JOHN RENTON.—A ROMANCE OF THE SOUTH SEAS.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4595, 11 December 1875, Page 1 (Supplement)

JOHN RENTON.—A ROMANCE OF THE SOUTH SEAS.

' clip (From the Queensland? Respecting Doorey, or Dore, ‘ , white man who had been a captive amongst the natives years before Renton fell into their hands, and who was killed by them as recounted in a previous paper, everything has not been said. On running through our notes of Kenton’s narration we find he received from an old native a description of how that unfortunate fell into the hands of the islanders. The story serves to illustrate how treacherous a race these people were, even if they be not so still. The ship to which Doorey, or Dore, belonged was the first these people had ever seen—as far as their traditions went back. She came to the island, and lay a short distance outside the reef, sending out two boats which kept hanging about the reefs, either fishing or surveying, Renton supposes. The natives put off in their canoes and attacked the boats, capturingone after overwhelming its crew with arrows. Doorey was the sole living captive. The ship immediately after made sail, and rounding a promontory, came opposite another village, whose residents, in total ignorance of the collision which had taken place, put off in their canoes to satisfy their curiosity, or, it may be, their piratical intentions. As told to Renton, they were described as going out with peaceable intentions. The ship was prepared to give them a reception, however, and to revenge the incidents at the other village. Her boats were out on the side furthest from the island, and full of armed men. As soon as the canoes came near enough to the ship, the boats shot round her stem and stem, and attacked them, making prisoners five of their principal men, with whom they sailed away, and who were never again heard of by the islanders. Renton had no sooner learnt sufficient of the language of his captors to be able to communicate with them pretty freely, than he learnt about the proximity of the Island of Isabelle, and that European vessels frequently visited that island to trade. He made himself acquainted with every detail as to its position, the distance which separated him from it, and the chances of transit. Nothing daunted by the terrible experiences he had already gone through, and impelled by an overpowering desire to escape, he one night managed unobserved to slip out of the hut, which he occupied in common with some thirty natives, and to secure a small canoe, and glide away in the darkness, for the second time in his life, on the desperate chance of being able to reach Isabelle, and of there falling in with some European vessel. He paddled along inside the reef all night, gliding silently past more than one village similar to the one he had quitted, for they stud the water at intervals of only a few miles all along this part of the coast—and waiting for daylight to get outside the reef, and clear of the island. It had not long been light, however, before he perceived he was pursued. Several big canoes were hastening after him at racing speed, each propelled by a score of paddles. Comparatively speaking, he was going at a mere snail’s pace ; refuge or shelter of no land was apparent. Even could he have made for the shore, and reached it before he was intercepted, it was by no means clear that he would not have been quickly hunted down on foot ; and supposing he were successful in evading his present pursuers, whom he had no doubt were his late hosts, he could only fall into the hands of the bush tribes, whom he had understood sufficient to hear frequently characterised as cannibals, and described as savages evenby his late savage entertainers. Before he could decide on any particular course of action it was already too late. The pursuing canoes gained on him every minute, and in a very short time he was once more in the hands of his first captors. For some minutes his life hung on a thread. He was hustled, knocked about, and almost tom to pieces. The savages were furious, and his history would unquestionably have come to an end there and then had it not been for the constancy of his friendly young chief, whose name, by the way, was Coboo, or as Renton spells it, Cabough. Theother natives unanimously sought to put him to death, and threatened him with their clubs and spears, but the influence of Cabough restrained them, and Renton was conveyed back, little the worse for his adventures and rough handling. Onceßenton had fully mastered the language of his captors, he fell into then- ways, and became almost one of themselves, noth the single exception that he constantly longed to escape, while the natives continued utterly opposed to any idea of his leaving them, and after his first attempt, kept him under a sort of pacific surveillance. As seems to be generally the case when a white man falls among savages, he became even more expert than themselves in most of their occupations. Of these, net and canoe-making were among the most important. They make their nets of the fibrous bark of a certain tree, which they beat with mallets till the pulpy part is mashed, when they separate. the fibres one by one, the length of the strips being five or six feet. These fibres they work into cord by rubbing with the hand on the knee ; and from the cord thus manufactured they make splendid nets, frequently three hundred yards in length, in one piece. The lower part of these they weight with stones, and float the upper edge with segments of bamboo. They take immense hauls of fish with these. A number of natives are required to manage each net. They fish in comparatively shoal water —that is to say, two or three fathoms deep ; and their manner is to bring the ends of the nets gradually together, working the upper part from canoes, while the necessary progress of the submerged portions is effected by natives diving to the bottom, and shifting the weights forward as required. At length the two ends are brought together, and the prey thus hemmed in in a circle which is gradually diminished till the fish are so crowded together that their capture is easy. Another method of fishing which they practice is more remarkable. The water being remarkably clear, the bottom and everything moving about it can be seen at great depths; and when moving along in their canoes, should a native see a goodly fish at the bottom, he does not hesitate to undertake its capture with his hands. He commences by beating the surface of the water -with a paddle or club, when the fish, alarmed by the percussion, generally takes refuge under some convenient stone at the bottom. Sometimes, indeed, the native does not wait to see the fish. If he perceives a stone or rock at the bottom likely to shelter a fish, he takes a small stick in his hand, and dives to the bottom. Arrived there, he pokes under the rock with his stick, exploring its recesses. This done, he rises to the surface, and smells the end of the stick. So keen is his sense of smell that he can at once tell whether the wand has touched a fish. If such proves to be the case, down he goes again, and thrusting his hand, his arm, or even half his body under the rock, he gropes for his prey, which he seldom fails to seize and bring to the surface in his hands. Benton states that the depth to wiiich these divers will attain, and the length of time they will stay under water, are something startling. To use his own expression, they will remain under until one would feel sure they must be dead ! Canoe-making is their highest art. They work exclusively with tools of stone or shell. They possess, indeed, some tomahawks of European make, obtained by trading with the natives of Isabelle, the island already mentioned as lying about a day’s sail distant, and as being frequently visited by ships. These tomahawks, however, they prize too highly to put them to common uses, and generally keep, as articles of especial virtue, hung up in the part of the huts specially devoted to their gods. Working with their ruder tools, the construction of a canoe is an extremely laborious process. The canoes are not mere dug-outs. On the contrary, they arc regularly built up in what nautical men call “ carvel" fashion ; that is to say, the planks meet at their edges instead of overlapping, as is the rule in small boats. In each canoe there are five planks. To make these, a suitable tree is out down, and the trunk gradually squared away on two sides until it is reduced to largo board, about the thickness of two planks.' It is then split longitudinally, and two planks are the result. The wood must evidently be of excellent grain to “run out” so accurately as this process requires. Some of these canoes are of a size sufficient to accommodate thirty ' or forty people at once, and on account of the

extreme labor involved in their construction, are very highly valued. The trees are of course only obtainable on the mainland, and at times when there happens to be peace between the coast and inland tribes. Situated as these islanders are on their isolated villages, their own industry is not sufficient to supply all the necessities of existence. They cannot at all times venture to resort to the main island opposite their village, and to cultivate patches of vegetables, as petty feuds with the “bushmen” are continually breaking out. At one time, indeed, Renton and his protecting chief had a good patch cleared and planted -with yams and taro. The latter root is, in their language, called “ arbo,” and is somewhat similar to a yam, but bitter to the taste. The mode of cultivation is to clear away the underbush and heap it around the boles of the larger trees, after which it is set on fire, and the tree thoroughly scorched. The natives then climb up and lop off the branches so as to admit sun and air to the clearing which they roughly fence in. The soil Renton describes as extremely rich, and the method of cultivation would seem to endorse his statement. In planting taro, all that is done is to drill holes with a wooden crowbar in the earth, and insert a plant stem, which, without further trouble, duly develops the desired root. But such industry is only possible in time of peace. In war time even water is difficult to get, as the springs near the beach to which the amphibious tribes are in the habit of resorting are well known to the bushmen, who at such times frequently lie in ambush around them, seeking the lives of the thirsty water-seekers. In such cases, procuring water is a service of great peril, generally undertaken at night. The appliances for carrying water are lengths of hollow bamboo, each holding about half a bucket, and it is a curious phase of the superstitious or social observance of these people that separate vessels of this kind are strictly kept for males and for females, any undistinguishing use by one sex of those belonging to the other being a grave offence, not only against social proprieties, but against the gods. The coast islanders, however, are great traders, and in their big canoes make voyages not only all round their own island, but even to Isabelle and others of the group. Generally, however, they confine their trips to Malayta, their own island; and if at war with the bushmen in their own vicinity, manage to obtain what they want at a distance, and even at the other side of the island. Although much is done by simple barter of commodities, there is an actual currency, consisting of porpoise teeth, which, drilled and strung together, serve as money, as do also a sort of native bead, manufactured out of shells and likewise strung together. Thus a length of about ten fathoms of native beads is the standard of exchange. Renton called that “ one piece of money,” and it is equal in value to 100 porpoise teeth. In the way of barter, a fish two feet long is worth ten taro roots. The “ money value ” of a good bow is about thirty porpoise teeth, for it must be noted that the water tribes are- entirely dependent on trade for their bows and arrows, and consequently Renton could afford no information as to the method of poisoning arrows. His impression was, that it had something to do with their “ gods,” which supports the statements heretofore made by islanders that decaying human flesh is used. A big canoe is valued at 400 porpoise teeth, and a big pig at 700. It will be seen that porpoises are regular mines of wealth, and it might be supposed that the savages would be constantly endeavoring to catch these fish. Such, however, is not the case. Under ordinary circumstances, the porpoises are not meddled with, Their chase is a sort of religious matter, and is only undertaken on solemn occasions during great religious and mystic ceremonies. Should a great warrior or chief die, for instance, a prodigious “ wake ” is instituted, and pigs without number sacrificed to the gods, on which occasion numbers of visitors from friendly villages come in their canoes to take part in the ceremonies. As many as twenty, nay thirty, pigs_ are offered up at such a time, and the priests wisely restrict their perquisites to the heads of the offerings, besides what they can manage to eat in common with the others. During these mournful rites the women make themselves prominent with loud lamentations, and it is at such times also that the porpoises are hunted. The natives put out in countless canoes to where shoals of porpoises are continually gambolliug along the coast, and spread themselves on the seaward side of them. They gradually close in, beating the water with hollow bamboos, in which are a number of pebbles, which make a loud rattling. Alarmed at these noises, and the shouts of the pursuers, the porpoises retreat towards the shore, and are gradually driven on till they are in shallow water close to the beach. Numbers run aground, and those that do not seldom escape, for the natives plunge overboard after them, and actually seize them in their arms, overpowering them and dragging them ashore. As many as two or three hundred porpoises are sometimes thus secured at one time. It often happens that the “ bushmen,” seeing what is going on, come down to the beach and endeavor to secure a share of the spoil, in which case there is a fight at once; but as the maritime tribes are in such strong force, they invariably get the better of them and drive them off. In addition to the teeth, of which each’ fish has about 200, Renton thinks, although never having counted them he is not sure, the porpoises enrich their captors with their flesh, which they dry and trade with the bushmen.