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 POKAO.
The inland district south of Hall Sound is a dry, hilly country, with
sparse woods and green swards, where grow the aromatic plants so
dearly prized for personal wear by the natives of the whole district.
The physical conditions of this healthy land of eucalyptus and
kangaroos do not appear to be favourable to agriculture, and so the
inhabitants have become mainly hunters of the abundant game. On
referring to a geological map, it is seen that this is a region of old
volcanic rocks.
The Pokao people are an instructive example of the economic
defects of a hunting existence. The necessity for getting fresh food
every day fosters improvidence, for meat cannot be kept like yams or
sago in this tropical climate. Hence these hunter folk are too lazy to
send their meat to market. If the Mekeo people will fetch the meat
they require, so much the better; if not, to use an expression
employed nearer home, they “can’t be bothered.”
A hunting population, all the world over, is liable to periodic
famines, and the Pokao people are no exception. But so ingrained is
their laziness or indifference that they have been known to refuse to
send for food which they could have had for nothing. They preferred
to go hungry rather than take a monotonous tramp to obtain food.

Probably in no part of British New Guinea are markets so

numerous as in the Mekeo district. As markets are important factors
in the social evolution of a people, it would be well if some of the
residents in this district were to make a special study of the origin
and regulations of the various marketplaces.
Markets are held at Inawaia and Mohu every five days on the
banks of the river, and at various intervals at Inawi, Inawa, and Jesu
Baibua, to which the Bereina, Abiara, and Waima people come.
During the crab and crayfish season in the north-west monsoon,
these markets are also held every five days. Inawi and Inawa used
to fight Bereina, and trouble consequently often arose in the villages
on market days. To lessen this danger, the Government appointed a
market to be held in the forest between Inawa and Bereina. Roro has
no regular market, but there is a great market at the mouth of the
little river of Oriki, near Abiara.
Owing to the physical features of the locality, the villages have a
superfluity of some food, or have access to a speciality, or are
experts in a handicraft; these naturally form their stock-in-trade. For
instance, the Roro of the coast from Pinupaka, Rabao (Yule Island),
Marihau (Delena), and even the villages of Nabuapaka beyond
Delena, trade in crabs, crayfish, and mussels, as well as pottery, for
the taro, yams, sweet potatoes, sago, bananas, and areca nuts of
the Mekeo tribes as far inland as Rarai, at the foot of Kovio (Mount
Yule). Waima trade in coconuts; Waima, part of the Kivori, Bereina,
and Babiko provide yams and some sago. If a big feast is
approaching, the Mekeo people send for wallabies and cassowaries
to the villages of the rich game district on the other side of Hall
Sound, such as Pokao, Boinamai, Nabuapaka, and Biziu. Even the
Waima and Kivori and Bereina will send to Pokao for game, although
wallabies are obtained in the grassy plains round Bereina;
sometimes they get game from Kaima.
The natives of Rabao buy nose-skewers and arm-rings and other
shell ornaments from the Port Moresby villages, Pari, and other Motu
villages; feather ornaments, gourds, and forks from Mekeo;
petticoats from Kivori; and large bark belts from Toaripi. I believe
these are plain bark belts, as the Toaripi men obtain the decorated
bark belts which they wear from Vailala and Orokolo. The bows of
the district are mainly manufactured at Kaima.

On July 14th a messenger arrived early in the morning, having

very kindly been sent overland by Mr. Gors, of Port Moresby, to say
that the Alice May had been delayed on her way to call for us; so I
decided to make a trip inland, and had a chat with the Archbishop to
arrange details. It was settled that Brother Alexis should take us to
Veifaa, and we were to start by boat early in the afternoon with four
native carriers, so we hastily got our things together.
Unfortunately there was the usual delay in starting, owing to the
carriers not coming promptly from the village, but at last we got
away, and then unluckily the wind slackened.
However, in due time we reached Pinupaka, which is the port of
this district, owing to the shelter afforded by a sand spit jutting out
from a monotonous coast-line of miles upon miles of mangrove
swamps.
Pinupaka is a miserable village, and poor Brother George, who
had lived in the district for twelve years, looked wan and worn, as
well he may, living in this wretched fever-stricken hole. Two months
later the devoted Brother died of hæmaturia. At high tide the sea
comes up to the mission premises, not a clear healthy sea, but
muddy water from mangrove swamps. Brother George offered us
refreshment, but being desirous to push on we would not delay, for
every minute was precious.
Off we started at a rapid pace along a sand beach flanked by
mangroves. The sand was nearly black, and with but few shells or
stones. The land here appears to be sinking, as there are stumps of
mangroves exposed at low water, and many of the trees bordering
the beach are dead. I may say that there are several species of
mangroves, and those at Pinupaka are not the kind that encroach on
the sea and accumulate land in their wake.
After about three-quarters of an hour we reached the first creek or
mouth of a river, but in this part of the world the rivers themselves,
far inland, are also called “creeks.” We waded this bare-legged, and
continued as fast as possible, for the sun was setting and the tide
rising fast, and on a low, sandy, windward shore this combination
has a sinister meaning. The second creek was known to be deeper
than the first, and the tide was also higher, so we took off our scanty
clothing, rolling it up into bundles to hold over our heads. Wilkin and I
got along all right, but Ray, being shorter of stature, found himself
getting out of his depth, walking on shifting sand and buffeted by
breakers; so Wilkin and I each seized one of his arms, and this
enabled him to hold his own, and we all safely gained the opposite
side. In all these estuaries crocodiles abound, and we were very
thankful to have escaped these brutes. In the muddy water their
presence could not be seen, so there was no means of escaping
them should they happen to be present; but usually crocodiles avoid
noisy or numerous parties. By this time the sun had set, and the
short tropical twilight was too quickly passing, whilst we still had a
goodish bit of beach yet to traverse.
The tide was quickly gaining on the mangroves, and we had now
to watch our opportunity to bolt forward as a wave retreated, and
dodge up among the mangroves as it advanced; our progress was
therefore slow and laborious, as fallen trees put further difficulties in
our way. Eventually the high tide forced us altogether from the
beach, and we then took to the scrub and wended our way in the
dark till we came to another creek. After crossing this we halted and
put on socks and shoes, for the swamp was here crossed by a
“corduroy road,” that is, a road made of logs placed transversely and
kept more or less in position by upright stakes.
It was a comfort to get on firm earth again, and after a half-hour’s
walk through plantations we were right glad to reach the hospitable
house of Fathers Cochard and Burke at Mohu.
A glass of white wine kept us going till dinner was ready. We had
for dinner a mound bird (Megapodius), which Father Cochard had
shot that morning, and we all thoroughly enjoyed our well-earned
dinner. In the evening Ray gave a phonograph entertainment. On his
visit a few days earlier he recorded a speech by Matsu, the chief, in
which he exhorted the people to make the Government road, and
finished off with a hunting song. This speech sounded very fine; it
begins with the customary loud clearing of the throat, and the
sentences come in bursts, the intervals of silence being evidently
part of the orator’s art.
As soon as it was sufficiently light next morning I strolled round to
have a look at the village. There was a wonderful variety in the style
of its houses, perhaps more so than in any other village in British
New Guinea. On his previous visit Wilkin made notes of these and
photographed some of them.
The marea had an enormously long projecting gable, which slants
upwards. Suspended from various parts of the marea were long
grass fringes, and carved and painted wooden boards.
After an early breakfast we again started on our travels. The path
we followed was of dry mud and somewhat uneven, showing that it
must be very swampy in wet weather. All the country for many miles
round is low alluvial soil.
In forty minutes we reached Babiko, but had only time to glance at
the interesting marea. Half an hour later we struck the Government
road leading from the sea to Veifaa, the Government station of the
Mekeo district.
The road passed over a plain covered with a tall, coarse grass,
growing higher than our heads, and preventing any little wind there
was from reaching us. Fortunately the sky was cloudy, or it would
have been simply sweltering. There were numerous scattered trees,
a kind of eucalypt, a few pandanus, and occasional cycads. After
leaving this grassy plain our road lay through the forest. On first
entering the forest we passed through one of the smaller market
places which characterise this locality.
 PLATE XXII

MOHU, MEKEO DISTRICT

MAREA AT MOHU
 Women from different villages or districts meet at appointed
places, usually at the boundary between two tribes, and there barter
their specialities for commodities from other localities. The bartering
is done by women only, but they are accompanied by a few armed
men, who, however, do not go amongst the market women, but
stand a little way off. The men bring a drum with them, which is
beaten at the opening and close of the market.
The “market-place” we passed on this occasion was only a small
one, but round about were remnants of the simple booths that the
natives erect when trading. After traversing a small patch of forest
and a grass plain, we crossed a river by a good wooden bridge, and
shortly came to a large forest. There was another small market-place
where the road entered the forest.
It was very enjoyable walking along the shady forest paths, and
noting for the first time typical tropical scenery. The trees were tall,
but by no means gigantic. Some had slab-like buttresses, which the
natives utilise as boards; there were wild bread-fruit trees, with their
beautiful foliage of a deep, glossy green, but in this species covered
with inedible fruit; half a dozen different kinds of palms; ferns,
bamboos, and a great profusion of shrubs and plants.
Our road passed at one point close to the Angabunga (St. Joseph
River), a swiftly-running river of dirty water. It is a noteworthy fact
that in this district many words have the ng (as in “singing”), but this
peculiarity is scarcely found elsewhere in British New Guinea.
Although very common in the western tribe of Torres Straits, it does
not occur in Murray Island.
We had a short rest at Inawa. Whilst sitting on a platform of a
house in process of construction I saw a man cutting wooden arrow
points with a boar’s tusk, and bought the lot, much to his
amusement.
We reached Inawi at noon, and found there was to be a large
gathering of the Sacred Heart Missioners to celebrate an anniversary
of the founding of their mission at Inawi. After lunch Wilkin and I went
to the village, which consists of one long street, with three rows of
houses on each side, and a population of some four hundred people.
 There are several different types of houses here. The chief’s
house is a picturesque pile-dwelling, built in the form of a cross, and
adorned with long fringes of grass and carved and painted boards;
from one of the latter, hanging in front of the house, depended a
mask. Each chief in the Mekeo district builds a marea, and has his
own designs on it, which no one may copy, as this would constitute a
valid reason for a quarrel. The chief only has a right to hang a
painted board in front of his house; it is, in fact, a sign of
chieftainship, since when a chief is appointed he receives a board at
the same time.
In the Mekeo district there appear to be two main divisions of
family groups, each of which has its chief. I have more than once
alluded to a dual division of a community in this part of the world, but
here it seems to have been made the basis of a higher social
development than has been hitherto recorded in New Guinea. The
chief of one division is the war, or administrative chief; the other
headman is afu (or taboo) chief. The office of the latter is hereditary.
A somewhat similar division of function has occurred elsewhere.
To take two examples only: in ancient Gaul there were war chiefs
and peace chiefs; the sachem of certain North American aboriginees
was a peace chief. It is not improbable that in the afu chieftainship
we have the commencement of a priestly dynasty after the order of
Melchisedek, but at the Papuan stage of culture the secret of his
power is probably a magical control over harvests rather than the
authority due to purely religious functions. The mage has not yet
become a priest.
On December 6th, 1897, the afu chief of Inawi put afu (taboo) on
the coconuts and areca nuts, as these crops were failing in his
district. Brother Alexis, who happened to be there, described the
ceremony to me.
A small feast was made consisting of five pigs, five cassowaries,
and plenty of native food, i.e. yams, sweet potatoes, taro, bananas,
etc.; at about five o’clock Brother Alexis was invited to a place of
honour on the marea, and one pig, one cassowary ham, and two
banana leaves of native food were given him. The Afu chief of the
village then made a speech proclaiming afu, stating that the
coconuts and areca nuts would run short if this were not done. A
piece of cassowary and pig meat with native food was placed in
each person’s oro, or cooking-pot, and then the afu was planted.
This consisted of three bamboos, to the lower part of each was tied a
leaf of the sago palm, and coconuts were tied to the bamboos. The
bamboos were erected, grouped like a “Prince of Wales” feathers, to
the noise of conch shells and a wailing shout sounding like a siren.
So far as I could discover, the bull-roarer is not known in this district.
Leafy fringes, like women’s petticoats, were put round the supports
of the bamboos. (This afu still remained on the occasion of our visit,
except that the central bamboo had disappeared.) In the evening
there was a dance, and fifteen coconuts and a bunch of areca nuts
were given Brother Alexis.
For the three days following the ceremony the nuts might be
taken, but on the third day a small feast was held, and thenceforth
no nuts could be picked.

Fig. 28. Afu, or Taboo Signal, at Inawi

 Another family than that to which the afu chief belongs (there
seem to be only these two divisions or family groups in the village)
has the responsibility of seeing that the afu is observed, and some
fourteen or fifteen men of this group, called fulaari, form a sort of
constabulary. Every evening they go round the village armed with
clubs, and disguised either in masks similar to that which was
hanging up before the chief’s house, or they were so covered with
leaves as to be unrecognisable. At Waima all the enforcers
(kaivakuku) of a taboo wear masks (Pl. XXI., B, p. 256); at Inawa
and Veifaa they paint the face and cover up part of the body, but they
sometimes wear masks; at Aipiana they cover over the whole body
with leaves. In the Gulf district there are several important
ceremonies at which masks are employed; in the Mekeo district this
custom is in the various stages of attenuation and disappearance.
All the time the fulaari are in office they may not chew the betel
nut, nor drink coconut water, lest the areca and coco nuts should not
grow. They may not live with their wives; indeed, they may not even
look at a woman, and if they pass one they must keep their eyes on
the ground. Women must not go outside their houses whilst the
fulaari are going their rounds, but if a woman is seen, the fulaari
places his club at her feet, and she must remain standing there until
a fine has been paid for her. If the fulaari convict a man of eating the
tabooed nuts he is tied to the tree from which he gathered the
forbidden fruit, and is only released on the payment of a pig as a
fine.
The village from time to time gives presents of food to the fulaari.
When there is again a good show of nuts the afu chief proclaims
that on a particular day the restriction will be removed. We were at
Inawi on July 15th and 16th, and the 18th the taboo would be
removed from the nuts, after an interval of thirty-two weeks.
We saw the preparations for a big feast, for which eighty-six wild
boars had been caught, besides numerous kangaroos and a large
supply of native food. We were very sorry that we could not stay to
witness the feasting and dancing.
 During the afternoon and evening the missionaries arrived in
detachments, and our unexpected party of four rather complicated
Father Vitale’s arrangements, but he was so hospitable and friendly
and all were so kind that we did not feel de trop. We had two
interesting phonograph exhibitions in the afternoon and evening, and
one chief made a speech into it amid great excitement.
During our short stay at Inawi we bought a fair number of
ethnographical objects, especially lime gourds with burnt designs
and stone blades of the now obsolete stone adzes; no handles of
these were to be had. These stone adze heads were ruder than any
I had previously seen from New Guinea. The Papuan stone
implements are usually characterised by being neatly ground and
finely polished. These implements were roughly hewn and polished
only at the cutting edge.
We also bought some whipping-tops; these are common here, and
the following game is played. Two rows of four or five boys stand a
considerable distance apart; each lad spins his own top, and they
gradually increase the severity of the lashing, till the tops career in
mid air across the space between the two rows, the object being to
hit one of the opponent’s tops. When this is accomplished the
conqueror cries out, “Ango ango angaia!” (“My top has bitten you”).
The tops (ango ango) are conical pieces of wood about two and a
half to three inches in length.
The whips (ngapu ngapu) are ordinary pieces of stick or cane to
which a lash is attached composed of a three-ply plat of strips of
bark-cloth from the ipi tree. It is pretty certain that the whipping-top
has not been brought to New Guinea by the white man, for Dr.
Lawes has previously found it among the Kabadi tribe, where the
natives had not been under the influence of the foreigner.
The following day, July 16th, some of the missionaries arrived, and
all went to High Mass in the morning. We had so much else to do
that we thought it was not necessary to show our sympathy to the
extent of going to the service. We had quite a feast in the middle of
the day, and all were very merry. Just before grace after meat,
Brother Philip left the table, and in another part of the verandah
played the air of our National Anthem in honour of the guests. This
act of courtesy pleased us much.
In the afternoon we separated. Our party walked to Veifaa, a
distance of forty minutes only, making a slight détour on the way to
visit the village Aipiana. Veifaa was reached in good time for the
evening meal. The boys’ schoolhouse was placed at our disposal,
and three beds were put up for us in the inner room.
Sunday, July 17th.—We all went to early morning Mass, and Ray
afterwards exhibited the phonograph to a very large audience of
demonstrative, excitable natives and delighted missionaries. I was
particularly struck with the calm, strong, sweet face of the Sister
Superior. She is a Parisienne, with a narrow face and a finely-
shaped nose. The two Savoyarde Sisters contrasted with her in
having round faces and snubby noses; their more homely
countenances were brimful of simple-hearted kindliness. An
instructive demonstration of two European races when I was on the
look-out for a lesson in Papuan ethnology! The phonograph selection
was decidedly mixed, but that did not matter in the least. The Sisters
appeared most pleased with the European orchestral marches.
The people about here wear native clothing almost exclusively,
and it is, fortunately, quite rare to see a man or woman in European
garments. The men of the Mekeo district wear a wider perineal band
than is worn in the other places we visited, and these belts are here
prettily painted in a manner quite new to me, and we were fortunate
enough to secure several of them.
The women wear short black leaf petticoats, shorter than any we
had previously seen. I was informed that their dress in the mountains
is even scantier, as it consists merely of a broad perineal band.
The missionaries, wisely, do not care about introducing European
clothing into ordinary use, but they expect the women and girls to
wear calico gowns when attending the services. It was very comical
to see the women and girls, just before a service, go to the girls’
schoolhouse, bring out their gowns, or throw gowns to other women
waiting outside, and then proceed to dress themselves in the
courtyard. It was still funnier when, after the service, the reverse
process was gone through, and their native dress alone remained as
the garments of civilisation were doffed. Here, as in most other parts
of New Guinea, the women are extremely modest and virtuous,
another of the many examples that the amount of clothing worn
bears no relation whatever to modesty, though prudery is usually
developed in direct proportion to dress.
Our host knew I was very anxious to obtain ethnographical
specimens from this place, and made no difficulty whatever about
our trading on Sunday, as “ours were not commercial transactions.”
Indeed after service the good Father told his congregation to bring
us things for sale, and thus we obtained a fair number of specimens,
chiefly lime gourds and belts. Father Bouellat persuaded two girls to
stand still whilst I copied their tattoo patterns.
In the afternoon I made friends with the children, who played some
of their own games for us. For the first time I saw children playing
games that mimicked the hunting expeditions of their fathers. In this
instance a pig hunt and a kangaroo drive were very vividly acted.
The “kangaroos” hopped about on the grass, some hid under
bushes. They were stalked and surrounded by “men,” and a rush
was made, and the flying kangaroos were chased all over the
ground. “Man” and “kangaroo” would tumble about in a close
embrace, the latter giving characteristic vigorous backward kicks
with his legs.
The “pigs” walked about on all fours, hands and feet. They were
chased by “men” with sticks to represent spears. When the men
came close to the pigs, the latter jerked their heads sideways with an
upward movement, as if trying to rip up the men with their tusks. One
pig was eventually captured, and two boys got a pole and the pig
clasped it with his hands and hooked his knees ever it, his body
hanging down, and so, like a tied-up pig, he was carried to a place
where some boys had laid sticks across one another to represent a
fire. The pig was placed on this amid much laughter. The shouting
and noise during these games was considerable.
 Fig. 29. Boys at Veifaa dressed up as Fulaari

Various other games were played, and towards the end of the
afternoon several boys ran off and stayed away some time. When
they returned they presented a remarkable appearance. They had
bound round their bodies and limbs green or sere banana leaves,
and looked for all the world like miniature knights of old in leafy
armour. The head was entirely covered, the leaves in some cases
being prolonged above into a long spike, like certain helmets. Flaps
hung down from all the head-pieces like frilled capes. One or two
boys had a fringe round the waist, and all had leaves radiating from
their ankles; which gave them a very curious appearance, so that
they looked like Cochin China fowls. Usually the hands were
swathed in green strips, and the bandaging of the right arm was
continued in some on to a stick held in the hand, so that it was
uninterruptedly swathed.
The boys thus grotesquely accoutred chased the girls about and
made them scream. These naughty little fellows were mimicking the
fulaari of Aipiana!
 I was immensely pleased to see an existing important social
function imitated by children, and the game presumably also gave us
an idea of what the real costume was like. We measured a few men
in this village, and altogether had a most enjoyable and instructive
time.
We started about 7 a.m. on Monday, July 18th, after breakfast,
intending to visit Waima (Maiva) viâ Bereina; but at Inawi we
received an urgent message from Yule Island that the Alice May had
arrived there, and would sail on the 19th. This necessitated our
giving up the much-desired visit to Waima, and returning instead to
Yule Island. We therefore retraced our walk of Friday, except that we
kept to the Government road leading direct to the sea. As it was low
water the three creeks we had to cross presented no difficulties, but
Brother Alexis was very exhausted when we reached Pinupaka at 4
p.m., after our eighteen miles’ walk, as he was suffering from an
attack of fever.
Brother George gave us a good meal, and we then had three and
a half hours’ beat to windward in the small Mission cutter, not arriving
at the Mission on Yule Island till after 10 p.m. All had gone to bed by
that time, but a frugal supper was somehow raked together, and we
then retired, fairly tired out by our long day.
Next morning we spent in packing, as Captain Inman wished to
start early in the day, and we left the good Fathers and Brothers, with
very pleasant memories of the kindness and hospitality of all the
members of the Sacred Heart Mission.
Before we left Yule Island for our little inland trip a Sister from
Veifaa arrived very ill indeed. She was carried in a hammock by
some natives, and shielded from the sun by a Sister holding an
umbrella. So far as Father Guis could tell, she suffered from acute
rheumatism, dropsy, and malarial fever. It seems a pity that with so
many missionaries of both sexes there should not be one qualified
medical man, or at all events one who has especially studied
medicine. Father Guis has a very good practical knowledge of
diseases and their treatment, but it is scarcely fair to expect an
accomplished literary man to be responsible for the health and lives
of his colleagues in so unhealthy a district. It would also seem
desirable that the Brothers, who are often untutored working men,
should be ordered to take more precautions, and especially to be
careful as to the quality of their drinking water.
Part II
 CHAPTER XVIII
JOURNEY FROM KUCHING TO BARAM

We left Singapore at ten o’clock of the morning of December 10th,

on the Vorwärts, and arrived at Kuching about 1.30 on the 12th. The
voyage up the twenty-three miles of the Sarawak river was charming
as the steamer glided along between the fringe of nipa palms and
other luxuriant vegetation.
Immediately on landing I called on the Honourable C. A.
Bampfylde, the Resident of the division, and who was acting for the
Rajah, who was then in England. He kindly invited us to stay with
him for a few days, and we had luxurious quarters in a most lovely
garden, with a lawn that would not disgrace a Cambridge college,
surrounded by choice shrubs and trees, conspicuous among the
latter being a kind of areca palm that has a brilliant red stem.
The various members of the British population were very kind and
hospitable, and did their best to render our stay in Kuching
enjoyable, and we look back upon our visit to Kuching with
considerable pleasure.
Dr. A. J. G. Barker, the principal medical officer of Sarawak,
entertained Seligmann, and the two doctors had great talks about
the tropical diseases in which they were both so keenly interested.
Sarawak is to be congratulated on having so able and enthusiastic a
medical officer as Dr. Barker unquestionably is. Seligmann took
advantage of his stay in Kuching to visit a friend in the Land Dayak
country.
Ray stayed at the hotel and spent most of his time in studying the
Malay language.
Mr. R. Shelford put me up, and we both enjoyed talking about
Bornean natural history and over mutual Cambridge friends. As there
was no chance of our getting away from Kuching for nearly three
weeks, I devoted my time to work in the museum and in laying a
foundation for a study of the decorative art of the natives of Sarawak.
I photographed nearly a hundred Sea Dayak fabrics, and recorded
the names of a large number of the designs on them.
The Resident gave his customary usual Christmas Eve dinner to
his colleagues and friends, to which we were invited, and Mr. Smith,
the then Manager of the Sarawak branch of the Borneo Company,
invited us to his usual New Year’s Eve dinner, when we again met
“everybody,” and saw the old year out in the orthodox fashion. Mr.
Smith’s garden is on a height that overlooks Kuching and the river. In
a township of beautiful gardens this was noted for its orchids, and
the plants in Mr. Smith’s garden truly were a sight to behold,
especially one avalanche of the trailing flower spikes of an
Arachnanthe Lowii, which reached a length of some fourteen feet.
The annual regatta took place on Monday, the 2nd of January. The
poop deck of the Vorwärts was the grand stand, and most of the
white inhabitants were there.
It was a very gay and animated scene, on the shore crowds of
quiet people in all kinds of gay dress and undress. On the water
were boats of every size, from a tiny dug-out canoe that could
scarcely support even a light native to canoes cut out of giants of the
forests that would hold fifty to sixty men two abreast. These darted
about hither and thither, smoothly gliding like fish or rampaging with
flashing paddles and spurting spray.
The natives in the boats gave themselves up to exuberant
pleasure, and there was no lack of shouting and merriment. There
were large numbers of roofed boats in which one could get
occasional glimpses of bedecked and bejewelled women and girls;
nor were they ill provided with good things to eat. We could
imperfectly see one gorgeously dressed woman in one of the
covered boats eating her tiffin with a metal spoon. Some native
nurses on board the steamer, who were looking after the children,
were greatly interested to discover who could be showing off in this
way by eating like a white woman, and they threw pieces of cake at
the boat in order to attract the attention of the woman, who was
hidden under the low roof of the boat. At length their tactics were
successful, and on her showing herself they made grimaces at her.

PLATE XXIII

REGATTA AT KUCHING