So brass
stanchions were screwed into the rail and a double row of barbed
wire stretched around her from stem to stern and back again. Which
was all very well as a protection from savages, but it was mighty
uncomfortable to those on board when the Minota took to jumping and
plunging in a sea-way. When one dislikes sliding down upon the lee-
rail barbed wire, and when he dares not catch hold of the weather-
rail barbed wire to save himself from sliding, and when, with these
various disinclinations, he finds himself on a smooth flush-deck
that is heeled over at an angle of forty-five degrees, some of the
delights of Solomon Islands cruising may be comprehended. Also, it
must be remembered, the penalty of a fall into the barbed wire is
more than the mere scratches, for each scratch is practically
certain to become a venomous ulcer. That caution will not save one
from the wire was evidenced one fine morning when we were running
along the Malaita coast with the breeze on our quarter. The wind
was fresh, and a tidy sea was making. A black boy was at the wheel.
Captain Jansen, Mr. Jacobsen (the mate), Charmian, and I had just
sat down on deck to breakfast. Three unusually large seas caught
us. The boy at the wheel lost his head. Three times the Minota was
swept. The breakfast was rushed over the lee-rail. The knives and
forks went through the scuppers; a boy aft went clean overboard and
was dragged back; and our doughty skipper lay half inboard and half
out, jammed in the barbed wire. After that, for the rest of the
cruise, our joint use of the several remaining eating utensils was a
splendid example of primitive communism. On the Eugenie, however,
it was even worse, for we had but one teaspoon among four of us - but
the Eugenie is another story.
Our first port was Su'u on the west coast of Malaita. The Solomon
Islands are on the fringe of things. It is difficult enough sailing
on dark nights through reef-spiked channels and across erratic
currents where there are no lights to guide (from northwest to
southeast the Solomons extend across a thousand miles of sea, and on
all the thousands of miles of coasts there is not one lighthouse);
but the difficulty is seriously enhanced by the fact that the land
itself is not correctly charted. Su'u is an example. On the
Admiralty chart of Malaita the coast at this point runs a straight,
unbroken line. Yet across this straight, unbroken line the Minota
sailed in twenty fathoms of water. Where the land was alleged to
be, was a deep indentation. Into this we sailed, the mangroves
closing about us, till we dropped anchor in a mirrored pond.
Captain Jansen did not like the anchorage. It was the first time he
had been there, and Su'u had a bad reputation. There was no wind
with which to get away in case of attack, while the crew could be
bushwhacked to a man if they attempted to tow out in the whale-boat.
It was a pretty trap, if trouble blew up.
"Suppose the Minota went ashore - what would you do?" I asked.
"She's not going ashore," was Captain Jansen's answer.
"But just in case she did?" I insisted. He considered for a moment
and shifted his glance from the mate buckling on a revolver to the
boat's crew climbing into the whale-boat each man with a rifle.
"We'd get into the whale-boat, and get out of here as fast as God'd
let us," came the skipper's delayed reply.
He explained at length that no white man was sure of his Malaita
crew in a tight place; that the bushmen looked upon all wrecks as
their personal property; that the bushmen possessed plenty of Snider
rifles; and that he had on board a dozen "return" boys for Su'u who
were certain to join in with their friends and relatives ashore when
it came to looting the Minota.
The first work of the whale-boat was to take the "return" boys and
their trade-boxes ashore. Thus one danger was removed. While this
was being done, a canoe came alongside manned by three naked
savages. And when I say naked, I mean naked. Not one vestige of
clothing did they have on, unless nose-rings, ear-plugs, and shell
armlets be accounted clothing. The head man in the canoe was an old
chief, one-eyed, reputed to be friendly, and so dirty that a boat-
scraper would have lost its edge on him. His mission was to warn
the skipper against allowing any of his people to go ashore. The
old fellow repeated the warning again that night.
In vain did the whale-boat ply about the shores of the bay in quest
of recruits. The bush was full of armed natives; all willing enough
to talk with the recruiter, but not one would engage to sign on for
three years' plantation labour at six pounds per year. Yet they
were anxious enough to get our people ashore. On the second day
they raised a smoke on the beach at the head of the bay. This being
the customary signal of men desiring to recruit, the boat was sent.
But nothing resulted. No one recruited, nor were any of our men
lured ashore. A little later we caught glimpses of a number of
armed natives moving about on the beach.
Outside of these rare glimpses, there was no telling how many might
be lurking in the bush. There was no penetrating that primeval
jungle with the eye. In the afternoon, Captain Jansen, Charmian,
and I went dynamiting fish. Each one of the boat's crew carried a
Lee-Enfield.
