Tropicalities

INDIAN cane-growers, giving evidence on production costs before the Com mission recently set up in Fiji to inquire into their grievances, made some remarkable statements.

One man said he fed his horse 56 pounds of maize a day; later he said maybe it was nearer 28 pounds; another, that he and his wife ate six pounds of rice at a meal—this figure was even tually beaten down to three pounds—but he maintained that his dog ate a lot!

Another calculated his wages at 8/- per day—stating that he worked twice as hard on his own place—and if he hired himself out he was paid 4/- per day for it. The view depends upon which side of the fence you happen to sit! * MR. GEORGE WELLER, war corres pondent of the “Chicago Daily News,” one of the world’s greatest newspapers, was in Sydney recently, after visiting most of the South Pacific Islands, and he brought news of several old friends.

In Rarotonga he met Robert Dean Frisbie, from Pukapuka, whose “Mr.

Moonlight’s Island” was a popular pre war novel. Another South Seas novel by Frisbie is now being published in serial form by the “Atlantic Monthly.”

In Tahiti, Weller met the now-famous James Norman Hall, co-author with Nordhoff of some best-sellers. Hall has just finished another novel, and Mrs.

Hall took the MS to America with her in August. The story tells how Ameri cans disturbed the economic structure of an un-named Pacific archipelago because, through the exigencies of war, they had to cut down all the coconut palms.

Weller spent some time in Rarotonga with Captain Andy Thomson, known throughout five archipelagoes. On a many-antlered hatstand in the skipper’s home hang several hats. These are mementoes of his many children who have gone away—some of the boys to the fighting services, the girls to New Zealand. As each youngster leaves the parental roof-tree his or her most fami liar headgear is left on the stand, not to be disturbed until the wanderer returns. ♦ WELLER wanted to meet Queen Salote in Nukualofa: but, since an Ameri can magazine of a low type tried to amuse its readers by publishing a scur rilous article about Tonga’s highly respected ruler, reporters have been somewhat at a discount in the Nukualofa palace. Weller took it philosophically.

“I should have liked a chance to explain to these excellent people that there can be bad hats in journalism, just as in any other profession,” he remarked.

These American correspondents cer tainly move around. Since the war started, George Weller has been in every belligerent country, and in half the non belligerents. He saw Abyssinia regained, he saw Greece over-run by Nazis, he was present at the fall of Singapore, and he saw the Japs wiped out on the north east coast of Papua. * rMI, a respectful Samoan, stood at the back door of a bungalow in Apia, and offered two ducks for sale.

Eventually, the lady in charge paid the price, and the ducks were turned loose in a back enclosure, near a lane.

Meanwhile, Mr. Smith, an unoffending resident, a considerable distance away, was dancing with rage: his duck-pen had been robbed. He told police about it,

but privately said good-bye to his poultry.

Next day, by merest chance, he passed through the lane. He heard a certain familiar sound, looked over a fence, and there were two of his lamented ducks.

“This,” said Mr. Smith, “is a fair cop!”

Then he looked beyond the fence, stared, and glared again at the ducks.

His stolen poultry was shut up in the back-yard of the Chief Judge of Samoa!

Mr. Smith went hesitantly to the chief of police, and sought advice. How, in Heaven’s name, did one charge a Chief Judge with being in possession of stolen ducks?

The police chief found humour in the situation. He enjoyed his interview with the Chief Judge, and especially with Mrs.

Chief Judge, whose description of Timi was interspersed with picturesque and explosive comment.

The description was so good that Timi was identified and arrested, in quick time.

“Seven weeks’ imprisonment!” said the Court, with grim satisfaction. (EDITOR’S NOTE: Our correspondent is so interested in his funny story that he has failed as a news-gatherer. What became of the ducks?) • UNCLE Sam has recognised the worth of a number of Islands men in the 23 months of the Pacific war. News of the latest honours is contained in a despatch from Washington on November 14, which states that the important US decoration, the Legion of Merit, has been awarded to two well-known South-west Pacific men who led a reconnaissance party to Russell Islands, BSI, on February 12. 1943, and obtained information which assisted later in Allied landings on the islands. The men were Squadron-Leader Charles Widdy, RAAF, and Lieutenant Gordon Howe, RANR. Both were spe cially selected for their knowledge of treacherous Solomon Islands’ waters.

The citation said that Widdy. Howe, and party embarked in a captured Jap anese sampan, which Howe navigated for miles through inadequately-charted reefs at night time, landing the party safely.

Through their intimate knowledge of the islands, Widdy and Howe made possible a comprehensive report on the physical aspect of the islands which proved valu able to the advanced party of the occu pational force.

Squadron-Leader Widdy was general manager of Levers’ Pacific Plantations in the Solomons before the war, and at pre sent commands the Solomon Islands Labour Corps, which numbers 2,500 offi cers and men.

Lieutenant Howe is well known to Islands residents as an officer on Burns, Philp & Company ships. It was on the “Malaita” that he gained his “intimate knowledge of the Solomon Islands” that allowed him to navigate the party safely through the reefs surrounding Russell Islands. * WHILE he was in the Middle East, “Blue” was bitten by a dog. He reported to the MO. who took a serious view of the situation, suspecting rabies.

“Rabies!” “Blue” was alarmed.

“Gripes, Doc. isn’t that what makes blokes go mad and bite people?”

The MO said it was. “Well, gimme a pencil and some paper,” yelled “Blue.”

“It’s alright,” said the MO, trying to calm the fevered “Blue,” “I’ve got every thing under control. There’s no need to make a will yet.”

“Will be damned,” answered the bitten one, “I’m not making a will; I’m writing down the names of all the sergeants I’m going to bite!"