CHAPTER VI.

FIJIAN SPELLING—THE FUTURE CAPITAL—A PLANTER’S LIFE—FOREIGN LABOUR—QUAINT POSTAGE-STAMPS.

LEVUKA, _November 1, 1875_.

MY DEAR GEORGE,—We are settling down into the quietest of lives, and I have no special news to give you; but the day is so lovely that I could not stay in the house, so I wandered up the hill to a huge boulder of grey rock, fringed with the loveliest ferns, on which I am now sitting, looking across the bluest of seas to the great isle of Viti Levu, whose mountains lie dreamily on the horizon. I must tell you that Viti Levu simply means Great Viti, which is the name by which these islands are always called by their own inhabitants, the name of Fiji, which we have adopted, being simply the Tongan mispronunciation of the word. If you look at a map of the group, you will see that this isle of Ovalau, though important by reason of its being the site of Levuka, the white men’s capital, is only a small isle lying off Viti Levu, as does also the tiny isle of Bau, on which is King Thakombau’s own particular capital.

Owing to the peculiarity of orthodox Fijian spelling, you must pronounce an _m_ before the _b_—so that town is called MBau. Moreover, the sound of _th_ is represented by the letter _c_, so that I ought to spell Thakombau, Cacobau; and Tholo, which is mountain, should be Colo. Moreover, you must always sound the letter _n_ before _d_, _g_, and _q_. Now, isn’t this puzzling? I think you will admit the wisdom of my spelling Fijian words and names as you are expected to pronounce them. Certainly you could hardly be expected to understand the delicate compliment conveyed to Sir Arthur in the name of a new town which is called after him, Koro-i-aco, _aco_ being the equivalent of Arthur.

Speaking of new towns, one of the principal topics of conversation here is the probability of the site of the capital being changed ere long, as Levuka is manifestly unsuited to develop into a town of such importance as it is hoped the capital of this new colony will ere long become. The first whites were thankful to settle here, because of being so near to Bau, and to friendly chiefs, and so it answered their purpose very well; but it is a place where there is no room for extension, and what land there is, is all in private hands; and the 180 houses, such as they are, look as if they had been accidentally dropped all over the small available space. They are all temporary buildings, either reed houses with thatched roofs, or wooden houses roofed with shingles or corrugated zinc,—most of them are just poor little cottages. The best wooden house will not stand this climate for more than eight or ten years, and then involves ceaseless repairs, so everything about the place looks poor and “disjaskit,” as the old wives in Scotland would say.

Then the situation is in every respect bad. There is no stone suitable for building. The high hills of Ovalau attract the rain, and the temperature is higher than on other isles, never lower than 70°, and rising to 90°. The town faces the east, so that from early dawn the full heat of the sun beats on the hard cliffs of dark conglomerate rocks, which rise abruptly close round the little strip of land—in all not thirty acres—on which Levuka is built, and which is only from five to eight feet above the ordinary high-water mark. A considerable portion of this is devoted to swampy _taro_-fields; and drainage on any system is impossible, because a drain would simply find the water-level. Naturally, the place is not very healthy, and various other sites are proposed. Each of these is said to have a multitude of advantages, all of which will have to be officially reported upon.

Nandi is recommended as having an admirable climate, several fine rivers, good stone for building, and as being a good riding country, and suitable for rearing cattle. But the chances seem in favour of Suva on Viti Levu, which also has good building stone, and a thermometer down to 72° occasionally. It is said to be the best harbour of refuge and port of call in the group, with abundant good anchorage for many vessels, and invariably smooth water—a place where hurricane waves are unknown, and which is a central position, and therefore suitable for all purposes. We are going to see this paradise before long, so you will hear all about it.

Meanwhile the chance of any change is naturally most distasteful to the people who have settled here, for poor as the houses are, still they are homes, and any move would involve expenses which few could possibly afford. I had no conception till I came here that any whole community could be so poor. Before we arrived we heard much about the iniquities of the white population, and I have no doubt that there were many who were originally attracted here by the freedom from all restraint of any civilised government, and to whom the anarchy of the law was anything but a drawback. But those days are now a tale of the past, and what we do find are apparently good, well-intentioned people, struggling to keep up a respectable appearance, but utterly crushed by poverty. Many have battled for years in exile, enduring sore hardship and privation of every sort.

Nothing can well be imagined harder than the present position of the planting community in these isles. Many of them, gentlemen by birth and education, came here long years ago and sank what money they possessed in purchase of land and the necessary outlay thereon. Or, still oftener, they started with the terrible drawback of having to borrow money at high interest—a yoke which, once assumed, could rarely be shaken off. Then followed long, lonely years of hard toil, too often resulting only in bitter disappointment from failing crops or devastating hurricanes, which in a few hours swept away the fruits of months of toil. Even when these disasters have not occurred, low prices and enormous expenses of freight to the colonies, as they call Australia or New Zealand, of storage there, and finally of transit to England, have reduced profits to a mere cipher. And thus it is that, utterly ruined and overwhelmed with debt, with health shattered by privation, and lack of what we deem positive necessaries of life, a very large proportion of the planters are left stranded,—literally without the means to get away, helpless, and wellnigh hopeless,—living just like the natives, on yams and wild pig, knowing no greater luxury than a bowl of yangona, and unable from sheer poverty to obtain the commonest comforts of civilised life. There are many houses in which beef and mutton, rice, barley, or flour, wine or spirits, even tea or coffee and sugar, are wellnigh forgotten luxuries.

I am told that on the occasion of Sir Arthur’s arrival, when about two hundred of these gentlemen assembled at Levuka to meet him, many were compelled to absent themselves from sheer inability to face such small expenses as were involved by the journey and hotel quarters. Others could only meet it by bringing with them supplies of poultry and vegetables for sale in Levuka. Many are unable, from sheer poverty, to hire a sufficient number of labourers to work the estates, which at present they cannot sell,—all land-titles being so insecure, that until they have been formally examined and acknowledged by the British Government (Lands Commission), no capitalist would dream of investing in what might prove so worthless a speculation; and though the Lands Commission are doing their utmost to push on their work, it is a slow and difficult task, involving endless patient inquiry, and weighing of conflicting evidence.

So, at the present moment, these people actually are worse off than they were before annexation—a sad discovery for men who had looked on that event as a magic spell which would at once disentangle this disordered skein. And they are now more down-hearted than ever.

Once their land-titles are proved, and they can sell their estates to new-comers with full purses and fresh energy, times will doubtless improve, and it will be shown what these isles are really worth. As yet the golden age cannot be said to have dawned, and the resources of the country are still unknown. The cotton trade, which for a while was so flourishing, has for the present utterly failed, the silky sort grown here having lost favour with manufacturers. Coffee, sugar, and tobacco are all undeveloped. At present the principal articles of trade in the isles are a preparation of dried cocoa-nut known as _coppra_, from which oil is afterwards extracted, and the Bêches-de-mer, a species of hideous, large, black sea-slug, which, when dried, resemble lumps of india-rubber, and from which the Chinese make a rich soup, said to be equal in flavour to that produced from the far-famed gelatinous birds’ nests. This, and the pearly shell of a huge oyster, being natural products, afford occupation to many who have failed in more settled work. Consequently a large proportion of the white men who find life in Fiji so hard a struggle, are more or less directly engaged in the Bêches-de-mer and pearl-shell fisheries; and there are not wanting croakers who foresee a time when this supply will be exhausted.

I believe the only new settlers since annexation are two Chinamen (as usual, always enterprising and cheerful in face of difficulties, and making money where no one else can do so). They have just rented ten acres of land here to start a vegetable garden, so we foresee an abundant supply for the town, and wealth for the deserving gardeners. Strange that no European should have thought of trying this. I do not, however, think that it could ever answer for poor working men to come here—certainly not as simple workers—for, of course, no one would dream of paying wages at European, or still less at colonial, rates, when he can get black labour for so little.

The sum at which “foreign labour” is usually to be had is about £10 for passage-money, and £9 for three years’ work. This is generally paid in the form of goods to be taken home to the distant isles, and is one of the points found to require special Government inspection, the quantity and quality of goods supplied to the unsophisticated natives by sundry traders (on receipt of a planter’s order for £9 worth of stuff per head) being by no means calculated to give the onlookers a high view of white men’s commercial morality. The importation of foreign labour is now entirely in the hands of a Government immigration agent, to whom the owners and captains of all vessels employed in the labour trade are responsible for strict observance of sanitary and other rules, and through whom every master must engage his men and make all payments, and to whom he must return them at the date when their engagement expires, that they may be restored to their own homes at the time agreed on. Of course during the term of service the employer supplies food and tobacco, lodging (such as it is, in most cases), medicine, and a very small amount of raiment. But the hideous stories of kidnapping and brutal ill-treatment on board ship, or even on plantations, are now happily tales of the past.

The supply of labourers is one of the vexed questions of the present, as each year the labour vessels bring back a smaller number of volunteers from the other groups; and the employment of Fijians on the plantations of white men is in no way encouraged by Government, which recognises as its first duty the care and preservation of these, the true owners of the soil, by whose own invitation, and for whose welfare primarily, England here rules. Considering how invariably dark races have been found to die out before the advance of the white races, the problem of whether this evil cannot be averted in the present instance is one of the deepest interest. It is therefore considered of the utmost importance that the natives should remain in their own villages, subject to their own chiefs, and cultivating their own lands, both for their own benefit and to enable them to contribute their just proportion of the Government taxes, which it has been found desirable to collect in produce from gardens specially cultivated for this purpose by each village. Now that the number of the people has been so appallingly reduced by measles, it is the more desirable that those that survive should not be encouraged to leave their homes. Consequently a comparatively small number of Fijians are in the service of white men, who, as a rule, are not anxious to secure the labour of men from neighbouring villages, but endeavour to engage those from other isles, who thus are virtually as much strangers in a strange land are as the labourers imported from other groups. It is said that only under these circumstances are Fijians found willing to work diligently on the plantations—no great wonder, considering how easily they can supply their own simple needs in their own homes.

It is probable that arrangements will shortly be made for importing a large supply of Hindoo coolies from Calcutta, a measure which does not at present meet with cordial welcome, as of course the cost of transporting them to and fro will add materially to the expenses of the planters who engage them.

Meanwhile, on all large plantations there are representatives of half the Polynesian Isles, each lot living somewhat apart from the others, in separate quarters, and all having distinctive characteristics to be dealt with and considered, their dispositions being as diverse as are their features and complexions. There are Tanna men, with long hair done in a multitude of tiny plaits; straight-haired Tokalaus from the Line Islands, with sallow skin and large dark eyes; woolly heads and grizzly heads of every variety from the Banks Islands and the Loyalty group, or Erromango.

The men most sought after as really hard workers come from Tanna, in the New Hebrides; while some of their nearest neighbours in the same group prove utterly useless. But the least popular come from the Solomon Isles, these being literally untamable, preserving the instincts of their race, who are all ferocious cannibals and treacherous to a degree. Some even come from Santa Cruz, that name of bitter association, which, twice over—first in 1871, and again last August—has thrilled all the world with horror, when two of the noblest men who ever sailed the southern seas, striving so lovingly to do good everywhere, fell victims to the treacherous arrows of the people they would fain have helped. Of course you know I allude to Bishop Patteson and Commodore Goodenough—names worthy for evermore to be enshrined side by side among the foremost of Christian martyrs.

Just imagine what cheerful work it must be for a planter beginning life in Fiji to watch for the arrival of a vessel freighted with foreign labour, the wildest-looking creatures you can possibly conceive; and then, having engaged a number of these for three years, to start for some remote estate on a distant isle, accompanied by a horde of utterly untutored savages from a dozen different groups, all having different customs and different languages, alike only in their total ignorance of the work required of them, and requiring to be taught everything from the very beginning. Picture to yourself having these for your only companions, and knowing that they are certain to leave you at the expiration of their three years’ service, just when you have, by dint of unwearied patience and trouble, succeeded in training them in some measure.

There would be some compensation in such dismal work if it were to result in coining gold, and so securing a speedy return to England, or even the chance of making a really comfortable home out here; but the road to wealth in Fiji seems to be like the approach to heaven, strait and narrow, and few there be that find it.

So you see that the prospect is not altogether inviting; and as regards the present state of the Isles, I should certainly not advise any one to come here at present to settle unless he has a good lump of money to invest in land—say, at least, £2000—and plenty capital to work it. The place is frightfully expensive, and for any one dependent on his pay is simply ruinous. All Government _employés_ have very low salaries, and find it almost impossible to live; and yet every post is eagerly sought by dozens of white men, craving a morsel of bread.

Of course it is all very delightful for me who have nothing to think about, but just what enjoyment can be got out of the beautiful surroundings, with heaps of pleasant companions, and everything to make life agreeable, including blessed good health, which, I am thankful to say, is my invariable portion. I wish I could say as much for all the others, most of whom have had some twinges of illness; and all have had sore feet, arising, I fancy, from scratching mosquito-bites, which, in this moist climate, frequently results in very painful sores. So most of the party take it by turns to be lame. Mr Gordon suffers horribly from neuralgia, which is much encouraged by the mode of building here, the walls being merely made of reeds, through which the draughts blow freely; and though the air that thus comes in is generally celestial, sometimes a storm blows up before morning, and a cold, wet, rainy wind blows in. Last night we were all awakened by a noise like thunder on the roof, which is of zinc, as with all foreign houses here. It was a mad rain-storm beating right in at the open jalousies. Some people were fairly flooded out. To-day the weather is clear and lovely.

I am still living with the Havelocks, who are kindness itself, and make me heartily welcome to a corner of their sweet little cottage—the nicest situation here. I am most fortunate to be with them, as Nasova (Government House) is still in a horrible mess, full of builders, carpenters, noise—no rest for any one anywhere—besides being much too low for the breeze—actually on the sea-level. I am going off soon to visit another island, Nananu, the property of Mr Leefe’s brother. Mrs L. most kindly wrote to invite me, and to say her husband would come in his boat to fetch me. One of the drawbacks to these expeditions is, that you may be becalmed and kept out at sea in a tiny schooner for several days,—which might be awkward, to say the least of it.

We have had alarming rumours of the unsettled state of the disaffected tribes on the Great Island, but later reports make us believe them to have been greatly exaggerated. Sir Arthur intends going there in person, without even a body-guard—only sending a small body of native police beforehand. Now it is growing dark, for it is past six o’clock, at which hour the sun sets all the year round. We regret the long summer evenings, especially when returning from any distant expedition. However, we shall have the gain of no short days in winter. Now I must climb down from my rocky perch and get home while I can see my way, so good-bye.—Ever yours,

C. F. G. C.

Among other peculiarities of this small colony, our postage-stamps would amuse you. They were struck by the Government which crowned Thakombau king, and bear his initials, C. R. (Cacobau Rex). In the present necessity for rigid economy no new stamps are issued, but the letters V.R. partially obliterate the C.R., or rather, blend with them. Another curiosity is the bank-note of the late Government, which wisely eschews any binding “promise to pay,” and merely states that “the bearer is entitled to receive” his due, with the _sous entendu_, “Don’t he wish he may get it!” The suggestion may prove useful nearer home!