One Christmas Eve In Papua

By M, R. Hunter

PORT Moresby, one of Australia’s out posts in the Pacific, was at the time of this story quite different from the PM of to-day.

Jack MacDonald, one-time warrant officer of the Government patrol boat “Merrie England”, had, since the depar ture of Sir William Macgregor, trans ferred to a land post as gaoler at Port Moresby. It was a job in which his duties embraced road-building. His prison labourers (for the most part serving terms for murder) were treacherous, con tinually plotting to escape, and often succeeding, caused him many times to regret the day he resigned the patrol boat to take up the land job.

Jack was engaged in making a road, with the aid of a big gang of native

prisoners, from Port Moresby to Rouna, the gateway of the rubber country, and had made such headway that he was now in the vicinity of Sapphire Creek.

One day, he was returning to his camp on horseback after unsuccessfully at tempting re-capture of three prisoners who had made a break-away, when, his mount shied at a snake, and threw him over a precipice.

Clawing frantically, and attempting to get a foot-hold, he was relieved to find that, at a depth of about 8 feet, he had struck a ledge. Looking upward, he noticed that where the iron toe-caps of his boots had scraped the stone, it showed a shine of metal.

Jack got back to the top of the cliff, and found his horse standing near, still trembling with fright. In little time he was making for the prison camp, to pro cure a pick, and a bag for a few samples, which he decided to take that night to Port. A boat leaving for Aus tralia the following morning carried away his specimens for analysis; and, within a month, a report was received showing that the specimens carried a very high percentage of copper. The report was responsible for the formation of a local syndicate to work the find, with Jack appointed chairman.

Though still in the employ of the Gov ernment, he found time to supervise the mining and transporting of the ore to Port Moresby, from there to be shipped to Cooktown for treatment. Most of the transport was done by mules, and all went merrily for a while.

THEN Jack struck a big spot of bother.

His native muleteer had staggered into camp one morning with his body pin-cushioned with arrows; he had been ambushed by one of the nearby tribes, and his mules driven off. While an endeavour was being made to remove the ugly, bone-tipped arrows, he died.

The mules were afterwards recovered; but, with all the natives refusing the job of muleteer, work was at a stand-still.

Jack had spent hours in Port, offering all sorts of inducements to both whites and natives to take on the job, but with no success. Wandering along the Port road, he noticed a trading boat from Australia making fast to the dilapi dated wharf, and, knowing the chief en gineer, he decided to pay Rim a visit.

He discovered his friend in his cabin with a bottle of “Scotch” at his elbow.

Jack told his friend of his problem.

“Angus,” he asked, “you haven't got anyone in the crew that is likely to know anything about mules, I suppose?”

“No”, replied the chief. Then added: “There’s a chap stowed aboard at Cook town —he’s working his passage—you can see him if you like. He seems a likely lad!”

The stowaway was called in; and, when questioned by Jack as to whether he un derstood mules, he smiled and said, “Mules? Why, they’re my second name!

I love ’em!” Jack beamed, and told him of the job going. And that is how Pruess enters this story, which tells you of how Jack lost his second muleteer.

Ten months elapsed, and Pruess proved himself an adept in handling his string of mules, and the work at Sapphire Creek, the location of the find, was going ahead —every boat leaving for Queensland load ing many tons of copper-ore.

The muleteer, however, proved to have a weakness for the native village belles.

Before many months had elapsed he had married (native fashion) one of the beauties of a nearby village.

IT was Xmas Eve, 1914. Every coastal vessel, from the east and west coasts, for the past month, had brought passengers to Port—mostly miners and prospectors from remote parts; and, among them a sprinkling of copra and rubber planters. In those days, the pioneers of the back-country endeavoured to spend a month, as near the festive season as possible, in semi-civilization. For the most part, they were a fine, hardy type of manhood, always ready for any celebration that was suggested.

Arrived early in the previous month was a foreigner, a Swede, who had all the ear-marks of a professional gambler —a well-set individual known as Handsome Harry. Whenever he sat in a game of poker, of which there was plenty in Port at the time, he only played “for de fun of de ting”; but he always showed a profit.

On this eve, at a varnished-scarred table in the bar parlour of the Moresby Hotel, out of the boiling afternoon sun, sat four men playing poker. Now and then they spoke brief, low-toned words pertaining to the cards in their hands, as the pile of silver mounted up in the 5 - jackpot which was then being played.

Of the four players at the table, two were prospectors—lean, grizzled oldtimers—Pruess, the muleteer, and, at his elbow, Handsome Harry.

The game had gone to queens on the down”, when the muleteer held up the game to inform the players that his cash had run out, and that if they were willing he would use chits, which his employer would honour.

Handsome Harry sat back and objected, but said: “I will stake you, and if you vin you pay me back. If I vin, I vant your voman! Eh, what you say?”

Pruess, thinking he was joking, laughingly agreed. The game continued until “aces on the up” a second time was

reached, and it was Handsome Harry’s deal. Pruess opened with three tens and bought two cards and Piled. The prospectors, after buying four each, dropped out, which left the dealer, who bought one card, and Pruess (the opener) to fight it out. Betting was brisk for a time, but eventually Pruess looked and said: “You’ll have to beat a full on tens, Handsome! Oh, dat is easy, he replied, and showed four kings.

It was early afternoon, and as the muleteer left to go to his shack, to sleep off the effect of the grog he had consumed, Handsome Harry, with a leer, reminded him that he “vould be along some time for de voman!”.

Pruess had been asleep, and was awakened by the screams of his wife.

He got to the door in time to see her break away from Handsome Harry, then rush back to the house and barricade the door. The would-be abductor eventually left with a threat that he would return alter dark and take her. pruess saw red, and swore vengeance, p or some .months’ he had been in pos session of a revolver, for protection against hostile natives when working his mu les. Late that afternoon he strolled i n to Hie room , the scene of the morning gamble, and found there the same three w ft o j iad taken part in the poker game.

They were now playing the less expensive g ame of three-handed crib. . *L . , , T , As Pruess entered the room, Handsome Harry, who had just pegged his hand, j£° ked round and saw him. He said, Pru es s> 1 c< i me , for my voman vitch I von to-day.

Pruess producing his revolver, answered, “No you won’t, this is all you 11 r6P ’ V slumped in ms cnair.

The two prospectors looked up, after taking their hands, and, seeing the posi

tion of the Swede, remarked, “Struth, he’s dead!”.

There were many in the Port who were of opinion that the slayer should be handed a public testimonial for hav ing rid them of a nuisance. But an un sympathetic judge thought otherwise, and handed out nine years’ hard labour, ■ ■ M r d T Webster Chief Offieer • RCS “Nimanoa” the Gilbert and Islands Government vessel re V ?P n o ct ober and’ took over commTnd of the RCS “Kiakia” k over commancl 01 tne Klakia .

Hon, George Murray, MLC, Director of Agriculture in New Guinea, arrived by plane in Sydney in November to receive urgent attention to one of his eyes. The operation was not successful, however, and Mr. Murray’s many friends will learn with regret that he has permanently lost the sight of one eye. He blames the vol canic dust from Matupi which, apparently, irritated his eyes and, eventually, caused inflammation which became chronic,