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 In one figure groups of three—a man and two girls—stood in a
series of rows. The active dancing men with drums came up and
stood in a row along one side facing the others, and sang a song to
the beats of the drums. After doing this three times, they ran round
one end of the stationary column, and repeated the song on the
other side, facing the others as before.

In another figure all the men and girls formed numerous short
rows; this was, I believe, a Motu dance. The men in some of the
figures formed a parallel row facing one another, with four others in
the middle facing towards one end; the girls were at one end of the
short avenue, and they swayed their petticoats laterally. The men
then grouped themselves into two rows facing one another at right
angles to the previous row. Then the first figure was repeated, only
the two rows of men faced outwards instead of inwards, and the
central pairs also reversed their previous position.

It is characteristic of some of the dances in the Hood peninsula for

the girls to be, as it were, appendages to the dance rather than
active participators in it. They make the minimum amount of
movement, usually standing their ground, or else slowly advancing
and retreating with the general movements of the men. They sway
their petticoats sideways, or backwards and forwards; the latter is
only a slight movement, but the former is more energetic, and (owing
to the petticoat being tied on the right side and the two ends scarcely
meeting) exhibits portions of the person which are ordinarily never
exhibited, but the tattooing, which is liberally distributed all over the
body, gives a half impression of clothing.
I noticed that one figure often merges into another, in which the
positions of the dancers are reversed. It is difficult to follow and
record all the various movements, but I received the impression that
if one could become familiar with the various figures one would find
that there is a regular and fairly logical sequence of figures in each of
the sets of dances.
 PLATE XVII

THE DUBU AT KAMALI

DUBU DANCE AT GOMORIDOBO

 There is a dance-leader, or master of ceremonies, and when he
gives the signal the drums are rapidly beaten many times in
succession to show that set is finished. The character of the dancing
was quite similar to that we saw at Babaka, but it is entirely different
from the dancing in Torres Straits and the neighbouring coast of
British New Guinea. In the west, according to my experience, men
and women never dance the same dance together; the single
exception known to me was in the case of a particular war dance,
kawaladi, at Mabuiag, after a successful foray. Only one or two
drums are beaten, and that, so far as I saw, never by those actually
engaged in dancing; indeed, the drum-men sit down to beat their
drums. Further, only certain people have the right to beat drums,
whereas in this part of New Guinea every male dancer may have a
drum, which he holds in his hand and often flourishes about when he
is dancing.
Although probably every religious ceremony has its appropriate
dance or dances, I do not believe that all dancing has a magical or
religious significance. I think it would be impossible to prove whether
all dances arose from magical or religious dancing; if it be so, this
must have been hundreds, or perhaps thousands of years ago; and
all record, or even all suspicion of their origin must in some cases
have long since disappeared. Here, as in Torres Straits, there are
certainly play or secular dances—dances for pure amusement and
without any ulterior design.
Some of the men looked very effective with their lithe figures and
supple limbs of a bright, warm brown, almost copper-coloured skin,
with shell and bead frontlets and a tall stick of scarlet and orange
feathers starting up from their dark, bushy hair. Some had shell
nose-skewers, most painted their faces in various devices with black
paint; round their necks were bead and shell necklaces, sometimes
with a pendant boar’s tusk, and armlets and leglets decorated the
limbs. The sole article of dress, in the usual acceptance of the term,
is a narrow, yellow waist-belt, which also passes between the legs;
streamers of a whitish leaf fluttered from various portions of the
body.
 The girls in these ordinary dances were not specially decorated, at
all events in comparison with the men.
During our stay at Bulaa, Ray gave several phonograph
demonstrations and recorded some of the local songs. The natives
were never tired of listening to the machine, and fully appreciated
singing into it, and were very delighted at hearing their songs
repeated by it. Altogether we had a very pleasant and profitable trip
to this district.
We left Bulaa on June 15th about 9 a.m., and had a fine sail to
Kăpăkăpă, arriving there at 12.30. All of us went to call on Dr. and
Mrs. Lawes at Vatorata in the afternoon, and received, as before, a
kindly welcome. Had afternoon tea, and then on to a small
neighbouring Ikoro village of Tagama Keketo, but there was not
much to be done there. We saw here a tame white cockatoo,
fastened by the leg to a ring chipped out of a coconut which slid
along a horizontal pole; subsequently we found this was frequently
done in New Guinea. As I have previously stated, the natives are
very fond of decorating themselves with feathers, and they wear
great bunches of white cockatoo feathers in their hair when dancing.
These unfortunate tame cockatoos are periodically plucked to supply
feathers for these occasions. After dinner, Ray exhibited the
phonograph in the schoolhouse to the students, and continued his
philological studies.
We got up early next morning, and Seligmann, Wilkin, and I went
to breakfast with Mr. English. We saw his station, which is placed on
a hill, and all around are thriving plantations of economic plants that
he has introduced into the district, such as coffee, sisal agave, and
rubber; the makimaki rubber has been named Ficus rigo by Mr.
Bailey, the Queensland botanist.
Then we walked to Gomoridobo, where Wilkin took some
photographs, one of which was of a man carving a post for their new
dubu. We bought a few things, and I obtained two samples of hair;
even here the wavy hair occasionally occurs, and there is a yellowish
and brownish tinge in the hair at its tips, especially in young children.
The wavy hair proves that there has been racial mixture at least five
miles from the coast, or more probably a mingling with coast people,
who must have been of mixed origin when they arrived.
Got back to Vatorata at 11.15, and shortly afterwards Dr. Lawes
drove us down to Kăpăkăpă, and after a pleasant sail we reached
Port Moresby at sunset.
 CHAPTER XVI
PORT MORESBY AND THE ASTROLABE RANGE

I have as yet said very little about Port Moresby. It is a

commodious bay with an inner portion (Fairfax Harbour), which is
land-locked. The double bay is surrounded by thinly wooded hills,
and when these are brightened in places by the rising sun the effect
is very beautiful. In full sunlight during the time we were there, there
was generally a haze which greatly diminished the interest of the
scene, but in the evening, especially a cloudy one, the hills again
stood out clearly.
The small township lies on the north side of the neck of the
promontory that forms the eastern limit of the bay; about a mile and
a half off is the solitary Government House, and about half a mile
beyond this again is the Mission Station. On the shore, below the hill
on which the Mission stands, is the large stilted village commonly
known as Hanuabada; off this is the rocky isle of Elevera, with its
village of similar amphibious pile-dwellings, for at high tide they are
completely surrounded by water.
The township or Granville, as it is officially termed (Ela is the
native name for the locality), consists of a few Government offices
and the houses of residents, most of whom are either Government
officials or else connected with Burns Philp’s Store. The jetty was
built by Burns Philp at considerable expense, and at the foot of it lies
their big store. This great trading company has ramifications all over
Queensland and British New Guinea, and Port Moresby is naturally
an important centre for their trade.
Apart from its remoteness from the world, the very bad postal
arrangements, and the absence of a telegraph, Port Moresby is to
my mind a much nicer place to live in than Thursday Island. The
residents proved themselves very friendly and obliging. Were it not
for home-ties and duties I should very well like to make it my
headquarters for a year or two. A certain amount of work could be
done on the spot, and a very great deal by taking longer and shorter
excursions from it. It appears to be a healthy locality, especially at
the time of the year when we were there, and, what is of great
importance in the tropics, we did not find the nights too hot.
Knowing that I was anxious to see a little of some inland people,
Messrs. Musgrave and Ballantine arranged a three-days trip to the
Astrolabe Range. Five horses were kindly loaned by the Government
and the Vaigana Company. We packed our swags on Friday
afternoon and fastened them on to the saddles before sunset. Each
took with him a blanket, a spare flannel shirt, a pyjama suit, a tin of
meat, some tobacco and handkerchiefs for trade wrapped up in a
yard of American cloth. We also tied to our saddles a pannikin and
hobbles for the horses, and carried bread and biscuits for the
journey. Cameras, spare boxes of plates, and two water bottles were
distributed among the party.
At three o’clock in the morning of Saturday, June 18th, Ballantine
came to the hotel to wake us, and we dressed with despatch and
went to Musgrave’s to saddle the horses. This took some time, as it
was quite dark, and there were several little details of girths and
straps that required arranging. Musgrave was about and very kindly
had cocoa made for us. We started about 4 a.m. in single file; the
intense darkness was relieved by the shining of the stars. The
positions of the constellations known to me presented a novel
appearance, as one was not accustomed to be up so early.
We wended our way past the gaol and along the coast to the east,
through occasional plantations and wooded country. After about an
hour’s walk we passed through a village, silent with the death of
sleep, the only sign of life being two fires on the ground, the embers
of which, fanned by the continuous breeze, were still glowing.
 MAP OF CENTRAL DISTRICT

The calls of various birds were answered by the stridulation of

insects as the eastern heavens gradually grew lighter, and we began
to see something of the district in which we were travelling. The
noises of nature became more marked as the dawn advanced, but
there was little that can be described as singing made by the birds,
though many of the cries were decidedly musical. Soon after sunrise
we passed through Boumana, a plantation station owned by Peter
Lifu, and situated nine miles from Port Moresby. It was only after
passing this that we were able to trot or canter. Here the country
consisted of grassy plains with scattered gum trees and occasional
screw pines. In places the grass was as high as the horses,
individual stems being as high as the rider as well. As we went
inland cycads became more numerous; as a general rule these
appear to die off when they reach a height of eight or ten feet,
though I saw a few that exceeded that height.
In course of time we entered a more hilly country, and it was in
places very rough on the horses, as there were steep gullies down
which they cautiously picked their way, and up which they clambered
like cats. On the plains there was a single track, but a road had been
cut out of the side of the hills, or a broad avenue cleared through the
dense jungle. Most of the country was sparsely wooded with a
clothing of rank, coarse grass and had a very Australian aspect, as
the trees were mostly eucalyptus, bastard gums, and a tree that
looked like the Australian spotted gum, but with rather smaller
leaves. An occasional wallaby hopping in the grass and small flocks
of white cockatoos that screeched as they flew, gave a further
Australian colour to the scene.
The ranges of mountains and hills in this part of New Guinea run
as a rule in a north-west south-east direction—that is, roughly,
parallel with the coast-line; geographically speaking, they are well-
dissected, folded mountain chains. All are more or less wooded right
up to their summits. As we were going obliquely across the trend of
the hills we naturally had a lot of uphill and down-dale travelling,
though the track took advantage of all available lateral spurs.
After the coast hills had been passed we saw looming in front of
us the precipitous Astrolabe Range, rising abruptly from hilly ground
and forming a huge rampart stretching away to the south-east,
occasional peaks rising higher than the general level of the fairly
uniform edge. On the flanks of this range, and indeed all the way up
as far as the summit, were masses of volcanic breccia, which stood
out black and sinister from the grass, some of the blocks being of
enormous size. I was greatly exercised in my mind whether these
blocks had weathered out in situ like the Devonshire tors and the
granitic blocks one sees on the sides of the Dartmoor hills. This may
be the case in some instances, but I noticed many blocks with
distinct stratification, the plane of which was vertical or nearly so;
these must either have been ejected fragments or boulders that had
rolled down from some greater height, but the latter was by no
means obvious, and I could not satisfy myself from whence they
could have fallen. The breccia was remarkably coarse; the finest
planes were about as rubbly as the coarsest volcanic ash of the
Murray Islands. My impression was that there has been an
enormous amount of weathering, and that it requires a combination
of geological knowledge and imagination, which I do not possess, to
reconstruct the physical features of the district at the time of the
volcanic outburst. In any case a rapid horse-ride through a wooded
country is not favourable for geological observations.
On the whole there is great uniformity in the vegetation; it is only in
the occasional patches of dense scrub or in the gullies that there is
much variation from the pendant, sad, greyish-green leaves of the
eucalyptus. But in these exceptions it was a little relief to see nature
freeing herself, so to speak, from the trammels of the Australian
flora, and running riot on her own account. From the tangled
undergrowth rose the tall tree stems, up which ran creepers, more
particularly a climbing polypod, which had some resemblance to the
foliage of ratan; swaying from the branches were festoons of
creepers and aerial roots. One then felt that one was really in the
tropics, though the forest trees were small compared with the giants
of the Amazonian forests that Wallace, Bates, and other travellers
describe, and such as we were destined to see later on in Borneo.
Along the watercourses were clumps of bamboo. At home one
always associates palm trees with tropical scenery, here they are
conspicuously absent.
 The last part of the ascent of Mount Warirata was very trying to
some of us, as we had to drag our tired horses up a very steep,
stony, zigzag road in the blazing vertical sun. The great rocks that
walled the road in many places faced the sun, and instead of giving
us the comfort of their shadows in the weary land they radiated
superfluous heat to our further discomfort. We were immensely
relieved when we reached the top of the north-easterly extremity of
the Astrolabe Range, and then at a height of 2,615 feet we were in a
better position to enjoy the magnificent panorama before us. Behind
us, hidden by clouds, lay the main range of mountains that forms the
backbone of the south-easterly portion of New Guinea. Below us
was a gorgonised sea of land, ridges of sharp-crested hills running
mainly in one direction, like the arrested rollers of a Titanic ocean.
Rising like islands to the north-west from the general level of the
lower hills were two conspicuous masses, “Fanny Peak” and
“Saddle-Back.” To the south-west lay the sea, and the coast-line was
contoured as if on a map, the complex Bootless Inlet was the
nearest portion of the coast, and the variable extent of the fringing
reef off the headlands showed pale green against the blue of the
sea. From this height Bootless Inlet and Port Moresby have the
appearance of “drowned” bays, that is, of depressions of the coast
which have permitted the sea to cover what would otherwise be
fertile valleys. Around us were the same eucalyptus and cycads we
had seen all day, but added to them were equally characteristic
bottle-brush trees (banksias) of more than one species and a pink-
flowered melastoma. A “cypress pine” gave the only mountainous
touch to the vegetation.
With antipodean earthly scenery we had the sky of a glorious
English summer, a clear deep blue, with massive fleecy cumulus
clouds, whose brightness was contrasted with dark shadows. At the
coast-level the sky is usually a greyer blue, often lavender coloured,
owing to the moisture in the air which acts as a screen and lowers
the blue tone of the sky. A haze pervaded the lower landscape,
owing to the vapour-laden south-east breeze and the widely drifting
smoke of numerous bush fires made by natives who were clearing
the scrub for their gardens. This haze gave a softness to the view,
and painted the shades with various shades of blue, but a little less
“atmosphere” would, on the whole, have been better from a
topographical point of view.
The purity of the air may be judged from the fact that Ballantine
produced from under the shelter of a big rock a tin of fresh butter,
which he had placed there six or seven weeks previously, and it was
as sweet as when he cached it. The butter was actually fresh butter
that he had put in a cocoa tin, and not an unopened tin of butter. This
was at a height of about one thousand seven hundred feet, and the
air was evidently practically free from putrefactive microbes, or at all
events such as affect butter.
The top of Mount Warirata is composed of the volcanic breccia in
situ, and it formed imposing tors. I noticed several volcanic bombs in
the blocks which weathered in concentric laminæ.
On passing the top we entered on a grassy plateau, or rather spur,
along which we proceeded for a few miles. The plateau vegetation
was very similar on the whole to that of the lower hills, with the
addition, as I have already remarked, of the banksias, cypress pines,
and melastoma. Among the smaller plants were a few ground
orchids, one with a green flower somewhat resembling a listera, but
with different leaves, and an umbrella fern. Remarkable streamers of
a sulphur-green lichen depended from the boughs of the gums.
We next made a steep descent across a river gully, and after one
or two clambers up and down wooded mountain valleys, we
dismounted in a bamboo thicket close to a tributary of the Laroki
River.
The horses were left here in charge of one of the party to be
afterwards fetched by natives by a long détour. The rest of us had a
steep climb up a detached hill, on the top of which was the small
village of Atsiamakara. To the east of this hill is another higher one
and with precipitous sides, but separated from it by a deep ravine; to
the north and west is open, wooded, hilly country.
It is characteristic of these bush tribes to build their villages on the
top of hills for the sake of safety from attack. Many of the villages
formerly had tree-houses, but there are now very few of these left, as
the country has been pacified. This village itself had some tree-
houses, but no trace of them now remains. These tree-houses were
used as places of refuge when the village was attacked. It might
strike the reader that it would be very easy to chop down the tree
and so destroy the refugees at one fell blow, but it must be
remembered that these were designed by men still in their Stone
Age, and it is by no means an easy or rapid matter to cut down a
large tree with stone axes, especially when overhead foes are
hurling down stones and spears. Savages are by no means fools,
and they would not continue to build structures that experience
proved to be useless; besides, it is against custom to fell these trees,
thus, insecure as they appear to us, these tree-houses were real
refuges.
 PLATE XVIII

UDIA AND DAUBE, TABURI, KOIARI

ELEVARA, PORT MORESBY, WITH THE LONDON MISSIONARY

SOCIETY’S STATION IN THE BACKGROUND
 At the time of our visit there were but eleven houses in the village.
Two had verandahs along their sides on to which the door opened, a
type of house that was new to me as Papuan, but it is a
characteristic type among the hill tribes. The four of us slept for two
nights, and sat and had our meals and rested for nearly two days on
the verandah of a house. Two natives slept inside.
This was a populous village before it was raided by the
mountaineers of the main range, although these depredations have
ceased in this particular district for ten years; two epidemics have
since then reduced the population very considerably. We saw but
five men, some half a dozen women, and a few children; this did not
represent the entire population, as it is the custom for these bush
tribes to reside but little in their own houses, the rest of the time
being spent in the bush, making gardens and doing a little hunting.
As a matter of fact, these people are good agriculturists; we saw
some native tobacco growing in the village.
It was interesting getting a glimpse, for it was nothing more, of a
real Papuan village, entirely unchristianised and scarcely at all
affected by European civilisation.
Daube, our host, behaved very nicely; indeed, he was quite
gentlemanly. He and a boy about the place looked after us in various
ways, got water, made fires, and cooked yams and sweet potatoes.
The ladies of the village were particularly shy, and consequently we
took very little notice of them. They wore a common sort of leaf
petticoat, not of so good a quality as is usually worn by the coast
women. The men had the narrowest string of bark I have as yet seen
worn—clothing it could not be called.
I measured the five men and made a few notes on them, and
Wilkin took a few photographs. These natives are somewhat darker
than the coast tribes, of more rugged countenance, and wear beards
and moustaches. Ray obtained some information as to the nature of
their language; like our Torres Straits friends they have names for
only the numerals “one” and “two.”
When strolling about we came across the old chief sitting on a log
whittling saplings into spears with a boar’s tusk for a knife. It was the
first time I had seen this primitive knife in actual use, and much to
the man’s astonishment I bought the tusk after we had photographed
him using it. Unfortunately for the picturesqueness of the
photograph, he was wearing a shirt; the wearing of a shirt by a chief
is the recognised symbol of loyalty in this district.
Our cooking was of a very primitive kind, and the results were not
of a palatable quality. Every scrap that we dropped through the
crevices of the verandah was immediately devoured by pigs. It was
also a new sensation to hear pigs grunting and scrunching
underneath one at night, and to feel the vibration of their rubbing
against the verandah posts. The nights were comparatively quite
cold; we all felt chilly, and my teeth chattered, but I doubt if the
thermometer sank much below 55°.
This is a village of the Taburi tribe, who with others are called
Koiari by the Motu, a name which simply means “bushmen,” but it
probably will be convenient to retain the latter as a general name for
the small tribes of the whole district round about.
We rested all Sunday, but Ballantine walked on Saturday
afternoon to Hogeri (Sogeri), a distance of seventeen miles. He
returned from Hogeri on Monday morning, bringing along with him a
crowd of inland natives amongst whom was Gewe, the chief of Agi, a
noted warrior who a year previously would have been shot if he
could have been caught, as he had more than once raided
unoffending tribes; now the chief came of his own free will to visit
Port Moresby. There were several men from Wamai and one or two
from Hogeri and Ubere. Two of the natives carried a live pig tied to a
pole, others had stone clubs, native food, and various articles.
We formed a long procession as we went back to Port Moresby in
single file. For a long time the natives kept up well with us, but
eventually they dropped behind. We had a very pleasant and by no
means tiring ride home. At sunset we arrived at Boumana to find a
liberal meal provided by Ballantine and prepared by Peter Lifu’s wife.
We had fresh wallaby-tail soup, stew, tinned raspberries, and coffee.
Then we walked our horses in the dark to Port Moresby, arriving
shortly before ten o’clock; we unsaddled at Ballantine’s, and he
invited us in to have a drink. We started with whisky and water and
finished off with bread and cheese and beer. In fact, we had a “small-
fellow Christmas.” I had a good night, and woke up next morning in
good form and not very stiff or sore.

PLATE XIX

GEWE, CHIEF OF AGI, WHEN DEPRIVED OF HIS HAT

GEWE, WITH HIS HAT RESTORED TO HIM

The following day Ballantine took his visitors to Burns Philp’s

store, and showed them dozens of axes and tomahawks and cases
of tobacco and other treasures, whereby they were duly impressed.
Mr. Gors gave Gewe, the Agi chief, some turkey-red twill for a loin
cloth, a belt, a cotton shirt, a second-hand guards-bandsman’s tunic,
and an ancient top hat, and the old fellow strutted about mightily
pleased with himself.
Ballantine brought the party round to the hotel, as I wanted to
measure and photograph them. I began with Gewe, and it was
ludicrous to see his expansive smile of self-content. First we took
him as he was, then by dint of gentle persuasion we divested him of
his regalia, and it was evident that parting from his hat was the
sorest trial. It appeared to be quite hopeless to get a side view of his
face, as he kept turning round to see what we were doing, till
Ballantine suggested that I should show him some pictures; so I
produced a coloured plate of Torres Straits dances which so
fascinated him that he became comparatively still immediately. But
even so we could not get a satisfactory side-face portrait of him. I
then measured his height, span, and head, and it was with great
relief and transparent joy that he resumed his hat. I did not take all
the measurements I should have liked, as he became restive and
suddenly stalked off. I then measured a few other natives, who were
duly photographed.
In the afternoon I went to where the natives were camped and
witnessed one of those extremes of culture that are rarely met with,
even in frontier colonies. My friend Gewe, clad in his medley of
nineteenth-century garments, was solemnly chipping a hole in a
stone club-head with a piece of flint! Close by was another
mountaineer clad in his native fringed belt and sporran, holding a
cheap mirror before his face, and shaving himself with a fragment of
a glass bottle.
The following morning the natives again came to be investigated. I
measured and Wilkin photographed some more, and Seligmann
tested the keenness of their eyesight. He found the coast people at
Bulaa, owing probably to their being sailors and fishermen, had even
keener eyesight than Torres Straits islanders. The eyesight of our
mountaineers, on the other hand, was much more like that of the
average European landsmen. In the afternoon Seligmann tested
their colour vision, but this did not show anything unusual. Altogether
we got very good value out of the men, and it was a unique
opportunity for us.
In the evening Ballantine gave his visitors a lantern show in the
boat-shed, interspersed with phonograph songs and tunes by Ray. I
think they did not understand the latter, but the pictures were
thoroughly appreciated by them. I sat on a box next to Gewe in order
to watch him, and I had a great treat. He had his hat on, but the
military tunic was absent. Most of the lantern-slides were local, and
the natives recognised them immediately. One slide was of especial
interest, as it was the photograph of a village that Gewe and others
had subsequently sacked and burnt. One wonders what was passing
in the mind of the warrior, as in front of him was the representation of
the “before,” and in his mind’s eye he must have seen the “after.” I
must say he did not look at all abashed, and why should he? He had
only been following immemorial custom! Like the Torres Straits
islanders and the coast Papuans, Gewe expressed wonder and
admiration by a broad grin, glistening eyes, and by making various
sucking and clicking noises with his lips. He also, like the others,
flicked his teeth with his thumbnail. Our glances often met, and we
nodded and smiled and clicked to each other; once or twice with
exuberant feeling, when a slide especially pleased him, he caught
hold of my hand. I got quite fond of the old chap. He had a fine
distinguished face. He held himself well, and behaved like a
gentleman. When the portrait of Queen Victoria was on the screen,
the phonograph played “Soldiers of the Queen,” and I made Gewe
take off his hat. He did so cheerfully, as if he understood the Queen
should be respected, and directly the picture was changed I let him
put it on again.
The evening was a great success, and must have considerably
impressed the mountaineers, most of whom had probably not seen a
white man before.
It was very interesting to come into personal contact with the
raiders and the raided, to see individuals who were fighting each
other a few months ago walking peacefully together, sharing the
same food, and looking at lantern-slides of one another and of their
villages. I would have given a great deal to know what they thought
of it all. One thing is fairly certain, those who visited Port Moresby
will remain pacific, as they must recognise what is to them the
marvellous power of the white man. Next morning they started off
home, and our friend Gewe had some hundred miles to walk.
Probably owing to their rich soil and fine climate, the mountaineers
of the main range have a splendid physique, and are fine hardy men.