CHAPTER IX.

THE "TRIAL."

We landed our turtle, killed it, and then cut it up ready for our Christmas dinner on the following day. In our absence, about a dozen diggers had arrived on the island from St. Aignan and Sud-Est. Many of them were suffering from that dreadful scourge, malarial fever. We had returned in good health, but could not tell the day or hour when we, too, might be struck down by the dreaded fiend.

Surrounded as we were by sick and groaning men, our Christmas, instead of being a joyful one, was gloomy in the extreme. The air was stifling, the heat unbearable, and a sickly miasma was rising from the rank vegetation. It is not surprising, therefore, that our spirits were damped by the surroundings.

I had often suffered from the effects of malaria, so could sympathise with the victims. When laid low with it, to use a colloquial phrase, you do not care "who wins the cup." All interest in life has departed. When at its height, should any one take hold of you and throw you into the sea, you would not have the energy or the wish to utter a protest. I have seen ladies suffering from sea-sickness affected in the same way. At such a time, this mundane existence of ours has no attraction for them. They simply long for death to put an end to their misery.

This only shows how necessary it is to try to the best of your ability to keep up your spirits, for if once you give in it will not be long before you are removed to a better and healthier sphere. One of the diggers, Peter Carlson, a Swede by birth, was very bad, vomiting every half-hour.

He had recently returned from St. Aignan, an island 100 miles to windward, where he had been digging for gold.

He, together with two companions and a native boy, had arrived in a small cutter. When half-way he fell overboard, and would have been drowned had it not been for the plucky conduct of the native youth, who promptly jumped in after him, and with the aid of a piece of wood kept him afloat until the cutter came up with them. Strange to say, a few weeks later he left Samarai in the same cutter on his way back to St. Aignan, and, being a bit of a sailor, had charge of the tiller. A mountainous sea was running, and the night was dark, when suddenly a sea was shipped which carried him and the tiller overboard. That was the last seen of the doomed man. It is strange that having been saved on the outward trip he should be lost on the return journey. His death was much regretted, as he was respected and well liked by all who knew him.

It will be remembered, as stated in the sixth chapter, that on the 16th of November, the Governor (Sir Wm. Macgregor), in company with a number of diggers, went in the schooner _Hygeia_ to Chad's Bay for the purpose of punishing the natives for the murder of Captain Ancell. He pulled down several of their houses, smashed up their canoes, destroyed their plantations, and took possession of their fishing-nets. Two months were occupied in capturing the natives, the last and principal malefactor being brought into Samarai on the 16th of January, 1889. The Government steamer _Albatross_, from Thursday Island, had been despatched to Milne Bay to bring down some of the "Taubadas," or leading men of the village, and one or two native witnesses, as the trial was fixed for Friday, the 18th January.

Numerous vessels were in the harbour (China Straits), the S.S. _Albatross_, schooners _Hygeia_ and _Lucy and Adelaide_, besides other crafts of all shapes and sizes. The human race was well represented, there being all the colours of the rainbow--red, black, yellow and white.

The morning of the 18th dawned radiant with sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and a cool, gentle breeze blowing from the west.

The island seemed to have shaken off its lethargy for once. All was bustle and activity; men arrayed in glittering uniforms were hurrying to and fro, fraught with important business. Natives clad in bright new pocket-handkerchiefs were strolling down the stately avenue of coco-palms intent on witnessing the festive scene. It had all the appearance of a gala day, the only thing wanting was a fife and drum band.

As the clock struck 10, a detachment of "Royal marines" was landed from the _Albatross_ and _Hygeia_, armed to the teeth, and marched to the prison.

The governor of the gaol and the other officers of state arrived, and, upon the signal being given, the prisoners, eleven in number, were marched, with a strong guard of marines on either flank, to the court, which was held in the Government bungalow. Close upon the rear of the prisoners came the rabble, the whole forming quite a long procession.

Everyone who could spare the time was evidently determined to be present at this the first trial held in the new colony.

People of all grades were there, squatters from the west, traders, fishermen, sailors, diggers and storekeepers, all curious to know if the white man's death would be avenged.

The Court room was well arranged. One end was reserved for the judge, and opposite to him were the prisoners. On one side the Royal marines were drawn up, and opposite to them were the captains and officers of the _Albatross_ and _Hygeia_; the rest of the mob having to content themselves with squatting on the floor a la native.

The learned Judge (Mr. Winter) and the "Crown Prosecutor" (Mr. Thomson[4]) took their seats.

[4] Son of the late Archbishop of York.

Mr. Thomson then read the charge, which was duly interpreted to the accused. The prisoners were undefended.

Ketabu, a boy belonging to "Sariba," acted as interpreter.

Mr. E. G. Edelfelt gave evidence to the effect that on 25th October last he cleared the ketch _Star of Peace_, Captain Ancell, with two boys on board, one a native of the Louisiades, the other of Queensland, for Chad's Bay, for general trading purposes. The first witness called was the boy Charlie, a native of Pig Island, who was one of the boys on the ketch. He spoke English fairly well, and gave his evidence in a clear and straightforward manner. He identified most of the prisoners as being those on board when the captain was killed. He was cross-examined by his Honour.

After the captain had been killed, Charlie was taken prisoner and confined in one of the native houses on shore.

He managed, however, to escape from his gaolers, and after some hardships reached Samarai. The other boy, who was a native of Queensland, was not so fortunate.

In attempting to run away, his relentless pursuers attacked him with tomahawks and knives, inflicting terrible wounds. He had a gash in his skull several inches deep. I examined it myself. How he managed to escape death is a mystery to me. The blacks of Queensland are noted for the thickness of their skulls, but this boy beat them all. They left him for dead. He then crawled away and managed somehow to reach "Samarai," 30 miles distant. He was alive, but that was all. He could not speak for several weeks, and when he recovered, he had changed from a bright, intelligent boy into a stupid lad.

His speech returned to him, and, practically speaking, he is all right again.

When the cross-examination of Charlie had concluded, Mr. Thomson objected to Ketabu the interpreter, goodness knows why, for he was thoroughly to be relied upon, and suggested that a double interpretation by Kumatti, a native of Milne Bay, and about as big a liar as could well be found, and Mr. English, who is conversant with the "Motu" language, would be more satisfactory.

The Judge, although failing to see the necessity, granted the request, and for the remainder of the trial Messrs. English and Kumatti acted in that capacity. Other witnesses were then called, one of them from the village of Hayomah giving his evidence without fear or favour, the whole of the evidence clearly proving that the prisoners in court were guilty.

His Honour, the Judge, sentenced "Haniwana" and three others, who were the ring-leaders, to death, five to one year, and one to eighteen months' imprisonment, with hard labour.

One, against whom there was no evidence, was discharged without a stain upon his character, much to his surprise. The Judge then informed the six prisoners that he had given them light sentences owing to this being the first trial held, but that on future occasions prisoners would be dealt with with much greater severity.

The condemned men were then marched, under a strong escort, to their cells, and the crowd dispersed. The following week the four ringleaders were hanged, two of them at Samarai and the remaining two at the village where the tragedy took place. Thus ended this memorable trial and thus was the white man avenged. Had the British authorities treated previous murders in the same vigorous manner we should not now have to mourn the deaths of so many brave and loyal subjects.

A few weeks after the above trial, a report reached Samarai that the cutter _S----l_, in which I had recently returned, had been destroyed by the natives of Normanby Island, near Dawson Straits, and that the two on board, S----g and W----, had been murdered. I made enquiries of numerous natives in the district, and all told the same tale, so that we feared it was but too true. We petitioned the Government Agent, Mr. B. A. Hely, who, by-the-way, is a first-rate fellow, to take some active steps in the matter and find out the true state of affairs and, if necessary, to punish the natives.

He decided to charter the lugger _Alice Meade_, and called for volunteers. Two white men (Dick Ede and Richards) and I signified our eagerness to go, so Mr. Hely and we three laid in a stock of rifles and ammunition and set sail in the _Alice Meade_ for the scene of the reported outrage. Dawson Straits separates the islands of Ferguson and Normanby, and is distant from Samarai about 80 miles. Nearly a week was occupied in getting there, on account of the difficulties of navigation. We made full enquiries on shore, but could learn nothing of any murder, nor could we find a trace of any wreck.

We felt convinced that the report was untrue, so returned to Samarai.

Eventually, the cutter turned up all right, and those on board were much amused at the news of their murder.

At this time, I was busy superintending the preparation of copra and pearl-shell for shipment to Queensland. The labour was done by natives, and, like many white men, they require to be watched or they will loaf and "slum" their work.

When engaged in any heavy work, such as carrying bags of copra or cases of shells, they consider it necessary to shout at the top of their voices. This is supposed to help them in their efforts, but I should say it was very exhausting. We often had as many as sixty natives working at the same job. For work of this nature, we paid them, as a rule, at the rate of three sticks of tobacco per day each man. They invariably attempt to impose on you. At the end of the day's labour many present themselves for payment who have not done a stroke of work. Unless you take some precaution, it is difficult to avoid imposition, as it is impossible to distinguish all those who have been working from those who have not. My rule is to give to each man a slip of paper with my initials written on it, and from anyone not producing it payment is withheld. Even with these precautions, unless you keep a sharp look out, you are apt to be deceived.

So the days came and went with marvellous rapidity. If busily employed, it is remarkable the way in which time flies.

One evening in March, as I was wandering along the beach, I saw in the distance a small open boat evidently making for the island. Glasses were at once brought to bear on her, for the arrival of any and every boat has a peculiar interest. The boat, or rather half a boat, presently grounded on the beach and the six occupants landed.

Four of them were black men, natives of the New Hebrides, the remaining two, whites. To my astonishment, I discovered in one of the latter an old friend of mine, a Mr. Thompson, whom I had often met in Queensland. He was a seafaring man, and at this time was acting as Government Agent on the labour schooner _Myrtle_. The boat they had come in was only 15 feet long, open, and with a square stern, in which they had travelled a distance of sixty miles, having had to row the whole way. They were a shipwrecked crew, and had left their vessel near Dawson Island for the purpose of obtaining assistance at Samarai. The captain of the _Myrtle_ had remained on board, and had sent this, the only boat saved, on the above errand.

Having refreshed himself with food and offered a small sacrifice to his favourite god "Bacchus," Mr. Thompson gave us the following interesting particulars of their adventurous voyage:

The _Myrtle_, a labour schooner, commanded by I. Tornaros, an accomplished Greek, left Maryborough (Queensland) for the Solomon Islands on the 1st March. She had on board a Government Agent (Mr. Thompson), a mate and boatswain and a crew of six blacks. She also had six return islanders belonging to the Solomon Group.

She was a topsail schooner of 136 tons net register, heavily sparred and splendidly fitted up. Her commander had had a great many years' experience in the labour trade in the South Seas and was a first-class navigator.

March, it was be noted, is one of the three hurricane months in those regions, but it does not necessarily follow that a hurricane will occur in that month.

For a time everything went well; the weather was fairly good. We were speculating on the number of recruits we were likely to obtain, and the profits we would make by the voyage, but "_L'homme propose et le Dieu dispose_," and so it was exemplified on this occasion. To our surprise, the wind suddenly changed.

However, the glass did not show any sign of a coming storm. We held on our course as far as practicable, never dreaming for a moment what the future had in store for us.

The _Myrtle_ was a strong, staunch vessel, and we had perfect confidence in the seamanship of her captain. The next day the wind veered again and the barometer had fallen considerably. Orders were at once given to shorten sail and prepare for the expected gale, but we did not realise that a terrible hurricane was so near at hand.

The wind soon increased to a gale, the barometer fell still lower; we were evidently in for a violent spell. The hatches were battened down; everything loose about the deck was made secure, the boats (four) were doubly lashed, and we stood prepared to do battle with the elements.

The captain now looked anxious, and fearing that we might be running into the jaws of a hurricane, altered the course of the vessel in order to escape from it.

Running away will not always avert the doom, in fact will often embrace it.

A wiser course for us to pursue would have been to strike the topmasts, which would have considerably reduced her top-hamper, "heave to," and quietly await the coming tempest.

Instead of which, we ran right into the centre of the most terrific hurricane it has ever been my lot to encounter. This was not my first hurricane, but it is one that I shall never forget as long as I live.

It suddenly burst upon us in all its fury. The wind shrieked and cut you like a knife. It was impossible to look to windward, the force of the wind was so great. The boats hanging in the davits were smashed to pieces, one of them being blown away bit by bit until not a vestige of it was left. The scene was indescribable. Every one believed his last hour had come. Presently the vessel gave a terrible lurch, and on the lee side the bulwarks were five feet under water.

She was beginning to settle when the captain reluctantly roared out "Cut away the masts." The boatswain quickly executed the order, the whole time being in peril of his life, the axe would often be lifted out of his hands, the wind playing with it as if it were paper. At last crash came the masts on deck, the topmast going between the legs of the old mate, and bang through the bulwarks, leaving him, wonderful to relate, unhurt. With the greatest difficulty the lashings of the masts were cut adrift and overboard they went. The boatswain, in cutting some of the rigging adrift, received a severe blow from one of the boats as it was clean lifted off the deck by the wind and carried over the bulwarks into the raging sea. He was laid up in his cabin for a fortnight. Having got rid of her heavy spars, the schooner righted herself, but what a wretched spectacle she presented! Stripped of all her beauty, robbed of her tapering spars, what was once a model craft had now become a mere hull.

In a hurricane the sea is never rough, but the surface is one seething mass of foam, with a blinding mist; and the wind shrieks with demoniacal laughter, as if mercilessly proud of its might. The blacks had secreted themselves down below, terrified out of their lives, and praying on their knees to their patron saints. They had completely given themselves up as lost, and for the matter of that, at one time, so had we all. The severity of the hurricane only lasted a few hours, after which a confused sea got up. This made things very uncomfortable, for the ship began to roll heavily, not having her masts to steady her.

The hurricane over, the grief of Captain Tornaros was heartrending to witness. He was part owner, and he loved his ship.

He had just cleared off all expenses, and had he not met with this disaster, would have made a good profit out of the trip.

We all sympathised with him. He had been 30 years at sea and had survived many storms, but in all his experience he had never seen one to equal this.

We were now several hundred leagues from the nearest land, and in our disabled state it was impossible to proceed on the voyage. We rigged up jury masts, but even then could not travel, except under a favourable wind.

What was to be done?

One of two courses was open to us, either to make for the Queensland coast or for the shores of New Guinea.

Captain Tornaros held a meeting on deck to decide the matter. He pointed out to us the dangers of the two routes, the New Guinea one, in his opinion, being the safer of the two. The danger of the Queensland route was the difficulty of navigating a disabled craft through the Great Barrier Reef.

However, there was not much to choose between the two.

After due consideration, the majority of those on board were in favour of making for New Guinea, some 400 miles distant.

The sails, such as they were, were set and we commenced our long and perilous voyage. Our stumps of masts were powerless to steady the vessel, so we slowly rolled along.

The captain had no sheet charts of New Guinea on board, therefore he would have to remain at his first anchorage and trust to Providence.

We had only half a boat left, the other half having been blown away by the hurricane. We fixed a square stern on her and canvassed her all over in order to make her water-tight. She was reduced to a length of 15 feet, so was not capable of carrying more than eight persons, whilst we numbered 20 hands all told.

One of the chief reasons for deciding upon the New Guinea route was that I (Mr. Thompson) had previously been there, and should we by good fortune ever reach that country, and be within approachable distance of Samarai, I could find my way there in our boat and procure assistance.

Anxiously the days went by. Occasionally I would go aloft to see if I could discern any signs of land. I was often disappointed; but one day, from my lofty post, I saw what I took to be the "Long Reef," which lies at no great distance to the eastward of New Guinea.

I was not deceived, and before long the heavy roar of the surf as it beat upon it was plainly audible to all on board. The issues of life and death were soon to be decided. Should we fail to steer safely through an opening in the reef, our doom was sealed. Should we strike on those rocks, frowning with a line of breakers bounding on to them in clouds of spray, we should be dashed to pieces and be buried beneath the curling foam.

The moment was an anxious one; all held their breath. We firmly believed our end was fast approaching.

The cook, who had never been to sea before, came on deck dressed in his Sunday best, ready to go ashore, and prepared to die like a gentleman.

Slightly to windward, a passage in the reef was visible. We made for it, but owing to her peculiar rig the vessel would not answer to her helm, but drifted to leeward, and in a few minutes more would be dashed to pieces amidst the cruel rocks. All hope left our breasts, there was nothing more to be done. We steeled our hearts and prepared ourselves to die like true British sailors. I cared not for myself, but I had a wife and family living in Sydney, and what would become of them after I had gone?

However, just when our doom seemed inevitable, the wind suddenly changed, enabling us to keep her up a couple of points to windward. We then managed to clear the dreaded reef, the surf washing the sides of the vessel, and we emerged safely on the other side. We were all devoutly thankful for our merciful escape from a terrible death.

Delivered as we had been from the jaws of death, our spirits rose proportionately. We now had hopes of reaching the New Guinea coast and escaping with our lives.

After avoiding numerous hidden dangers, we succeeded in reaching an anchorage off Dawson Island three days ago.

* * * * *

Such was the graphic account given us by Mr. Thompson.

We obtained the loan of the cutter _Juanita_, which vessel, it will be remembered, had been returned to the Government by the gold prospectors.

She was only seven tons register, but quite large enough for our purpose. Her gear was in very bad order, but with the valuable aid of Mr. Thompson, it was fixed up as well as possible with the poor material at our disposal. At Mr. Thompson's request, I consented to go with him in the _Juanita_ to the assistance of the _Myrtle_, and, if possible, bring her into port.

We took with us a few tins of meat, some biscuits, tea, sugar, and last, but not least, a cask of water, as it was impossible to tell how long we should take on the voyage. Everything depended on the weather; but with a fair wind it was thought we should reach Dawson Island in one day. On the other hand, we might be several days on the way. We determined to keep going night and day until we reached the _Myrtle_. Both of us knew the locality well, and were not likely to lose our bearings.

Dawson Island is about 25 miles beyond the Engineer Group, and between it and the latter there are dozens of shoals and reefs, so that our local knowledge stood us in good stead.

When coasting along the Island of Basilaki, we met with strong north-easterly winds, which ever and anon would sweep down upon us in strong gusts, causing our little craft to dip her bows into the water. The night was dark, the gusts frequent, and as we were shipping a quantity of water on board, we had to take a couple of reefs in the mainsail. To add to our discomfort the rain came down in drifts, making us shiver again. We made very little way, but still held on, as those on the schooner would be anxiously expecting us, for Mr. Thompson's party had left them four days ago, and they had no means of ascertaining their safe arrival at Samarai.

In the middle of the second night we could just make out the outline of the Island of Anna-Goosa, and shortly after losing sight of it we heard a roar, as of heavy breakers, on the port side. The darkness of the night was such as could be felt. We well knew the meaning of the sound, and as we did not wish to hear it more distinctly, we kept to leeward for a time, until the sound had died away into a faint murmur. It was not surf beating upon a rock-bound shore, but an extra-strong "tide-rip" boiling with a force sufficient to turn us round like a top, and, had we been drawn within its vortex, might have destroyed us. The "rip" is strongest at "damoon" or flood-tide, and is caused by the action of the wind against the tide. I never did like these "rips," as they are most dangerous, and when feasible always avoided them.

We soon passed the Island Karaiwa, and had the satisfaction of seeing in the distance Dawson Island, with the schooner _Myrtle_ lying a mile or so abreast of it. We reached her before sunset, to the great delight of those on board, as they were beginning to fear that some disaster had befallen us. A line was made fast to the _Juanita_ and we jumped on board. I was introduced to Captain Tornaros, who at once took me into his cabin, where we discussed the situation over a bottle of old French claret and with the aid of some choice Turkish cigarettes. He recounted to me the experiences of the hurricane. The hull of the vessel was not damaged, but above the deck nothing was left. An immense hole gaped through the bulwarks, and altogether she had a woe-begone appearance. The captain was anxious to know if it was possible, in her present condition, to navigate her safely through the reefs and bring her to China Straits. We considered it was well worth a trial, and, with his consent, we determined to make the attempt the next morning, that is, should the wind be favourable. We argued that if the worst came to the worst, she could but be lost, and as she was at present, at anchor off Dawson Island, she was worth nothing to anybody. In case of an accident happening, we had the _Juanita_, which was capable of carrying the whole company, so why not make the attempt?

Dawson is one of three islands all lying close to one another. They are not inhabited, though on one of them there are a few native houses which have been deserted for several years. The islands are picturesque, and on one of them is a lofty hill and a few coco-nut trees. They are small in extent, and badly supplied with good water.

There is a narrow passage between the two furthest north, and it was through this opening we intended to go.

In the morning the wind was fortunately blowing from the north-east. Nothing could have been better. The captain at once gave orders to weigh anchor, the sails were hoisted, and we slowly wended our way between the islands without striking on a reef.

Meanwhile a couple of men had been put into the _Juanita_, with strict orders to keep close astern, in case of accidents.

The lead was kept going, as just here the place swarms with shoals and small coral-reefs. We passed over them in safety, and in the evening dropped the anchor off one of the islands, having traversed a distance of ten miles. The next day, the wind still remaining in the same quarter, we passed the Engineer Group and managed to reach Doini, 30 miles beyond. We anchored for the night, and on the following day succeeded in reaching China Straits, anchoring off Samarai in ten fathoms of water.

The cargo of the _Myrtle_ consisted of general merchandise, and "trade," valued at L1,000. Captain Tornaros offered them at Sydney cost price, with five per cent. added, and succeeded in disposing of a large quantity. He then went to Queensland and informed the underwriters of the loss. They called for tenders for the purchase of the _Myrtle_ as she lay at anchor in China Straits. Messrs Burns, Philps and Co., a Queensland firm of shipowners and merchants, bought her for L200, and sent one of their own steamers to tug her to Queensland.

Captain Tornaros was a heavy loser by the disaster, and evidently felt his loss keenly.

In a few days, to our surprise, the cutter _S----l_, supposed to have been lost, suddenly made her appearance in port. I immediately boarded her, and congratulated Messrs. S----g and W---- upon their safe arrival.

This was the third time that they had been reported as murdered.

At this time preparations were being made by K----, a trader, to form a coffee plantation on the mainland.

The land selected for the purpose was situated near a creek, the mouth of which is close to Coast Island (China Straits). The entrance to the creek is guarded by a small "bar" of sand, which is almost fordable at low water, but at high tide is navigable for small craft. The creek is a tidal one, and of no great depth. The banks are lined with mangroves, whose roots extend far into the water. On the branches are numerous oysters, known by the name of mangrove oysters. They are capital eating, and almost equal to the famous Rock oysters. The creek is about 15 yards wide, and at a little over a mile from the mouth suddenly narrows and becomes shallow. Here there is a small native village, containing seven or eight houses. The houses are built on a flat, and in time of heavy rains must be very damp.

The natives are not numerous, and are of a peaceable disposition. Their plantations are situate some distance away. Shortly after leaving the village the mangroves are lost sight of, and you enter a thick forest, lightly timbered and easily penetrated. This forest valley is well watered by numerous small creeks, and is flanked by lofty hills, covered with timber, of no great size, with a tropical under-growth, and not too difficult of access. The rain-fall here is heavy, but is quickly drained off by the above-mentioned creeks.

Following the creek for some distance, the country gradually becomes more mountainous, and continues so until you get to the other side of the coastal ranges, when you come upon the densely wooded shores of Milne Bay.

We made a thorough investigation of the neighbourhood, and, as a consequence, selected a site about a mile beyond the native township. The adjacent hills, or rather mountains, were not too steep for our purpose; moreover, there was an excellent supply of running water, which we could, without much difficulty, bring to bear on it; and, what was still more important, the site was in close proximity to the creek, by which the produce would be conveyed to the coast. No natives claimed the land in question; but, nevertheless, we had to obtain the consent of the Administrator at Port Moresby before we could commence operations.

His consent was readily given. Our first object was to obtain native labour.

I was instrumental in procuring the services of a number of natives from various parts on the mainland and the neighbouring islands.

We engaged them for one moon (one month), supplying them with the necessary tools, such as axes, half-axes, hatchets, etc.

According to our instructions, a small house was built by the natives of the village, to be used by us as a depot for tools, provisions, etc.

Forty natives were engaged for one month, and those who wished to do so could renew their agreement for a further period.

The natives, I may state, are very fair axe-men, as it is work they are accustomed to. The first thing to be done was to form a nursery. For this purpose the slope of a hill, about an acre in extent, was cleared, nothing but a few of the larger stumps being left to rot in the ground. The natives worked well and hard, and accomplished the first part of their task in a creditable manner.

In the nursery we placed several thousand coffee plants for future transplantation. We next had ten acres cleared as a nucleus of the plantation proper.

At the time of my departure from New Guinea, the plants in the "Nursery" had a healthy appearance. In addition to these large quantities of coffee seed had been sown. The results of the experiment cannot, at present, be estimated, as three years must elapse before the first crop appears. Should the venture turn out a success, it will undoubtedly be followed by many others.

The promoter of it has had considerable experience in working the natives of New Guinea, and is looked up to by them, so that he has a considerable advantage over any newcomers.

I have received no news from that part of the world for the past six months, and therefore am not in a position to form an opinion of the progress that has been made.