Fiji, Remote and Picturesque

Fiji, Remote and Picturesque

BY JOHN Q. ADAMS

Nine good round days of steaming south of Honolulu and we

are in close proximity to the Fiji group. Not many stray bits of

land have been encountered and we are now aware of our where-

abouts by the way islands begin suddenly springing up about us,

mushroom-like. The sailors' assertion that there are between two

hundred and three hundred island dots in the group bids fair to

FIJIAN DANCE

become a reality. For nearly two full days there are islands of all

shapes and sizes, through which we thread our devious way with

trepidation. At one time I counted eight in view simultaneously,

each interesting because of some distinctive feature. One small

one, in particular, attracted attention because of its strikingly odd

appearance. At a distance, with its rounding outline surmounted

FIJI, REMOTE AND PICTURESQUE 827

with a straggling growth of cocoanut palms, it resembled remark-

ably a pincushion, the tall palms, with their peculiar head of leaves,

appearing on the dim horizon as pins ready for Mother Nature's

use.

At 10 o'clock on Christmas day (1907) we steamed slowly

into Suva bay, announced by the boom of a cannon, for we were

on the Royal Mail Line, and each month's arrival is a distinct

event in the realm of isolation. What a Christmas compared with

FIJIAN VILLAGE

conditions at home ! Cocoanuts, bananas, breadfruit, pineapples,

melons and many other varieties of fruit never seen in America,

together with a profusion of flowers of all colors, set amid a mass

of green verdure, all combined to form a paradoxical winter scene.

The natives were a source of wonder, as first seen especially.

Tall, fierce-looking, muscular fellows, straight as an arrow, and

bushy-headed, they are easily connected in one's mind with the

cannibals of a few years back. It is still whispered about that oc-

casionally some luckless victim forms a table delicacy in the deep

interior of some of the large islands, a number of which contain

hundreds of square miles, and whose impenetrably dense forests

are supposed to whisper no tales of clandestine encounter.

One old veteran still stalked about the streets of Suva, on our

outward voyage, but was missing when we touched there for a

week three and a-half years later. He still carried the once-deadly

828 IMPROVEMENT ERA

war club. With drooping shoulders and whitened hair he is now

powerless, but in his youth, some three score ten years back, he

ate human flesh as a matter of course, and as a memento of what

he once was, he is designated as "Cannibal Tom." The American

aborigine counted his victims by the number of scalps dangling

from his belt. On old Tom's knotted war club fifty-two notches

spoke mutely but forcibly of a like record of prowess and valor.

The disposition of the Fijians as a whole is now rather more

affectionate than otherwise, it being no uncommon sight to see a

group of men walking

along, chatting and

holding hands like

children. Any posi-

tion of trust consider-

ably dignifies them.

The mere honor of

carrying a written

message tends to send

the naturally erect

head of the bearer to

a dangerous backward

tilt.

As we were ma-

rooned twenty-three

days on Fiji, awaiting

connections with the

line that reaches Sa-

moa, we were able to

nose about consider-

ably, and as a conse-

quence, inland and

coast-line jaunts be-

came a daily occur-

rence.

The seaport of Suva,

the most important

within a radius of "Tall, fierce-looking, muscular fellows."

one thousand miles, is

of striking appearance. Lying upon a rising slope of sufficient

angle to show its details to incoming vessels, a pleasing panorama

unfolds itself with each hundred yards of closer creeping in.

Smothered in a dense mass of tropical verdure that is terraced in

close, parallel lines from beach to hill-top, white-faced cottages

peep shyly from beneath and between its sheltering green the —

very essence of quiet retreat.

Upon gaining the streets, views of cosmopolitan variance

greet one on every hand. Thither comes a rattling, rumbling ve-

FIJI, REMOTE AND PICTURESQUE 829

hide of ancient English type, rolling along the beach boulevard in

noisy complacency. Following it may be a group of thin-

limbed Hindoos from distant India. In striking contrast are they

to the swarthy, muscular type of islander following closely upon

them in their noiseless, unshod tread.

From the opposite direction comes a long-drawn, penetrating

blast from a sea-shell trumpet, announcing that at the fish market

some lucky fisherman

is acquainting the x^% 1 H

-- !

town with his success-

ful arrival.

On the beach near

at hand, a small

schooner is grounded,

laden with pineapples,

while just beyond a

snorting, energetic,

JirC«

miniature steamer is

telling, in intermittent

screeshes, of its near \

departure for the

great sugar mills up

the river, on the other

side of the island we

are on.

In strolling along

we pass a group of

men squatting at their

labor of cutting close-

ly the grass from the

roadside, with large

knives, and we sur-

mise correctly from jy'jr

f%gj|

the close proximity of .

armed guards that

they are prisoners.

Now let us take a CANNIBAL TOM

stroll to the table land

above and back of the town. The thing we are struck with, and

which we came to see is a vast expanse of marshy land, upon

which are located great rice fields. Looking like grain, to which

family it belongs, it is of itself no great curiosity, but note the

method of its transplanting. First grown in a hot bed, it is then

taken to the field to be set out. Along comes a" Jap with an armful

of stalks. One stalk is taken at a time and gently thrown with the

root end down between the first two toes of his drill-foot. As

the soil is semi-mud, with a slight pressure of the foot the roots

!

830 IMPROVEMENT ERA

are imbedded and another stalk replaces it in machine-like regu-

larity, and thus he walks steadily and with scarcely a pause.

One more phase of Fiji we shall take up in conclusion, and

that is a peep at the banana industry. Without detailing its pre-

vious history we shall simply place ourselves at the wharf beside

•

' Y.. ; *w- s <

"White-faced cottages peep out"

which lies a liner, and note the interesting process of taking on

cargo. Word has already gone out to outlying banana plantations

to have their output at the wharf at the appointed time, and they

surely respond.

Surrounding the vessel is a swarm of scows, tug boats and

craft of every description, stacked high with the green-fingered

bunches, and pushed, drawn and jerked hither and thither by oars-

men, sails, and gasoline launches. What a jabbering, chattering,

noisy bunch of humanity and what an aggregation of varied craft

To gain an idea of the amount of bananas taken on board

and bound for New Zealand ports, I timed a load from the mo-

ment the huge rope net left the scow laden with ten crates or fif-

teen loose bunches, until it had returned for another like amount,

after the great derrick or crane, manipulated by a donkey engine,

had deposited the net-load in the bowels of the liner. The time

consumed was but seventy seconds, and as three cranes were

working day and night for 72 hours, the aggregate of bunches,