Corsican Castaway In Papua

Colourful Life of Joe Austen, Crimean Veteran and Vagabond

By Mollie Lett

OAPUA or British New Guinea, as it A was called 30 years ago, has har boured many interesting characters in its time. Men of all nationalities have landed on its shores, either by chance or design, and attracted either by the unique opportunities for wild adventure or the offer of easy wealth that an undeveloped savage country seems to hold out for those who dare to explore it.

In old records one comes across long forgotten names, not only of Englishmen and Frenchmen but also of Germans and Italians, as well as Greeks and Cor sicans. The Chinese, too, took a hand in the very early days, and it is known that long before our occupation both Portu guese and Spaniards made attempts to discover the hidden wealth that Papua so determinedly withholds from those who seek it.

In the Fly River estuary, a 40-miles span where breakers thunder and hurl themselves on the sandbanks stretching far out to sea, mysterious and untrace able wreckage still floats ashore occa sionally in the numerous channels be tween the sandbanks and islands. Relics, no doubt, of some long forgotten adven ture by men whose skulls have rotted many years past in the “long houses” of the head-hunters who dominated the

district. Nothing remains to tell the tale of their disasters, beyond the drift ing wreckage dislodged from its long resting place in the deep mud and sand.

It is difficult to keep trace of Papua’s early characters, and it is just as dif ficult to find the reasons for their presence in this strange land. Even more so is to discover their previous history.

Many, indeed, seem to have dropped from the skies and after a few years vanished into an obscurity that is impos sible to penetrate. But occasionally the life story of some rover is clearly defined and in following out the records one seems to gather an indication as to the general character of the many other adventurers of whom little is definitely known.

Such a character was Joseph Augustin de Paoli, a Corsican by birth, known later as Joe Austen or Joe, who as far back as the 70’s was cast away on the sand banks of the Fly estuary, along with the crew of his vessel, driven there by the strong tides that sweep through the Papuan Gulf. De Paoli alone survived the general massacre that followed, hold ing back the repeated attacks of the Kiwai, who were determined to add his head to those of his less fortunate com panions.

Born at Ajaccio in 1833, Joseph Augustin was reared in the restless atmosphere of a Corsican town whose traditions were centred around the glories of past campaigns. His family proudly claimed as a near relative the national hero General Pasquale de Paoli, known in 1790 as “the father of the country” whose secretary, Carlo Bonaparte, was father to the future Emperor of the French—Napoleon, whom Pasquale later defied.

Full of ambition for a military career, young Augustin entered the French Army in 1851, and two years later was a lieutenant of artillery, fighting the Rus sians in the Crimean War. Returning to Paris, he was given the rank of captain and’ later, in 1876, fought against the Prussians at Saarbrucken, Metz, and Sedan, in the Franco-Prussian War. In an encounter with a body of light cavalry he was wounded, and carried a scar from a Uhlan’s lance to the end of his days.

With the fall of the Empire in 1871, de Paoli joined the communists under Monsignor Thiers and fought against the Government. After several weeks of bitter fighting he was arrested. Brought before the Council, he was tried as a political prisoner, convicted, and sen tenced to five years’ penal servitude in New Caledonia, one of the worst penal settlements of its kind.

Thus ended de Paoli’s ambitions for a military career. In 1873 he was shipped on board a sailing vessel making for Australia via the Cape, and as the vessel set sail from Marseilles, he despaired of ever again seeing the shores of his beloved France.

The long voyage south was made under

the most appalling conditions. Becalmed for weeks with a shortage of water and supplies, and herded with the worst type of criminals, de Paoli became so dis mayed over his impending fate that he resolved to escape, whatever the cost, at the very first opportunity. The chance came in Melbourne. With the help of a fellow Corsican, he slipped oyer the ship’s side, and swam ashore. Hiding in the thick undergrowth, he evaded capture and disappeared from the world as a

political prisoner.

Then began his career as a vagabond.

For three years he swept the streets, cooked, taught French, prospected for gold, tramped, starved, and begged, until at last he found employment on a vessel sailing for the East Indies and China.

It was while making the passage through Torres Strait that the skipper struck trouble, and de Paoli eventually found himself alone and stranded on the sand banks of the Fly River estuary, sur rounded by a howling mob of savages.

That de Paoli survived was due not only to his courage, but to his being left on guard while the others pushed off in boats for the shore. He waited in vain for their return, and it was only the following day after a prolonged search that he came across their dismembered bodies on the river bank.

Their murderers pursued him hotly back to the vessel. Then for days he held them at bay with rifles and ammu nition from the ship’s stores, repelling each determined attack, until the Kiwai, recognising his superiority, lessened their efforts-and withdrew.

Finally, they made overtures of friendship, and friendly relations were soon established. De Paoli settled near the village of Sui, where he purchased land and established himself as a trader with a miscellaneous assortment of goods collected from the wreck.

The Kiwais at that time were great warriors, skilled agriculturists, and keen traders. Though they indulged in cere monial man-eating and were continually at war and on the look-out for heads, de Paoli found them an amiable, indus trious, and intelligent people.

Their trading expeditions extended from the lower reaches of the Fly and the mainland, as far as Darnley and Murray Islands in Torres Strait, where they exchanged turtles, beche-de-mer, and garden produce for odd bits of iron and pearl shell. These trading expedi tions were a source of great interest to de Paoli, who, as time passed, became recognised as an identity in the district.

There is nothing attractive about the lower reaches of the Fly. Nipa and man grove trees line the river’s muddy banks for mile upon mile, and for hundreds of miles very little of the country is above high water mark. The whole surface of £iwai Island also is low and flat and except for sago swamps and small forest undergrowth, there is practically no timber. So it is not hard to understand that the Corsican welcomed the change and excitement of trading expeditions to vary the monotony of his life and sur roundings.

In time, he shifted from Kiwai Island

to Parama (Bampton Island), separated from the mainland on the right bank of the Fly, and it was there that Sir William MacGregor discovered him in 1889. It is said that the Governor severely rebuked him for his scanty attire (conspicuous by its absence) and for his somewhat unusual manner of living and ordered him, to leave.

It is difficult to understand how or where de Paoli (or Joe Austen as he was now known) could have replenished his dwindling w T ardrobe, as it gradually fell from him in rags. Except for the far distant centre of Port Moresby, recently established, no European settlement existed along the whole coastline of the little-known possession. The unfortunate

castaway, pitchforked years ago into this desolate region, had no alternative but to regulate his mode of life to his imme diate needs and to the savage conditions of his surroundings.

Disgusted and disheartened over the injustice of his reception and the lack of appreciation over what he considered was quite a meritorious achievement, Austen at length withdrew from Parama to the western mainland, and finally drifted through Torres Strait to Thurs day Island. There he acquired a small lugger and became actively interested in pearl fishing.

He prospered to some extent with his new enterprise, and with his reputation as a Crimean veteran and an explorer

of savage New Guinea, soon acquired a standing in his new surroundings. The soldiers of the T.I. Garrison hailed him as a hero and warships calling in rarely failed to pay some mark of respect to Joe. He had by now no desire to return to his home country—his lands had long been confiscated—and there seemed no reason why he should abandon his pre sent good prospects.

But Joe’s good fortune was short lived. In a hurricane that swept over the northern shores of Queensland and Thursday Island, his little fleet was com pletely destroyed, and by now far too old and worn out to acquire new tricks, he fell upon bad times. Finally the kindly management of the Grand Hotel took him in and cared for him, reserving a small building for his use near the premises.

A little later, in 1910, Lord Kitchner visited Thursday Island while reporting on the problems of Australia’s defence. •To Joe’s gratification, Lord Kitchner not only recognised him as a veteran of the Crimean War but, it is said, commended him for a small pension, which did much

to compensate him for past misfortunes and disappointments.

With his memory gradually failing, the years now rolled on uneventfully for Joe, until he changed the shelter of the hotel for that of the hospital. There after a long illness he died in 1927, at the age of 94.