of Samarai

North and West of Samarai "Benzining" Around the Eastern Papuan Islands

IT was on April 1 that we departed from Bwagaoia, the port on Misima Islan d. South-eastern Papua, in our 26-ft. auxiliary cutter. They all said we were fools—but they would have done e ven if it hadn’t been April 1. But, it took more than a little pessimism to damp our spirits for we were off on a month’s cruise among those beautiful little islands, dotted around the south eastern end of Papua.

Ail we knew about boats and sailing was learned by driving a Ford over country roads, so although inured to the rocking about, we had very little idea of navigation, beyond noting where the sun rose or set.

However, we got away, with only a few debt collectors on the wharf to mar a particularly pleasant take-off. Waving to creditors gives a departure an uplifting, if somewhat gruesome touch. One local storekeeper, an obnoxious person, followed us along to the last point of land.

At 3.30 p.m. on April 1, the admiral, captain, chief officer, chief engineer and crew looked through his binoculars and shouted “Land ahoy!” to himself. The land was a small sand island, called Nibub on our charts, close to a group of islands round the Redlick Lagoon. It was purported to have a good anchorage, so we decided, as the sun was well over the yard-arm, we had better spend the night there.

Nibub is about half a mile long, a hundred yards wide, covered with a dense growth of shrubs, coconuts and odd trees.

Pigeons are plentiful on it and we were lucky in bringing down a few Torres Strait species. These birds are practically all white, with black points, and are very good eating when tinned meat has been the main item on the menu. After cooking and demolishing a couple of these in good sea-dog style, we settled down ashore to enjoy the beauties of a tropical night from the meagre comfort of a camp stretcher. The moon came up and its soft light gave us a touch of what romantic writers write about. Far in the distance Misima could be seen, rising gradually from one end up to Mt. Oitau, on the other, Nirvani, a small island planted with coconuts, was in view.

RISING at daylight, and smashing savagely at any mosquitoes which had been stupid enough to sit too long over their bloody meal, we roared for the cook-boy, and worked our dirty liver off on him to a certain degree. The boat-boy came in for his share, after breakfast.

So began a new day in a world of our own, bounded by water, clouds and sky.

After nearly capsizing the dinghy and its contents of captain, crew, rear-admiral and bedding, we got safely aboard our craft, and headed south-west. All our calculations were approximate. It’s so much easier. We steamed—or, rather, “benzined”—majestically past Nirvani, and then headed for the Conflict Group, pas sing the Torlesse Group and Pananui on our route.

We reached an island of the Conflict Group, called Honiara in our book, at 6.30 p.m. and anchored for another night.

It was blowing south-west and Honiara is not the best anchorage in this weather.

So we slept on the boat this night, in case a storm came up.

NEXT day, we passed the Conflicts, which are flat islands, 6 to 12 feet above sea level and all, about a dozen, planted with coconuts. They are

owned by a company, and the manager has a residence on Panasasa, at the western end of the group.

We had the tides against us this day —also every other day. We suspect that we have some magical influence on tides.

If we go one way they go the other.

Anyhow, we made Panasasa in due time and stayed the night under the hospitable roof of the manager.

It was about 10 a.m. next day that our good ship, after a lot of hammering and bad language in the engine room, got under way. There was very little ex citement from there on to Tua Tua.

It was beautiful weather when we en tered Sewa Bay, on the west coast of Normanby Island. Sewa is a wonderful harbour. Its entrance is practically closed by an island, right in the centre, making the passage hard to see at all from any distance out. However, it is deep enough water to allow a warship to enter, and, when inside, it opens up into a bay about 12 miles by 5 miles. There is a Government rest-house and a wharf on one of the numerous points and, liking the place, we decided to stay a day or so.

Crocodiles abound in Sewa Bay. There is also good pigeon-shooting, with num bers of the big blue pigeon, as well as the Torres Strait variety.

Our next port of any interest was Bagasse, where the Salamo Mission sta tion is situated.

FROM here, we visited some hot springs on Fergusson Island. These are one of the most interesting things we have seen. They are about a mile or so in from the coast. Two creeks merge at the saltwater. Both run warm water, one being particularly hot. We went in, in a dinghy, with a guide, the boat-boy and the cook-boy with us.

At the mouth of the creek is a sand bank which, at low tide, will stop a loaded dinghy. When we touched bottom we roared at the black complement to un burden the dinghy of their weight. The cook-boy hopped over the side —and, not expecting hot water, leapt high in the air and landed in the dinghy again. He was pale round the gills, and it was some time before he regained his composure.

We went up the creek for about half a mile and then walked along a foot pad.

In places the ground is a bit shaky and it is not safe to go off the track, in case of breaking through the surface. A de posit of some stone, resembling limestone, about an acre in extent is seen before coming to the first spring. This is a big pool, about 50 feet across, with a regular fountain of boiling water, rising about 6 feet above the surface in the centre. A continual stream of water runs out and down over the stone deposits.

Further in, there is a crack in the ground, about 50 yards long, full to about 6 feet below the surface with hot water.

At regular intervals of about 5 minutes, a gurgling noise is heard coming from way down below, gradually rising, and finally shooting water and steam out to about 20 feet in the air. As with most things we don’t really understand, it is rather awe-inspiring and, to use a com mon Australian phrase, we “had the breeze up”, somewhat.

These springs cover a few acres in ex tent and, in thousands of places, there are small holes, belching steam at in tervals. This was where the cook-boy got into more trouble.

Being blessed with a curious mind, he poked his big toe into one of these and was feeling around when a jet of steam came up. A jet of steam emerging from a small hole is a formidable thing to check. However, the cook didn’t resist.

He went as the steam, and was 50 yards away before the sound of his first yell of pain had died from our ears. It would have required no Watt or Stephenson to have seen the power in steam. We had an inspiration in relation to horse-racing.

From Bagasse, we headed round the northern end of Fergusson Island and over to Goodenough Island.

The Goodenough Islanders, in the early days of Papua, gave the Government a good deal of trouble, but now they are among the best and most peaceful in the Territory.

FROM Goodenough we crossed to the Trobriands. We headed for the Amphlet Group, and after a rough trip arrived at Dom Dom Island, about 5 p.m.

At Dom Dom, the reef comes out about 100 yards from the shore and then drops off sheer into very deep water. There is only about 20 yards in which to anchor.

Any closer to the shore will be too shallow, and any further out will be too deep. So we cast our anchor on the edge, with the boat tailing inshore.

The tide turned round and, just when we had decided to “hit the hay”, we dis covered we were drifting. We had dragged our anchor over the edge. If we had gone to sleep, by morning we would probably have been miles away, or washed up on some reef. Anyhow, after a bit of naviga ting in the dark, we found an anchorage, and spent a peaceful time.

Next day, we reached Sinaketa, one of the Trobriand Group, after a tussle with two rain squalls.

The Trobriands are very flat islands

and, from a distance, look like a pencil mark on the horizon. The people in many respects are totally different from any other natives in Papua. A big portion of their diet is fish, which abound in the enormous lagoon that practically sur rounds the group. The’ir morals are different from those of any other Papuans’, and by some are regarded as deplorable. As with all primitive peoples, they have a moral code of their own, but it need not be bad because it is different from ours. They abide by their code more scrupulously than we observe our own.

A lot of carving is done in one of the villages and we purchased a few articles to litter up the house and leave us less room on the boat. The land is very fertile and some of the best yams in the Terri tory are grown there.

FROM the Trobriands, we journeyed back via Dobu Passage to Samarai.

From Samarai to Misima is just

24 hours’ run. About 140 miles, but it took us five good long days to reach it.

We had a heavy head wind and in places very rough seas. One stretch of about 40 miles, took us 13 hours of battling. That is what the sea and a small boat can do if they really set out to do it. However, there is something thriUmg in being out in a small boat, ™th the weather raining and blowing like Hades, waves slopping over the decks dark as a dog’s guts (that’s a seafaring term!) and being soaked to the Uver We were glad when we again entered Bwagaoia harbour. So were our creditors

L. H. W.

Miss Nance Sefton, of Koitaki, Papua won first prize of £75 in the No. 1 Lakatoi Lottery, in October. The lotteries will be held regularly to assist Papua’s war funds; about £6O was cleared from this first one.