by Louis Becke
BOBARAN
When our boat touched the beach in front of the trader's house just asthe dawn was breaking, I thought Kabaira Bay one of the loveliest placesin the Pacific, and said so to the man I had been sent to relieve. Hequite concurred in my opinion of the beauties of the scenery, but saidthat he was very glad to get away. Then, being a cheerful man, thoughgiven to unnecessary blasphemy, like most South Sea Island traders, hetook me out to the rich garden at the back of the station and showedme the grave of his predecessor, who had died of fever a year before.Further on, but outside the enclosing fence, were some more graves, hesaid.
'Whose?' I asked.
'Captain Murray's, his mate's, and two of his cutter's crew.'
'Fever?'
'No,' he replied, with some slight surprise at my ignorance; 'thenatives killed 'em a couple o' years ago. An', see, just over there byPoint Luen, is the Hon. Mr Willington's house. He was a nephew of LordL------. I goes there sometimes and rips a board out o' the floor when Iwants one.' ^
'Mr Wellington gone away?' My friend _was_ surprised this time. 'Why,you _must_ be a new chum in New Britain. Why, Willington ain't dead sixmonths.' 'Fev--'
'Fever be -------. No, he got speared when he was lying in his bunkreadin' a book one night. _I_ told him that the niggers would pay himout for a-playin' crooked with em'; but he was too cock-a-hoopy tolisten to a feller like me.'
'Any more white men buried in Kabaira? 'I asked after a while, as wewalked back to the house to take stock of my host's trade goods.
'No, that's all that's planted here--at least, all I know of, and I'vebeen here, in New Britain, five years. There's been a good many Dutchmenkilled on the coast here, and over in New Ireland, but I didn't knowany of 'em. An' they're such a silly lot o' duffers, that they reg'lartempts these New Britain niggers to kill 'em; and then the beggars, notknowing an Englishman from a Dutchman, are ready to murder anyone witha white skin. So you look out, young feller. These niggers here are arotten bad lot. But I'll interdooce yer to Bobaran. He's the biggestcut-throat of em' all; but he an' me is good pals, and onct you'vesquared him you're pretty safe. Got plenty fever medicine?' 'Lots.''Liquor?' 'Case of gin.'
'That'll keep you clear o' fever as much as anything, as long as thecase lasts. Always drink some when it's raining.' (It usually rainednine days out of ten in New Britain). 'Now we'll take stock. I can tellyou I'm mighty glad to clear out o' this place--an' so will you be in acouple o' months, if--you're alive.'
Having thus, in cheerful converse, somewhat enlightened me as to thepeculiar characteristics of Kabaira Bay and its inhabitants, my friendhad breakfast cooked, and whilst we were eating it, sent a messenger forhis friend Bobaran to come and make the acquaintance of the new whiteman. During breakfast the trader gave me much further information, allof which, as a man new to the ropes, I was very glad to obtain. Kabaira,I already knew (I had but just arrived in New Britain from EasternPolynesia), was the 'furthest out' trading station on the great island,which, at that time, had barely thirty white men living on it; most ofthese were settled on Gazelle Peninsula, and a few on the Duke of YorkIsland, midway between the northern point of New Britain and mountainousNew Ireland. My nearest neighbour lived at Kabakada, a populous nativetown ten miles away. My host told me that this man was 'a noisy, drunkenlittle swine,' the which assertion I subsequently found to be absolutelycorrect. Further on, five miles from Kabakada, was another trader namedBruno Ran, a hard-working Swiss; then, after rounding Cape Stephens,was the large German trading station of Matupi in Blanche Bay, where youcould buy anything from a needle to a chain cable. On the Duke of YorkIsland was another trading station, and also the Wesleyan Mission, whichas yet had made but few converts in New Britain; and over in New Irelandwere a few scattered English traders, who sometimes sailed over on avisit to their dangerously-situated fellow-countrymen in the big island.
For dangerous indeed was the daily existence of traders in those thenlittle-known islands. But money was to be made, and men will dare muchto make money quickly, even though at the risk of their lives. As forthe natives of New Britain, a few words will suffice. They were the mostunmitigated savages, cowardly and treacherous, and with the exception ofthe people of the villages in the vicinity of Blanche Bay, whose womenwore a scanty girdle of leaves of the plant _Cordyline terminalis_,they passed their lives in a state of stark nudity. Their dwellingsand canoes were of the poorest description, but their plantations andgardens were highly cultivated, and marvels of incessant and intelligentlabour. For human life they had no regard; in fact, a pig was worth morethan a man, except among those tribes where a man who weighed more thana pig would be more valuable as food. At the present time things haveimproved on the Gazelle Peninsula, but along the coast-line, which tothe westward stretches for over two hundred miles towards New Guinea,matters have not changed. As for their personal appearance, it is simplyhideous. Take the biggest anthropoid ape, stain his teeth black and hislips scarlet, stick a wig of matted greasy curls on his head, and puthalf a dozen slender spears in his right paw, and you have an idea ofa New Britain nigger--a 'brand,' according to missionary ethics, whoshould be plucked from the burning, but whom the Christian of ordinaryintelligence would cheerfully watch burning until he was reduced to acinder.
Just as we had finished breakfast, Bobaran came in and squatted on theflour. Being a man of rank and influence, he was privileged, and allowedto carry his arms with him inside the trader's house. These consistedof five spears, one long-handled ebony-wood club, with a huge jade head,and a horse-pistol, which was fastened to a leather belt around hisnaked waist. His fuzzy wool was dyed a bright brick red colour andtwisted into countless little curls which, hanging over his beetling andexcessively dirty black forehead, almost concealed his savage eyes, andharmonised with his thick, betel-stained lips and cavernous, grip-sackmouth. Around his arms were two white circlets of shell, and dependingfrom his bull-like neck a little basket containing betel-nut and lime.He certainly was a most truculent-looking scoundrel. Nevertheless,I shook hands with him cordially, and he agreed, for certainconsiderations, to look after me, find me in food, warn me of any dangerthat might impend, and also to murder anyone with whom I might feelannoyed, for a fixed but very small remuneration. In proof whereof ofthis alliance, and as a token of amity and goodwill, Parker (thetrader) presented him with a small tin of ship biscuit, four dynamitecartridges, a dozen boxes of matches and a bottle of a villainous Germanliquor called 'Corn Schnapps.' Then the atrocity stood up and embracedme, and asked me to show him my firearms. His fierce eyes gleamedwith pleasure as he turned them about in his filthy paws, and he wasespecially pleased with the size of a Sharp's rifle cartridge and bulletwhich would, he grinned, 'make big fellow hole in man.' Then, withfurther expressions of goodwill on both sides, we parted.
At dusk Parker bade me good-bye, and urging me to put the utmostconfidence in Bobaran and drink plenty of gin whenever it rained--tokeep the fever from 'gettin' holt' of my system--he walked down to thebeach and stepped into the boat. For a few minutes I stood watching tillhe was hidden from view by a point of land, and then, feeling somewhatdepressed at my future loneliness, I walked back to the house.
Bobaran, the Mesdames Bobaran (three), and the Masters and MissesBobaran were sitting on the verandah awaiting me. None of them were asmuch dressed as their father, who had, as I have said, a leather beltaround his loins, and all were chewing betel-nut and expectorating thescarlet juice thereof vigorously about the premises. Being aware of thefact that a New Britain woman is never abroad at night, and a man butseldom, I was surprised at such a family gathering, for the village wassome distance away. Bobaran, however, explained that as he and twoof his sons intended keeping guard for me that night, the rest of thefamily had come with them--and that they should like some tobacco.
Leaving his wives and children outside to smoke, my protector cameinto the sitting-room, and as he had acquired a considerable amount ofunpolished sailor man's English, I found him very entertaining and alsoin
structive. First he told me that the Kabaira people were perfectlysafe; it was a very peaceful village, and the people liked white men,and he hoped I would not carry arms whenever I went out--it made themfrightened, and when people were frightened of a man they naturallytried to kill him. Agreed to. Secondly, they were not cannibals--alltheir neighbours were, however. (I said I was pleased to hear it, nodoubt someone had maligned them.) But they were all thieves, and I musttake prompt action to prevent myself from being robbed--(here one of hiswives crept to the door on all fours and asked her lord and master fora match, but was struck with great violence in the mouth with an emptysalmon tin instead, for interrupting). To-morrow I should do as 'Parka'did the day he came to Kabaira. I must go down to the beach with adynamite cartridge in my hand and seek for a place where there wasplenty of fish. And I must have another cartridge ready in my pocket.As soon as the first shot went off hundreds of natives would jump in thewater and try to steal all the best fish. Then I was to light the fuseof the second cartridge and throw it in. And it would be sure to hurt_some_ of the people, and they would not follow me next time I wentfishing. But, of course, if I _should_ happen to kill anyone, I wouldpay for it?
'Of course I would,' I said. 'How much?'
'Big feller man, one good musket; boy, one axix' (axe); 'old woman, oldfeller, musket; young girl, one good musket.'
Then he approached me on a delicate subject, i.e., the taking over ofmy predecessor's harem of three native women. I explained that I wasexpecting my wife down soon from Samoa and couldn't do it. He said itwas a great pity, as one of 'Parka's' wives could make tea andcook meat. Also, that I need be under no fear of her making anyunpleasantness when my wife turned up. Would I like to see the girl?'Parka' had taught her a lot of things. She did not oil her hair withpigeon fat, and cleaned her teeth every day just like a Samoan girl.Also, she had ten coils of _dewarra_ (cowrie shells threaded on themidribs of the coco-nut leaf, and used as the native currency). I saidI was very much tempted, but thought I had better not. He looked at mesteadily for a few seconds, as he thrust a fresh 'chaw' of betel-nutand lime into his hideous mouth, and said that I was missing a greatchance--there were plenty of white men along the coast who would be gladto get anyone of 'Parka's' wives, especially she who could make tea andcook meat.
He seemed pleased that I was disposed to be as liberal-handed as Parker,for whom he seemed to have a high regard; and then proceeded to tell meof some of his own exploits among the inhabitants of Mutavat, a villageacross the bay, which was at enmity with Kabaira. The infinite gustowith which he related a series of atrocious murders gave me a chill, andhe looked like an evil spirit when his great red lips parted in a grinand revealed his black teeth. Presently he asked me if I had shotany people; and when I said I had not, he became regretful, but soonbrightened up again and said I would have plenty of chances yet.
There were some bush villages, to which he would take me some day, andif we were careful we could knock over two or three people easily; theywere a bad lot these 'man-a-bush' (bush-men).
At ten o'clock I turned in, and Bobaran, after an animated conversationwith his family, lay down at my door with a Snider rifle and hishorse-pistol by his side.
And for many long, weary months, in the beautiful but fever-riddenKabaira Bay, he was the only person to whom I could talk; and in time Ibegan to take a liking to him, for I found him, as Parker had told me,'a thunderin' old cut-throat, but as straight as a die to a white manwho acts straight to him.'