would have been dead against us, we had, therefore, to turn
its flank by going as far north as the Sandwich Group, or, to give them
their American name, the Hawaiian Islands. We passed within sight of one
or two of the Paumotu group, which was our first introduction to coral
atolls; but I do not think we saw a ship during the whole voyage.
It was a long run, as we met with calms in the Doldrums, and were
without the use of the motor, which stood in need of some simple
repairs, that could not be done in Tahiti. Being becalmed is certainly
unpleasant, there is no air, everything hangs loose, rattles and bangs,
and cheerful calculations are made as to how much damage per hour is
being done to the gear; but on the whole the patience of seamen is
marvellous. Occupation happily was provided in the stupendous quantity
of arrears of newspapers. We read them most diligently, but it is hardly
fair to journalists to deal with their output a year after it is
written, the mistakes and false prophecies of even the most sober papers
become painfully obvious. We became acquainted, for example, at one and
the same time with the birth and death of the “Russian steam-roller”
theory, and other similar figments. My diary is diversified by such
items of domestic interest as “showed Edwin how to look after the
brass.” “S. taught Edwin to clean silver.”
HAWAIIAN ISLANDS
The group is composed of eight inhabited islands which stretch in a
line from north-west to south-east. Hawaii, the most southerly, is the
largest, and now gives its name to the whole, but the principal modern
town, Honolulu, is on the more northerly island of Oahu. The islands
were known to the early Spanish voyagers, but their connection with
the civilised world really dates from their rediscovery by Cook. He
called them after Lord Sandwich, who was at that time First Lord of
the Admiralty. The great navigator was murdered on Hawaii in 1779.
Vancouver touched there more than once, and obtained the consent of
the natives to a British Protectorate, which he proclaimed on Hawaii
in 1794; the action was however ignored by the Home Government.
At this time a powerful chief of Hawaii, Kaméhaméha I, rose to
pre-eminence. He captured the island of Oahu in 1795, and consolidated
the group under one government. Contact with the outside world
gradually undermined the native beliefs and the old ceremonial taboos
became wearisome. After the death of Kamehameha they were overthrown
by his son, in 1819, though not without armed resistance from the more
orthodox section. The islands were for a short time “a nation without
a religion”; but Christianity was introduced almost immediately by
American missionaries.
The group was nominally independent till the time of Queen
Liliuokalani, who succeeded in 1891. Her rule roused much resentment
among the foreign residents, and during a period of unsettlement she
was imprisoned in her palace for nine months. An appeal was made to
the United States, and the islands were formally annexed by that power
in 1898.
_Oahu._—After a five-weeks’ voyage, which included an abortive attempt
to call at the island of Hawaii, we reached Honolulu, in the island of
Oahu, on November 11th, 1915.
From the isolation of Easter we had come to the comparatively busy life
of Tahiti, and now at Honolulu we felt once more in touch with the great
world. It is a cheerful and up-to-date city in beautiful surroundings.
Seen from the harbour it is not unlike Papeete, but the town is bigger,
and the mountains more distant. The roads of the suburbs are frequently
bordered by large areas of mown grass, which form part of the gardens of
the adjacent villas. It is considered a duty to erect no wall or paling,
and the custom, while it deprives the residences of privacy, greatly
enhances the charm of the highway. The practice is encouraged by a
public-spirited society, interested in the beauty of the place. The
aquarium contains fish of most gorgeous colouring, and it is well worth
while to explore a coral reef on the eastern shore in a glass-bottomed
boat.
In addition to the original population, the place swarms with Japanese,
and the Americans seem little more than a ruling caste. The natives are
reported to be entirely sophisticated, and quite competent to invent
folk-tales or anything else to order. The Bishop Museum has an
interesting collection of relics and models of the old civilisation, and
we are much indebted to the Director, Dr. Brigham, for his kindness in
exhibiting them to us. The principal treasures are the wonderful feather
cloaks and helmets of the old chiefs. Fifty men were employed for a
hundred years in collecting the yellow feathers from which one cloak is
made. The birds, which produce only a few feathers each of the desired
colour, were caught on branches smeared with gum.
There is also in the museum an excellent model of one “heiau,” or
temple; it is shown as a rectangular enclosure containing various sacred
erections. This form of heiau has no resemblance either to the marae of
Tahiti or the ahu of Easter Island; and the art of building never seems
to have approached the excellence reached in the latter. Mr. Gordon, the
British Consul, gave us much pleasure by taking us in his motor,
accompanied by Dr. Brigham, to see the remains of one of these temples
on the eastern side of the island. Little now exists save a rough
enclosing wall. It is a matter of surprise that, under so enlightened a
government as the American, more pains are not taken to preserve the
archæological monuments throughout the islands, which are fast
disappearing. Much care is bestowed on attracting visitors, and it would
have seemed, even from the financial point of view, that the protection
of these objects of interest would have been eminently worth while.
We also visited the famous Pali, the site of a great battle at the time
of the conquest of the island by Kaméhaméha, chief of Hawaii. A range of
mountains runs along the eastern side of the island. The visitor,
approaching from the west, rises gradually till he reaches the summit,
and is then confronted by a sheer drop of many hundreds of feet down to
the coast below.
The cliff extends for many miles, and the views over land and sea are
most striking. During the invasion, the Hawaiian army pursued the
natives up the slope, and drove them headlong over the Pali, or
precipice. Kaméhaméha is the national hero; when a statue was erected in
Honolulu, to commemorate the centenary of the discovery of the island by
Cook, it was dedicated, not to the navigator, but to the Hawaiian chief.
We were accorded an interview with the ex-queen Liliuokalani. It was a
distinctly formal occasion. We were shown into a waiting-room till some
previous arrivals had finished their audience, and were then
ceremoniously introduced to royalty. The room was furnished after
European fashion, but was adorned with feather ornaments. The old lady,
who had a tattoo mark on her cheek, sat with quiet dignity in an
arm-chair. She was obviously frail, and though she spoke occasionally in
good English, her secretary did most of the conversation. She told us
that her brother had caused certain native legends and songs to be
written down, and she herself, during her imprisonment in 1895, had
translated into English an Hawaiian account of the creation of the
world. The secretary presented us with a copy of this book. We did not
gather that either of them had ever heard of Easter Island. After a
short time we took our leave, curtseying again and backing out as we had
seen done by our predecessors. It may be remembered that Liliuokalani
visited England at the time of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee. Since our
return we have seen the announcement of her death; so closes the list of
the Hawaiian sovereigns.
Being in harbour brought the not unknown domestic excitements. The
pugilistic American cook, who had been quite satisfactory on the voyage,
proved to be one of those who cannot be in port without going “on the
bust.” He was rescued once, but he shortly afterwards asked for shore
leave at 10 o’clock in the morning. This was naturally declined; he then
said he wanted to have a tooth out. S. assured him he was quite capable
of officiating. Finding he could get neither leave, money, nor a boat,
he sprang overboard, and swam ashore in his clothes. His place was taken
by a Japanese cook from Honolulu.
_Hawaii._—When the repairs to the engine had been accomplished, we sent
the yacht ahead to San Francisco, and ourselves made a trip by steamer
from the island of Oahu to that of Hawaii. Between the two lies the
island of Molokai, on which is the leper settlement, connected with
Father Damien’s heroic work and death. We did not see the settlement
itself, but from its photographs it seems an attractive collection of
small houses, in the midst of wonderfully beautiful scenery.
The principal sight on Hawaii is the active crater of Kilauea. Instead
of the long ride described by Lady Brassey, visitors, landing at the
port of Hilo, are now conveyed in motors to a comfortable hotel, on the
edge of the crater. We made a detour on the way to see a genuine native
settlement, where the standard of living proved to be much the same as
on Easter. The crater itself is a subsidiary one on the side of the
great mountain, Mauna Loa; it is 4,000 feet above sea-level, and has a
circuit of nearly eight miles. The greater part of the crater is
extinct, and its hardened lava can easily be walked over, but one
portion is still active, and forms a boiling lake about a thousand feet
across. No photograph gives any idea of the impressiveness of the scene,
particularly after dark. The floor of the pit is paved with dark but
iridescent lava, across which run irregular and ever-varying cracks of
glowing gold. First one of these cracks, and then another, bubbles out
into a roaring fire, the heat melts the adjacent lava, causing great
dark masses to break off and slip into the furnace, where they are
devoured by the flames. It is a fascinating spectacle which could be
watched for hours. The floor of the pit rises and sinks; when we were
there it was some hundreds of feet below the spectator.
Kilauea was considered in olden times to be the special abode of Pele,
the goddess of fire; but after the advent of the missionaries, her power
was formally defied by Kapiolani, the daughter of a chief who ate the
berries consecrated to the deity on the brink of the pit. More than
fifty years later, however, in 1880, there was so great an eruption of
lava on the other side of Mauna Loa that native royalty had to beseech
Pele to stifle her anger and save the people; a prayer which was, it is
said, immediately effective.
We decided not to return to Hilo, but to see something more of the
island, and catch the steamer at Kawaihae on the western side. We left
the hotel at 8 a.m. and motored over a hundred miles, first passing
through grass lands and cattle ranches, and then through sugar
plantations. The way was diversified by extraordinary flows of lava,
through which the road had been cleared: they extended for miles like a
great sea; one of the streams was as recent as 1907. The last stage of
the drive was through forest growth and coffee plantations. We spent the
night at a small hotel, kept by a lady. An interesting fellow-guest was
a government entymologist, who was combating a parasite which was
injuring the coffee; to this end he had introduced an enemy beast of the
same nature brought from Nigeria, which was successfully devouring its
natural foe.
Below the hotel was the Bay of Kealekakua, which was the scene of the
last great drama in the life of Cook. On its shore are the remains of
the building where he was treated as the incarnation of the god Loro. It
is now only a mass of stones, but is said to have been a truncated
pyramid, which is an old form of heiau. On the top of this temple Cook
was robed in red tapa, offered a hog, and otherwise worshipped. The
conduct of the white men, however, was such that they soon lost the
respect of the natives. An affray occurred over the stealing of one of
the ship’s boats, and Cook was stabbed in the back by one of the iron
daggers which he had himself given in barter. An obelisk has been
erected to his memory.
[Illustration:
FIG. 133.
HEIAU PUUKOHOLA, HAWAII.
]
On the opposite side of the bay is a “puuhonua,” or place of refuge, by
name Honaunau. It corresponded with the cities of refuge in the Old
Testament. “Hither,” says Ellis, “the man-slayer, the man who had broken
a tabu, ... the thief and even the murderer, fled from his incensed
pursuer and was secure.”[88] It covered seven acres, and was enclosed on
the landward side by a massive wall 12 ft. high and 15 ft. thick.
In the afternoon we motored on to Waimea by a _cornice_ road, which was
bumpy beyond description. The hotel consisted of a few rooms behind the
principal store. The next morning, on the way to the steamer, we
inspected two heiau, a small one at the foot of a hill, and a large and
striking one on its summit known as Puukohola. Tradition says that the
hero Kaméhaméha set out to rebuild the former in order to secure success
in war, but was told that, if he wished to be victorious, he must erect
a temple instead on the higher altitude.
The temple, which adapts itself to the ground, rises on the seaward side
by a series of great terraces and culminates on the summit in a levelled
area paved with stones. On the landward side the building is enclosed by
a great wall, on which stood innumerable wooden idols. It was entered by
a narrow passage between high walls. On the area at the top were various
sacred buildings, including a wicker tower, out of which the priest
spoke, an altar, and certain houses, in one of which the king resided
during periods of taboo. Whilst the temple was being built, even the
great chiefs assisted in carrying stones, and the day it was completed
(1791 _c._) eleven men were sacrificed on the altar.[89] It is one of
the latest, as it is one of the finest of the heiau. From the walls are
magnificent views of the two great mountains of Hawaii, Mauna Kea and
Mauna Loa, both over 13,000 ft.
It was interesting to recognise in the Hawaiian language not a few words
similar to those which we had learnt on Easter Island. In Polynesian the
letters K and T are practically interchangeable. Thus Mauna Kea, meaning
Mount White, from its usual covering of snow, is equivalent to Maunga
Tea-tea, the hill of white ash in Easter. The same is true of the
letters L and R. Mauna Loa is Mount Long just as Hanga Roa is Bay Long.
The identification of these last letters is not confined to Polynesia.
We made one of the Akikuyu in East Africa repeat the same word over and
over again, to see if it had the sound of L or R; he used first one and
then the other without any discrimination. The names in Hawaii are said
to exist in their present form simply according to the manner in which
they have been crystallised in writing.
We duly caught our steamer to Honolulu, and changed there into the boat
for San Francisco.
CALIFORNIA
Cortez, Governor of Mexico, was under the impression that America was
in close proximity to Asia. Hearing of the success of Magellan in
discovering a southern route to the westward, he sent an expedition to
the north, with the object of finding a road to India in that
direction. The members of this party, which was commanded by Cabrillo,
were the first Europeans to discover California (1542). The native
Indian population at that time is supposed to have been about seven
hundred thousand in number.
For over two hundred years Spain took but little interest in the new
country; but in 1769 she began to be alarmed lest the Russians should
descend on it from the north, and its occupation was ordered from
Mexico. In this movement, not only was the secular power represented,
but Catholic missions played an important part. The Franciscan order
was first in the field; and the mission station, which gave its name
to the Bay of San Francisco, was dedicated in 1776. Later the
Dominican order also founded religious establishments. These
institutions were finally secularised in 1836, but Californians justly
regard the remains as the most romantic as well as historic objects in
the country.
A wave of immigrants from the United States began to arrive about
1841; war broke out with the parent country of Mexico in 1846; and in
1848 California was formally transferred to the States. The same year,
1848, the first discovery of gold caused an enormous inrush of
population. The journey was no easy one; for twenty years the would-be
immigrant from the east had to choose between the dangerous expedition
overland, the unhealthy condition of the Panama route, or a voyage
round the Horn. The Pacific railway was at last completed in 1869.
The most dramatic event of recent years has been the earthquake of
1906, which was followed by a great fire, when for three days the city
was a mass of flames.
We arrived at San Francisco on December 14th, 1915. The bay recalls in
some degree that of Rio de Janeiro, the ocean has in the same way
penetrated through a narrow channel into a low district surrounded by
mountains and formed it into an inland sea. There, however, the
resemblance stops. The Bay of San Francisco runs, for its major portion,
parallel to the sea, and thus forms a peninsula on either side of the
entrance, the well-known Golden Gate. The tract on the southern side is
sufficiently level to allow of the site of a town. The main frontage of
the city is on the bay, but it extends to the seaward side. The
population has also spread across the bay, and the suburbs have attained
to the magnitude of towns. The large ferry boats which ply across the
water are marked features of San Francisco life.
There was nothing in the present fine city to recall the fact that ten
years before it had been laid low by the great fire, but any building
dating back more than a score of years is treated with respectful
interest. A professional guide, who escorts tourists in a motor
char-à-bancs, solemnly stated that such and such houses were “in the
style of thirty-five years ago,” or that a church was “one hundred years
old, but still used for service.”
It is not, however, in such matters that the youth of California most
strikes a visitor from an older country. Its inhabitants appear to him
to resemble children who have discovered a new playground, and who are
busily occupied in seeing what each can find there. They seem, with
notable exceptions, to have little time to spare for those deeper
studies and questionings which form part of life in lands where the
earlier stage has long been passed. There are, no doubt, in the gay
crowd many profound thinkers, numbers with unsatisfied longings and
broken hearts, but they are not obvious in the general cheerful
absorption as to how much everything costs and everybody is worth. The
stranger also, however much theoretically prepared, experiences a shock
in finding how little a population formed from manifold races has as yet
amalgamated; the owner of a shop, for instance, may not be able to speak
even intelligibly the language of the country of his adoption.
Depressing accounts were given of the type of man who thought it worth
while to take up political life, and the consequent short-sightedness of
some of the legislative measures. We were frankly told that we were much
better off with our British monarchy, and once an American-born citizen
was even heard to regret the War of Independence.
With regard to the Great War we were told that at that time ninety-five
per cent. of the population of San Francisco were pro-Ally, though a few
professors still looked to Germany as the home of culture. Conversation
on the subject was definitely discouraged, and one man, who spoke to us
for a few minutes concerning the struggle, ended by saying, “I have not
talked so much about the war for months.” It was naturally impossible to
appreciate at so great a distance the feeling which pervaded Europe. A
high authority, whom we consulted as to where we could see some Indian
life, recommended us to go to a certain German mission and “ask for
hospitality from the Fathers”; that we should prefer not to do so he
obviously thought most narrow-minded. Affairs in Mexico where some
Americans had just been killed by the insurgents were much more
interesting. Even Japan and Australia appeared more closely connected
with every-day life, and not only seemed nearer than Europe, but than
the Eastern States themselves. So was brought home the truth of the
saying that “oceans unite, not divide”; also that the Pacific and its
seaboard are really an entity, however much the atlas may prefer to give
a contrary impression. Later it was impossible to think without deep
sympathy of this young community plunged whole-heartedly with all its
fresh ardour and keen intelligence into the solemn crucible of war.
We received welcome help and hospitality from Mr. Ross, our
Consul-General, Mr. Barneson, the Commodore of the leading yacht club,
and other kind friends. Mr. Adamson, of Messrs. Balfour & Guthrie, a
firm allied to our Chilean friends Williamson & Balfour, came
opportunely to our assistance when the censor felt that a cabled draft
from England was too dangerous a document to pass without many days of
consideration.
We were naturally much interested in making the acquaintance of our
anthropological confrères of the University of California, Dr. Waterman
and Mr. Gifford, and in hearing of their important work among the
surviving Indians. A luncheon party at the University buildings at
Berkeley, one of the suburbs on the other side of the bay, was both
pleasant and enlarging to the mind. It is a mixed university, with some
five or six thousand students; situated in beautiful surroundings and
with an enviable library. One of the guests at luncheon was a German
professor, who was at work in New Guinea when the war broke out; the
account runs that the British troops, hearing there was an expedition in
the mountains, went there expecting to encounter an armed force. He was
detained in California, unable to get home.
[Illustration:
FIG. 134.
SAN FRANCISCO,
From Mount Tamalpais, looking across the Golden Gate.
]
Christmas, the third since we left England, we spent in an hotel on the
top of Mount Tamalpais, which is on the other side of the Golden Gate,
and directly opposite to San Francisco. It is reached by a mountain
railway, and gives most beautiful panoramic views of ocean, city, and
bay. The management have hit on the ingenious plan of pointing out
special sights, by placing tubes on the walks round the mountain, at the
level of the eye, oriented on particular places and labelled
accordingly. At night the scene is marvellous; the city appears as a
blaze of illumination, and lights in every direction are reflected in
the still water of the Bay. While on Mount Tamalpais we received a
telephone message to say that _Mana_ was coming through the Gate. She
had taken two days less to do the distance from Honolulu than a
four-masted barque which left about the same time. We could not get down
before her arrival, so left Mr. Gillam to grapple with the usual
officials; and not least with the reporters, seventeen of whom, he
declared, came on board.
We had had our share of the representatives of the press, but any
temptation to self-complacency would have been quenched by the knowledge
that real success in newspaper paragraphs had already been achieved by
the American cook who left in so summary a fashion at Honolulu. He had
turned up from Hawaii and given out that he had been obliged to quit the
yacht because he “could not stand a spook ship with skulls on board.”
Except by one Christian Science reporter, scientific research was
considered dull, but this aspect of our work gave a hope of copy; and we
received a request, from more than one agency, that we would pose for
moving pictures on the deck of the yacht exhibiting the said skulls to
one another.
The Pitcairn Islanders almost rivalled the cook as objects of popular
interest; as the men had nothing to gain from notoriety, we fixed a
modest sum to be given them by each reporter whom they saw; as might
perhaps have been foreseen, an interview then appeared without any such
unnecessary preliminary as a previous conversation. Charles and Edwin
told us that the life of a great city surpassed even their expectations,
but it must be confessed that their most enthusiastic admiration was
aroused by Charlie Chaplin as he appeared at the picture palaces.
The Exhibition was just over, and _Mana_ was moored alongside the now
deserted buildings, which even in their then condition were well worth
seeing. We had understood that there would be no difficulty about our
new cook, as he was not Chinese, and came from an American dependency,
but he was forbidden by the authorities to go on shore. This ruling we
had, of course, no means of enforcing; and we found also that we were
liable to a fine of over £100 if we could not produce him when we
sailed. It was not encouraging to be told that there were plenty of
people who would entice him away for a share in the fine, and it was a
relief when _Mana_ at length sailed having all her crew safely on board.
It had been arranged that I was to return home overland, in order to
avoid the long hot voyage on the yacht, and to put in hand preliminary
arrangements there. I left on January 16th, taking the more southerly
route across the continent. A night was spent at Santa Barbara, to see
the mission buildings which are in the hands of one of the two remaining
San Franciscan communities. The Brother who acted as guide, and who was
of Hungarian Polish descent, said that it had been instrumental in
converting between 4,000 and 5,000 Indians. From Santa Barbara the route
runs to Los Angeles, which forms a winter resort for various Central
American millionaires. A detour was made to the Grand Canyon, which is
perhaps more impressive than beautiful, and so to Washington. A happy
time was spent in seeing the city, and being shown over the National
Museum by Dr. Walter Hough. The objects brought from Easter by the
_Mohican_ naturally proved of the greatest interest. At New York the
beautiful Natural History Museum excited admiration, and gratitude is
owed for the kindness of Dr. Lowie. At that time we were considering the
question whether, owing to war conditions, to lay up or sell _Mana_ in
New York. Nothing could have been kinder than the assistance given in my
search for information by more friends than I can mention. It was
finally, as will be seen, decided to bring her home. The crossing of the
Atlantic in an American vessel was uneventful, and on Sunday, February
6th, 1916, I found myself, with an indescribable thrill, at home once
more in the strange new England of time of war; which was yet the dear
familiar England for which her sons have found it worth while to fight
and if need be to die.
PART IV
_THE HOMEWARD VOYAGE_—Continued
_SAN FRANCISCO TO SOUTHAMPTON_
BY S. R.
CHAPTER XXII
SAN FRANCISCO TO PANAMA
Catching Turtle—The Island of Socorro and what we found there—The tale
of a Russian Finn—Quibo Island—Suffering of the Natives from
Elephantiasis—A Haul with the Seine.
On the 20th of January, 1916, we left the harbour of San Francisco, and
proceeded to get well clear of the land, as the glass told us to expect
a blow: and in due course it came—and plenty of it. We hove to for
twenty-four hours, with oil bags to wind’ard, for the seas were high and
untrue. The weather then moderated, so we let draw, and put her on her
course, and were soon in a more pleasant climate.
The Panama Canal had been closed to all traffic for many months past, in
consequence of land-slides. Of course _Mana_, drawing but 11 feet, and
only 72 feet on the water-line, would experience no difficulty in
passing, if the Administration would permit her to do so. But would it?
We had been unable to discover, through any source in San Francisco,
whether we should, or should not, be allowed to traverse the Canal. The
only course left open to us was to go to the Isthmus and see what could
be done on the spot: if we could not get through we must continue
onwards to the S’uth’ard, and go round the Horn. Mr. Gillam and the
Owner were quite keen on doing so. Mr. Gillam thought it was only fair
to the vessel “to give her a chance of showing what a good little ship
she was.” The crew, however, said they were quite satisfied on that
point, and after three years of it, sighed only for Britain, Beer, and
Beauty. So firmly were they convinced that our plucky Sailing-master
would take her round the Horn, just for the sake of doing so, should he
chance to come back alone without the Owner, that, when they signed on
again at Tahiti for the voyage home, it was subject to the proviso that
the outside passage round Cape Horn should not be taken without their
consent.
So, from the so-called Golden Gate of San Francisco town, to the real
Balboa gate of the Panama Canal, sailed we in the pious hope that
something would turn up in our favour, and believing that it would do
so, for _Mana_ is a “lucky ship.” And of course that “something” did:
but other events, not devoid of interest, intervene and demand recital.
At this point political conditions must be referred to for the due
understanding of our story. Absurd though it be, the fact remains that,
just as England meekly allows herself to be bamboozled, robbed,
insulted, and defied by one petty _sans-culotte_ province, so do the
United States submit to like treatment from Mexico: the same small δελτα
that represents mathematically the consideration in which an Irishman
holds the British Government, may be said equally to symbolise the
degree of respect in which the American Eagle is held by the patriots of
Mexico. Therefore, argued we, as the noble Mexican does not hesitate to
pluck the Eagle, whenever that fowl comes hopping on his ground, still
less will he refrain from depilating the Lion, should he want some fur
for fly-tying. No, we will give the coast of Mexico a good berth. A
vessel like the _Mana_ would, at the moment, have been an invaluable
capture for the “patriots,” whose acquaintance we had no wish to
cultivate. We thought of the many-oared row-boats of the Riff coast, and
how they could come at speed over the smooth windless sea and board us
on either quarter. Of course our motor would have been in our favour,
but, all the same, discretion was perhaps better than valour, as we were
unarmed. So we decided to keep 200 miles off the land in working down
the coast of Lower California and Mexico, though it would have been
better navigation, and more interesting, to have come close in.
The climate was now delightful: smooth water: gentle fair breezes. These
conditions enabled us to capture all the turtle, and more than all, we
wanted. They were asleep at the surface: the sea like glass, and heaving
rhythmically. The undulations of a sea like this are so long, and wide,
and gentle, that one somehow ceases to regard them as waves, and thinks
of the movement of the water immediately around the craft as being only
a local pulsation.
We had noticed, from time to time, isolated seagulls heaving into sight
on the top of the swell. Sometimes there would be as many as three or
four within calling distance from one another. Each seemed to stand on a
separate piece of drift-wood, never two on the same piece. Some seemed
occupied with affairs, swearing all the time, as seagulls always do;
some stood silently on one leg, “a-staring into wacancy” and thinking on
their past. Some preened and oiled their feathers. We could not
understand why there should be drift-wood, all small, and all over the
place like this, so bore down on a sleeping bird, when, to our great
surprise, we found that his resting-place was the back of one of
Nature’s U-boats—a turtle. Some may think then that all we had to do, if
we wanted a turtle, was to approach a resting bird, but not a bit of it.
If the bird, for reasons of his own, flew away from the back of the
turtle, the turtle remained as before, nor did he ever seem to draw the
line at the profanity with which his visitor argued some point with the
nearest neighbours, but let a boat approach, however gently and
innocently, and the gull decide to clear, because he did not like the
look of it—even as the bird did so, did Master Turtle down with his head
and up with his heels, and where he had been, he was not; without a
splash, or a swirl, or a bubble. If any fail to understand this
description, he should betake himself to Africa and stalk rhino in high
grass whilst they have their red-billed birds in attendance scrambling
all over the huge bodies hunting for ticks. Let but one bird spring up
suddenly in alarm from a rhino’s back, forthwith will occur proceedings
that shall not fail to leave a lasting impression on the observer.
When we wanted a turtle, however, we went to work in this way. The
little 12 ft. dinghy, having two thwarts and a sternseat, was lowered
from the starboard quarter and towed astern. A sharp look-out was kept
ahead, and to leu’ard, for a turtle asleep on the surface. On one being
sighted, the vessel was run off towards it. Simultaneously the dinghy
was hauled up alongside, and two of us, barefooted, dropped into her:
she was then passed astern again and towed. One man sat in the stern
sheets and steered with a paddle, having handy a strong gaff hook lashed
on the end of the staff of a six-foot boat-hook: the oarsman occupied
the for’ard thwart with his paddles shipped in the rowlocks. The leather
of the oars had been well greased previously, so as to make no sound.
The dinghy silently sped after the ship. On the vessel arriving within
some 50 yards of the turtle, an arm on the quarter-deck was waved: the
dinghy slipped her tow line, the ship’s helm was put up, and she
edged-off to leu’ard away from the fish, whilst the dinghy continued,
under the way she carried, on the line of the vessel’s former course,
and therefore straight towards the turtle. On the sitter catching sight
of the fish, if the boat was carrying sufficient way to bring him up to
it, he laid aside the steering oar, and at the right moment made a sign
to his mate, who then gently dipped one of his paddles in the water. The
boat in consequence made half a rotation, coming stern-on to the turtle,
instead of bows-on as previously. The oarsman then saw the fish for the
first time and commenced to back her down with gentle touches of his two
paddles right on to the top of the fish. Meanwhile the sitter slid off
the after seat, turned himself round so as to face the stern and knelt
on the bottom of the boat with his knees placed well under the after
seat, his chest resting on the transome, his arm outstretched over the
water, rigidly holding the gaff extended like a bumpkin, with the point
of the hook directed downwards towards the water, and about two inches
above its surface.
Now the old turtle is roosting on the water with the edges of his shell
just awash, his dome-shaped back rising just clear of it, and his head
hanging downwards in order that he may keep his brains cool. At the
opposite end to his head is his tail. This detail may seem unnecessary.
But it is not so. It is an essential point. When a turtle is surprised
he does not express it by throwing himself backward head uppermost on to
his tail, and show his white waistcoat, and wave his arms in
depreciation of the interview, but he downs with his head and ups with
his heels and the tip of his tail, if you are able to recognise it, is
the last you see of Master Turtle. And when he acts thus he shows much
decision of character: there is no hesitation: in a moment of time he is
absent. Hence, when you approach a turtle, you must first decide where
away lies his tail, and so place your craft that her keel, and the
turtle’s spine, shall lie in the same straight line. Then, as she is
backed stern foremost towards him, the staff of the gaff is brought, by
the movement of the boat, immediately above the length of his back. Now
for it! the fisherman suddenly thrusts the gaff from him till the point
of the hook is beyond the rim of the shell: raises his hand the least
trifle, so as to depress the hook slightly, then savagely snatches the
gaff backward, at the same time shortening his grasp on the shaft. The
turtle awakes from his dreams to find that he is in a position in which
he is helpless—standing on his tail, with his back against the boat’s
transome, and his fore flippers out of water. But he is not given time
to think. As his back touches the flat end of the boat, the fisherman
springs from his knees to his feet and, with one lusty heave, hoicks
Uncle up on to the edge of the transome and balances him there for the
moment. Down goes the stern of the little boat, well towards water level
under the combined weight of man and fish. Then the slightest further
pull, and into the bottom of the dinghy the turtle slides with a crash,
whilst the fisherman, whose only thought now is for the safety of his
toes, gracefully sinks down upon the middle thwart, takes hold of the
gunnel with either hand, and hangs one bare leg overboard to starboard,
and the other to port, until the turtle has decided in which part of the
boat he proposes permanently to place his head. Slowly he opens and
closes his bill, shaped like the forceps of a dentist, and slowly he
blinks his eyne, as much as to say, “Just put a foot in my neighbourhood
or even one big toe.” Turtles have no charity.
The turtle and the fisherman have engrossed one another’s attention so
far, but there are three other elements in the equation; they are (_a_)
the boat, (_b_) the boatman, and (_c_) the shark. Each of these requires
a word in passing. Now a 12 ft. dinghy, like any other of God’s
creatures, has feelings: these it expresses amongst other ways, when
treated unreasonably, by capsizing, and turtle catching it puts in the
neighbourhood of the limit. Not infrequently it happens that the long
black fin of a San Francisco pilot comes mouching around at a turtle
hunt, as if to incite the long-suffering dinghy to show temper. Hence it
is sometimes quite interesting to view, from the ship, the sympathetic
way in which the oarsman exerts himself to humour every whim of the
little boat, in order to induce it to maintain its centre of gravity
during the scrimmage. He quite seems to have the idea in his head that,
with the shark assisting at the ceremony, a capsize would be anything
but a joke for him. Anyhow, it is all right this time, so we make for
the vessel, now gently rising high on the top of the swell, anon slowly
sinking until only her vane is visible.
“Lee-Oh!” Round she comes. “Let the staysail bide!”
As she loses her way the dinghy shoots up towards her, a line comes
flying in straightening coils from the bows of the ship and falls, with
a whack, across the dinghy’s nose. The oarsman claps a turn with it
around the for’ard thwart, and quickly gets his weight out of her bows,
by shifting to the middle thwart, before the strain comes. At the same
time the fisherman nips aft, whilst keeping an eye on Master Turtle’s
jaws, squats on the after seat, picks up an oar and sheers her in
towards the ship. Then a strop falls into the sternsheets: the oarsman
slips it over a hind flipper, one of the dinghy’s falls is swayed to
him, he hooks it into the strop, and up runs Baba Turtle, to be swung
inboard the next moment into the arms of the Japanese cook, who receives
him with a Japanese smile as he bares his sniggery-snee.
We had now been more than a fortnight at sea. After a run of this length
we generally found it well to touch somewhere to refresh. The chart
showed ahead of us the Island of Socorro which we could fetch by edging
off a little. The Sailing Directions told us it was uninhabited, and
rarely visited: that there was no fresh water on it, but nevertheless
that sheep and goats were to be found, and that landing was possible.
The early morning of February the 5th showed its single lofty peak
standing out clearly above the lower mist, and in a line with our
bowsprit, whilst a light breeze on our quarter made us raise it fairly
fast. In the chart-room we pored over the only chart we had, a
small-scale one, using it for what it was worth to elucidate the Sailing
Directions. These indicated an anchorage and landing-place on its
south-western side: poor, but possible: and no outlying dangers. We
therefore decided to examine that coast, and see what we could find in
the way of anchorage and landing facilities. At the same time the
conversation turned on the apparent excellence of the place as a
gun-running depot for the Mexican Revolutionaries, and the exceeding
awkwardness of our position if we suddenly shoved our nose into any such
hornets’ nest. The pow-wow finished, up the ladder we tumbled on to the
quarter-deck, and turned to the island, and lo! round a point was
emerging a something—first appearing as a boat with bare masts—then as a
boat with sails—she has presumably come out under oars and is now
getting the canvas on her. She has seen us making for the island and is
clearing out! They are at the game, then, after all! Now she grows into
a vessel under canvas: now she fades away. No ship had we seen since
getting well clear of San Francisco. We could make nothing of her in the
haze and the mirage, for the air was all a-quiver with the heat. The
general opinion seemed to be that she was a small schooner sailing with
her arms akimbo, which, with the wind as we had it, was impossible.
Anyhow she was approaching us rapidly in the teeth of the
wind—goose-winged; but anything seems to our mariners possible “in these
’ere fur’rin parts.” But alas for Romance! Gradually she revealed
herself through the haze as a tramp steamer with a high deck cargo. Her
black hull and black-painted mast tops, as she opened the land and
partly showed her length, had made her the small boat with bare pole
masts: afterwards, when she shifted her helm and came towards us bows
on, she became the small schooner running before a fair wind off the
land—her light-coloured deck cargo, high built up, and white-painted
bridge formed the goose’s wings extended on either side of the black
masts, that rose above them, and stood out distinctly against the sky.
We kept our course. She passed us close to starboard. We ran up our
ensign and number and asked her to report us, but she took no notice.
Only one man was seen aboard her. We thought at the time she was from
the Canal, but afterwards learnt that nothing had come through it for
some months, also that a somewhat similar vessel had, in May last, lain
for a month off Socorro to ... admire the Scenery.
We closed with the land, at its western extremity, about 3 p.m., and
then slowly ranged along the south-western shore, examining it carefully
with the glasses for indications of a landing-place. The water was
smooth and crystal-clear, and the sun behind us, so that, comfortably
ensconced in the fore-top, we could see well ahead in the line of the
ship’s progress, and to a great depth. We were able therefore, without
risk, to hug the shore, and to examine it with precision. Everywhere was
the same low cliff: on its top, scrubby vegetation with a sheen like the
foliage of the olive—(sage-bush). Immediately below this a broad scarlet
band—(disintegrated lava)—then a greyish red, or black, cliff wall of
igneous rock—at its foot a snow white girdle of foam from the ocean
swell dashing against it.
So we progressed, until we reached what we decided must be Braithwaite
Bay, at the S.W. corner of the island. The Sailing Directions gave this
as the only anchorage. Mr. Gillam jumped into the dinghy and pulled in
to examine it, whilst we followed her in very slowly with the ship. A
couple of whales seemed to find the floor of the bay quite to their
taste as a dressing-room. The huge fellows quietly spouted and wallowed,
“a-cleaning of themselves,” and took no notice of us. The dinghy did not
like the look of things for either landing or anchorage, so held up an
oar. Thereupon we put the ship round, and went out on the same track as
that on which we had entered. Nightfall was now approaching. We picked
up the dinghy and stood off a bit, and then hove to.
Now, immediately before reaching Braithwaite Bay, we had noticed in the
coast-line, from the mast-head, an indentation or small inlet, across
which there was no line of breakers. Also we had observed a remarkable
white patch set deeply into the land apparently at the head of this
indentation. Of these points presently. During the night, whilst hove to
some distance off, the watch picked up a beautifully modelled painted
and weighted decoy duck, with the initials “H. T.” cut into it. This
wooden fowl, we concluded, had drifted down from San Francisco, for
there they are largely used in duck shooting. It had broken its
anchoring line, been swept through the Golden Gate, and then by the
prevailing winds and currents carried to the point where we had picked
it up. The find was interesting as showing that our navigation was
correctly based for current.
With the daylight we again stood in, this time towards the inlet, and
after an early breakfast, the cutter was swung out. A breaker of water,
a cooking-pot or two, a watertight box of food, another containing
ammunition, the photographic and botanical outfits, and a Mauser rifle
in its watertight bag, were put into her and, with five hands, we
started off.
As we approached the break in the cliffs we again met our two friends of
yesterday—the whales. They had shifted their ground and were now right
in the entrance to the cove, so we had to lay on our oars for quite a
while, until they gradually moved away. It was most interesting to watch
the great brutes comparatively close alongside, yet absolutely
indifferent to, or unaware of, the boat’s presence. Certainly we kept
quiet, and did not allow objects in the boat to rattle or roll. Sound
waves are transmitted through the water just as they are through the
air. Each of these fish would have been worth £1,000 at least at pre-war
prices. “Life is full of vain regrets.”
Our break in the cliff proved the entrance to a fissure in the land-mass
comparatively far extending. On either hand it had nearly vertical cliff
walls, and these again had steep ground above and behind them. It had a
regular, gradually rising bottom, deep water at the entrance, and at the
head a shelving beach of sand and small stones, yet steep-to enough to
allow the cutter to float with only her nose aground. Not a trace of
swell: an ideal boat harbour. As it had no name, and is to-day undefined
in the Admiralty plan of Braithwaite Bay (cf. inset on Chart No. 1936),
we christened it Cruising Club Cove—dropping the “Royal” for the gain of
alliteration.
As we lay off the entrance, waiting for the whales to shift, many, and
varied, were our speculations as to what the white object, previously
referred to as situated at the head of the cove, could possibly be. Not
till we were close up did we make it out. It then proved to be a
red-painted boat, covered with a white sail. Now a dry torrent bed forms
the head of our little fiord. The detritus brought down by the torrent
is spread out as a small, flat, channel-cut plain, that meets the sea
with a fan-shaped border. On to this flat the mystery boat was hauled
up, but only to just above high-water mark. Close to her side was a
grave with wooden cross. From her bows hung a bottle closed with a
wooden plug and sealed with red paint. Keenly interested in it all we
disturbed nothing, so that we might the better be able to piece together
the evidence, after gathering all we could. She was evidently laid up:
practically new: amateur built: her material new deal house-flooring
boards: flat-bottomed: sharp at both ends (dory type). Left as she was,
the surf of the first gale from the South would lift her. They must have
been either weak handed to leave her close to the water’s edge like
that, or else they had been in a great hurry to get away. No painter and
anchor was laid out to prevent her floating off: no seaman would leave a
boat thus unsecured. (For there was cordage in her.) Her sail was cut
out of an old sail of heavy canvas belonging to some big ship. They had
ship’s stores to draw upon.
Casting around, we soon found a track running through the sage-bush
scrub. Following this trail for a few yards, we came to a large
flat-topped rock beside which it ran. On this rock stood conspicuously
another bottle—sealed. The path now began to rise sharply, wending
betwixt large rock masses: then it suddenly terminated in a rift in the
cliff face, which formed a high, but shallow, cave or grotto. Rough
plank seats and bunks were rigged up around, fitted under or betwixt the
great rocks, some berths being made more snug by having screens of worn
canvas. In the middle of the floor was a table, and in the middle of the
table stood a sealed bottle and a box. The box was a small, square,
round-cornered, highly ornamented biscuit-tin of American make: it was
three parts full of loose salt, bone dry, and on the top of the salt was
a wooden box of matches, bone dry and striking immediately. We emptied
the salt on to the table—nothing amidst it: we broke the bottle and we
found in it a scrap of paper. On this was written in ink, a surname, the
day of the month and year, the full initials of the writer and these
words, “Look at our Post Office here.”[90] We then returned to the flat
rock and broke that bottle—the message was the same; then to the boat,
to find the message in its bottle was identical in terms, but written in
pencil.
“_Look at our Post Office_”—But where was the Post Office? or what was
the Post Office? The fragments of the broken bottle lay glittering on
the grave at our feet. Was the grave the Post Office?
We had most carefully examined and sounded the cave, and, after our long
experience of this class of work on Easter Island, felt fairly satisfied
that the Post Office was not there. Every fire site we had suspected and
inspected: every sinkage of the surface. Now we had to decide about the
grave. The character of the vegetation showed that it was old, and had
not been disturbed within the date stated on the letters. A Spanish
inscription in customary form, cut very neatly into the arms of the
wooden cross, gave simply the name of the dead man, and the date. At one
time the cross had been painted black. The point however that determined
us to accept the burial as _bona fide_, and not to exhume it as a
possible cache, was the fact that the sharp edges of the carving of the
inscription were smoothly rasped away by the driving sand of the shore,
in the direction of the prevailing wind, and to a degree commensurate
with the date incised. And we were right in our surmises. Sufficient now
to say that he whom the writing told to go to the Post Office, was
already lying in his own grave elsewhere, with his boots on, and no
cross at his head. Life is held cheap in Mexico.
The island is said to possess no fresh water. We found no provision made
in the cave for conserving a supply. Scrambling through the sage-bush we
made for the dry torrent. Here we found one of the channels had been
diverted, and in it sunk a well or shaft, some ten feet deep, with fine
soil at its bottom. The end of a rope just showed for about one foot
above the surface of the silt at the bottom of the shaft. Near by was a
rough cradle and makeshift gear for gold washing. They had been here
during the rains, and the torrent had supplied the washing water.
Thinking of a possible sealed bottle placed in the shaft bucket at the
end of the rope, we left two hands there with orders to follow the rope
carefully down to its termination and see what was on the end of it. The
cutter with two hands we sent back to the ship.
We and one hand—a Russian Finn who had been for some years on the Alaska
Coast—then set off inland to see what the world was like, and to get a
sheep if possible. By this time the heat had become very great. The
soil—yellow volcanic ash—soaked up the sun’s rays and then threw the
heat back as would a hot brick. Everything was so dry that we marvelled
that vegetation could hold its own. We saw no form of grass, but the
surface was generally covered with sage-bush extending from the level of
the knee in general to above one’s head in the bottoms. We had scrambled
up the ravine from our pirates’ cave and up the steep ground around it.
We now found ourselves on a well-defined ridge that ran parallel to the
sea, with a breeze, though a hot one, in our faces, and a glorious view
of sea, coast-line, and mountain. Our whales were clearly visible far
away in the bight to the west’ard, whilst to the nor’ard lay the great
mass of an unnamed volcano, with its top lost in mists, its sides
sweeping downwards, with typical curvature, till they reach the sea. We
gave the mountain the name of Mount Mana. It is 3,707 ft. high. Much
information about it will appear some day. Between the ridge on which we
now stood, and the well-defined foot of Mount Mana opposite to us, was a
valley some half a mile wide. We made our way across this valley as far
as the mountain’s foot, in order to cut across any tracks, human or
ovine, that might pass down it, because they would tell us the news,
like a file of newspapers—for all movement on the island would pass
along this bottom. Here the sage-bush was very strong and high, and we
found it difficult to get through. It frequently was tunnelled where it
was thick, reminding one of hippo paths leading to the water. In the
present case, however, bits of the fleeces of the makers were clinging
to the sides of the tunnel. The only signs of man were the brass shell
of an exploded military cartridge, and a few heads and horns of sheep
lying where the beasts had been shot. Here and there along the course of
the valley, masses of black volcanic rock, bare of vegetation, rose
above the bright yellow soil and its sage-bush covering. The surface of
the plain and of the mountain’s base were also punctuated by isolated
specimens of a species of fig (_ficus cotinifolia_) having a dark green
fleshy leaf somewhat like that of the magnolia, and a number of separate
trunks or stems. These trees, like all else, were dwarf and stunted, and
about 15 feet high. Every tree formed a flattish roof, as it were,
supported on many pillars and impervious to the sun. It was delightful
to rest for a short while under each as we came to it for a brief
respite from the shimmering heat. Beneath them the ground was bare and
smooth. The sheep tracks and tunnels led from tree to tree, and it was
evident that the sheep made it their practice to rest on these shady
spots, during the heat of the day. Whilst so resting ourselves, we were
amused and interested by several little birds of different sorts. They
chummed up en route, and kept close to us wherever we went, flitting
from bush to bush, and when we sat down in the shade, sidled along the
branches till they got as close to us as they could, short of absolutely
alighting upon us. They acted just as native children do towards the
white man when they have got over their first shyness. Working up wind,
we soon found sheep; they were in small bunches varying from three to
perhaps a dozen. We got a couple, though both getting up to the game and
the shooting was difficult in such cover, and resolved itself into
snap-shots as they followed their tracks across the occasional isolated
masses of dark basalt that rose above the yellow soil and which
supported no vegetation.
Having gralloched our victims and slung the carcases well up on to our
shoulders, with both breast strap and brow strap, Micmac fashion, we
started back for Cruising Club Cove. It was now about noon, and as a
direct line seemed feasible, we decided to take that line. The better
road along the sheep tracks, and therefore through their tunnels, along
the bottom of the valley, was impossible for a laden man. We did it!
Across the valley, often brought to a standstill by scrub that would not
yield when leant against. Up the hill side to its delusive gap, often on
hands and knees. Down the steep pitch on the other side, with bump and
crash, regardless of scratches, thinking only of how to avoid a broken
leg or twisted ankle. Then a final wrestle with scrub in the ravine
bottom and we were on the shore. What a relief to throw up that brow
strap for the last time and to let the mutton fall, with a thump, on the
stones! Then off with what remained of our clothes, with which we draped
the bushes to dry, and into the tepid shallow water, shallow for fear of
sharks. Orders were given that whilst bathing a good fire of scrub wood
should be made on a spot sheltered from the sun by the side of a lofty
rock. On that fire’s glowing cinders when nearly burnt out we presently
grilled kidneys of peculiar excellence, and boiled the billy, and
thanked the Immortal Gods.
The examination of the dry shaft, which was the job of the two hands
left behind, was never made. They reported that soon after beginning
work the side of the shaft fell in. On looking at it, it was clear that
we could not now do anything there. So we hunted around again,
collecting seeds, and plants, and rock samples. Presently, amongst the
drift material at storm high-water mark, we came across a cube of wood
12 or 15 inches square: (the end of a baulk of timber sawn off): through
it was bored an auger hole, and a rope rove. The end of the rope passed
through the block was finished with a “Stopper” knot, a knot known only
to seamen. Its other end had one long single strand that had been
_broken_: the other two strands were shorter than the first by some two
feet. They had been _cut through_. The story was clear. We only wanted a
name, and—_mirabile dictu_—we have it. Turning over the block, on one
face is deeply cut in letters some three inches long the words ANNIE
LARSEN. Pussy is out of the bag!
For the benefit of those who are not shippy yachty devils, we will now
explain. When you drop your anchor at any spot where the nature of the
bottom is such that you may, perhaps, not be able to lift it again by
heaving on the chain in the ordinary way, because the anchor has fallen
amongst rocks, or into some mermaid’s coral cave, under such
circumstances it is customary to fasten one end of a rope to the end of
the anchor opposite to that to which the chain is attached (_i.e._ to
the crown), and to the other end of the rope you make fast a buoy—you
“buoy your anchor.” Then, “when the sour moment comes” to take a heave,
and you have heaved in vain, you pick up your anchor buoy, and haul on
its rope, and up comes your anchor without a struggle, like Cleopatra’s
red herring.
Our find told us that it belonged to a ship of moderate size, for her
anchor was of moderate weight, because the anchor rope was of moderate
strength; and that that ship was probably a sailing ship, because she
had no steam winch: for steamers don’t usually buoy, having immense
steam heaving power. She had not intentionally left it; the rope had had
two strands cut through by the sharp rocks of the bottom, then the third
strand had torn apart from strain, and the buoy, with its short length
of rope, drifted away, to be ultimately thrown up above ordinary
high-water mark during a gale. Like the duck, it might have come down
from San Francisco! Not so. The two cut strands had not been long in the
water after they had been cut before they were thrown up high and dry.
It was very compromising for Annie. Of course we immediately asked,
“Anyone know the _Annie Larsen_?” The Russian Finn, naturally _au
courant_ with all the coast scandal after a month in San Francisco, was
immediately able to inform us that the _Annie Larsen_ was an American
schooner of about 300 tons, and was in the Mexican gun-running line till
captured so laden by a U.S.A. ship of war only a month ago whilst we
were at San Francisco.
So we had got to the bottom of things after all, though we had failed to
find the Post Office! Socorro Island was the depot for the late Yankee
gun runner _Annie Larsen_: the special, little-used boat was for
shipping, not for landing, the stuff: the Mexicans had come and fetched
it away in their own craft as they got the chance. Some of the _Annie
Larsen_ crowd, being old Alaska hands, had prospected the ravine for
gold, Alaska fashion. It was not a case of shipwrecked men on a
waterless island.
The afternoon was now getting late: _Mana_ stood boldly in close to the
entrance of the cove. She lowered her cutter, the shore party were soon
on board again, and at 5.35 p.m. (6.2.16) we bore away for Hicaron
Island at the entrance to the Gulf of Panama, S. 69° E., distant 1,834
miles. As we watched the island fade in the dusk, we thought we had done
with Socorro for ever; but it was not thus written. Some six months
after our visit a man was arrested at Singapore as a spy, and there
detained in prison. That man was the writer of the message in the
bottle. In prison he chanced to get hold of a piece of a local
newspaper, and that particular number happened to have in it an account
of the voyage of _Mana_ taken from the London papers. It incidentally
mentioned that she had touched at Socorro. A ship then had been to his
island! What had we found? How much did we know? _Had we found the Post
Office?_ On release he made his way to England to find out. But now is
not the time to tell the story: we are bound for Panama, or for Cape
Horn—for better or for worse—for heat or for cold. Chance, however, at
this time, all unknown to us, had decided our fate.
The rainy season was now approaching, and we even got an occasional
warning shower, which made us all the more anxious to reach the Isthmus,
and get clear of it, before its unhealthy season set in. But our
progress was slow: we could not run the main engine continuously, as we
only had a small supply of lubricating oil adapted to the great heat.
That with which we had been supplied at San Francisco proved useless.
Also we had long before unwisely sent back to England the light canvas
and all its gear, in order to get more stowage room. In doing so we
thought we would be able to run the ship under power in light airs, and
therefore would not want it: ’twas an error. However, we always made
something, for if she did not do her 50 miles in the 24 hours, we
unmuzzled the motor.
Our engineer, Eduardo Silva of Talcahuano, a Chilean, was a most
excellent young fellow: always keen and willing: always grooming his
three charges, the engines of the yacht, the life boat, and the electric
light, and ever ready to run them, despite the terrible heat in the
engine-room. Sometimes when the big 38 h.p. motor had a fit of the
tantrums, because it could not get cold water from the sea quickly
enough to assuage its body’s heat, and he durst not leave it, he would
eventually appear on deck, as pale as a sheet, and completely done. On
one such occasion he reflectively remarked, as the two of us looked down
into the engine-room from the deck, “All same casa del diablo.”[91] He
did not exaggerate.
Day followed day. We gradually gnawed into our 1,834 miles. The Russian
Finn came to the fore as a keen sportsman: from tea-time to dusk he was
generally to be found somewhere outside the vessel’s bows: sometimes on
the bowsprit end, sometimes standing on the bob-stay, regardless of the
fact that a shark was very frequently in attendance on us in the eddy
water under our counter. Looking over the taffrail you could see the
brute weaving from side to side as does a plum-pudding carriage dog at
his horses’ heels. One experienced a sort of fascination in watching
these great fish at night, their every movement displayed by the
luminosity of the water, until they themselves, on occasion, seemed to
glow with the phosphoric light. _Mana_ in these waters generally had
shoals or companies of small fish in attendance on her, amongst which
were always a few larger ones. We got to know individuals by sight. We
thought they kept to her for protection. It certainly was not for what
they could get off her copper. With that we never had any trouble: it
kept as bright as gold.
One night we were asleep on the locker in the deck-house companion, and
were awakened by an unholy struggle and crash. Nipping out, we found the
Russian on look-out for’ard, regardless of the sleepers below him, had
leant over her bows and had actually hoiked out with a gaff hook a large
porpoise. It seemed impossible to believe that a man could have had the
physical strength to hoist such a mass bodily out of the water, up her
high bow, and over the rail. He seems to have fairly lifted it out, by
the scruff of its neck, as it rushed alongside after the fish.
He only fell overboard once: that was on the voyage from the Sandwich
Islands, when we were not aboard. On reaching San Francisco he brought
a note from Mr. Gillam to us at our hotel to report arrival. We of
course inquired as to their voyage. The Russian said it had been quite
the usual thing: nothing had happened out of the common. Long
afterwards he casually informed us that on that run, when he went
forward one night from the quarter-deck to the galley to make the
coffee for the change of watch at midnight, he went first to do some
job on the top-gallant-fo’c’s’le head, and got knocked overboard. En
route to the land of never-never he found the weather jib-sheet in his
hand, and by it was able to haul himself aboard again. As he was
supposed to be in the galley, he would never have been expected to
show for half an hour, and therefore would not have been missed until
the watch mustered. It did not seem to occur to him that he had had a
bit of a squeak. He did not get wet, so nobody knew, for he told no
one. As an angel, perhaps there was a certain amount of black down
underneath his white plumage, but as an A.B. one wished for no better.
He was the second of _Mana’s_ company to be killed by the Huns after
our return.
After heaving-to like this, to let the reader into some of the little
humours of our domestic life, we must get under way again. Well,
everybody seemed quite happy and contented “on this ’ere run”: fish,
birds, weird ocean currents and their slack water areas with accumulated
drift, sail-mending, turning out and painting the fo’c’s’le, with life
on deck, instead of below, for a few days, a threatened blow that never
reached us, but only sent along its swell to justify the actions of the
glass, and the ever-varying incidents associated with life on a small
craft in unfrequented tropical seas, for we never saw another sail, made
us so forgetful of the flight of time, that it seemed that we had but
left Socorro, before we found ourselves off Hicaron Island, our
prearranged landfall. Thirty-one days had faded away like a dream (map,
facing p. 359).
Now, close to the Island of Hicaron lies another one much larger. We had
a plan of it, Coiba or Quibo Island. The Sailing Directions said
“turtles abound, but they are hard to catch.” (We didn’t want any more
turtle!) “Crabs, cockles, and oysters are plentiful. In the woods
monkeys and parrots abound, and in Anson’s time, 1741, there were deer,
but the interior is nearly inaccessible, from the steepness of the
cliffs and the tangled vegetation: explorers should beware of alligators
and snakes.” The chart showed an excellent anchorage and indicated fresh
water. It seemed promising: we would see what it was like. We were
particularly desirous of now making good our expenditure of water, as we
did not know what were the conditions we might find prevailing at Panama
both as regards its quality and the facilities for getting it.
We had sighted Hicaron Island at daylight on Monday, the 6th of March,
1916, but calms, baffling airs, and currents prevented our making our
proposed anchorage by daylight. At dusk, therefore, we hove to for the
night. _Festina lentiter_ was ever our motto. We had the most recent
chart certainly, but its last correction was in 1865 and coral patches
grow quickly. Not until noon next day did we get abreast of Negada
Point, the S.E. extremity of Quibo Island. As the coast was charted free
from dangers, we came fairly close in, and starting the motor about one
o’clock, ran along the shore under power, with a look-out in the
fore-top.
It was very interesting and pleasant, after a month at sea, thus to
coast along the fringe of a tropical island: sweeping round rocky points
of the land, and peeping into lovely little coves fringed with white
coral sand that merged into a dense tropical vegetation, with hills in
the background. It soon becomes instinctive to keep the sharpest of
look-outs ahead, _i.e._ into the clear water, for a change of colour
indicating danger, and yet to see everything around. The most memorable
feature of this particular afternoon was the large number of devil-fish
that were seen springing into the air: as many as three or four might be
observed within as many minutes. Suddenly, near or far, a large object,
like a white-painted notice-board, shot vertically into the air to
considerable height, to fall back again on its flat with resounding
spank and high-flying spray, leaving a patch of milky foam on the smooth
blue surface of the water. In British seas this family of fishes is
represented by the skate. Here they attain the dimensions of a
fair-sized room: a specimen in the British Museum from Jamaica measures
15 ft. by 15 ft. and is between three and four feet thick, hence the
statement that “their capture is uncertain and sometimes attended with
danger”[92] is probably not far from correct. Perched aloft, and thus
having a large and unobstructed horizon, we saw one jump probably every
ten minutes throughout the afternoon. The motor brought us to our
anchorage, and at 5 o’clock we let go in 9 fathoms, sand and mud, the
shore distant about 1½ miles.
We had seen hitherto no sign of the island being occupied, nor did we
now. After dark, however, at two widely separated points, a fire blazed
up and lights showed for a short while. Smoking on deck, when dinner was
finished, we speculated as to the meaning of the different mysterious
grunts and gurgles, sighs and plunges, that stole over the tepid oily
water: the tropical sea after dark seemed to have voices as many and
varied as the tropical forest has when the sun is gone. From 6 p.m.
onward the thermometer read 87° F.: at 6 a.m. it had fallen to 83°—the
cool of the morning!
With the daylight a single pirogue, with two men in her, came alongside.
She was a small and roughly made dug out, very leaky. In the wet of her
bottom lay a bunch of bananas, perched on which were a couple of large
macaws. Each of these had a strip of bark some two feet long tied to its
leg. The bunch of bananas lay like an island above the water in her: on
to it as a refuge the parrots crawled. Their jesses entangled amongst
the bananas—the boat rolled—so did the banana bunch—each bird would
climb upwards, but he could not, the accursed thong held him down: he
was being crushed, he was being drowned—he and his mate. And each said
so. An American mining captain taking up his parable was not in it with
those birds for language.
The two men were negroid in feature. One of them had only one leg, and
seemed sad and ill. The other was more cheerful. We could get along
together in Spanish. They invited us to come ashore. Hoisting out the
cutter, we followed them in. Their lead was useful, as the water is so
shoal. Though the rise and fall is but small feet, yet a large area of
coral rock flats is dry at low water on either side of a boat channel.
At the entrance to this channel an open sailing boat, some 25 feet long,
their property, lay at anchor. As the tide was falling, we thought it
best to leave our cutter at anchor in sufficiently deep water for her
not to take the ground, and got our friends to ferry us from her, one by
one, into shoal water in their canoe. It was most comic to see some of
our big chaps kneeling on the bottom of the crazy little craft with a
hand on either gunnel, whilst they bent forward, like devout Mussulmans
on their carpets, endeavouring to get their centre of gravity as low as
possible. We were the last of the passengers. When the water got to be
only knee deep the native anchored his canoe, and we stepped overboard.
So did our one-legged ferryman. His right hand controlled a crutch, in
his left he held various treasures obtained from _Mana_; he also desired
to take his two big parrots ashore, so, as the last item of all, he
hooked his finger under the cord that tied them together, thus carrying
them swinging heads downwards. But apparently he had not taken the cord
fairly in the middle. One parrot was suspended by a short length of
line: the other by a long: he of the short cord was able to twist
himself round and get a hold with his beak on some package in his
owner’s hand, and was thus reasonably happy. But parrots, like
ourselves, can’t have it all ways in this world of woe. If his head be
up, his tail must be down: hence this tale. He of the long string found
himself draggling in the water with every stride of his one-legged
owner. In his struggles to avoid drowning by a succession of dips, he
managed at last to grasp, with beak and claw, the long dependent tail of
his fellow prisoner, and quickly hauling himself up it, he at once
proceeded to consolidate his position, by seizing in his beak the
softest part of his colleague’s hinder anatomy with the vice-like grip
of despair, and therefrom he continued to depend in placid comfort,
regardless of the other’s piercing shrieks and protestations.
It is not always those at the top of the ladder that have the best time
of it.
A wide shore line of white sand met us. On it at high-water mark were
large quantities of white bleached drift-wood trees. On the flat ground
behind, beneath a dense tree growth, were some small pools of stagnant
rain water, a few coconut palms were dotted about—all else was jungle.
On a patch cleared of undergrowth stood a light frame structure open on
all sides. The roof was high pitched and had wide eaves: there was no
attempt at a floor. It might be 30 ft. by 20 ft. Smaller similar
structures adjoined for cooking and stores. A box or two, baskets,
hammocks, and a little boat-gear, were suspended from the beams above: a
few wooden blocks for stools were on the earthen floor, which was neatly
swept. On one such sat a terribly afflicted specimen of humanity—the
mother, yet nevertheless dignified and courteous. The father, a spare
little man with an intelligent face, lay in his hammock and extended his
hand feebly over the side simply saying that he was “infirma.” He seemed
to avoid making any movement. Four or five children of various ages
moved listlessly about; only one of them, a girl of ten or twelve years
of age, seemed quite healthy. Then there was the one sound man from the
pirogue and the cripple. The whole family were being slowly destroyed by
fever and elephantiasis, and apparently must, before long, perish from
lack of ability to gather food. No resources were visible—though no
doubt they had a little cultivated ground somewhere handy, and of course
there was always fish. The whole story of gradually encroaching disease
and suffering was so easy to read, and the patient and hopeless
resignation with which the little group awaited its predestined
extinction was very pathetic. They uttered no complaint nor asked for
anything. We made the best of things, and got them quite cheerful and
interested, producing from time to time various trifles from our pockets
which we generally carried with us as presents when going ashore.
Anxious to please, they gave us various quaint shells and a little
fruit, and again pressed on our acceptance the hapless macaws, now
secured to a handy branch, whose bedraggled plumage and sorry mien
seemed quite in keeping with the surroundings. Altogether our visit
seemed to give our hosts pleasure. The man appeared to have some Spanish
blood in him and to have known better days. We then returned to the
ship, and had breakfast, sending back by the pirogue, which had returned
with us, a little present of ship’s biscuit, tinned meat, cigarettes,
and quinine. It was obvious that no watering was feasible at this
landing-place. They told us we should be able to get water at the other
spot where we had seen a light the evening before.
Pulling in the heat and sun any considerable distance was out of the
question, so we hoisted out the motor lifeboat launch, taking the cutter
in tow for landing. We found another wide sandy beach, but with fairly
deep water right up to it. There was sufficient breaking swell on it to
require the cutter to be hauled up smartly, directly her nose touched,
or the next sea would have knocked her broadside on and filled her. The
shore was bordered by what appeared to us, from its state of neglect, to
be a deserted coconut plantation. We however told the men not to swarm
up for nuts for the present—there are generally some low easily climbed
trees—until we found out how the land lay. The white man never seems to
be able to understand that petty plundering of native plantations is a
bad introduction. Needless to say that it was not many minutes before
the irrepressible Finn had “found on the ground” a bunch of green nuts
and was devouring them with the avidity of a land crab. Foot-prints on
the shore, and trails through the scrub, soon brought us to a group of
shanties under the palm trees, and therefore close to the shore line.
The coconut palm seems to thrive best just beyond high-water mark, and
on any flat at about that level behind the furthest point reached by the
water. Trees are often to be seen with the soil round their roots
partially washed away on one side of the trunk.
A white man came walking along the shore to meet us. Of course the first
thing we did was to apologise for the unseemly sight of the men all
feeding on his nuts. He was fairly cordial, but evidently greatly
perplexed as to who, and what, we were. We told him as well as we could
about the ship and the reason of our visit, but it was obvious he
thought we lied. All the same he gave us the information we wanted as to
supplies and water. Practically nothing was to be had. As it would be
shortly our men’s dinner hour, we persuaded him to come with us aboard,
and he thawed considerably under the influence of luncheon. He told us
the coco palms had been planted by his father, and that his name was
Guadia. The Sailing Directions, as to this place, are quite wrong.
Moreover, they seldom quote their authority, or the date of the
information they give, which renders them very untrustworthy.
About twenty fever-stricken natives, many of them cripples from
elephantiasis, live here permanently on the plantation under the flimsy
shelters. Sr. Guadia said he lived usually in the city of Panama, but
came over for some months during the healthy season, occupying a
somewhat superior hut in the midst of the native shacks. There are
comparatively high hills close to hand, that would be infinitely more
healthy as a residential site. He will probably get infected from the
natives. The mosquitoes pass the disease along.
As the watering scheme had broken down, we thought we would devote the
afternoon to fishing. Sr. Guadia said that, if we really wanted fish, we
ought to go to the mouth of a river some distance away, but that the
bottom was all clean opposite his camp, so we thought we would take a
few drags of the seine along his front. We faked it down into the cutter
and the launch towed her in. All along the beach the water was almost
soup-like from the mud in suspension, also in it floated, in immense
quantity, tiny fragments of fine marine grasses, the whole being kept
constantly churned by the swell. In this opaque water fish could not see
the net. Casting off from the launch the cutter backed into the beach:
one hand jumped ashore with the head and foot ropes. She then described
a semicircle as she shot her net: our seine was 50 fathoms long and 2
fathoms deep: as she completed the semicircle by touching the beach the
spare hands jumped ashore with the other head and foot ropes and the
boat pulled away to the launch to land that party, for without them it
was impossible to haul the net: the resistance was far too great. The
natives—the whole population of the huts—grouped themselves together at
a little distance, but never offered to lend a hand. At last we got a
move on the net, but the resistance was excessive, and we were afraid
that she had picked up something. Gradually however the line of buoying
corks rose to the surface as the leaded foot rope took the ground,
defining the semicircle with a row of dots, whilst over them jumped, at
various points of the most distant part of the curve, a multitude of
small fry, like a stream of silver darts, and with rainlike patter as
they struck the water. Gradually the escaping captives became larger and
larger, springing high into the air, and we thought that we should find
but little left when we got the net ashore, for the weight in it was
such that we could move it but slowly. “Keep her up!—Keep her up!”—was
now the cry, to counteract the tendency to haul on either head rope or
foot rope unduly in the excitement of the finish—for a seine is simply a
moving vertical wall of net, and must be maintained as such in use. At
last the contained area began to simmer: then to boil: and then, still
hauling evenly, we brought the mass more or less upon and against the
sandy beach. Practically it was solid fish: fish of every size, shape
and colour. There was comparatively little weed. By their very number
they had been rendered helpless. This was great good luck, for amongst
them was a large shark some ten or perhaps twelve feet long, and another
brute of about the same size and weight, but he chiefly consisted of
head, and his head chiefly consisted of mouth. When this mouth, with two
little eyes at the sides, looked at you, the shark seemed of benevolent
appearance.
Of course our first thought was for the safety of the net; that it was
not burst or torn already seemed a miracle. The struggles of the two
great brutes would tear it to pieces if we tried to haul them right
ashore, so we just held them jammed against the sloping beach. The
natives then cautiously ventured to attack them with their machettes—a
powerful slashing knife, like a small sabre, used for clearing the
forest growth. They directed all their efforts to slashing them along
the spine: gingerly approaching the fish by the head, they inflicted the
wounds nearer and nearer towards the tail. Having paralysed that, they
then blinded them. They did not desire to kill: they wanted the fish to
have enough life left in it to be able to struggle away.
Having thus paralysed our two largest captures, we slipped a bowline
round their tails, and dragged them clear of the net, and started them
off, when they were at once torn to pieces by their fellows. We then
proceeded to collect the useful part of the catch. We took what we
wanted: the natives appropriated the rest. These natives were not an
attractive lot—neither the men, the women, nor the children—they would
not lend a hand to haul, got three-quarters of the catch for picking it
up, and then tried to steal the balance that we had reserved. Sr. Guadia
gave us some coconuts, and the antlers of a deer that he had shot:
according to him they are plentiful on the island.
As we didn’t want anybody to get bitten by mosquitoes, and sunset was
approaching, the order was now “All aboard the lugger!” and we reached
the ship as her riding-light ran up.
[Illustration: Map of the Panama Canal]
CHAPTER XXIII
PANAMA TO JAMAICA
Navigation of the Gulf of Panama—Balboa and the City of Panama—Through
the Canal—Cristobal—An Incapable Pilot—The Education of a Cook—A
Waterspout—A Further Exciting Experience.
Our job was now to get to the entrance of the Canal, which is situated
at the bottom of the bight of the Gulf of Panama. It is a most difficult
one for a sailing vessel. Roughly speaking, currents from the south-east
may be said to sweep round its coasts, and to form of the Gulf one vast
eddy. Here, throughout the year, persist calms and catspaws from all
directions, rain, lightning, and squalls: the whole caboodleum of the
Doldrums, plus a complex tangle of irregular currents. In addition to
the foregoing joys, there is, towards the head of the Gulf, a large area
studded with islands, rocks, and coral patches. From this archipelago
have been obtained, from the earliest times, at the price of infamous
cruelty, a large supply of the finest pearls—the group is called the
Pearl Islands.
“A vessel unaided by steam power will experience considerable difficulty
and delay in getting out of Panama Bay,” say the Sailing Directions. She
will: and so she does in getting into it. There is a well-known yarn of
a ship being here carried round and round for a year or so, in the olden
days, until her people had nearly all perished from scurvy. Some of the
American newspapers got hold of this story and said we had found and
relieved her, giving pathetic details. In our case, though we had a
motor that gave us 5½ knots through the water, we found that our only
course was to allow ourselves to be carried right across the mouth of
the Gulf to the Colombian coast, and then to work up along the coast of
the Isthmus of Darien, _i.e._ along the eastern shore of the Gulf of
Panama.
The following summary of our log will show what things are like. We left
Fea Harbour, Quibo Island, at 8.10 a.m. on Thursday, March the 9th, and
motored until noon. Then got the canvas on her. Light airs: E.; N.N.E.;
N.; S.S.E.; S.E.b.E. between noon and midnight. Made good 17½ miles.
Much lightning all around in the first watch.
The middle watch of Friday the 10th had easterly airs that gave her an
average of three knots, and much lightning. At 9.50 a.m. started motor
and ran it until 0.50 p.m.; and again from 3.24 p.m. to 5.45 p.m.
Notwithstanding our using power, it was 10 p.m. before the light on Cape
Mala could be entered in the log as just dipping. The motor was only
called upon when the current was setting her into what would be a
dangerous position. This day we make good 38½ miles.
On Saturday, the 11th of March, we found there was a strong s’utherly
set at 11 a.m., and a N.N.W. breeze, so, instead of steering to Panama,
we altered course to take full advantage of the breeze to cross the
Gulf. We passed from time to time well-defined current-ripples, with
much rubbish floating in the dead water. During the afternoon the water
became very dark and discoloured, but we got no bottom at 225 fms. At 10
p.m. however we got 55 fms., so we hove to and waited for the daylight.
Our day’s run was 79 miles.
At earliest daylight on Sunday the 12th we bore away and at 7.15 a.m.
made Cape Escarpado bearing N.42°E. The morning was very hazy with much
mirage, and the land very difficult to recognise at any distance. We
were now working to wind’ard to the entrance of the Pearl Islands. At
1.35 p.m. we started the motor, and at 4.50 p.m. brought up for the
night in 13 fms. between Monge and Puercos islets, which lie off the
east coast of the large Isla del Rey. We have done 60 miles to-day.
On Monday, the 13th of March, we made a start at 5 a.m., under sail,
working against light airs from N.N.W. westerly. We were now being swept
up into the Bight of Panama by the current, so all we had to do was to
keep her nicely placed. At noon, when we were distant from Canal
entrance 48 miles, we were obliged to start the motor, and did 16 miles
under power, stopping it at 3.26 p.m. We then got a gentle N.W. breeze,
which we kept till 11.40 p.m., when we brought up off the entrance of
the Canal.
Early the next morning a harbour launch, with the Port Officials, came
out to us. They told us that the Canal had been closed to all traffic
for five months. According to them, our chance of being allowed to pass
through was small indeed.
As soon as we had got pratique, we started in our launch for the shore,
to learn our fate. From the Port of Balboa on the Pacific, to the Port
of Colon on the Atlantic, is 44 miles by canal: by sea the distance is
10,500. If the Powers that Were would not let us through, we must
practically again circumnavigate the whole continent of South America.
We had already done it once to a very large extent: Pernambuco to
Valparaiso. Was it to be our fate to do it a second time?
Though _Mana_ was anchored close to the entrance of the fairway, yet she
was hull-down on our looking back when we were abreast of the Balboa
frontage, so great is the length of the dredged channel through the
smooth shoal water of the Bay, before the Canal begins to have visible
land on either side of it.
Messrs. Balfour, Guthrie & Co., of San Francisco, had most kindly
advised their agents of our being _en route_, and consequently, when we
landed at Balboa, there was a motor-car in waiting. We whisked off, got
fresh meat and vegetables for the ship, put it aboard the launch, and
despatched her with orders to return to take us off an hour before dark.
Then we drove straight to the City of Panama to call on the British
Minister, Sir Claud Mallet. He was most kind. He sent us under convoy of
the Consul to see Colonel Harding, the acting chief of the Canal in the
absence of Colonel Goethals. Colonel Harding was pleased to grant _Mana_
the exceptional privilege of at once passing through the Canal, on the
ground that she was a scientific research ship,—a favour for which we
owe much gratitude both to him and to the Government which he
represented. We have sometimes however regretted this stroke of luck,
as, had we been compelled to take the s’utherly route, we should have
been at Punta Arenas just at the time Sir Ernest Shackleton was there
seeking a vessel to rescue his men from Elephant Island, a job for which
_Mana_ was eminently fitted.
In accordance with arrangements made, next morning a pilot came off and
took us, under our own power, from the outer anchorage, up the dredged
channel, to the mooring dolphins opposite Balboa, a distance of about 5
miles. Balboa is the name of a new town built by the Americans on the
Eastern bank of the Pacific entrance of the Panama Canal. The ground on
which it is situated is not flat, also there are a couple of isolated
volcanic cones, that rise to a height of 363 feet and 650 feet
respectively, in its midst. A fine sanitary city has been designed, and
largely brought into being, and as the work of construction of the Canal
proceeds towards completion, for there is still much work to be done, so
everything connected with the Canal will be concentrated there. To this
new town of Balboa adjoins the old city of Panama, the capital of the
Republic of Panama, but now isolated from the rest of the republic,
being entirely surrounded by U.S.A. territory.
Before we go through the Canal, it will be well to have a general idea
of its character. Let us first consider that of the Suez. The Isthmus of
Suez is a level neck of sand, only slightly raised above sea level.
Across it a gutter has been dug: the Mediterranean Sea, unobstructed,
flows along that gutter, until it blends its waters with those of the
Red Sea.
The Panama is an entirely different proposition. The Isthmus of Panama
is a neck of land formed of volcanic debris and rock. It is only
partially level; it is humped in the middle, but that hump is hollowed
like a saucer. So we have this sequence:—A level. A hump. A level.
The Canal therefore is made in this way. Firstly the middle, or humped
part, is changed, by means of embankments, from a semi-dry saucer into a
deep high-level pond, _i.e._ into a pond whose surface is 85 feet above
the level of the sea. That pond is filled, and kept filled, with sweet
water by the rainfall on high country around it—the inner slope of the
edge of the saucer. As we are only concerned with two embankments which
go to form the pond, we will refer to one as the Eastern and to the
other as the Western.
Next, the Pacific Ocean is brought up a distance of about 4 miles, to
the foot of the Western Embankment, by digging a simple gutter through
level country, just as has been done in the case of Suez: similarly the
Atlantic is brought a distance of about 5 miles to the foot of the
Eastern Embankment.
Finally, each embankment is equipped with a series of water steps, or
locks, whereby a vessel is lifted up from the ditch into the pond, or
lowered from the pond into the ditch. Water of the pond, in measured
doses of a lockful at a time, and on which dose float one or more ships,
is first shut off from the pond, and is then permitted gently to escape
into the Pacific Ocean ditch, or into the Atlantic Ocean ditch, as the
case may be.
No drop of Atlantic sea water ever mingles with the sweet water of the
Central Pond. No drop of Pacific sea water ever mingles with the sweet
water of the Central Pond. The Atlantic with the Pacific do not
commingle directly or indirectly.
Punctually at 7 a.m. the Canal pilot boarded us, and we left Balboa 7.35
a.m. under our own power, and proceeded up the Canal. It was a real
pleasure trip. Engines running to perfection. Pilot most complimentary
to them. No navigating to be done. The men highly content at the
information that, once through the lock gates, the ship would be in
fresh water, and they could wash clothes all day long. Largesse of soap
distributed. We reached the Miraflores Locks at 8.15 a.m. Distance from
Balboa about 2 miles. The shores of the Canal between Balboa and
Miraflores present little of interest—the Canal is here simply a ditch
cut through a swamp. We enter the lower lock: the water of the pond
above our heads is let in, and we rise about 54 feet. The doors in front
of us open, and we pass out into a pool. From this pool we enter a
second lock: we again rise about 31 feet: the gates in front of us open,
and we are floating in an arm of the artificially formed Gatun Lake.
This lake or pond or saucer is of considerable extent: about ⅓ the size
of the Isle of Wight. Here it is deep: there it is shallow. What were
marshes, when it was still unflooded, have now become its deeps: what
were hillock or hill-tops now appear as isolated islands. It is between
such islands that the ship channel threads.
A remarkable feature is that the islands, each of which was lately a
hill-top, have as yet no horizontally cut shore or strand: the slope of
the hillside is the same below the surface of the water as above it: the
waves have not yet cut a shore bench or shelf. The trees therefore stand
immersed in varying degree, some with the foot of the trunk only just
awash: others with their topmost boughs only just showing. Where the
bottom of the pond is level, large areas of now dead, but still
standing, forest trees, partially submerged to an even depth, present a
remarkable, because a transient, feature. Presently these will decay and
disappear, then the water surface of the pond will appear to be greater
than it does to-day.
At 10.10 a.m. we passed out of the Western (Miraflores and Miguel)
locks, and proceeded across the pond, and reached the other side—the
entrance to the Eastern Locks (the Gatun Locks)—at 4.51 p.m. Here we
moored ship, as the Canal people would not drop us from the pond into
the Atlantic ditch that night. We observed that the U.S.A. were not
taking any risks that they could avoid of German agents causing trouble:
sentries were posted everywhere, and no one from the ship was allowed to
wander about ashore. So _Mana’s_ crowd sat in a row on the edge of the
lock, like migrating martins on a telegraph wire, and swung their legs,
in high good humour. Saturday, March the 18th, at 8.7 a.m. we entered
the Gatun Locks; at 8.53 p.m. passed out; and at 10 a.m. came to anchor
in Colon Harbour.
That afternoon we moored alongside a pier, and took aboard coal,
petroleum, and lubricating oil. The British Consul, Mr. Murray, was most
kind and hospitable, and though the flat mud island on which Cristobal
stands, and of which it occupies the greater part, is unusually
uninteresting, as is also the town, yet, owing to Mr. Murray, we quite
enjoyed a week’s detention there that Fate had in store for us.
As a vessel steams down the gutter (Gatun Approach) that runs in a
straight line from the Eastern Embankment (Gatun Dam) into the Atlantic
(Caribbean Sea), she has on her starboard hand, as she approaches the
termination of the gutter, a small flat island of alluvium. The Canal
water front of that island is occupied now by wharves and jetties,
behind which runs a good road bordered with fairly respectable shops,
and stores, and drinking-dens. At one end is a large and good hotel; at
the other the stores, workshops, and residences of the Canal Officials.
To all this is given the name of CristObal—long O. Immediately against
Cristobal, and forming part of it, abuts the town of COlon—another long
O—a town that practically sprang into being at the first making of the
Canal: a twin sister to the town of Suez of the olden days for vice and
villainy. If Colon be what it is now, with the U.S.A. in control, what
must it have been of yore? We believe that the Canal Administration
allows the citizens of the Republic of Panama some sort of self
government as regards their town of Colon, hence its character. The
redeeming point about it is that it is so frequently and largely burnt
to the ground that it will eventually become quite reasonably sanitary.
At present, Cristobal is the executive centre on the Canal. Here are all
the workshops. Balboa, at the other end, is to-day the administrative
centre only, but gradually all interests connected with the Canal will
there be concentrated. To Cristobal is brought, and from Cristobal is
drawn, all labour and supplies. All food consumed throughout the Canal
zone—meat, fresh fish, vegetables, fruit, is sent frozen from the U.S.A.
and there kept in cold storage—no supplies practically are derived from
the surrounding country. It is only by the courtesy of the Canal
Administration, that anyone, not in its employ, is allowed to purchase
food at its depots. Any foreigner therefore, whose work requires him to
live in the Canal zone, finds housekeeping a very difficult matter. In
our case, however, by the Regulations, we were entitled to purchase what
we wanted, but the same Regulations specially state that any yacht,
U.S.A. or foreign, shall be charged 20 per cent. more than any other
vessel for any food supplied, or services rendered to her, and we were
charged accordingly. And this though the Administration had only allowed
us to pass through on the ground that we were not a yacht. In no sense
were we one. To an Englishman it seems strange to find that another
people considers it to the interest of the State to differentiate
against yachts: we know, in our case, what our nation has gained by the
widespread and intelligent interest in maritime affairs, that is the
outcome of the British sport of yachting.
Having got all our essential stores aboard on the day of our arrival
(Saturday), we hoped to be able to get fresh provisions, pay dues, and
clear on the Monday. But now our troubles began. There were at this time
certain repairs that it was desirable should be done to portions of our
machinery. They were not essential, as we had substituted new spares for
each defective part, but we thought it wise, as we were now at the only
port where we could get the work done, to get the damaged parts
renovated, so as to become spares in their turn. The original idea was
to send down the parts by boat, but eventually the machine shop desired
the vessel to be laid alongside its wharf. No vessel by the Regulations
is allowed to be moved without a Canal Pilot aboard her. He takes
absolute command and control. A pilot accordingly took her alongside all
right. Then arose delays—but everybody was most obliging, and the work
was well done, though of course prices were very high.
Meantime our kindly Consul was doing all he could to arrange for us to
have a day’s tarpon fishing from the Gatun Weir—from hearsay it is most
thrilling work: you stand on the great weir with the water boiling in
foam 85 feet beneath you and play a real fighting fish of 100 to 200
lbs. weight. The gentleman who was to have run us up to Gatun in his
launch, and to have helped us to get a fish, was, however, unavoidably
detained.
Day followed day with the vessel alongside the wharf and the repair work
in the workshops.
At this time we were much amused by an old Jamaican coloured man, who
spent most of the day sitting on the quay beside the vessel close to her
stern, where of course the ensign was flying on the flagstaff. He, like
all the British West Indian coloured people, of whom there is a very
large number at Cristobal-Colon, was enthusiastically loyal, and told
us, “I love to sit under de ole flag: while you here, I do no more
work—all de day I sit under de ole flag.” The men took a fancy to him,
and “de ole flag” found something to spare for him at every meal, and a
pipe of baccy afterwards.
At last the repairs were completed—shore accounts all settled up and the
Canal Pilot took charge to take us out. We had to go out of the pool
stern foremost. It turned out subsequently that the Gatun Locks were at
this time passing a vessel through. This caused a current to flow past
the pier head of the dock. The pilot did not know of it, with the result
that _Mana’s_ stern crashed into the pier head. Luckily the piling was
very old and rotten, and _Mana_ extraordinarily strong, so that, though
the pier head structure was pretty considerably smashed, our own damage
was confined to broken taffrail stanchions and the ironwork of the main
gallows. We had therefore to return to our berth and have this new lot
of damage made good. The Pilot, a Greek, of course tried to make out
that the reversing gear had refused duty when he wanted to handle her,
but, before we could find the Captain of the Port, that official had
already been aboard and tried the engine, and told us that he found it
worked to perfection, and gave us the true cause of the accident. We
then asked him to give orders that our damage should be made good by the
Canal Administration free of charge, but this he assured us was
impossible under the Regulations—we must pay, but the job should be
expedited. He also, out of sympathy with our misfortunes, gave us
permission, when our job was done, this time to take our ship out
ourselves without having another Canal pilot aboard, lest something
worse should happen. And this we eventually did, to our own great
satisfaction. Before however we could get our clearance, we had to
deposit a sum equal to double the estimated cost of our repairs.
The Canal Administration, like the British Post Office, always plays
pitch and toss on the terms of “heads I win, tails you lose.” It, very
properly, compels you to take a pilot. It gives him absolute power, and
requires that he himself shall take command and handle the vessel. But
such a man’s experience is confined to big steamers: with them he is
probably quite skilful, but give him a small craft or a yacht, and he
knows as much about handling her as he does of piloting an aeroplane.
Hence those tears.
The foregoing is equally true of the Suez Canal pilots. The risks to a
small craft in the passage of the ship canals are great, and are solely
due to the pilots being permitted to attempt to handle them.
As the Regulations of the Panama Canal stand, the Pilot may be mad, or
drunk, or incompetent, and elect to ram another vessel, or to butt at a
lock gate, nevertheless all damage done to the ship, or by the ship,
must be paid by the Owners of the ship, before she is allowed to leave
the Canal. Under no circumstances will the Administration accept
responsibility for the conduct of their pilots. And there you have it.
At 9.15 a.m. Sunday, March the 26th, 1916, we passed through the
breakwater into the Caribbean Sea. We had cleared from Cristobal-Colon
for Trinidad, one of our West Indian Islands, but when doing so we never
had any intention of going there. We informed the British Consul of our
reasons and had his sanction. German sympathisers seemed to take a most
kindly interest in us. We were really bound for Bermuda, via the
Windward Passage, which is the pass between the two great islands of
Cuba and St. Domingo. A strong wind and current sweep at this time of
year from East to West the length of the Caribbean Sea, consequently we
had to get well to the east’ard so as to make sure of carrying a fair
wind and current for rounding Cape Tiburon, the western extremity of the
Island of St. Domingo. We therefore at once set to work to beat steadily
to wind’ard along the Venezuelan coast, keeping close in with the land,
in order to cheat the current and to have as little sea as possible. As
this coast is only roughly surveyed, and the lighting cannot be depended
on, we exercised special care when standing-in to the land. We saw no
craft along this coast except that, one night, what looked like a small
tramp steamer of about 800 tons entirely changed her course, and bore
down on us until she was close alongside. She did not attempt to
communicate. We kept our course and took no notice of her. After a good
look at us she took herself off.
We had unfortunately lost, at Cristobal, our excellent and popular
Japanese cook, and the coloured Panama man who replaced him proved,
after being given some days of grace, such a miserable impostor that
even the strenuous and varied educational efforts of the fo’c’s’le
failed to bring about his regeneration. We heard, indirectly, that the
Russian Finn decided that it was a case of demoniacal possession and had
attempted to cure it by means of a course of massage of the windpipe.
Others of the crew suddenly became afflicted with a variety of
complaints for which they drew various drastic drugs from the ship’s
medicine chest and then, with great self-sacrifice, refraining from
taking these themselves, administered them instead to the chef. We aft
got along quite comfortably, as the cabin steward, Edwin Young,
belonging to Pitcairn Island, had become, since joining, quite a good
cook, and was most willing and hard working. But the fo’c’s’le very
naturally complained, so, in its interest, we decided to alter our
course and make for Port Royal, Jamaica, to seek that pearl of price—a
good sea cook.
Nothing calling for remark occurred on this run until the 6th of April.
At 6.15 a.m. on that day Mr. Gillam, whose watch it was, came below and
said, “I wish you would come on deck, Sir; there’s a water-spout bearing
down on us.” In half a shake of a lamb’s tail we were on deck, and a
truly wonderful and impressive sight presented itself. Away on our
starboard bow was a vast, dark purple cloud mass shaped like an open
umbrella, or rather like a vaulted roof with central pendant. The upper
surface of the dome blended with the normal clouds. The edge of the dome
was sharply defined, and from it small fragments of cloud, all ragged,
and looking like pearl-grey silk muslin torn off and crumpled, kept
breaking away to be left behind. The dome-shaped mass, on its lower
aspect, gradually became columnar, the column extended downward until it
almost, but not quite, reached the sea. The lower part of its length was
much attenuated, and convoluted, and terminated in ragged mist, and
could be seen to be rotating rapidly.
The surface of the sea beneath it, over an area of perhaps a mile in
diameter, presented the appearance of a fiercely boiling cauldron. The
water rose up as waves of pyramidal form, from which the wind tore off
the apices, and whipped the same into spume. The waves had no fixed
direction: they simply dashed into one another. Immediately beneath the
ragged termination of the central column the surface of the sea seemed
to be bodily lifted up, amidst a welter of mist, and froth, and spray,
into a cone-shaped form, but, between the apex of this cone, and the
rapidly rotating extremity of the column of cloud above it, there always
remained a distinct interval of considerable extent, that had the
appearance of dense mist: the appearance of a hard rain-squall, seen
from afar, as it sweeps over the sea. The cloud came down towards the
sea, and the sea rose up towards the cloud, and there was an interval
betwixt the two. The column was not quite vertical: though it maintained
perfect continuity with the cloud mass above, of which it formed a part,
nevertheless its lower extremity tended somewhat to trail or lag behind.
It moved along its path towards us, quite slowly and steadily, cutting
our wake, at an acute angle, some miles astern. It is difficult to
conjecture what would happen to a small craft, or to any craft, that
found itself well within the area of disturbance. Apart from anything
else, the seas, tumbling down on to the top of her from all quarters,
even if they did not break in her decks, could hardly fail to strip her
hatch openings. As we watched, we agreed that even _Mana_ could scarcely
be expected to live amidst such seas, and therefore, obviously, nothing
could. As it was, the surface of the sea, where we were, was little
affected, nor was there any weight in the shifts of wind as they
occurred.
We then had breakfast and a pipe and settled down to routine work when,
at 10 a.m., a small cloud on the horizon, on our lee bow, was observed
to be behaving in a way opposed to the ordinary laws of nature. Though a
nice steady breeze was blowing and no other clouds were to be seen
anywhere else in this direction on the horizon, yet this one particular
patch, like a large sail, remained constant in form and in the same
position. As we drew nearer, it was observed to increase and diminish in
volume from time to time. The only explanation we could think of was
that we had fallen in with a ship on fire, so we bore away towards it.
As we reduced the distance betwixt us and it, we gradually made out that
it was not one cloud of white smoke, but two separate clouds, that
arose, more or less alternately, at two spots situated some two miles or
so apart. Another point too gradually developed. Each patch of cloud or
smoke suddenly burst forth to its maximum size and then gradually blew
to leeward, and dissipated. This led us to think that it must be either
gun practice or a naval action. The wind had now fallen light, so we
started our engines, and made up our canvas, and, like rats, headed for
the scrimmage. It was suggested that, following the classical example of
Mr. Midshipman Easy a ladies’ wardrobe aboard should be overhauled to
find if possible a green silk petticoat under which we might go into
action. As in Easy’s case, being unarmed, our approach was likely to be
of greater effect than our presence; but still we all decided to make a
claim for prize money. As we cut down the distance it became evident
that it could only be a matter of small craft, for no hull could be made
out. The fighting was taking place on the northern side of Morant’s
Cays, a group of low-lying coral islets that lay between us and the
combatants.
The situation gradually developed. Morant’s Cays are coral islets
perched on the top of a volcanic area: there had been a seismic
disturbance of considerable extent: we had the large-scale Admiralty
plan of them. Great changes had taken place: the sea was now breaking in
various directions where deep water was shown on the chart. At two
points, from vents in the sea bottom, steam was being ejected into the
air in puffs, each puff forming a dense white cloud perhaps 200 or more
feet high. These puffs occurred some 1½ miles apart and one was much
larger than the other. The steam was ejected from each vent alternately.
We came in pretty close, but breaking water in various directions warned
us that we were looking for trouble, so we headed away for Port Royal,
Jamaica.
[Illustration: Map of Windward Passage.]
CHAPTER XXIV
JAMAICA TO SOUTHAMPTON
Jamaica, and the Bahamas—Bermudas—Azores—Preparing for
Submarines—Southampton once more.
JAMAICA
Jamaica was discovered by Columbus, and belonged to Spain till 1655,
when it was captured by an expedition sent out by Oliver Cromwell.
The Island, from its proximity to the Spanish Possessions, was a
godsend to the Buccaneers. Port Royal, which, as its name shows, was
founded after the Restoration, was full of riches, often ill-gotten:
“always like a Continental mart or fair.” In 1692 it was overwhelmed
by an earthquake, and again laid low by fire in 1703.
Kingston, originally begun as a settlement of refugees from Port Royal
after the earthquake, gradually grew in importance, and finally became
the capital of the island.
During the wars which followed the French Revolution, Jamaica was of
importance as the great centre of British interests in the Western
Caribbean.
We now headed for Jamaica; Kingston, its capital, lies towards the
eastern extremity of its southern coast. The town is placed on flat land
which gradually rises into dwarf hills. It is built parallel to, and
abutting on to its water-front. Right and left of the city, when viewed
from the sea, extends low country, whilst behind it, and to the east,
rises in the distance a lofty range of mountains. From the open sea, the
town and flat country is divided by a natural breakwater that maintains
the general trend of the coast. By this breakwater is formed a lagoon
that runs East and West, parallel to the coast, for a distance of some
six miles, with an average breadth of about one mile, and has
practically no arms or branches. This lagoon is the harbour of Kingston
and a fine one, but it lacks the element of picturesqueness, nor is it a
comfortable one for small craft. The strong easterly wind, known as “The
Undertaker,” that daily arises and increases in strength with the sun,
sweeps down its length and knocks up a nasty sea. It is difficult to
obtain shelter, even for a dinghy, when landing at Kingston.
But we are anticipating. We ran down the coast, close in, and at 9.30
a.m., Friday, April the 7th, 1916, we reached the western end of the
natural breakwater between which and the mainland is the passage into
the lagoon. Here the Port Doctor came on board, and as he went through
our bills of health we mutually discovered that we were old hospital
friends, though we had never heard of each other for twenty years.
We entered the harbour, and brought up in 15 fms., abreast of the wharf
of the old naval dockyard of Port Royal, and distant from it about a
cable’s length. Port Royal is situated on the inner aspect of the
bulbous-headed western extremity of the natural breakwater. The land
surface is very limited in extent and is entirely taken up with the old
fort, the old dockyard, and old naval and military quarters. All but a
few poor closely packed houses is in the occupation of Government. The
width of the breakwater to the eastward soon becomes small; open beach
on seaward side, mangroves extending into the lagoon on the other; and
between the two sand and scrub. This part is the well-known Palisadoes,
the home of land-crabs and dead men, and the scene of many a duel. Port
Royal is now deserted; no shipping or living workshops; everything is
hushed, but the place is not neglected. Nelson might have left it but
yesterday; the dockyard, with its fittings, stores, and quays, reminded
one of that other quaint little marine gem, the old naval dockyard of
English Harbour in the island of Antigua. When the place hummed with
life, _The Young Sea Officer’s Sheet Anchor_, by Falconer, was the text
book to work by, and its social life is vividly and accurately given us
by Marryat in one of his novels.
As in the dusk, all alone, we passed down the silent corridors, and
approached the old mess-room, we somehow listened for, and expected at
any moment to hear, through some opening door, the reckless toast of “A
bloody war, and a sickly season,” the chink of glasses, and the crash of
the chorus “Yellow Jack! Yellow Jack!” And Jack, thus bidden, used to
come, and link his arm in that of some fine young fellow, and together
the two would saunter away “to the home of a friend of his in the
Palisadoes.” Little time for packing up allowed! Many and many a man, in
the prime of life and feeling quite well, has dined at mess one night in
snowy uniform: the next night in a white uniform of a different cut as
the guest of Jack and Death. These two kept open house in those days.
The R.E. Officer in charge was most kind and hospitable; he took us over
the old fort, pointing out, amongst much else, Nelson’s former quarters
and the adjoining length of parapet overlooking the harbour entrance,
now known as Nelson’s Walk. Our host informed us that, fishing from the
wharves, he got splendid sport.
From Port Royal to Kingston is about four miles by the boat channel.
Passes through the coral banks have been blasted where requisite and the
channel beaconed. A least depth of 4½ ft. is thus obtained, and a direct
course. Our little motor lifeboat carried us backwards and forwards most
excellently on various voyages made to attend to our business at
Kingston. The way in which she bucked at speed over the short steep seas
reminded one of larking over hurdles on a pony.
The work in hand was to get our clearance inwards, to get rid of our
food-destroyer from Panama, and to find in his place a live ship’s cook,
to report particulars of the Morant’s Cays upheaval, and finally the
usual catering, and bill of health, and clearance outwards. The Chief of
the Customs was good enough to interest himself in _Mana’s_ welfare, so
that all these matters were dealt with in due sequence, and with the
least possible trouble to us. A coloured cook was procured from an hotel
at £16 a month, with, as it proved, but little justification on the
ground of ability for drawing such a rate of pay; still, his
professional enormities were associated with so many humorous incidents,
and as he appeared at least to mean well, we resigned ourselves to the
inevitable, and prayed that we might survive his ministrations.
About noon on Sunday, April 9, 1916, we weighed and motored out from
Port Royal, unplagued by pilots, and dipping our ensign to the Port
Doctor and his wife, in acknowledgment of adieux waved from their
garden. Clear of everything, the engines were stopped and _Mana_, bound
to “the stormy Bermuthies,” proceeded to argue the point with a head
wind as to whether she should, or should not, go to windward. By steady
hammering she gradually got under the western end of the Island of San
Domingo, and then through the celebrated Windward Passage. We had now to
threadle our way betwixt the numerous islets that constitute the Bahama
group, and it was quite delightful and interesting; brilliant sunshine,
cool moderate breezes, land every few hours, but reliable charts. This
was yachting; we had met a good deal of what bore little semblance to
it, so we appreciated our present luck all the more.
The morning of the 19th of April 1916 saw us beating up under the lee of
Acklin Island and of Crooked Island; a fresh N.E. breeze swept in puffs
across the long, narrow, flat land. An open native boat, with jib-headed
mainsail as usual, was seen heading across our course when we were close
in, so we gave her a wave, and, as we came into the wind, she rounded-to
under our stern, dousing her sail, unshipping her mast and shooting up
alongside our quarter. We dropped into her; a couple of empty sacks were
pitched in, and she was clear of the ship before she had lost her way.
The mast is stepped, the sail hoisted, and she is off again with her
gunnel steadily kept awash. We now for the first time spoke. The two
coloured men, her crew, were most obliging; they would make for the most
convenient landing and then they would accompany us catering.
Everything went off excellently; we made a tour to different cottages
and gardens, collecting whatever was available, particularly
grape-fruit, oranges, and tamarinds. We also got exceptionally fine
specimens of the shell of the King conch and of the Queen conch.
Hundreds of the King conch were piled up at one spot on the shore ready
to be burnt into lime.
The natives appeared to be pure-blooded negroes of west-coast type, and
in some respects their culture remains unchanged. For instance, the
pestle and mortar and winnowing tray for treating maize were exactly
similar in pattern to those we had seen used by the Akikuyu of Eastern
Central Africa.
When catering, the price of each article is settled by negotiation, and
it is definitely bought, as it is met with from time to time in our
perambulation, on condition that it shall be paid for as it is passed
into the boat on departure—cash on delivery. Much other stuff, though
unbought, is also brought down to the boat in the hope of sale at the
last moment. This too is generally taken as well, because going cheaply,
and also to avoid causing disappointment.
Everybody having been paid, and the already laden boat now pretty well
cluttered-up with an unexpected additional cargo of chickens, eggs,
fruit, shells, and sundry ethnological acquisitions, up goes the
shoulder-of-mutton, the helmsman ships his twiddling-stick, and, in a
few moments, the water is purring beneath our lee gunnel as the little
craft slithers through the closely set wavelets of land-sheltered water.
Long, narrow, and ballasted, these boats are very fast and are given the
last ounce of wind pressure they can stand up to. It seemed to us,
however, that her crew wished to show what they could do with her as,
halliard and sheet in hand, they lifted the lee gunnel from moment to
moment, just sufficiently to prevent her filling, but they did so with
an easy nonchalance that told that they were finished boat sailors.
A very few minutes saw us “once more aboard the lugger.” We had
left _Mana_ at noon, and eight bells were striking as the
staysail-sheet-tackle scraped to leu’ard along the hairless belly
of its horse; we had explored an island, seen a good deal of its
people and their culture, and had revictualled ship, all within
four hours, yet without hurry!
Towards sundown we passed out into the Atlantic, through the Crooked
Island Passage; at 8.45 p.m. the Light that marks the Passage dipped
over our taffrail, and we turned in with that peace of mind which is the
portion of those whose ship is clear of all land.
This day, April the 19th, Gibb’s Hill Lighthouse, Bermuda, bore N. 42°
E., distant 767 miles; it took us eleven days to do it.
_April the 20th._—The sargasso weed formed floating islands sometimes
many acres in extent; when one considers the marine fauna that centres
round a piece of floating wreckage in tropical seas, some idea can be
formed of the wealth of life associated with this vast sudd. Our patent
log could no longer be towed.
[Illustration: BERMUDA ISLANDS]
BERMUDAS
The Bermudas are a group of a hundred islands, most of which are,
however, bare rocks. They were discovered in the beginning of the 16th
century by Juan Bermudez, a Spaniard.
In 1609 attention was drawn to them by Sir George Somers, who was
shipwrecked there on his way to Virginia, and found them “the most
plentiful place that ever I came to for fish, hogs and fowl.” Fifty
emigrants were sent out in 1612. Moore, a ship’s carpenter, was the
first governor. He established his headquarters at St. George’s. Later
a more central position was needed, and the town of Hamilton was laid
out, and became the capital in 1815. The American War brought the
islands into notice from a naval point of view, and in 1810 a dockyard
was begun on Ireland Island, thousands of convicts being sent out from
England for its construction.
The Colony possesses representative institutions, but not responsible
government.
We made Bermuda for the sake of gaining our northing. We had new canvas
awaiting us there, that we ought to have received at Tahiti, and we had
to decide, on cable advices, whether we would lay up _Mana_ here in
Bermuda, in the United States of North America, or bring her back to
England.
The Sailing Directions offered us two harbours, St. George’s and
Hamilton. They do not point out that all shipping business, practically
all business, is done at Hamilton. We selected St. George’s. The harbour
master came aboard with the pilot, and proved an interesting man, kindly
and obliging—an old soldier, a keen conchologist, and a bit of a
geologist. The harbour itself is excellent and charming; it extends away
_ad infinitum_ amongst the islets and coral patches, but there is little
indication of its being made much use of by mercantile shipping.
St. George’s Island is linked to its big neighbour by causeways and
bridges, which are carried across the shallow coral sea. Its quaint,
clean, sleepy little townlet, or village, exists by letting lodgings to
American visitors, and growing early vegetables for exportation to the
States.
The American Tourist is the winter migrant whose nature and
idiosyncrasies are by the islanders most deeply studied. He, to the
Bermudian, is Heaven’s choicest gift—his coconut—the all-sufficing.
Nine-tenths of the brain power of the islanders is devoted to inducing
the creature to visit the islands and to keeping it contented whilst it
is there, the other tenth to supplying it with early vegetables in its
continental habitat. Of course Bermuda is an important naval station,
and a certain amount of business is done in purveying to the naval and
military establishments, but that is a thing apart. The Dockyard is
situated on islands well removed from both St. George’s and Hamilton. In
this we may see the finger of Providence; placed elsewhere it would have
incommoded the American Tourist.
This cult of the foreigner is the explanation of many things which at
first sight appear strange in Bermuda. It is about eleven miles by road
from St. George’s to Hamilton, and there is no means of public
conveyance beyond a covered pair-horse wagonette, that acts as a
carrier’s cart for goods and passengers. We marvelled exceedingly why
this should be, whereupon it was thus explained to us by our butcher,
who was also the proprietor of the shandy-ran express aforesaid, and of
a hired-carriage business, and by his son and partner, the M.P. for the
St. George’s Harbour Division. The Americans find the climate of Bermuda
delightful as a winter resort. At Hamilton monster hotels are built for
them, but there is nothing whatever for them to do. The islands do not
possess any features of natural or historical interest that appeal to
tourists. Now the islanders had observed that the dominant note in the
American character was its restlessness; unless an American could
violently rush around and spend money he was wretched and pined. But the
island had excellent roads and lovely views, so they provided carriages,
and objectives to drive to associated with romance and story, the
evolution of which, from a basis of nothing, is a standing testimony to
their intellectual creative powers, and of the truth of the axiom that a
demand creates a supply.
But the island, for we may ignore the numerous islets, is very small.
With care and good management, and by severely rationing him in the
extent of his daily shay excursions, it was found that the American
could be kept alive, and healthy, and cheerful for 14 days: from one
steamer to the next: all this time he exuded dollars. “All is well,” as
the ant said to the aphis. Then suddenly the heavens fell. A lewd spirit
had prompted our friend the butcher of St. George’s to import two
motor-buses and with them run an hourly service between Port St. George
and Hamilton, to the great convenience of the public, and to his own
exceeding profit. As if this were not enough, he and others were known
to have even placed orders in the States for motor-cars! Bitter was the
cry of the carriage purveyors of Hamilton, of the hotels, of the
furnished apartments. The American visitor would “do the darned island,”
every inch of its roads, twice over, in a single day, and get away by
the same boat he had arrived by—(the boats stay two days loading
vegetables).
But where shall salvation be found if not in “government of the people,
by the people, for the people”? Many members of both Houses indirectly,
and in some cases directly, were interested in the hired carriage, or
apartment, or hotel lines. Trained in such schools for statesmen, the
Legislature was able to visualise the national danger, and deal with it
broadly, regardless of the vested interests of the day. Without delay
both Houses met, an Act was passed, and the Royal Assent given through
the Governor, whereby the butcher was given the cost price of his two
buses, and a solatium; the buses were immediately to be sent back to the
States, and, for the future, no form of automobile was to be landed,
owned, or used on the island. Heavy penalties for infraction. So there
is still one spot on earth, anyhow, where one can escape the scourge of
the motor-horn.
For a few days we stayed at St. George’s, getting a little smith’s work
done and watering ship. There is no surface water on the island; the
rain water is collected and stored in great underground cisterns hewn in
the solid coral rock of which the island is formed. The water-supply
thus conserved has never been known to fail. In _Mana’s_ case the
Military Authorities kindly sent their large tank-boat alongside. At odd
times we explored in the launch some of the labyrinth of waterways and
islets forming part of St. George’s Harbour, or connected with it. When
doing so one afternoon, we made the acquaintance, at nightfall, of a
coloured fisherman, by offering him the courtesy of a pluck home. This
man (Bartram of St. George’s) proved an extraordinarily good fellow. He
said he never worked on Sundays, therefore he was free to offer to take
us on that day, as his guest, to try for monsters in a certain wonderful
hole, far out on the edge of the reef, a spot we could reach with the
aid of our launch. He was most keen about it, so we accepted. The
monster-capturing was a failure, but he and his two sons worked hard all
day, and seemed much concerned that they had failed to show sport, nor
would they consider any suggestion of payment for their long day’s work,
on our return to the ship. They accepted, however, a clasp-knife each,
as a souvenir of our excursion.
Bartram had told us that he had at home a wonderfully fine and rare
“marine specimen.” (The collection of “marine specimens” is one of the
refuges of despair of the American Tourist, and their supply has
gradually become a minor industry of Bermuda.) He had found it some
years ago. Many millionaires from the hotels or on yachts had offered
him big prices for it, but the very fact that they were so keen to get
it had made him all the more determined to keep it. Some day he had
intended to sell it. Now would we accept it as a gift? On inspection it
proved to be no coral, but a very fine example of a colony of sociable
sea snails (Vermetus). We therefore suggested to Bartram that we should
take it to England on _Mana_ and offer it in his name as a gift to the
British Museum (Natural History). This we did, and Dr. Harmer, the
Keeper of the Zoological Department, was much pleased with it, and wrote
to Bartram accordingly.
The interest of this little story lies in the fact of its being a
typical example of the way in which one often finds, in our remote
dependencies, the people exhibiting unexpected keenness and pride in
associating themselves with England, and her interests, on an
opportunity of doing so being pointed out to them. We had found it so at
Pitcairn Island.
A more delightful place than Bermuda at which to spend a winter would be
hard to find by those who care for pleasure sailing in smooth waters,
fishing, sunshine, and the customary amenities of civilised life.
Unhappily we could not spare the time to avail ourselves of the
possibilities of St. George’s. We had constantly to be at Hamilton on
ship’s business, so after several journeys to and fro in the dreadful
covered wagonette, wherein physical discomfort almost rendered us
indifferent to a kaleidoscopic succession of humorous persons,
situations, and incidents, we got a pilot and went round under power
into Hamilton Harbour. Pilotage is compulsory, but free. Once at
Hamilton things went much more easily. The Colonial Authorities and the
Admiral in Command and his Staff were most kind and hospitable.
Admiralty House is a charming eighteenth-century English country
residence, of moderate size, and romantically situated. In its garden,
peeps of the sea are seen, through graceful subtropical foliage, at
every turn, and miniature land-locked coves, reached from above by
winding steps down the face of the falaise, afford the most perfect of
boat harbours and bathing-pools.
Another delightful official residence is allotted to the officer in
command of the Dockyard. In his case he is given a miniature
archipelago. His tiny islands rise from 20 to 100 feet above the water.
On one is his house; another is his garden; chickens and pigs occupy a
third, whilst his milch goats live on various small skerries. As the
extent of water between the different islets is proportional to their
size, and is deep, the whole makes a very charming and compact picture.
Yet he is only ten minutes by bicycle from his office in the Dockyard,
although, from his little kingdom, no sign of the Dockyard is to be
seen, it being shut off by a wooded promontory.
The Admiral was good enough to offer us every facility for laying up
_Mana_ in the Dockyard, but on various grounds we eventually decided to
take war-time risks and bring her back to England, so receiving from him
a signal-rocket outfit, and some kindly advice on the unwisdom of trying
to run-down periscopes that showed no wake behind them, the vessel being
now refreshed, at 0.55 p.m. on Friday, May the 12th, 1916, we weighed,
and proceeded under power from Hamilton to the Examination Anchorage,
with pilot aboard. Arriving there at 4.15 p.m. the Examining Officer
came alongside and handed us the now usual special Admiralty clearance
card, together with a courteous radiogram wishing us luck, from the
Officer in Command of the Dockyard. The new trysail was hoisted, the
engines stopped, and we commenced our voyage to Ponta Delgada in the
Island of St. Miguel, one of the Azores, distant miles 1,869.
BERMUDA TO AZORES
This run was of “yachting” character. Gentle breezes, smooth seas, an
occasional sail on the horizon. On the eighth day out, at the beginning
of the first watch, the lights of St. Elmo were seen burning on both
fore and main trucks. It is rather remarkable that this was the first,
and only occasion, on which this phenomenon occurred throughout the
entire voyage. Occasionally we got a turtle. Ten o’clock in the morning
of the 30th of May showed us the Peak of Pico Island, 65 miles away, and
at 10 p.m. next day, Thurs., May the 31st, we hove to off Ponta Delgada
in the island of St. Miguel to await daylight. The 1,869 miles had taken
us 18 days.
Having been the victims of the organised dishonesty of the pilots of San
Francisco in California, we had long before decided to run no risks of
having the vessel again detained for ransom by foreign officials. _Mana_
therefore next day, June the 1st, simply stood in and dropped a boat
outside the breakwater, and again stood off, whilst we pulled in. Being
Good Friday, it was, of course, a _fiesta_, all shops shut, and
everybody away in the country. Our consul, too, was away for the day,
but his wife kindly gave us our letters. We had been instructed to
obtain from him the necessary information regarding war conditions, and
the regulations governing shipping bound for British ports. At Bermuda
nothing was known.
When pulling up the harbour, we had noticed one British vessel—an armed
Government transport, evidently formerly a small German
passenger-carrying tramp—so having bought some pineapples, vegetables
and cigarettes, nothing else being procurable, we got into our boat and
paid her a visit. Her commander was ashore for the day with the Consul
fiestaing, but his Chief Officer was good enough to put us _au courant_
with things, so we bade adieu to Ponta Delgada without any wish to see
more of it, and pulled out to sea. The ship was far away to leeward, set
down by wind and current. Not expecting us to get through our work so
quickly, she had not troubled to keep her station, but went off to
argufy by flag with a Lloyd’s Signal-Station which would not admit that
she was in its book.
After she had picked us up one of the men left aboard asked whether any
of the craft in the harbour were “a-hanging Judas.” Though there were
several small square-rigged vessels alongside the Mole, none had,
however, cock-billed their yards.[93] It was interesting thus to find
that the memory and meaning of the old sea custom still survived. Old
superstitions and fancies still exist: an ancient shellback who was with
us down to the s’uth’ard reprobated the capture of an albatross—“They is
the spurrits of drownded seamen.” Someone objected on doctrinal grounds,
but was met with the crushing rejoinder: “I said _spurrits_: their
_souls_ ar’ in ’ell.”
AZORES TO SOUTHAMPTON
And now we come to the last lap. On June the 1st, by 1 p.m. we were
again aboard _Mana_, the boat hoisted in, and she bore away to round
Ferraira Point which forms the extremity of St. Michael’s Island. From
Ferraira’s Point to the haven where we would be was 1101.5 miles, and
the direction N.49¼° E. true, or, shall we say, North East.
After making the customary routine entries in the Log Book associated
with taking departure—the latitude, the longitude, the reading of the
patent log, the canvas set, etc.—our Sailing-master makes the following
entry, “And now we are fairly on our way to Dear Old Britain. All the
talk now is of the submarine risks. I put our chances of getting through
unmolested at 85 per cent. But is the _Mana_ doomed? Time will tell, but
I don’t think.”
Nevertheless every preparation was now made, in case we had to leave the
ship in a hurry, at the orders of some German submarine. The engine was
taken out of the lifeboat to save weight. Every detail both for her and
the cutter was suitably packed or made up, and placed in the deck-house,
ready to be passed into her at the last moment before she was lowered.
We could only afford room for the photographic negatives and papers of
the Expedition. If the ship be sunk, the whole of the priceless, because
irreplaceable, archæological and ethnological collections must go with
her.
The men, however, proceeded to pack, in their great seamen’s bags, all
the clutter and old rubbish they had accumulated during a voyage of over
three years. Its bulk and weight would have rendered the boats
unmanageable. Moreover, each man, when the time came, would be attending
to shipping his property instead of giving all thought to getting his
boat with her essential equipment safely away from the vessel. But we
had taken them this long voyage without accident, and we were not going
to let them make fools of themselves at the finish. Moreover, _Mana_
carried a pretty mixed crowd: English, Spanish, Portuguese, and West
Indian negroes, a Russian Finn, and descendants of the mutineers of the
_Bounty_. At a pinch, amongst such a lot, long knives are apt to appear
from nowhere, and self-control and discipline be at an end, with
lamentable result. We therefore drew up a set of orders in triplicate;
one copy for the fo’c’s’le, one for aft, and one for entry in the
official log, in which was clearly set out a routine that was to be
followed to the letter in the event of our having to take to the boats.
The details need not here be given, suffice to say that they stated that
explicit orders for the common good were now set out in writing, and
that THESE ORDERS WOULD NOT, WHEN THE OCCASION AROSE, BE REPEATED
VERBALLY; that there was ample boat accommodation for all, if the
lifeboat were got away safely from the ship before the cutter, but not
otherwise, because all hands were needed to swing out the larger boat.
Therefore, when the ship’s bell rang, the Sailing-master would take up
his position by the lifeboat in the waist, to superintend her launching
and stowage, and to give orders, and eventually to take command of her,
and the Master would pick up his loaded repeating rifle and spare
cartridges in clips and go to the taffrail. (It was obvious from that
position he could see and hear everything, and yet could not be
approached or rushed by any, or many.)
Any man failing immediately to appear on deck when the bell rang would
be shot dead without any warning when he did appear. Any man
endeavouring to place his private gear in a boat would be shot dead in
the act, without any warning. The like if he attempted to enter other
than his own boat, or his own boat out of his turn. The like on a long
knife, or other weapon, being seen in his hand or possession. The like
on his failing to obey the verbal orders as issued.
By the routine laid down the lifeboat would get away safely with her
crew and equipment. The cutter’s own crew were strong enough to load and
lower their own boat, after having assisted the heavy lifeboat, provided
they obeyed the orders of the Mate who had charge of her. He was a good
seaman, but it was essential that he should have the moral support that
comes from a loaded rifle. Once boats all clear and safe, the lifeboat
would pull in to the ship, as close as she thought wise, whereupon the
“Old Man,” in a nice cork jacket, would drop off his taffrail into the
water, and she would pick him up.
These orders and the penalties, extreme as they were, met with general
approval as far as we could gather indirectly. Two days after their
being posted, when Thomas, the coloured cook, came for orders, we
thought we would put him through his catechism. “Have you learnt up the
orders in the fo’c’s’le that concern you, Thomas?” “Yes, sar!” “When the
bell rings, what will _you_ do?” “Jump deck quick, damn quick, sar!”
“Good! And then?” “I go starn big boat.” “And when she is in the water
you’ll jump into her?” “No, sar! You shoot Thomas. Cutter’s my boat.”
Thomas had got up his orders thoroughly and intelligently, and departed
quite pleased with his viva voce exam., and the bundle of cigarettes his
reward.
Some of the men, finding that their kit-bags must be left behind, hit
out the following ingenious plan for saving their clothes. They first
put on their Sunday best suit, over that their weekday go-ashore rig,
then their working clothes. To the foregoing must be added a knitted
guernsey or two, and any superior underclothing. The result was most
grotesque; they could hardly waddle, or get through the fo’c’s’le hatch.
Had the fine weather continued, their sufferings would have been severe.
A gale, however, in which no submarine could show her nose, came to
their rescue.
At the time we are writing of—June 1916—the submarines were not
operating far out into the Atlantic. Our idea was to keep _Mana_ well
away until we got on to about the same parallel of latitude as the
Scilly Isles, and then wait thereabouts until it blew hard from the S.W.
Blow it did, sure enough, with high confused seas: dangerous. Gradually
they became bigger, but less wicked. We rode it out dry and comfortably
as usual, with oil bags to wind’ard. Unhappily it was an Easterly gale,
instead of the Westerly we had hoped for. It moderated. The wind drew to
the Nor’ard. We let her go, and sped up the Channel at a great pace, and
arrived in St. Helen’s Roads, Isle of Wight, at noon on June the 23rd.
Twenty-two days from St. Miguel. We had entered and passed up the
English Channel, unchallenged by friend or foe.
In St. Helen’s Roads we took aboard the now obligatory Government pilot,
who brought us through the different defences to the Hamble Spit Buoy,
from which we had started three years and four months earlier.
We had traversed, almost entirely under canvas, without accident of
consequence to ship or man, a distance of over One Hundred Thousand
miles.
Such is the mana of MANA.
[The Royal Cruising Club Challenge Cup, last held by _Sunbeam_ (Lord
Brassey), was, in 1917, awarded to _Mana_ on her return, by special
resolution of the Annual General Meeting of the Club, “for a
remarkable cruise in the Pacific.”]
[Illustration]
EPILOGUE
_MANA_ was once more back in England, and her crew went each on his way.
The Brixham and Lowestoft men returned to their homes, having at least
enlarged their knowledge of the world. Rosa, the Chilean engineer, and
the Jamaican cook disappeared to get engagements back to their
respective lands; Rosa, we trust, to realise his dreams of a shop and a
wife at St. Vincent. Mr. Gillam applied for service in the Royal Navy,
and subsequently became a sub-lieutenant in the R.N.R.
The two Pitcairners were the last left on board; they had proved
themselves very intelligent, as well as good workers. Charles could, it
is believed, have passed an examination on every port he had visited,
and how long he had stayed in each. We endeavoured to make some amends
for our lack of Mendelian research on their island, by sending them up
to the Royal College of Surgeons, where they were thoroughly measured
and examined by Professor Keith.[94]
A still more signal honour awaited them; they were commanded to
Buckingham Palace as representatives of England’s smallest colony. Mr.
Gillam took charge of them in London. He was not intimately acquainted
with the great city, and used the map as he would a chart, disdaining
the main thoroughfares, unless they lay on the direct route, and
steering a straight course by weird and mysterious alleys. Any way, his
charges were produced in good time at the Palace.
During the arrangements for the interview, S. had stated that the men
spoke “the pure Elizabethan English of the Bible and Prayer Book”; their
vocabulary, however, had been enlarged on _Mana_, and I was not without
trepidation lest such expressions might crop out as “I don’t mind if I
do”; which is considered at Brixham the most courteous form of polite
acceptance. All, however, went well. Charles, who acted as spokesman,
after a first embarrassment answered readily the questions asked by the
King. The Queen graciously accepted some specimens of Pitcairn
handiwork, and the men were much impressed with the kindness and
condescension of their Majesties.
Incidentally, during the interview with which we were previously
honoured, they made great friends with the royal footman who was on duty
outside. He was of course a very imposing person in scarlet and gold,
and they shook hands affectionately with him on leaving. Cuttings from
the newspapers of official and other paragraphs, announcing the
reception of the two inhabitants of Pitcairn by King George and Queen
Mary, were taken back by them to be inserted in the State records of the
island. Posts were obtained for both men on a New Zealand liner, and we
have since heard that they have safely returned to their home, having
made the voyage from Tahiti on a little schooner which the plucky
Pitcairners have built since we were there. It is to be hoped that this
boat may continue a success and solve many of the problems of the
island.
This narrative cannot close without that note of pride and sadness
which, alas, characterises so many records at this time in the history
of the world. Since the first chapter was written two more of our
company have laid down their lives. The words of appreciation which it
was hoped would have given pleasure can only be wreaths to their memory.
Charles Jeffery, of Lowestoft, who joined at Whitstable and was with us
to the last, who grew from boyhood to manhood on _Mana_, has met with a
hero’s death on a minesweeper.
Henry James Gillam rests in a Sicilian grave. Volunteers were called
for, for specially dangerous work in capturing submarines; Gillam
responded—it is impossible to picture his doing otherwise—and he fell in
action in April 1918. The loss to his country is great; to us it is very
real and personal. The whole voyage of the _Mana_ is a tribute to his
skill. His high intelligence and character secured him universal
confidence, while his unvarying good temper—in bad times as well as in
good—made him a delightful companion. One can only think of him in that
other life as still keen for some new work or enterprise, and carrying
it out with perfect loyalty and success.
Thus from land and sea, in defence of a Great Cause, have our comrades
of the Expedition made their last voyage “westward.”
I know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
Beyond His love and care.
WHITTIER.
* * * * *
And now the story is told. The Expedition has, we hope, brought some new
pieces to fit into the puzzle which it went out to study, but the help
is needed of every reader who has more to bring, from whatever part of
the world; so alone can be finally solved the Mystery of Easter Island.
ITINERARY OF THE EXPEDITION
OUTWARD VOYAGE
Left Southampton Feb. 28 1913
Dartmouth March 1–5 „
Falmouth March 6–25 „
Madeira April 13–16 „
Grand Canary April 18—May 10 „
Cape Verde Islands May 17–29 „
Pernambuco June 15–21 „
Bahia de Todos os Santos June 25–26 „
Cabral Bay July 2–4 „
Cape Frio July 10–12 „
Rio de Janeiro July 14–23 „
Porto Bello Bay July 27—Aug. 2 „
Buenos Aires Aug. 17—Sept. „
19
Port Desire Oct. 3–6 „
Entered Magellan Straits Oct. 16 „
Punta Arenas Oct. 20—Nov. 29 „
Entered Patagonian Channels Dec. 11 „
Left Patagonian Channels Jan. 6 1914
Talcahuano Jan. 14—Feb. 13 „
Juan Fernandez Feb. 16—Feb. 19 „
Valparaiso Feb. 22—Feb. 28 „
Juan Fernandez March 4—March 9 „
EASTER ISLAND
Arrival at the Island March 29 1914
_Mana_ leaves May 23 „
Native rising begins July 1 „
Arrival of Chilean warship Aug. 4 „
_Mana_ returns Aug. 23 „
_Mana_ leaves (second time) Sept. 4 „
Visit from Von Spee’s squadron Oct. 12–18 „
S. R. goes to Chile Dec. 5 „
Visit of _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_ Dec. 23–31 „
Return of _Mana_ with S. R. March 15 1915
_Mana_ leaves (third time) March 17 „
_Mana_ returns May 28 „
Expedition leaves the Island Aug. 18 „
HOMEWARD VOYAGE
Pitcairn Island Aug. 27—Sept. 1 1915
Tahiti Sept. 16—Oct 8 „
Honolulu Nov. 11—Dec. 1 „
_Mana_ leaves Honolulu Nov. 28, arr. San Francisco Dec. 25 „
Hawaii Dec. 2–6 „
San Francisco arr. Dec. 14,
1915—Jan. 20, 1916
[K.R. leaves Jan. 16—reaches England Feb. 6, 1916]
San Francisco left Jan. 20 „
Socorro Feb. 5–6 „
Quibo March 7–9 „
Panama March 13–16 „
Through the Canal March 17–18 „
Cristobal March 18–26 „
Jamaica April 7–9 „
Bermuda May 2–12 „
Azores May 31—June 1 „
Southampton June 25 „
[Illustration: THE MANA EXPEDITION TO EASTER ISLAND]
INDEX
_Note._—Entries other than proper names refer to Easter Island, unless
otherwise stated. References to illustrations are given in text.
Acklin Island, Bahamas, 376–7
Aconcagua Mount, 105
Ahu:
— for bird-men, 191, 264
— canoe-shaped, 230–1
— definition, 166
— destruction, 172–3, 299–300
— exposure and interment of dead, 170–1, 229 and note (fig.)
— forms, different, list of, 231 note
— image ahu, description, 167–71
— converted to semi-pyramid type, 172, 229
_see also_ Statues
— number, 166–8, 231 note
— pavement ahu, 231
— poe-poe: _see_ canoe-shaped and wedge-shaped.
— position, 166
— semi-pyramid type, 172
— unclassified, 231 footnote
— for warriors (Mata-toa), 231
— wedge-shaped, 231
— for individual ahu _see_ placenames.
Akahanga, 194
Akikuyu, 166, 201, footnote, 327, 376
Aku-aku: _see_ Religion—supernatural beings
Ana: _see_ Cave
Anakena, Easter Island:
— bird-man, resort of, from western clans, 263
— in legend, 278–81, 284, 295
— Ngaara headquarters of, 241–2
— statue at, 187–8, 269–75
— tablets inspected at, 245–6
Angata, native prophetess:
— dreams, 142–3
— funeral of, 149, 275
— visit to, 144–5
Angosto Harbour, Magellan Straits, 80
_Annie Larsen_, ship, 348–9
Anson:
— at Juan Fernandez, 111
— at St. Catharina Island, 49
— wreck of the _Wager_, 97
Ao, clans celebrating bird rites: _see under_ Bird Cult
Ao, dancing-padde, 259, 261, 268
Apépé, ahu, 257 footnote
Ara Mahiva (road), 198
Araucanians, resistance to Spaniards, 99
Argentina:
— British, commercial and legal status, 63–4
— history, 52
— inhabitants, 59
— social conditions, 61–3
— women, 61–2
Arii Taimai: _see_ Pomare family
Ariki, chiefs, 241–3, 298: _see also_ Ngaara and Kaimokoi
Astronomy, study of, 235
Atalaya, Grand Canary, 23
Atua: _see_ Religion—supernatural beings
Azores, 383–4
Bahia, 38–9
Bailey, cook on _Mana_, 75, 155, 321
Balboa, Panama, 361–2
Balfour, H., 296
Banks, Sir Joseph, account of marae, 320
_Baquedano_, ship: _see Jeneral Baquedano_
Bartram, fisherman of Bermuda, 381
Beards of statues, 269, 275
Beechey, of H.M.S. _Blossom_, account of Easter Island, 204–5, 210, 220
Benson, Captain, of _El Dorado_, boat voyage, 127
Berkeley, San Francisco: _see_ California University
Bermuda, history and description, 378–83
Bird cult:
— Ao clans celebrating bird rites, 258–60, 264–6
— bird designs, 259, 269
— bird, sacred (manu-tara):
— arrival of, 261–2
— nestlings (_Piu_), 264–5
— species, Easter and Solomon Islands, 296
— bird-men (tangata-manu):
— carvings of, 262–3
— possession of sacred egg, 260–2, 263–4
— taboo, period of, 263–4
— dates connected with, 265
— decadence of, 265–6
— deities connected with, 260
— egg, sacred, search and disposal, 258, 261–4
— hopu, 260–2, 264–6
— initiation of children (manumo-te-poki), 267–9, 291
— in Solomon Islands, 296–8
“Biscuit-Tin,” 30
Bishop Museum: _see_ Honolulu
Bornier, Captain Dutrou:
— exploitation of Easter Island, 124, 207–8
— murder, 125–6, 208
_Bounty_, ship, mutiny, 305
Brander, firm of, 208, 209, 216
Brazil:
— history and descriptions, 34–49
— name explained, 40
British Museum:
— letter _re_ Easter Is., 204 footnote
— statue, larger: _see_ Orongo statue
— smaller, 197, 208
— wooden carvings at, 268
British Museum of Natural History, gift to, 381
Buenos Aires:
— description, 58
— docks, 53–4
— an _estancia_, 55–6
— meat trade, 56–8
— prices, rents, and wages, 60
Burial: _see_ Dead, disposal of
Burial-places: _see_ Ahu, Caves, etc.
Cabral, discovery of Brazil, 34, 40
Cabral Bay, 40–1
Cairns:
— legends _re_, 232, 278
— memorial, 232
Caldero: _see_ Atalaya
California:
— history and descriptions, 328–32
— university, 330
Calvo, Señor, 61
Canary Isles: _see_ Grand Canary
Cannibalism, 173, 225–6, 259, 280, 283, 285
Canoes, 278, 283, 296
Canoe-shaped ahu: _see under_ Ahu
Cape Verde Islands, history and descriptions, 27–31
Caribbean sea, 368
Caroline Islands, 302
Carvings:
— in stone: on Motu Nui, 261, 275
at Orongo, 262–3
_see_ Statues, design on, and carvings incised on
in wood:
— human figures, 268–70
— objects, 268
_see also under_ Ao; Lizards, wooden; Rei-miro
Caves:
— Ana Havea, 215, 285
— Ana Kai-Tangata, 259
— Ana Te Ava-nui, 284–7
— as burial-places, 225–6, 231–2, 274–5
— as dwellings, 215, 272–3
— geological formation, 272
— as hiding-places, 272, 281
— inaccessible, 273
— as store houses, 247, 273
_Challenger_, ship:
— at Hale Cove, 96
— at Port Churruca, 84 footnote
Charrua Bay, Patagonia, 86–7
Chatham Islands, 296, 302
Chicken-houses, 218
Chickens: _see_ Fowls
Chile:
— British in, 102
— finance, 102
— fruit, 104
— history and descriptions, 99–107
— Trans-Andine Railway: _see_ that title
Christmas:
— 1913, in Patagonian Channels, 94
— 1914, _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_ at Easter Island, 157–8
— 1915, at San Francisco, 330
Clans:
— bird cult celebration, 258
— leadership, 224
— names and localities, 221–3
— wars between, 223–4, 282–9
_see under_ respective names
Cockburn Channel, Patagonia, 78
Cochrane, Admiral, 99
Coiba Island: _see_ Quibo Island
Colon, Panama: _see_ Cristobal-Colon
Columbus, at Porto Santo, 16
Connor Cove, Patagonia, 92–3
Cook, Captain:
— early account of Easter Island, 202–4
— at Hawaiian Island, 322
— at Tahiti, 316, 320, 326
Cook’s Bay:
— arrival of Expedition in, 124
— Germans at, 152, 156–9
— H.M.S. _Topaze_ at, 257
_Cornhill Magazine_, reference to expedition, 152
Cristobal-Colon, Panama, 364–7
Crooked Island, Bahamas, 376
Crowns:
— of bird-men, 263
— of natives, 218
— of Paina, 233
— of statues, 166, 197, 199, 218, 301
Cruising Club Cove, Socorro Island, 343
_see also_ Royal Cruising Club
Cuatro Puertas, Montana de las, _see_ Telde
Davis Island or David’s Island, S. Pacific, 200
Dead, disposal of:
— on ahu (exposure and interment), 170–1, 229–30
— articles placed with, 170, 264, 275–6
— burials in caves, 225–6, 231–2
— in crevasses, 231
— recent, near statues, 190–1
— funerals, popularity of, 228–9
Desolation Island, Patagonia, 82–4
Devil-fish, 352–3
Doldrums, 322
Drake, Sir Francis:
— exploration of coast of Patagonia, 65
— at St. Julian, 68
— vessels of, compared with _Mana_, 18 footnote
_Dresden_, German cruiser:
— at Easter Island, 152
— destruction at Juan Fernandez, 113, 163
— in Magellan Straits, 78
Dress, ancient, 218–9
— modern, 151
Early voyagers: _see_ History and Religion
Ears:
— distention of:
— Akikuyu custom of, 166, 201
— on Easter Island:
— early accounts, 201–2, 204
— practice abandoned, 220–1, 300
— recent examples, 220, 227
— Melanesians’ custom of, 296
— Long-eared and Short-eared peoples, legend and theories _re_,
280–2, 294, 300 footnote
— of stone statues, 166
— of wooden statues, 269, 271
Earthquakes, 103, 173
Easter Island:
— caves: _see under_ that head
— Chilean annexation, 209
— climate, 136–7
— description, general, 131–3
— food supplies:
— in early times, 216–8
— modern, 138
— geology, 131–3, 210, 272
— history, 124, 200–9
— insect life, 137
— names of, 209–10
— navigation difficulties, 128–9
— water-supply, 132, 137–8, 174
Easter Islanders:
— origin
— legendary: _see under_ Legends
— scientific study of, 295–8
— colour of skin, 221–35
— conversion to Christianity, 206
— description by early voyagers, 200, 205
—dishonesty, 141, 201, 203, 261
— dress: _see under_ that head
— epidemics:
— dysentery, 155, 160
— phthisis, 206
— smallpox, 205–6
— language: _see under_ that head
— mode of life:
— ancient, 215–20
— modern, 140
— numbers, 125, 203, 215
— old people, 211
_see also_ Jotefa, Kapiera, Kilimuti, Porotu, Tomenika, Te Haha,
Viriamo
— Peru, carried off to, 205
— rising amongst, 142–9
— women, 139, 227–8
Edmunds, Mr., Manager at Easter Island, 125
— experience _re_ caves, 274
— house: _see under_ Mataveri
— in native rising, 141, 143–4, 147
— stories of Easter Island, 125–8
_El Dorado_, wreck, 126–7
Elephantiasis at Quibo Island, 354–5, 356
English Narrows, Patagonia, 92
Equator, crossing, 33, 120
Eruption of volcano at sea, 370–1
Eyraud, Eugène, missionary to Easter Island, 206
“Fish-men” (Tangata-ika):
— rites for, 229
— tablets for, 229, 248
— term applied, 285, 287
Forster, botanist with Cook’s expedition, 202
Fowls, supply in early times, 201–3
— supposed powers of Miru in connection with, 240–2
“Freeman,” steward on _Mana_, 66, 67, 73
Fremantle, Admiral the Hon. Sir Edmund, 156
Frio, Cape, Brazil, 41–3
Froward Reach, Magellan Strait, 79
Funchal, Madeira, 18
Functions, native, 233–5
Gambier Islands, S. Pacific, Easter Island peopled from, 292–4
Germans:
— Coronel, Battle of, 155
— at Easter Island:
— — _Prinz Eitel Friedrich_, 156–9
— — Von Spee’s squadron, 151–4
— at Juan Fernandez, 113, 163
— in Patagonian waterways, 78
— at Tahiti, 319
Gillam, H. J., Sailing-master on _Mana_, 9, 128, 335, 389, 390
Gonzalez, early account of Easter Island, 202–4
— takes possession for King of Spain, 202, 237, 286
Grand Canary, history and descriptions, 19–27
Grogan, Sir Edward and Lady, 104
Guadia, Señor, 356–8
Guanches, natives of Canary Islands, history, 19
Gwaruti-mata-keva, legend of, 224
Haddon, Dr. A. C., F.R.S., 290
Hale Cove, Patagonia, 92–5
Hamea (Clan), 223, 227, 284
Hamilton, Bermuda, 382
Hanga Maihiko, ahu, 229
Hanga Paukura, ahu, 196, 301
Hanga Piko, 159, 224
Hanga Roa, Easter Island, 124–5, 208
— in legend, 270, 284–5
Harding, Colonel, acting chief of Panama Canal, 361
Haré-a-té-atua: _see_ Religion—ceremonies
Hats: _see_ Crowns
Haumoana, 221, 223, 284
Hawaii:
— descriptions, 325–8
— language, 327
Hawaiian Islands, history and descriptions, 321–2
Hé, native, 224
Heiau, model of, at Puukohola, 323–4, 327
Heu-heu, 245, 246
Hinelilu, leader of Long Ears, 278–9, 281, 282
Hiro, god of sky, 242
Hitiuira clan: _see_ Ureohei
Hoa-haka-nanaia:
— at British Museum, 184
— removal from Orongo, 257
Honaunau, Hawaii, 326
Honolulu, 323–5
Hope-Simpson, Mr., 107, 162
Hotu:
— feud with Ureohei, 225
— skull of, 240–1
Hotu-iti, son of Hotu-matua, 280, 281, 282
Hotu Iti and Kotuu Territorial divisions:
— boundary between on Motu Nui and Orongo, 260, 261
— general position of, 221, 223
— origin of divisions considered, 298
— wars between, 282–9, 300
Hotu-matua, 277–80, 294, 298
Houses:
— burnt in war, 224
— inauguration ceremony, 243
— stone, at Orongo, 255–6
— thatched, 215
— — with stone foundations, 215–6
Ika: _see under_ Script-Kohau-o-te-ika. _Also under_ “Fish-men”
(Tangata-ika)
Images: _see_ Statues
Inca Bridge, Argentina, 105
Indians of Patagonia:
— extermination of, 70
— visits to _Mana_, 87–8, 90–1
Island Harbour, 93
Ivi-atua: _see under_ Religion
Jamaica, history and descriptions, 373–7
Jaussen, Bishop, of Tahiti:
— account of departure of missionaries, 208
— list of chiefs by, 241
— translation of tablets attempted by, 207, 247, 253
_Jean_, French ship:
— crew at Easter Island as prisoners, 160
— destruction by Germans, 157–8, 160
Jeffery, Charles C., boy on _Mana_, 9, 78, 390
_Jeneral Baquedano_, ship, 144, 147–8
Jotefa, native, 266
Joyce, Captain T. A., views on Easter Island, 269, 295–6
Juan Fernandez:
— animals, 112
— _Dresden_ at, 113
— history, 111
— lobster trade, 113
— Selkirk’s look-out and cave, 112–3
Juan Tepano, native, 158, 214, 228, 240, 289
Kaméhaméha, chief of Hawaii, 322, 324, 327
Kaimokoi, son of Ngaara, 241, 246–7
Kainga, legend of, 282–8
Kealekakua, Bay of, Hawaii, 326
Kanakas: _see_ Easter Islanders
Kapiera, native:
— knowledge _re_ wooden carvings, 271
— tau explained by, 251
— wars of Kotuu and Hotu Iti, date of, 289
Kaunga, ceremony, 234–5
Keith, Dr.: report _re_ native skulls, 228, 295
Kelp-geese, 96–7
_Kildalton_, ship captured by Germans, 157–60
Kilauea, Hawaii, 325–6
Kilimuti, native, 261, 274, 281
King George, 390
Kingston, Jamaica, 373, 375
Ko Mari, carved design, 263
Ko Peka, ceremony, 233–4
Ko Tori, last cannibal, 225–6, 266
Kohau: _see_ Tablets
Koro, ceremony, 234–42, 251–2, 267
Koro-orongo clan, 223, 280, 284
Koremaké: _see under_ Religion
Kotuu, son of Hotu-matua, 280, 281, 282
Kotuu, territorial division: _see_ Hotu Iti
Language, 203, 207, 213–4, 295, 327
Lapelin, Admiral T. de, on origin of Easter Islanders, 294–5
La Pérouse, accounts of Easter Island, 202–4, 234
Las Palmas, 22
Legends:
— of arrival of inhabitants on Easter Island (Hotu-matua), 277–80,
282, 294, 298
— from Mangareva, 294–5
— from Rapa-nui, 300
— of cairns and old woman, 232–3
— of first statue, 184
— of Gwaruti-mata-keva (Secret Society), 224
— of Hotu-matua: _see_ Arrival of Inhabitants
— of Long Ears and Short Ears, 280–1
— of Oroi and Hotu-matua, 279–80
— of overthrow of statues, 173, 182
— of supernatural beings, 193, 237–9, 269–70
— of Tuukoihu, 269–70, 283
— of Uré-a-hohové carried off to Paréhé, 237
— of war between Kotuu and Hotu-iti, 282–8
— of wooden figures, 269–70
Lemuria, theories _re_, 290
Leprosy, 212, 250
Light, seaman on _Mana_, 9, 30
Liliuokalani, Queen of Hawaii, 322, 324
Lisiansky, early account of Easter Island, 204
Lizards, wooden, 238, 243, 268
Llay-Llay, Chile, 104
“Long Ears”: _see under_ Ears
Los Andes, Chile, 104, 106
Lowry-Corry, Frederick:
— death, 110
— joins expedition, 8, 72, 92
— typhoid fever, attack of, 108–9
“Luke,” under-steward on _Mana_, 14, 73–4
Madeira, history and descriptions, 18
Magellan, discovery of Patagonia, 65
Magellan, Straits of, 69–85
Mahaiatea: _see_ Tahiti: Marae
Mahanga, servant, 138–9, 292
_Mana_, vessel of Expedition:
— accident to, at Cristobal, 366–7
— books on board, 11
— building, 4, 6
— crew:
— appointed, 9
— changes at Tahiti, 320
— dispersal of, 389
— danger from German vessels, 156–7, 163
— description, 4–6
— life on board, 115–20
— motor engine trouble, 71
— name explained, 6
— refitting at Talcahuano, 100–1
— return to England, 387
— Royal Cruising Club Challenge Cup gained by, 387 footnote
— size compared with Drake’s vessels, 18
— speed, 17, 19, 33, 117, 150, 331
— stores, 10–13, 20–1, 100–1
— voyages between Easter Island and Chile, 128, 150, 162–3
— water-supply, 10, 47, 116–7
Mana Inlet, Patagonia, 84
Mana, Mount, Socorro Island, 345–6
Mangareva, migration from, 294–5
Manu: _see under_ Bird Cult
Manu-tara: _see_ Bird Cult: Bird, sacred
Maoris, 292
Marae Renga, I., 277, 280
Marae Tohio, I., 277
Marama clan, 221, 246, 258, 280, 284
Marau, Madame: _see_ Pomare family
Marotiri, 284–9
Marquesas, 292, 299
Marriage, 226–8
Martinez, Señor, 31
Maru, 242, 244, 246
Mata: _see_ Clans
Mataa, spear-heads of obsidian, 223, 256, 280, 296
Mataveri, Easter Island:
— bird cult at, 258–9, 264
— camp of expedition at, 134, 145, 155
— house of Mr. Edmunds, 125, 134, 265
Maunga Tea-tea, 286
Maurata, grandson of Ngaara, 246, 247
Melanesian race, relation to Easter Islanders, 291–8
Memorial mounds: _see_ Cairns
Merlet, Señor, chairman of Easter Island company, 107, 209
Mindello, Cape Verde, 28, 31
Miru clan:
— Ariki title of, 241
— fowls power over, 240–2
— Hamea and Raa connection with, 222
— Ngaara: _see under_ that head
— origin legendary, 279
— scientific investigation of, 298, 302
— script connection with, 243
— skulls incised, 240
— wars, 258–84
Missionaries:
— in California, 328
— on Easter Island:
— disputes with Captain Bornier, 208
— early work, 206–7
— sale of rights, 208, 209
Moai: _see_ Statues
_Mohican_, U.S. ship: _see_ Thomson, Paymaster
Morant’s Cays, W. Indies, eruption at, 370–1
Motu Iti, Easter Island, 255
Motu Kao-kao, Easter Island, 255
Motu Nui, Easter Island:
— bird cult at, 255, 258, 260–1
— cave burial-place, 274–5
— in legend, 278, 283
— statue from, 261
— visit to, 257–8
Narborough, Sir John, exploration of Patagonia, 65, 67
New Guinea, 296
New York, 332
Ngaara Ariki or chief:
— bird cult relation to, 260, 298
— burial, 230, 246
— life and position, 241–3, 245, 258
— tablets stolen from, 249
Ngatimo (clan), 221, 284
Ngau-ngau tree, ceremonial use, 243, 262
Ngaure, 223, 227, 246, 258, 284
Oahu: _see_ Honolulu
O’Higgins, Bernardo, 99
Obsidian: _see_ Mataa
Olinda, Brazil, 37
Orange Bay, Patagonia, _Dresden_ at, 78
Orohié, Easter Island:
— ahu, 264
— bird cult at, 264, 267
Oroi:
— ahu of natural, 170
— legend of, 279, 282
Orongo, Easter Island:
— bird cult at, 259–61
— carvings, 262–3
— description, 255
— houses, 256
— legends of, 280, 288
— statue Hoa-haka-nanaia, now at British Museum, 184
— back of, 187, 263 note
— bird cult connection with, 267, 291
— description as typical image, 166
— eyes of, 187
— original position, 257
— removal, 124, 208
Pacific, races of, 291–4
Paina, 233
Pakarati, native, 207
Palmer, surgeon, account of missionaries, 206
Pampero, 49–50
Panama Canal:
— construction, general outline, 362–3
— difficulty of entering, summary of log, 359–60
— passage of, described, 363–4
— regulations _re_ pilots, victualling, etc., 365, 367
Panama, City of, 361
Papeete, Tahiti, 317–8
Parapina, native, 214
Paréhé, 237
Paré-pu, tattooed figure, 220
Paro, Easter Island:
— overthrow of image at, 173
— tradition _re_ crown of statue, 197
Patagonia:
— history, 65
— vegetation, 92
Patagonian Channels, voyage through, 85–98
Paumotu Islands, 292
Penguin Inlet, Patagonia, 90
Péra, 171, 172, 204
Pereyra, Señor, 55
Pernambuco, 35–7
Peruvian slave-raids, 205
Petropolis, Brazil, 46
Pillar, Cape, Patagonia, 85
Pipi-hereko: _see_ Cairns
Piro-piro, statue (frontispiece), 166, 189
Pitcairn Island:
— archæological remains, 313–4
— communications, 311–2
— description, 306
— history, 305–6
— islanders on _Mana_: _see_ Young
— life on, 307–13
Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, 261 note, 271
Plate River, 53
Platform: _see_ Ahu
Poié, leader of Kotuu, 285–8
Poike portion of Eastern Headland, 133, 286
Poki-manu: _see_ Bird Cult, Initiation
Polynesian race, relation to Easter Islanders, 295–8
Pomare family, of Tahiti:
— account, general, 316
— Arii Taimai, 316, 319
— Marau Taaroa, Madame, 319
— Takau, Princess, 319, 320
Ponta Delgada: _see_ St. Miguel, Azores
Pora, 261
Porotu, native, 226, 266
Port Churruca, Patagonia, 80–4
Port Desire, Patagonia, 67, 68
Port Royal, Jamaica, 374–5
Porto Bello, Brazil, 47–9
Porto Grande: _see_ St. Vincent
Porto Santo, Madeira Island, 16
Ports, procedure on reaching, 20
Preston, mate of _Mana_, 9
_Prinz Eitel Friedrich_, German cruiser:
— despatch _re_ to British Minister at Santiago, 163
— at Easter Island, 156–9
Prisoners of war:
— on Easter Island, 159–60
— at Tahiti, 318
Pua, plant, 220, 243, 245
Puerto de la Luz, Grand Canary, 19–20
Punapau, quarries of stone hats, 199, 270
Punta Arenas, Patagonia, 71–5
Puukohola, Hawaii, 327
Quarries:
— at Punapau, 199
— at Rano Raraku, 175–82
Queen Mary, 390
Quibo Island, Panama, 351–8
Raa (clan), 223, 284
Races of the Pacific, theories of migrations, 291–4
Rano, meaning, 132
Rano Aroi, Easter Island, 133, 158
Rano Kao, Easter Island:
— bird cult at, 254–5, 262, 263
— description, 254–5
— view from, 133
Rano Raraku, Easter Island:
— ahu, 191, 264
— bird cult at, 263–4, 265, 267
— camp of expedition at, 135–6, 137, 145–6
— description, 135–6, 175
— excavations at, 185–91
— legends of, 182, 184, 193, 238
— pits on summit, 191
— quarries, 175–82
— south-east side, 191–3
— statues standing, 182–90
— round base, 183–95, 264
Rapa (dancing-paddle), 229, 235, 268
Rapa-iti, S. Pacific, 209, 314–5
Rapa-nui, or Easter Island, 209–10
Rats, 218, 233, 242
Ray, Mr., on native names and language, 223 footnote, 295
Ray: _see_ Devil-fish
Recife: _see_ Pernambuco
Rei-miro, 242, 268
Religion:
— cult of early voyagers, 239–40, 256, 300–1
— ivi-atua, 233, 239, 260–1, 264
— koromaké, 239
— rain, prayers for, 242
— soul, theories of, 238–9
— supernatural beings (atua, aku-aku, tatane), 236–9, 242, 260, 262,
264, 269–70, 280
— bird cult, connection with, 260, 262, 264
— characteristics and legends, 236–9
— Hotu-matua, deified ancestor, 236, 280
— statues, connection with, 301
_see also_ Miru, Bird Cult, and Script
Richards, Mr., Consul at Tahiti, 317, 321
Rio de Janeiro, 44–7
Ritchie, Lt. D. R., R.N.:
— assigned to Expedition, 8
— departure from Easter Island, 154
— surveys made by, 176, 256 footnote
Roads:
— ancient:
— of the Ao, 259
— of Ara Mahiva, 198
— ceremonial, 194–5, 264
— in legend, 278, 294
— modern, 135
Roggeveen, Admiral, discovery of Easter Island, 124, 200, 201
Rongo-rongo men: _see_ Script—professors
Rosa, Bartolomeo, sailor, 30, 389
Roussel, Father, missionary, 206
Routledge, Katherine:
— alone on Easter Island, 155
— returns to England, 332
— stewardess of _Mana_, 9
Routledge, Scoresby:
— account of homeward voyage, 335–87
— visit to Chile from Easter Island, 155, 161–3
Royal Cruising Club, 8, 343, 388
Royal Geographical Society, 295, 296
Russian Finn, seaman on _Mana_, adventures, 350–1
Sta. Catharina Island, Brazil, 49
St. George, Bermuda, 381
St. Jago: _see_ Cape Verde Islands
St. Julian, Patagonia, 68
St. Miguel, Azores, 383–4
St. Nicholas, Bay and River, Patagonia, 78, 79
St. Vincent, Cape Verde Is., 28
Salmon, Alexander, 208–9, 247, 282
San Francisco, 328, 332
San Martin, General, 99
Sandwich Islands: _see_ Hawaiian Islands
Santa Barbara, California, 332
Santa Cruz, Brazil, 40–1
Santiago, Chile, 103–4
_Scharnhorst_, German Cruiser, 153
Script:
— ariki connection with, 243–7
— discovery by missionaries, 207
— first mention of, by Gonzalez, 202
— glyphs, arrangement of, 244
— instruction of students, 245
— Kohau:
— o-te-ika, 229, 248
— o-te-puré, 249
— o-te-ranga, 249
— o-te-timo, 229
— Ngaara: _see_ Ariki
— origin legendary, 244, 252, 277
— scientific investigation, 302
— professors (tangata-rongo-rongo), 244–6
— last survivor, 250–3
— subjects dealt with, 248–9, 251–2
— system conjectured, 253–4, 301–2
— tablets, destruction of, 207–47
_see also_ Kohau
— tau, 250–3
— translation attempted, 207, 247–8
— yearly festival connected with, 245–6
Secret societies, 224, 292
Selkirk, Alexander, 111, 112–3
Seligman, Dr., 296
Sharks, 117–8, 350
Sharp, Captain, of _Kildalton_, 159–60
“Short Ears”: _see under_ Ears
Silva, Eduardo, engineer on _Mana_, 320, 349–50, 389
Skulls, race affinity, 295–6
_see also_ Miru
Slave-raids, Peruvian, in South Seas, 124, 205, 208
Socorro Island, 340–9
Solomon Islands, bird cult in, 296–8
Spee, Admiral von:
— at Easter Island, 152, 153
— at Papeete, 319
Sphagnum, 256
Statues:
— on ahu, 166, 168, 170
— at Anakena, 173, 187
— as avenue to ahu, 196
— backs, two types, 187–8
— design on, 187–8, 220, 269
— bed-plates, dimensions, 168
— as boundary marks, 193, 197, 261, 301
— in British Museum, larger: _see_ Orongo statue
— smaller, 197, 208
— burials in connection with, 190
— carvings incised on, 189, 263 note
— counterfeited by natives, 271
— date of construction, 299–300, 301
— description, general, 166
— details of, 186–9
— dimensions, 166, 170, 173, 182, 183, 195
— early accounts: _see_ Easter Island: early accounts
— ears, 166
— erection, 189, 197
— excavation, 151–2, 163–4, 185–91
— hands, 186
— isolated, 193, 197
— legends, 173, 182, 184: _see also_ makers, names, transport
— makers, (legendary), 181–2
— material, 175–6
— on Motu Nui, 261
— names, 183–4, 257, 301
— numbers, 168, 179, 183
— orbits, 187
— at Orongo: _see_ Orongo
— overthrow, 172–3, 182, 299, 300
— at Paro, 173
— on Pitcairn Island, 313–4
— at Pitt Rivers Museum, 261 footnote
— in quarries: _see_ Rano Raraku
— quarrying, method of, 179–80
— at Rano Raraku: _see under_ this head
— representation and purpose, 301: _see also above_, boundary
— on roads, 194–5
— sources of information, 200–5
— tools used in making, 180–1
— transport, problem of 193, 195–8
— at Washington, 257 footnote
Submarines, preparations for meeting, 385–6
_Sunbeam_, yacht, 31, 76, 387 footnote
Tablets: _see_ Script
Tahai, 246
Tahiti:
— description, 317
— German attack on, 153, 319
— history, 316
— Marae Mahaiatea, 316, 320
Tahonga, 267
Takau, Princess: _see_ Pomare family, 247
Také, 266
Talcahuano, Chile, 100, 101–2, 154, 162–3
Tangata-ika: _see_ Fish-men
Tangata-manu: _see_ Bird Cult—bird-men
Tangata-rongo-rongo: _see_ Script—professors
Tapa, 170, 201, 218–9
Tatane: _see_ Religion—supernatural beings
Tattooing:
— inspection by Ariki, 243
— practice of, 219–20
Tau: _see under_ Script
Taura-renga: _see_ Orongo statue
Te Haha, Miru:
— part in social functions, 240
— service with Chief Ngaara, 242, 243, 245–6
— wooden images made by, 271
Te Pito-te-henua: _see_ Easter Island—names.
Tea-tenga, ahu, 194
Telde, Grand Canary, 25–7
Teneriffe: _see as for_ Grand Canary
Tepano, Juan: _see_ Juan Tepano
Tepeu, ahu, 170, 269
Terraces, 133
_see also_ Ahu
Theosophists, theories _re_ Easter Island, 290
Thomas, cook on _Mana_, 375, 386
Thomson, Paymaster of _Mohican_:
— account of Easter Island, 209
— names of Easter Island, 210
— translation of tablets attempted by, 247
— versions of legends, 282, 289
Tierra del Fuego, 69–70
Timo, 229
Titahanga-o-te-henua, statue on Motu Nui, 261
Toa-toa, 224
Tongariki:
— ahu, 136, 168, 172, 173, 193
— in legend, 282
Tomenika, native:
— knowledge of tau, 250–3
— Také, statement _re_, 266
Tools used for statues, 180–1
_Topaze_, H.M.S., visit to Easter Island, 206, 208, 210, 257
Towers for fishing, 218
Trade winds, 3, 32, 292, 321
Trans-Andine Railway, 104–6
Tupahotu clan, 223, 224, 227, 228, 249, 252, 284
Turtle, capture of, 336–9
Tuukoihu:
— landing with Hotu-matua, 279
— maker of boats, 283, 289
— wooden images, 269–70
Twins, customs _re_, 243
“Undertaker,” 373
Uré-a-hohové, legend of, 237
Ure-vae-iko, native refusal to decipher tablets, 247–8
Ureohei, clan, 223, 225, 227, 259, 284
Valdivia, founder of Santiago, 99
Valparaiso, Chile, 107, 108, 162
Varta: _see_ Vincent
Vinapu Ahu, 170
Vincent, French carpenter, 125, 136, 138
Viriamo, native woman:
— initiation as bird-child, 267
— life story, 227–8
— Orongo festival, part in, 260
— statue removal from Orongo described, 257
— Také described, 266
Wager I., Patagonia, 97–8
Waihu: _see_ Easter Island: Names
Washington:
— statue at, 257 footnote
— visit to, 332
Water on Easter Island: _see_ Easter Island
Water on _Mana_: _see Mana_
Waterspout, 368–9
Weapons, 223–4, 268: _see also_ Mataa
Williamson and Balfour, Messrs., 107
Women in Easter Island, 228
_see also_ Viriamo
Wooden carvings: _see_ Carvings
Young, Chas. and Edwin, Pitcairn Islanders, 314, 321, 331, 368, 389–90
_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._
-----
Footnote 1:
The _Pelican_, or _Golden Hinde_, was 120 tons; the _Elizabeth_ 80
tons, and three smaller ships were 50, 30, and 12 tons respectively.
The crews all told were 160 men and boys.—Froude’s _English Seamen_,
p. 112.
Footnote 2:
Lady Grogan informs me that one of the main reasons for the position
of women in Argentina is that there is no Married Women’s Property
Act, and that even an heiress is therefore in ordinary course entirely
dependent on her husband.
Footnote 3:
We were subsequently interested to learn from a private diary kept on
board The Challenger that they had also taken their boat over into
this water; they had, however, neither explored it nor marked it on
the map.
Footnote 4:
Cape Pillar is the name which has been given to Magellan’s “Cape
Deseado” since the days of Sir John Narborough; it has two peaks, of
which the western one is like a pillar. The point which on the chart
is named Deseado lies two miles to the south-west and could not
possibly have been seen by Magellan: see _Early Spanish Voyages and
the Straits of Magellan_, edited by Sir C. Markham, Hakluyt Series II.
vol. xxviii.
Footnote 5:
“The Indians had taught their dogs to drive the fish into a corner of
some pond or lake, from whence they were easily taken out by the skill
and address of these savages.”—_Narrative of Hon. J. Byron_, ed. 1768,
p. 56.
Footnote 6:
“We were well clothed, and though sitting close to the fire were far
from too warm; yet these naked savages (Fuegians), though further off,
were observed, to our great surprise, to be streaming with
perspiration.”—_Voyage of H.M.S. “Beagle”_ (Darwin), ed. 1870, p. 220.
Footnote 7:
_Philesia buxifolia_ and _Luzuriaga erecta_.
Footnote 8:
“Among the birds we generally shot was a bird much larger than a
goose, which we called the Racehorse, from the velocity with which it
moved upon the surface of the water in a sort of half-flying,
half-running motion.”—_The Narrative of the Hon. John Byron_, ed.
1768, p. 50.
Footnote 9:
Some of the Chileans with British names are said to be descended from
the officers and men under command of Lord Cochrane.
Footnote 10:
See _Anson’s Voyage Round the World_, quarto ed., 1748, p. 102.
Footnote 11:
Captain Benson and his crew made the voyage in the ship’s boat to
Mangareva in sixteen days, and after two days there left in the same
manner for Tahiti, accomplishing the further nine hundred miles in
eleven days. Mr. Richards, the British Consul at the latter place,
told us later of his astonishment, when, in answer to his question
whence the crew had come, he received the amazing reply, “Easter
Island.” For the whole account see _Captain Benson’s Own Story_ (The
James H. Barry Co., San Francisco).
Footnote 12:
“I will only add this one word about the curious way in which they get
fresh water on some of the coral islands, such as Nangone, where there
is none on the surface. Two go out together to sea, and dive down at
some spot where they know there is a fresh-water spring, and they
alternately stand on one another’s backs to keep down the one that is
drinking at the bottom before the pure water mixes with the
surrounding salt water.”—“Notes on the Maoris and Melanesians,” Bishop
of Wellington: _The Journal of the Ethnological Society_, New Series,
vol. i, session 1868–9.
Footnote 13:
“Kanaka” is a name originally given by Europeans to the inhabitants of
the South Seas, and is one form of the Polynesian word meaning “man”.
Footnote 14:
The natives of Easter hold very firmly the primitive belief in dreams.
If one of them dreamt, for example, that _Mana_ was returning, it was
retailed to us with all the assurance of a wireless message.
Footnote 15:
The milch-cows.
Footnote 16:
Considerably later _Mana_ was again approached on the subject of the
Australian gifts, and Mr. Gillam consented to bring them; it then
transpired that they were no longer available, having “been given by
the wife of the head of the Customs to the deserving poor of
Valparaiso.”
Footnote 17:
Since writing the above, the following account has been found of dress
at Tahiti in 1877: “All the women, without exception, have their
dresses cut on the pattern of the old English sacques worn by our
grandmothers.... It is a matter of deep congratulation that the dress
in fashion in Europe at the period when Tahiti adopted foreign
garments should have been one so suitable.”
“We may be thankful that Prince Alfred’s strong commendation of the
graceful sacque has caused it to triumph over all other varieties of
changeful and unbecoming fashion which for a while found favour
here.”—_Cruise in a French Man-of-war_, Miss Gordon Cumming, pp. 299
and 284.
Footnote 18:
_Mana_ made seven trips in all between Chile and Easter Island,
traversing, in this part alone of her voyage, over 14,000 miles on her
course.
Footnote 19:
For an illustrated description of the method of expanding the ear, see
_With a Prehistoric People, the Akikuyu of British East Africa_, p.
32.
Footnote 20:
A full description of the statues is given in chap. xiv.
Footnote 21:
This excludes some fifteen which may have carried statues, but about
which doubt exists.
Footnote 22:
The body was no doubt supported by staves, though they were dispensed
with in the model, being unnecessary for the wooden figure.
Footnote 23:
The sole possible exception was probably due to some flaw in the
stone.
Footnote 24:
The farthest outstanding figure to the left in fig. 46.
Footnote 25:
An island was reported in lat. 27° by an English buccaneer named Davis
in 1687. It was, he said, five hundred miles from the coast of Chile,
low and sandy, and some twelve leagues to the west of it was seen “a
long tract of pretty high land.” The description in no way applies to
Easter, with which it has sometimes been identified. The probability
seems to be that Davis was out of his reckoning, as was by no means
unusual in the case of the early mariners, and it has been suggested
that the island he saw was Crescent Island, the high ground in the
distance being the Gambier group. The latitude of Easter Island is 27°
8′ S., that of Crescent Island is 23° 20′ S.
Footnote 26:
Precisely the same habit obtains to-day among the Akikuyu in East
Africa.
Footnote 27:
For Roggeveen’s description of the Island see _Voyage of Gonzalez_,
Hakluyt Society, Series II., vol. xiii., pp. 3 to 26.
A statement of the evidence _re_ Davis Island is given in the
introduction to the same volume.
Footnote 28:
_Voyage of Gonzalez_, p. 27 _seq._
Footnote 29:
_A Voyage Towards the South Pole and Round the World_, by James Cook,
1st ed., 4to, 1777, pp. 276–96.
_A Voyage Round the World_, George Forster, 4to, 1777. Vol. i., pp.
551–602.
Footnote 30:
_Voyage de La Pérouse autour du Monde_, 4to edn., London, 1799. Vol.
i., pp. 319–36.
Footnote 31:
MS. copy in the British Museum of a letter sent by one of the officers
of the Spanish ship to a Canon or a Prebendary in Buenos Aires. MSS.
17607 (18). Our attention was drawn to this document by Dr. Corney.
Footnote 32:
See above, p. 171.
Footnote 33:
_Voyage of Gonzalez_, p. 126.
Footnote 34:
_Voyage Round the World in the Ship “Neva,”_ Lisiansky, Lond. 1814, p.
58.
Footnote 35:
_Voyage to the Pacific, H.M.S. “Blossom_,” p. 41.
Footnote 36:
See _Annales de la Propagation de la Foi_, 1866, 1867, 1869.
Footnote 37:
_Journal Ethnological Society_, Vol. i. p. 373.
Footnote 38:
The above statement is made on the authority of Mr. John Brander of
Tahiti. According to report of H.M.S. _Sappho_, which visited the
island in 1882, Salmon was then an agent of the Maison Brander.
Footnote 39:
_Smithsonian Report_, 1889.
Footnote 40:
In the _Odyssey_ Athene speaks of Odysseus as “in a sea-girt isle,
where is the navel of the sea.” (_Odyssey_, Bk. I., l. 50, Butcher &
Lang.)
Footnote 41:
_Easter Island. The Rapa-nui Speech._ W. Churchill, p. 3.
Footnote 42:
_Voyage of Gonzalez_, p. 90.
Footnote 43:
One of the Scitamineæ—further determination awaits the blooming of
plants brought back to Kew.
Footnote 44:
Of these clan names, “Raa” means the sun and “Marama” the light. The
signification of the others is not equally clear, and the natives
could give no assistance; but Mr. Ray gives the following interesting
information from other Polynesian sources. “Haumoana” means the
sea-breeze; “Hitiuira” is probably “hiti-ra” or sunrise; and “Ureohei”
another version of “ura-o-hehe,” or red of sundown. “Koro-orongo” is
doubtless from “Koro-o-Rongo,” or the ring of Rongo (a well-known
Polynesian deity), that is the rainbow. “Kotuu” appears to be a
contraction of “Ko Otuu,” meaning “The Hill”; the name “Otuu” is used
alternatively for the same district. “Hotu” is another form of the
word for hill and “Iti” signifies small, it presumably refers to Rano
Raraku.
Footnote 45:
Since writing the above the following has been seen: “The higher
Polynesian races, such as the Tahitians, Hawaiians, Samoans, had one
and all outgrown, and some of them had in part forgot, the practice
(cannibalism) before Cook or Bougainville had shown a top-sail in
their waters.”—_In the South Seas_, R. L. Stevenson, p. 94.
Footnote 46:
See below, pp. 266–68.
Footnote 47:
“These bodies, enveloped in mats, are placed on a heap of stones or on
a kind of wooden structure, the head being turned towards the sea.
Now, as all the population live round the island, dried skeletons are
to be met all along this coast, and no one seems to take any notice of
them.”—Letter from Brother Eyraud—_Annals of the Propagation of the
Faith_, Jan. 1866.
Footnote 48:
When all those ahu which can be placed in categories as Image,
Semi-Pyramid, Canoe, Wedge-shaped, or Pavement have been noted, there
remain, out of the total of two hundred and sixty burial-places, some
fourteen which are unique in design; and between sixty and seventy
which cannot be classified, either because they are mere cairns or in
too ruined a condition to be identified.
Footnote 49:
Our impressions on this head are confirmed by a remark of Brother
Eyraud. “Though I have lived in the greatest of intimacy and
familiarity with them, I have never been able to discover them in any
act of actual religious worship.”—_Annals of the Propagation of the
Faith_, Jan. 1866.
Footnote 50:
The outermost of the three hillocks on the eastern volcano on which
the Spaniards set up the crosses in 1770. Half of it has been worn
away by coastal erosion (fig. 78).
Footnote 51:
The same word aku-aku was used for the spirit both of the living and
the dead, or else the Tahitian “varua”; they were said to be
equivalent.
Footnote 52:
Evidence on this head was rather contradictory, but no Miru could be
found, male or female, to whom the title was not given.
Footnote 53:
“L’Ile de Paques,” M. Tépano Jaussen, _Bulletin Géographique_, 1893,
p. 241.
Footnote 54:
_Revue Maritime et Colonial_, vol. xxxv, p. 109.
Footnote 55:
Thirty is, however, a very favourite number: cf. the folk-tales.
Footnote 56:
Sometimes called koho-rongo-rongo.
Footnote 57:
Sophora Toromiro.
Footnote 58:
An accurate large-scale plan of the village was made by Lieutenant D.
R. Ritchie, R.N., and every house was measured and described by the
Expedition.
Footnote 59:
Recollection is naturally clearer of the removal of the statue now at
Washington, and particularly of the excellent food given to the
natives who assisted. The figure is reported to have been taken from
Ahu Apépé, an inland terrace not far from Rano Raraku, and been
dragged down to the ship as she lay in La Pérouse Bay.
Footnote 60:
Sooty Tern.
Footnote 61:
The men of the ascendant clan are also often spoken of as the
Mata-töa, or warriors, the other clans being the Mata-kio, or
servants.
Footnote 62:
This statue was removed to the mainland shortly before our arrival,
and we were able to procure it in exchange for one of the yacht
blankets. It is now at the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford (fig. 111).
Footnote 63:
The figures of the bird-man, also of the ao and Ko Mari, are all
roughly carved on the back of the Orongo statue (fig. 106). They
appear, like those on the Raraku image, to be later workmanship than
the raised ring and girdle. Permission to inspect can be obtained in
the hall of the British Museum; unfortunately the light in the portico
is bad.
Footnote 64:
Nos. 1, 2, and 3, fig. 60, form part of this series. See also fig. 74.
Footnote 65:
We owe this suggestion to Captain T. A. Joyce.
Footnote 66:
Those unacquainted with the manner in which the drawing of a natural
object can, through constant repetition, lose all resemblance to it
and become purely conventional are referred to _Evolution in Art_, by
Dr. A. C. Haddon.
Footnote 67:
The term “papa” is also applied to any flat, horizontal surface of
fused igneous rock. The double use seems to be explained by connecting
it with the facts that in Hawaii, Papa is the name of the female
progenitor of the race (or at least of a line of chiefs), while in the
Marquesas and Hervey Islands Papa is the earth personified, the Great
Mother.—See _A Brief History of the Hawaiian People_, Alexander, p.
20.
Footnote 68:
Cf. p. 232.
Footnote 69:
The ditch is still shown; there is a marked depression running across
the island dividing the eastern volcano from the mainland, but after
much consideration we came to the conclusion that it was a natural
phenomenon due to geological faulting. A mound of earth is, however,
to be seen in places on its higher or eastern side, and it is possible
that persons holding the mountain may have utilised it for defensive
purposes by erecting a rampart in this manner.
Footnote 70:
“The tradition continues by a sudden jump into the following
extraordinary condition of affairs. Many years after the death of
Hotu-matua the island was about equally divided between his
descendants and the long-eared race.”—_Smithsonian Report_, 1889, p.
528.
Footnote 71:
I.e. “Cave of the great descent.” It is in the cliff of the eastern
volcano beyond Marotiri, and is one of those which can be seen from
the sea, but to which the path has disappeared.
Footnote 72:
The centre hillock of the three on which Spaniards erected the
crosses. The name means White Mountain, from the colour of the ash
which composes it (see fig. 78).
Footnote 73:
Theosophists, indeed, contend that it has been revealed by occult
means that Easter Island is the remaining portion of an old continent
named “Lemuria,” which occupied the Pacific and Indian Oceans, and the
writer has been informed by correspondents that she “may be interested
to learn” that such is the case. Representations even of the world at
this remote epoch have been, it is said, received by clairvoyance and
are reproduced in theosophical literature: in the case of a later
continent of Atlantis, which has also disappeared, it was permitted to
see its proportions on a globe and by other means; but, unfortunately,
in the case of Lemuria, “there was only a broken terra-cotta model and
crumpled map, so that the difficulty of carrying back the remembrance
of all the details, and consequently of reproducing exact copies, has
been far greater” (_The Lost Lemuria_, Scott Elliot, p. 13). The world
at the Lemurian epoch was, we are informed, inhabited by beings who
were travelling for the fourth time through their round of the
planets, and undergoing for the third time their necessary seven
incarnations on the earth during this round. At the beginning of this
third race of the fourth round, man first evolved into a sexual being,
and at the end was highly civilised. The makers of the Easter Island
statues were of gigantic size. To prove this last point, Madame
Blavatsky quotes a statement to the effect that “there is no reason to
believe that any of the statues have been built up bit by bit,” and
proceeds to argue that they must consequently have been made by men of
the same size as themselves. She states that “the images at
Ronororaka—the only ones now found erect—are four in number”; and
gives the following account of the head-dress of the statues, “a kind
of flat cap with a back piece attached to it to cover the back portion
of the head” (_Secret Doctrine_, vol. ii. p. 337). The readers of this
book can judge of the correctness of these descriptions. Theosophists
must forgive us, if, in the face of error as to what exists to-day, we
decline to accept without further proof information as to what
occurred “nearer four million than two million years ago.”
Footnote 74:
_Revue Maritime et Coloniale_, vol. xxxv. (1872), p. 108, note. It is
unfortunate that M. de Lapelin does not give us more details as to
when and from whom the account was received.
Footnote 75:
_Royal Geographical Journal_, May 1917. It has been pointed out that
Dr. Hamy, examining skulls from Easter Island some thirty years ago,
and W. Volz (_Arch. f. Anth._ xxiii. 1895, p. 97 ff.) attained the
same result. Mr. Pycraft also came independently to the same
conclusion.
Footnote 76:
_Folk Lore_, June 1918, p. 161.
Footnote 77:
_Man_, 1918, No. 91, pl. M. Also in _Anthropological Essays_,
presented to E. B. Tylor, 1907, pl. iii. fig. 2, and p. 327.
Footnote 78:
H. Balfour, _Man_, Oct. 1918, No. 80. _Folk Lore_, Dec. 1917, pp.
356–60.
Footnote 79:
H. Balfour, _Folk Lore_, Dec. 1917. For full particulars of this and
the following points readers are referred to the paper itself.
Footnote 80:
_Hawaiki_, S. Percy Smith, p. 294.
Footnote 81:
See below, pp. 313–4.
Footnote 82:
If it were not that the strife between the Long and Short Ears is
always placed in very remote ages, we might be tempted to see in it a
struggle between the adherents of the older and newer fashion. In the
Hawaiian Islands such a combat took place before the advent of
Christianity, see p. 322.
Footnote 83:
_Quest and Occupation of Tahiti_, Hakluyt Society, vol. ii. p. 270.
Footnote 84:
They had, of course, no connection with Adams the mutineer.
Footnote 85:
Another daughter was the wife of Mr. Brander, the connection of whose
firm with Easter Island has already been seen.
Footnote 86:
My budget contained, with over twenty letters from my Mother, the news
that she had died suddenly the preceding April; and that the old home
no longer existed. The tidings were no surprise. I had had the
strongest conviction, dating from about one month after her death,
that she was no longer here. The realisation came at first with a
sense of shock, which was noted in my journal and written to friends
in England; afterwards it continued with a quiet persistence which
amounted to practical certainty.
Footnote 87:
Journal of Sir Joseph Banks, p. 102.
Footnote 88:
_Polynesian Researches_, vol. iv. p. 167.
Footnote 89:
_Thrum. Hawaiian Annual_, 1908.
Footnote 90:
We had intended to reproduce this note in facsimile, but subsequent
events have led us to think that to do so might cause danger to its
writer.
Footnote 91:
Casa = Sp. house.
Footnote 92:
_Cf._ _Ency. Brit. Edn._ 1911, Vol. xxiii., p. 930, Article RAY.
Footnote 93:
_Cock-bill._ To put the yards “a-cock-bill” is to top them up by one
lift to an angle with the deck. A symbol of mourning.—_The Sailor’s
Word-Book_ (Admiral Smyth, 1867).
Footnote 94:
See _Man_, vol. xvii. 1917, No. 88.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
With a Prehistoric People
(_The Akikúyu of British East Africa_)
BEING SOME ACCOUNT OF THE METHOD OF LIFE AND MODE OF THOUGHT FOUND
EXISTENT AMONGST A NATION ON ITS FIRST CONTACT WITH EUROPEAN
CIVILIZATION
BY
W. SCORESBY ROUTLEDGE, M.A. (Oxon)
and KATHERINE ROUTLEDGE (born Pease)
Som. Coll. (Oxon); M.A. (Trin. Coll., Dublin)
_With 136 Plates and a Map_
Medium 8vo. 21s. net. London. Ed. Arnold.
“Mr. and Mrs. Routledge have enjoyed a most interesting experience,
which they have embodied in a volume that should take high rank in
anthropological literature.”—_Spectator._
“Sympathetic study of the native way of thinking, careful discrimination
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“Her (Mrs. Routledge’s) reports are probably the most minute, intimate,
and accurate which have hitherto appeared about the position of a female
savage in any country....”—_Bookman._
“One of the choicest contributions to the study of primitive peoples
that have appeared in recent times.”—_Journal of the Royal Geographical
Society._
“... Enough has been said to show the importance of this careful study
of an unspoiled people. It is a book that will be valued by the
anthropologist, and at the same time delight a wider public.”—Dr. A. C.
HADDON, F.R.S., in the _Morning Post_.
“The interest of the account itself is enough to attract mere outsiders
to anthropology.”—_Nation._
“Likely to take a permanent place as a standard work.”—Sir H. H.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
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2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
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