Of these islets, mere fragments of atolls, or summits of submarine mountains, fringed with coral, there are none that measure more than a hundred and fifty superficial kilometres. This political domain England has annexed to her colonial empire. If the Fijians have at length decided to submit to a British Protectorate, it is because they were in 1859 threatened with a Tongan invasion, which was checked by the United Kingdom. The archipelago is divided into seventeen districts, administered by the native chiefs, more or less related to the royal family of the last King, Thakumbau.
“Is it the consequence of the English system,” asked Commodore Simcoe, who was talking on this subject with Frascolin, “that the Fijis will be like Tasmania? I do not know, but it is certain that the natives are disappearing. The colony does not prosper, nor does the population increase, as is shown by the numerical inferiority of the women compared to the men.”
“That is a sign of the approaching extinction of a race,” said Frascolin; “and in Europe there are already a few States which this inferiority menaces.”
“Here,” said the commodore, “the natives are really but serfs, like the natives of the neighbouring islands, recruited by the planters for the work of clearing the ground. Diseases decimate them, and in 1875 small-pox swept off more than thirty thousand. But it is an admirable country, as you can see. If the temperature is high in the interior of the islands, it is at least moderate on the shore. The country is very fertile in fruits and vegetables, in trees—cocoanut trees, bananas, etc. There is little more than the trouble of gathering the yams and taros, and the nourishing sap of the palm which produces sago.”
“Sago!” exclaimed Frascolin, “what a remembrance of our Swiss Family Robinson ‘!”
“As to the pigs and the fowls,” said the commodore, “these animals have multiplied since their importation with extraordinary prolificness. They furnish all the means of subsistence. Unfortunately, the natives are inclined to indolence, although they are intelligent and witty.”
“And as they have high spirits—” said Frascolin.
“The children amuse themselves,” replied Commodore Simcoe.
In fact, all these natives, Polynesians, Melanesians, and others, are nothing but children.
In approaching Viti-Levu, Floating Island sighted many intermediate islands, such as Vanua-Vatu, Moala, Ngau, without stopping at them.
From all parts came scudding along the coast flotillas of those long out-rigger canoes with intersecting bamboos, which serve to maintain the equilibrium of the vessel and carry the cargo. They were gracefully handled, but did not seek to enter Starboard Harbour or Larboard Harbour. Probably they would not have been allowed to on account of the evil reputation of these Fijians. These natives have embraced Christianity, it is true. Since the European missionaries established themselves at Lecumba, in 1835, they have nearly all become Wesleyans, mingled with a few thousand Catholics. But previously they were so addicted to the practice of cannibalism that perhaps they have not yet quite lost the taste for human flesh. Besides, it is a matter of religion. Their gods love blood. Kindness is regarded among these people as weakness, and even sin. To eat an enemy is to do him honour. They cook the man they despise, but they do not eat him. Children furnished the principal joints at their festivities, and the time is not so distant when King Thakumbau delighted to sit under a tree, from every branch of which hung a human limb reserved for the royal table. Sometimes a tribe—as happened to the Nulocas in Viti-Levu near Namosi—was devoured completely except a few females, one of whom died in 1880
Decidedly if Pinchinat did not meet on one of these islands the grandchildren of cannibals retaining the customs of their ancestors, he would have to give up asking for local colour in these archipelagoes of the Pacific.
The western group of the Fijis comprises two large islands, Viti-Levu and Vanua-Levu, and two smaller islands, Kandavu and Taviuni. More to the north-west lie the Wassava Islands and the Ronde Passage, by which Commodore Simcoe would make his way out towards the New Hebrides.
On the afternoon of the 25th of January the heights of Viti-Levu appeared on the horizon. This mountainous island is the largest of the archipelago, being a third larger than Corsica. Its peaks run from twelve to fifteen hundred metres above the level of the sea. These are volcanoes, extinct, or rather dormant, and apt to be disagreeable when they wake up. Viti-Levu has an area of six thousand four hundred and seventy-five square kilometres, and is connected with Vanua-Levu, its neighbour to the north, by a submarine barrier of reefs, which were doubtless above water when the land was formed. Above this barrier Floating Island could venture without danger. To the north of Viti-Levu the depths are estimated at from four to five hundred metres, and to the south from five hundred metres to two thousand.
Formerly the capital of the archipelago was Levuka, in the island of Ovalau, to the east of Viti-Levu. Perhaps the offices founded by English houses are still more important than those of Suva, the present capital, in the island of Viti-Levu. But the harbour of the latter has many advantages, being situated at the south-east extremity of the island, between two deltas. The port of call used by steamers in the Fijis occupies the head of Ngalao Bay, at the south of the island of Kandavu, the position of which is the nearest to New Zealand, Australia, and the French islands of New Caledonia and the Loyalties.
Floating Island stopped at the mouth of Suva harbour. The formalities were completed the same day and free pratique was accorded. As the visit would be a source of profit to both colonists, and natives, the Milliardites were sure of an excellent welcome, in which there was probably more interest than sympathy.
Next day, the 26th of January, the tradesmen of Floating Island who had purchases to make or sales to effect went ashore early in the morning. The tourists, and among them our Parisians, were almost as early. Although Pinchinat and Yvernès made fun of Frascolin—the distinguished pupil of Commodore Simcoe—concerning his ethno-geographical studies, they none the less availed themselves of his knowledge. To the questions of his comrades on the inhabitants of Viti-Levu, their customs, their practices, the replies of the second violin were always instructive. Sebastien Zorn did not disdain to refer to him occasionally, and when Pinchinat learnt that these regions were not long ago the principal theatre of cannibalism, he could not restrain a sigh as he said:
“Yes—but we shall arrive too late, and you will see that these Fijians, enervated by civilization, have come down to fricasseed fowl and pigs’ feet à la Sainte Menehould!”
“Cannibal!” exclaimed Frascolin, “you deserve to have figured on the table of King Thakumbau. Ah! ah! Entrecote de Pinchinat à la Bordelaise.”
“Come,” said Sebastien Zorn, “if we are to waste our time in these useless recriminations—”
“We shall make no progress by a forward movement,” said Pinchinat. “That is the sort of phrase you like, isn’t it, my old Violoncelluloidist? Well, forward, march!”
The town of Suva, built on the right of a little bay, has its buildings scattered on the back of a green hill. It has quays for mooring ships, roads furnished with plank sideways, like the beaches of our large bathing places. The wooden houses have but one floor; a few of them have two floors, but all are cheerful and fresh-looking. In the suburbs the native huts display their gable-ends raised into horns and ornamented with shells. The roofs are substantial, to resist the winter rains from May to October, which fall in torrents. In fact in March, 1871, according to Frascolin, who was very strong on statistics, Mbua, situated in the east of the island, had a rainfall in one day of thirty-eight centimetres.
Viti-Levu, like the other islands of the archipelago, is subject to great differences in climate, and the vegetation differs on each shore. On the side exposed to the southeast trades the atmosphere is humid, and magnificent forests cover the soil. On the other side are immense savannahs suitable for cultivation. But it is noticeable that certain trees tend to disappear, among others the sandal-wood, almost entirely exhausted, and also the
dakua, a pine peculiar to Fiji.
However, in their promenades, the quartette discovered that the flora of the island is of tropical luxuriance. Everywhere are forests of cocoanut trees and palms, their trunks covered with parasitic orchids, clumps of casuarinas, pandanus, acacias, tree ferns, and in the marshy parts numbers of mangrove trees with roots winding out of the ground. But the cultivation of cotton and tea has not given the results the climate had led people to expect. The soil of Viti-Levu, as in the rest of the group, is clayey and yellowish in colour, formed of volcanic cinders to which decomposition has given the productive qualities.
The fauna is not more varied than in other parts of the Pacific; some forty species of birds, acclimatized parrots and canaries, bats, rats in legions, reptiles of non-venomous species, much appreciated by the natives from a commissariat point of view, lizards, and horrible cockroaches of cannibalistic voracity. But of wild beasts there were none which provoked this sally from Pinchinat.
“Our Governor, Cyrus Bikerstaff, should have kept a few lions, tigers, panthers, crocodiles, and landed these useful carnivores in the Fijis. It would be a curious experiment in acclimatisation.”
The natives, of mixed Polynesian and Melanesian race, still yield some fine examples, less remarkable, however, than those of Samoa and the Marquesas. The men are copper-coloured, almost black, their heads covered with a thick mass of hair, among them being a number of half-breeds, and they are tall and strong. Their clothing is rudimentary enough, oftenest being but mere cotton drawers made of the native fabric called “masi,” produced by a species of mulberry tree, which also produces paper. In its first stage this fabric is quite white, but the Fijians know how to dye it and stripe it, and it is in demand in all the archipelagoes of the Eastern Pacific. It must be added that the men do not disdain to clothe themselves, when opportunity offers, in old European garments sent out from the old clothes stores of the United Kingdom or Germany. A fine field for joking was thus offered to a Parisian, when he saw these Fijians clad in worn-out trousers, a great-coat the worse for age, and even a black coat, which, after many phases of decadence, had come to end its days on the back of a native of Viti-Levu.
“You might make a romance out of one of those coats!” observed Yvernès.
“A romance that might end in a waistcoat.” replied Pinchinat.
The women have the short petticoat and masi jacket, which they wear in a fashion more or less decent. They are well-built, and with the attractions of youth some of them might pass for pretty. But what a detestable habit they have—as have also the men—in plastering their hair with lime so as to form a sort of calcareous hat to preserve themselves against sunstroke. And then they smoke as much as their husbands and brothers the tobacco of the country, which has the odour of burning hay, and when the cigarette is not between their teeth it is stuck into the lobe of their ears in the place where in Europe you have the pendants of diamonds and pearls.
In general these women are reduced to the condition of slaves, doing the hardest of household work, and the time is not distant when, after toiling to encourage the indolence of their husband, they were strangled on his tomb.
On many occasions, during the three days they devoted to their excursions round Suva, our tourists endeavoured to visit the native huts. They were repulsed, not by the inhospitality of their owners, but by the abominable odour that was given forth. All these natives, rubbed over with cocoanut oil, live in promiscuity with the pigs, the fowls, the dogs, the cats, in evil-smelling huts, the choking light being obtained by burning the resinous gum of the dammana. No! They could not stop there. And if they had taken their places at the Fijian fireside, would they not, at the risk of failing in politeness, have had to steep their lips in the bowl of kava, the special Fijian drink? Though extracted from the dried bark of the pepper plant, this pimentoed kava is unpleasing to European palates owing to the way in which it is prepared. Is it not enough to provoke the most insurmountable repugnance? They do not grind their pepper, they chew it, they triturate it through their teeth, then they spit it out into the water in a vase, and offer it you with a savage insistence that will hardly bear refusal. And nothing remains but to thank them by pronouncing these words, which are current in the archipelago, E mana ndina, otherwise amen.
Do not let us forget the cockroaches which swarm in the huts, the white ants which devastate them, and mosquitoes—mosquitoes in thousands—that can be seen on the walls, on the ground, on the clothes in innumerable bands.
CHAPTER IX.
WHILE our artistes were passing their time in walking about, and taking note of the customs of the archipelago, a few notables of Floating Island had not disdained to enter into communication with the native authorities of the archipelago. The “papalangis,” as strangers are called in these islands, had no fear of being badly received.
During the stay the Tankerdon and Coverley families organized excursions in the neighbourhood of Suva, and in the forests which clothe its heights up to their topmost peaks.
And with regard to this, the superintendent made a very just observation to his friends the quartette.
“If our Milliardites are so fond of these excursions into high altitudes, it shows that Floating Island is not sufficiently undulating. It is too flat, too uniform. But I hope that some day we shall have an artificial mountain, rivalling the loftiest summits of the Pacific. Meanwhile, every time they have an opportunity our citizens are eager to ascend a few hundred feet, and breathe the pure and refreshing air of space. It meets a want of human nature.”
“Very well,” said Pinchinat. “But a suggestion, my dear Eucalistus! When you build your mountain in sheet steel or aluminium, do not forget to put a nice volcano inside it—a volcano with plenty of fireworks.”
“And why, Mr. Facetious?” replied Calistus Munbar.
“And why not?” replied his Highness.
As a matter of course Walter Tankerdon and Miss Coverley took part in these excursions arm-in-arm.
The curiosities of the capital of Viti-Levu were visited, their “mbure-kalou,” the temples of the spirits, and also the place used for the political assemblies. These constructions, raised on a base of dry stones, are composed of plaited bamboos, of beams covered with a sort of vegetable lace-work, of laths ingeniously arranged to support the thatch of the roofs. The tourists went to see the hospital, the botanic garden, laid out like an amphitheatre, behind the town. These walks often lasted until late, and the tourists returned, lantern in hand, as in the good old times.
And Captain Sarol and his Malays and the New Hebrideans embarked at Samoa. What were they doing during this stay? Nothing out of their usual way. They did not go ashore, knowing Viti-Levu and its neighbours, some by having frequented these parts during their coasting cruises, others by having worked there for the planters. They very much preferred to remain on Floating Island, exploring it in every part—town, harbours, park, country, and batteries. A few weeks more, and thanks to the kindness of the company, thanks to Governor Cyrus Bikerstaff these fellows would land in their own country, after a sojourn of five months on Floating Island.
Occasionally our artistes talked to Sarol, who was very intelligent, and spoke English fluently. Sarol spoke to them enthusiastically of the New Hebrides, of the natives of the group, of their way of living, their cooking—which interested his Highness particularly. The secret ambition of Pinchinat was to discover some new dish, the recipe for which he could communicate to the gastronomic societies of Old Europe.
On the 30th of January, Sebastien Zorn and his comrades, at whose disposal the Governor put one of the electric launches of Starboard Harbour, went away with the intention of ascending the course of the Rewa, one of the principal rivers of the Island. The captain of the launch, an engineer, and two sailors were on board, with a Fijian pilot. In vain had Athanase Dorérnus been asked to join the excursionists; the feeling of curiosity was extinct in the professor of dancing and deportment. And then, during his absence, a pupil might
apply, and he would therefore rather not leave the dancing-room.
At six o’clock in the morning, well armed, and furnished with a few provisions, for they would not return until the evening, the launch left the Bay of Suva, and ran along the coast to the bay of the Rewa.
Not only reefs, but sharks showed themselves in great numbers in these parts, and as much care had to be taken of one as of the other.
“Phew!” said Pinchinat. “Your sharks are only saltwater cannibals! I’ll undertake to say that those fellows have lost the taste for human flesh.”
“Do not trust them,” replied the pilot, “any more than you would trust the Fijians of the interior.”
Pinchinat contented himself with shrugging his shoulders. He was getting weary of these pretended cannibals, who did not even become cannibalistic on festival days!
The pilot was thoroughly acquainted with the bay and the course of the Rewa. Up this important river, called also the Wai-Levu, the tide is apparent for a distance of forty-five kilometres, and vessels can go up as far as eighty.
The width of the Rewa exceeds two hundred yards at its mouth. It runs between sandy banks, low on the left, steep on the right, from which the banana and cocoanut trees rise luxuriantly from a wide stretch of verdure. Its name is Rewa-Rewa, conformably to that duplication of the word which is almost general among the people of the Pacific. And, as Yvernès remarked, is this not an imitation of the childish pronunciation one finds in such words as papa, dada, bonbon, etc.? In fact, these natives have barely emerged from childhood.
The true Rewa is formed by the Wai-Levu (the great water) and the Wai-Manu, and its principal mouth bears the name of Wai-Ni-Ki.
After the circuit of the delta, the launch ran past the village of Kamba, half hidden in its basket of flowers. It did not stop here, so as to lose nothing of the flood-tide, nor did it stop at the village of Naitasiri. Besides, at this epoch the village had been declared “taboo,” with its houses, its trees, its inhabitants, up to the waters of the Rewa which bathed its beach. The natives would permit no one to set foot in it.