Seven Legs Across the Seas Part 20

Nukualofa, the capital, our next stop, is 1,100 miles from Auckland, New Zealand. Europeans there do not exceed 75 persons, but the native population is comparatively large. The King's palace and the Chapel Royal are the most conspicuous buildings in the town. A royal guard, consisting of half a dozen brown-skinned soldiers, dressed in scarlet coats, see that their king nor his property are molested. The king is a man of striking appearance, six feet four inches in height, very stout, and in the forties. The line of succession in Tonga pa.s.ses through the mother, not the father. King George Tubou II.'s salary is $10,000 a year. The Tonga group is the only independent kingdom now left in the Pacific.

Gra.s.s grows everywhere in Nukualofa, including the streets. A buggy, drawn by a small, woolly horse, may pa.s.s half a dozen times a day along the main streets, or a native on horseback, with a flaring-colored shirt, may create a little temporary excitement occasionally dashing along a thoroughfare as fast as the horse's legs can carry him. Children do not appear to quarrel, roosters seemed to be imbued with the spirit of peace, and the weather is generally too hot for dogs to have a fall out; so one going to Nukualofa with distracted nerves is apt to feel stronger after a stay in the Tongan capital. To borrow from Samoa, it is another "land of delicious idleness."

It is in places of this character where one comes across British ne'er-do-wells, or "remittance men," as they are termed. These are sent from Great Britain by wealthy parents to isolated places like Tonga and Fiji, and a certain sum of money is sent them each month--enough to pay their board and a little over for spending money.

They are too far away to disgrace the family, and it is cheaper to pay their expenses in far-off countries than it would be to support them at home. They are virtually prisoners in these out-of-the-way places, for they soon get in debt, and no one owing money can leave the islands. These men generally marry a native woman, drink all the whisky and soda they can get, and the wife's income from her cocoanut farm provides for the home.

Consumption is making inroads among this splendid race of natives.

Some discard their native clothes and wear European apparel; they then live in a house instead of a hut, which is unnatural; but, worst of all, they cease to rub themselves with cocoanut oil, and in other ways neglect the customs of their ancestors. The native mode of living is much the better for the native. European customs do not seem to agree with colored races. It is the same with all native races--when they come in contact with the white man they generally go down hill.

Some of the prettiest trees in the world are to be seen in Nukualofa.

They do not grow high, but their spread is so wide and the outlines of the limbs so regular that one never forgets them.

Flying foxes--large bats, or vampires--are sacred animals to the Tongan. Some distance from Nukualofa is a grove of large trees, and in the daytime thousands of the bats will be hanging from the limbs by their claws, heads down. At sunset they all wake up and fly over the island and make raids on fruit plantations. At sunrise they will return to the same grove and hang downward all day. These bats are as large as cats, with furry bodies, and the native believes something terrible would happen were he to kill one.

Tongans are more advanced, intellectually, than any of the South Sea races, not excepting the Maori, who is of the same race. A college in Nukualofa is well attended by natives.

Kaikai is the name of food in the South Sea Islands, as it is also in New Zealand.

Tongan women do not work like those of other South Sea Islands races.

The men say it makes women ugly to work all day in the sun, and they prefer their wives to be good-looking and good-natured. Men even do the larger share of the housework.

White drill clothes are worn by all Europeans in Tonga, and every man has a tropical evening dress suit. The suit shows a wide spread of white shirt, generally starched, and high collar. Vests and trousers are white. The coat is a jacket, however, that stops a trifle below the waist line. At the back the jacket comes to a point. It is like a ship steward's jacket.

"Teddy Bears" are as universal as American oil and American sewing-machines. In any part of the world one may observe European children with "Teddies" in their hands.

Europeans living in the tropics become so enervated that such a thing as failing to keep an appointment is thought nothing of. The blood becomes thin, and the easy life they live practically unfits them for work they would be called on to do in a cooler climate. Then, again, they are looked up to in the spa.r.s.ely settled white communities, and when they return to the Northland and practically become nonent.i.ties they painfully miss the pampering they received from natives. Most of these would prefer to live a sickly life in the tropics to a healthful one, contingent on hard work, in their native land. It is hard to rise above the pressure of environment.

We are about to start on Leg Five, but before doing so we wish to explain our divergence of travel in Australasia. On reaching Melbourne from Perth a day's time was all that was spent in the city at that time. We went to Tasmania, New Zealand, and then to Sydney. From New South Wales we started on the South Sea Islands trip. From Nukualofa we journeyed to Auckland, our second time in that city. Recrossing the Tasman Sea to Sydney, we journeyed to Melbourne by rail, the second time also we were in that city. Stopping there but a few hours, a start was made for Adelaide; then from Adelaide to Ballarat, and back to Melbourne, where some time was spent, from which port we sailed on our return trip to South Africa, and from which place we start Leg Five.

LEG FIVE

CHAPTER I

For the first time in my travels I had to be content with third-cla.s.s steamship accommodation. I knew the South Sea Islands trip would shrivel my pocketbook, and would not have been disappointed had I not enough money to buy even a third-cla.s.s ticket to South Africa. We took a chance on the South Sea Islands trip--and won. "Steerage," in big red type, was stamped on the steamship ticket that carried me from Melbourne to South Africa, but all pa.s.sengers were on an equality, as there was but one grade of accommodation--third.

Supper was the first meal on board, but no tea or coffee was served.

The absence of these "luxuries" was explained later, pa.s.sengers being informed that tea or coffee was provided only once daily--at breakfast time. At the first morning meal a hubbub took place among mothers with babes. Something was wrong with the milk, and when that matter had also been explained we learned that sea water--salt water--had been used, instead of fresh water, to dilute the condensed milk.

The cabins contained from two to ten berths, and as almost every one prefers privacy a few dollars more were paid for a two-berth cabin, as little sleep could be antic.i.p.ated were interests pooled with nine snoring mates. The two-berth cabin had no margin to boast of, as, in order for one to get a handkerchief from his hip pocket, it was necessary to vacate it and seek arm-turning s.p.a.ce in the hallway. I had a good cabin mate, and we soon came to an understanding as to what time each of us would visit our quarters. Two could sleep in the cabin, but there was not room enough for two to turn in it. The pillow--we would not be so rash as to say the slip covered a chunk of cement; it may have been tan bark. The door had no lock, neither was there a b.u.t.ton to ring up the steward.

The ship stopped at Hobart, took on 30,000 cases of apples, and headed for Albany, West Australia. The tea merchants in the Tasmania capital did a good business for the time being, as pa.s.sengers who, before starting, knew nothing of the rules of the ship concerning tea and coffee allowances laid in here a good supply, together with preserves, crackers, Chinese napkins and other necessities the ship did not furnish.

Ninety dollars for eight weeks' travel is surely giving pa.s.sengers a cheap journey. The vessel sailed from Sydney the first week in June, reaching her destination, London, England, about the first of August, after a voyage of 14,000 miles. Three hundred persons had booked pa.s.sage on the liner, and of that number there was not one foreign-speaking pa.s.senger aboard. This will seem strange when it is borne in mind that the most cosmopolitan place in the world is a pa.s.senger steamship. Seven preachers were included, which, sea tradition says, generally augurs for bad weather; but, as there are exceptions to almost every rule, we had smooth sailing after clearing the Bight and Cape Leeuwin. The "animal" cla.s.sification of the cargo included birds--canaries, magpies, parrots and c.o.c.katoos; also a joey, as a young kangaroo is called. This animal was bought at Albany by an American, the tariff on the joey to London being $10. The freight charge for a canary was 60 cents, and rates for larger birds were from 75 cents to $1.25.

Fruit--generally confined to apples or oranges--was served at supper.

The apples often seemed nearly as hard as billiard b.a.l.l.s and as tasteless as frozen turnips. A prosperous Irishman, of a ripe age, who had gone to Australia in early days, when six months' time was required to make the voyage, was, with his aged wife, returning to the Emerald Isle. One evening, when we had oranges for supper, after he had bitten into one, the Celt was observed going through a series of facial contortions, with shoulder movements--something after the fashion of an agitated Frenchman. "Are the oranges sweet to-night, Mr.

O'Gorman?" he was asked. "Sweet?" whipped back the old Roman, as water dripped from the tear-ducts of his eyes and fire snapped from the corners--"Sweet? They're so sharup they'd cut your t'roat!"

Cake was served Sunday afternoons, and milk, sugar and hot water were at the pleasure of pa.s.sengers, but they had to furnish their own tea or coffee. The tea and teapot, for instance, would be given to the table steward, and he would make the tea and serve it at mealtime. A piano added greatly to the entertainment of the pa.s.sengers, as concerts were held twice a week. Besides, various athletic sports were indulged in.

The preachers took turns officiating at Sunday services. As there were seven of them--the voyage embracing as many Sabbaths--each one had an opportunity to keep in practice. One of their number, a Scotch Presbyterian, was on his way from Australia to his native country for a "holiday." Except at mealtime, he could generally be found sitting in a corner of the smoking saloon burning up black cigars, as he was a confirmed smoker; he was also a devotee of, and an expert at, the game of checkers, or draughts, as that amus.e.m.e.nt is termed in British territory. While no one on the ship had a chance to beat him, during the course of a game he would buoy, from time to time, the hope entertained by a presumptuous rival of lowering the parson's colors with clerical flattery--pretending that his opponent had nearly caught him napping on certain moves and that the skill of the player was worthy any foeman's steel. An Irish Presbyterian also was among the clergymen, and he sometimes sat at a table for hours with another pa.s.senger, in tomb-like stillness--playing a game of chess. Chess players, as a rule, have a poor opinion of checkers--calling it a child's game. The Irish dominie was asked if much skill was required to play checkers. "No," was the reply. "Any one can learn that game in a week." A short time later, when the Scotch preacher was engaged at checkers, and won, as usual, he congratulated his opponent on the splendid game he had played. "There's a great deal of superfluous talk about checkers--one would think that only persons of superior intellect could play that game," remarked a pa.s.senger to the Scotchman. A sneer came over the preacher's face. "I've been playing draughts for 30 years and don't know the game yet," he tartly answered. "Why," returned the pa.s.senger, "a man on this ship said there was nothing to it--that any one could learn the game in a week."

"Who's the man that said he could learn the game of draughts in a week!" he exclaimed, in eloquent tones. "Who's the man! Point him out!" He lost control of a strong cigar, and every one laughed but the padre.

Durban was reached 26 days after leaving Melbourne, and here I found myself left with only $2 of the $750 with which I started for the Antipodes. (Reference to the last paragraph of Leg Two and the Itinerary printed at the end of the book will explain conditions.)

On a German ship we took final leave of Durban and South Africa, the route being along what is known as the East Coast of Africa and across the western end of the Indian Ocean, to Bombay, India. Every berth was engaged. New scenes ahead bespoke an interesting voyage. America was well represented among the pa.s.sengers, as there were eight--five missionaries, two theatrical men and a printer.

A day's sail along the flat coast of Zululand and Tongaland and southern Portuguese-East Africa found us in Lourenzo Marques, the capital of Portuguese-East Africa. Seldom is the name Lourenzo Marques heard in this part of the world. "Delagoa Bay" is used 99 times out of 100 when speaking of that East Coast capital. Mention was made in the few Lisbon notes of the white and gray paving used in that city, and the same kind of pavement in Lourenzo Marques brings one's mind back to the Portuguese capital, particularly "Rolling Motion Square." The white population of Portuguese-East Africa is small considering the large territory embraced in that colony, Europeans numbering only 3,000. Public buildings do not make much of a showing, a good harbor and docks being the city's chief a.s.sets. Street car and electric light systems, a seaside resort and high prices are some of the characteristics of Lourenzo Marques. Natives are very numerous, and African fever--a notorious feature of this place--is so prevalent that all the white residents have a veiny, sickly appearance.

Fever trees, so called from their sallow appearance, grow not far from here. The leaves droop, are small, thin and lifeless, while the bark on the stunted trunks and limbs is scaly.

Lourenzo Marques, located on Delagoa Bay, is the nearest port for the Transvaal, through which most of the machinery and supplies for the great mines pa.s.sed until the consolidation of the South African provinces. It was, in short, the chief Boer port of South Africa. Were the deaths that occurred while building the railroad from here to Pretoria made public it would make sad reading. During the stretch of 400 miles separating Johannesburg and Lourenzo Marques some of the territory traversed is through the worst fever zones in the world--even the trees contracting "fever."

Cruising along to the next port, Inhambane--also Portuguese territory--where the stately cocoanut palm raises its bushy head to an admiring distance from the earth, we again reach the tropics. Four of the missionaries disembarked--a bishop and his wife, and one other couple, who were located at a mission station a short distance from this port.

Three hundred whites live in this treacherous place and 30 per cent.

die each year. The permanent missionary and his wife had both been fever victims, and if they fail soon to get out of the Inhambane district they will never come out alive. The husband is a powerfully built man, and his wife's skin as fair as a lily. She would be called pretty. They both had a good education, and both were hard workers.

The missionary's predecessor had become "salted," but the bodies of three wives were resting under African soil. Black-water fever is nearly always certain death. Until a few years ago death was as certain after having contracted that form of fever as to one who stepped in front of a locomotive traveling at a speed of a mile a minute. All liquids drunk by a victim turn black.

A native was induced to scale a cocoanut tree and knock nuts off.

Eight tumbled down, and we were charged two cents each for them. The cocoanut tree has no season--it blossoms and bears the year round.

Native women loaded and unloaded the ship, and looked stronger than the men. Sugar, copra and peanuts were put on at that port.

The anchor chain winds round the drum, and off we start on another run, bringing us to Beira, also in Portuguese territory, the port for Rhodesia. The best route to reach Salisbury or Bulawayo is from Beira.

To the former place it is some 300 miles, and to Bulawayo nearly 700 miles.

Venice, Italy, is unique in ca.n.a.ls and in the absence of vehicular traffic; and Beira may claim some resemblance to the Italian city, notably in the absence of carriages, automobiles, wagons, motorcycles and street cars. Beira is built on a sandbar, and the means of travel in that place is by vehicles called "trolleys," four-wheeled conveyances. The frame is of iron, and a foot-rest, seat, back and hood are built on this. It is a small carriage on low wheels. The track on which the trolley runs is two feet wide, and the rails are one-inch thick. Ties or sleepers support these. The "power" to move the "trolley" is two natives, who push the vehicle, and push it on the run. These natives are dressed in white cotton shirts, with short sleeves, and with a lava-lava or kilt made of calico, with big spots, which reaches to the knees. Their hat is a red fez with ta.s.sels, which suggests we have reached the influence of the Arab. The "trolley"

pusher never runs between the rails--always on the one-inch rail. One would think there are grooves in his feet to fit in these. The streets are intersected by "trolley" tracks, switches being made at places, where "trolleys" branch to certain streets. On the main street are three tracks, and turntables have been built here and there on which to turn the cars around when ready for the return trip. They are comfortable to ride in, and most of them are privately owned.

With the exception of a good sea wall, there is little of the substantial about Beira--only a few frame buildings, and others of corrugated iron. Arab merchants are numerous, and where they have become established there is very little money for the white man, few modern customs being in evidence.

One of my cabin mates was a Trappist priest. Born in Ohio, he went to Africa in his early years, and had been teaching natives for a quarter of a century. He was a chaplain in the Boer War, and his intimate knowledge of that interesting country was so general as to break set rules for bedtime when listening to his experiences.

The ship's whistle blows and we are off again, traveling through what is known as the Mozambique Channel, that stretch of water separating Madagascar, a French possession, from Portuguese-East Africa. The latter country is 750 miles in length and 200 miles wide. The seash.o.r.e all along is as free of ruggedness as the sh.o.r.es of a lake located in a level plain.

Negro melodies and popular airs were reeled off their musical instruments by the two Americans at intervals of a few nights between.

We had a congenial lot of pa.s.sengers, and every one was enjoying the voyage.

Three more stops were made in Portuguese-East Africa, but no enterprise was apparent. Few white people were to be seen, while Indians, Arabs and natives were as thick as flies. At Ibo, the last stop, the cargo was brought from sh.o.r.e to the ship in what are called dhows, with ragged sails, scaly hulks, chipped masts, frazzled ropes--the sort of vessels that have been used in Asia for 2,000 years. Rubber trees grow in that section and, together with copra, comprise the exports.