Two Years Among the Savages of New Guinea.

In the year 1887, two months after the adventure spoken of in the previous pages, hearing that Captain Matheson was in port, and that he intended sailing for New Guinea in a few days, I went on board his schooner; and knowing him to be an able seaman and a jolly good fellow, I decided to go with him in his vessel, the Spitfire. The Spitfire is a strongly built "fore and aft" schooner of 35 tons net register. Besides this he had two small vessels, a cutter and a lugger, the former in charge of a South Sea Islander, and the latter in charge of a Queensland black.

These comprised the entire fleet. The crew of the schooner was made up of the captain, the mate (a white man), a South Sea Islander, who acted as quartermaster, a cook (also a white man), about 20 Queensland blacks, including three women, and myself, the solitary passenger.

I put my traps-which were not many, as, like the Romans, I prefer to travel free of "impedimenta"-on board, as I expected to make a start on the following day. There was some delay, owing to the Customs authorities, so we had to remain another day in port. I occupied my spare time in bidding good-bye to many of my friends and comrades, and they took leave of me as if they would never see me in the flesh again, as so many had lately lost the number of their mess in New Guinea. At last, to my great relief, the partings were over, for saying good-bye in Northern Queensland is a very serious affair, as everyone is bent on drinking your health, so with a slight headache, in company with the skipper, I stepped into the dinghy which was in waiting for us at No. 1 wharf. We were rapidly rowed by two of the crew to the schooner, which was moored to the buoy off the Pilot Jetty, anxiously waiting to slip her cable.

Everything was made ready for a start, the "fore and aft" sails hoisted, when Mr. W--, a friend of mine, and the chief officer of Customs, boarded us, had a parting glass, wished us a safe voyage, and then left for the shore. Soon after their departure, a breeze having sprung up, the order was given to hoist the head sails, we cast off our moorings, took a last look at the town where I had spent many a happy day, and commenced our voyage to the land of cannibals and savages.

The clouds were dark and lowering, Mount Cook looked angry, and everything presaged a blow. The wind was dead ahead, but the expected blow did not come off. We were not long rounding Cape Bedford, twelve miles to the N.E., but, as the day was well advanced, we knew that with the present wind we should be unable to get through the great Barrier before dark. We therefore determined to anchor at a sandbank, for to attempt to make the passage through the "Lark" opening in the dark would be the height of madness, as the passage is very narrow, and from the sandbank to the Barrier is one mass of coral reefs. We managed to reach our anchorage by sundown, and enjoyed what sailors call a "Farmer's" night. We had no work to do, as our two small craft were safe at anchor close to us. We spent the evening at a quiet game of cards (there being just four of us, the skipper, mate, cook and I) and in spinning yarns. Then, after a nightcap of rum, we turned into our bunks until daylight should appear. The captain, a Scotchman, was one of the most generous-hearted, upright men that I have ever come across, and every inch a sailor. The mate, too, was a first-rate fellow, and had been to New Guinea on a fishing cruise some years before; the cook, who hailed from the land of the shamrock, was full of fun, and an excellent comic singer, but a little too fond of the rum bottle; whilst I had the distinction of being the only passenger. Captain Matheson had already made a trip to New Guinea.

On this occasion he left his mate with some of the crew-blacks of Queensland-on an island, to superintend the curing of fish (Bêche-de-mer) and went to an island further away. On his return he found that his mate had been cruelly murdered that very day, only a few hours previous to his arrival. He immediately went ashore, surrounded the men, and with some difficulty captured four of the ringleaders and brought them in his schooner to Cooktown, where they were afterwards tried and, I regret to say, discharged, notwithstanding that one of them openly declared that he had killed the murdered man.

We were upon deck at daylight, weighed anchor, and steered our course for the Barrier. After a good deal of tacking, the wind being still ahead, we entered the "Lark" passage, and after beating about for several hours, just managed to clear it before dark, otherwise we should have been obliged to "'bout" ship and anchor inside for the night.

The Great Queensland Barrier Reef is a wonderful sight. It extends for several hundred miles, with narrow openings here and there, and at low tide the upper part of it is quite bare.

From the deck of a vessel, with the sun shining on it the white coral sparkles like crystal, and you cannot but marvel at the wonderful industry and workmanship of the countless millions of insects that have built up this gigantic sea-wall. Numerous vessels come here for the purpose of obtaining the valuable Bêche-de-mer, whose habitat is on this Barrier. We were now properly out at sea, as we had entered the Pacific Ocean, with its long sweeping roll. The sea was not very rough, but being the first night out I felt a little qualmish. It soon passed away, however, and I settled down to a life on the ocean wave.

We made good way, steering a direct course for the S.E. end of the Osprey Reef, which lies in mid-ocean, about 80 miles from the Barrier. It is 15 miles long, and woe betide the vessel that is stranded there, as she would speedily break up. It is a most dangerous reef, and not very well surveyed. In the year 1886, the steamer Papua, belonging to the German New Guinea Company, and laden with a heavy cargo, ran foul of it on the N.E. end, and soon became a total wreck, but all the crew managed to escape in the whale boats, nothing being saved except a few compasses.

The next day, owing to the wind being unfavourable, our run was a very poor one. We took the sun at 8 a.m., and at 12 noon, when I spent some of my time in trying to work out our position. I covered several sheets of foolscap with figures, but even then I did not come out right. What with cards, spinning yarns, and taking a turn at steering, the time passed rapidly away, and ere I was aware of it, supper was announced. The weather being very mild, for we were getting into warmer latitudes, we had all our meals on deck. Having finished supper, comprising the inevitable dry hash, we filled our pipes, and under the soothing influence of a tropical night, free from all care and trouble, lent ourselves to the enjoyment of the hour. There is nothing to my mind more intoxicating than being on a well-found vessel, with a spanking breeze, surrounded by the boundless ocean, and enjoying the companionship of jovial fellows. I turned into my bunk after the customary nightcap of rum, and soon fell asleep. "To sleep, perchance to dream." Dream I did, and the dream with its attendant circumstances was one of the most curious coincidences that has ever happened to me.

I dreamt that I was on the top of a high cliff. I had an album with me, which I threw over the cliff to the ground beneath. I tried to find a good way to descend, and at one part I noticed a rudely-constructed ladder attached to the top of the cliff, and reaching nearly to the ground. I stepped on to the ladder, intending to descend, but, not liking the look of it, stepped back, walked a short distance along the cliff, when my dream came to an abrupt end. I still slept on, not awaking until 7 a.m., in time for my cup of coffee. The dream was vivid, and in the morning the impression of it was as clear as on the night before.

Now for the coincidence.

I afterwards learned that at 2 a.m., still asleep, I had risen from my bunk, gone up on deck, strode over a seaman's chest, and walked along the deck until I reached the ratlins, then stepped on to them and was about to jump into the sea. Something or other stopped me, I then walked along the deck the same way I had come, stepped down to the cabin and lay down on my bunk. The captain, who slept on deck, noticed me coming up, but never thought for a moment that I was asleep, or he would have followed me. I have never practised somnambulism before or since. It is very strange, but not the less true, that anyone walking in his sleep seldom comes to harm. How is this I wonder? We had a good laugh over my adventure, which I put down to the rum and a disordered stomach.

The following night, about 10 p.m., the moon shining bright, we calculated that we ought to be somewhere near the Osprey Reef, when suddenly the mate, who was forward, sung out, "Breakers ahead!" It is anything but a welcome cry. The captain, fearing that we might be out of our course and dangerously near the dreaded Osprey, flew to the tiller, quickly put the helm hard down, and put the ship about. It turned out to be an hallucination. The moon shining on the sea gave it the appearance of broken water. The scare was soon over, and we went on our way rejoicing. We did not sight the Osprey Reef, but must have passed about 10 miles to windward of it. We had several days' calms, the sun burning like fire. It was almost impossible to find a shady spot. Down below it was very close, and upon deck very hot. We had a succession of head winds, which greatly retarded our progress. So the days went by until, on the morning of the ninth day out, we sighted the shores of New Guinea. We were 40 miles from Orangerie Bay, with its mountains of Alpine height towering away in the distance. What a relief to sight land after tossing for days on the ocean! By evening we were within a stone's throw of the mainland. The coast here is most interesting, very bold and broken, range after range of mountains covered with scrub, and here and there picturesque grassy islands, making a pleasant contrast to the dark foliage of the mainland bush. We had a long beat before us, as we were a good deal to leeward of our destination. We kept well within sight of land the whole way from this point, of which I was very glad, as it gave me an opportunity of observing the coastal formation. Every now and then we hove the schooner to, in order to enable our convoy, the lugger, to come up with us, when we filled up their water-casks and replenished their stock of provisions. The cutter had disappeared, and we did not see her again until we came to our anchorage in China Straits. We were not very anxious about her, as the South Sea Islander in charge was an experienced hand in a boat, and was sure to turn up some time or other.

The next day we passed close to the Brumer Islands (native name "Banaroa"). We did not stop, although Capt. Matheson wanted to get a number of the natives to go with him on a fishing cruise to the East End. The cutter, however, touched there and was successful in obtaining about 15 natives. The Banaroa people are good workers and of a friendly disposition.

This group of islands lies about 10 miles from the mainland, and they are very beautiful. There are most fertile plantations of yams, bananas, and coco-nuts, with here and there a bright patch of green. I should think that these islands would be very healthy, as they are free from swamps and not too much covered with scrub.

I was very much pleased with their appearance, and should not object to a prolonged residence on them.

As darkness set in the Brumers had been left many miles astern. When within a few miles of Heath Island (Loger), which is a boundary of China Straits, to our disgust the wind entirely died away, and we were left to loll and roll about all night. We seemed destined never to reach port. This was the eleventh day of a voyage (in a straight course) of 430 miles.

The day previous we passed close to the schooner Harrier, in full sail with a fair wind, bound for Queensland. We saluted and exchanged compliments. Having passed a restless night, we once more steered for China Straits. When off the north-western point of Heath Island (Loger) we were boarded by two or three canoes, filled with natives, their faces painted in various colours, and all having large mops of hair on their heads. They wore no clothing save a banana leaf round the loins. This was my first introduction to the Papuan race, and I must confess that they had a most diabolical appearance. Several of them came on board, where they kept up an incessant chatter.

The passage between Heath Island and the mainland, known as the Western Passage, is rather narrow. Coral reefs extend a good distance out, so that it is necessary to hug the shore of Heath Island. The tide too is very swift here, rushing at the rate of five to six miles an hour, making it impossible to stem it without the aid of a strong breeze. Everything has an end, so at last we rounded the point of Heath Island and entered the charming and romantic harbour of China Straits.

We dropped our mud-hook just about sundown in ten fathoms of water on the lee side of the Island of Samarai, having been 12 long days on the voyage.