The Hurricane-As I

Saw It

Planter’s Daughter Describes The Lau Visitation

THIS account of the hurricane in the Lau Islands (Fiji) was written for the “PIM” by MISS MARA HENNINGS, of Naitauba, Lau Group, a few hours after the storm passed.

Naitauba was in one of the most ex posed areas.

THE preceding evening (Monday, De cember 6) was quite calm and bliss fully cool after the heat of the last few days—indeed, it was so pleasant that the outer, troubled world faded even fur ther from our imagination.

The seasons had been kind, the gardens bloomed, the trees and shrubs were flower laden, and everyone revelled in an abund ance of food. We harboured many un fortunates, saved from the malnutrition of their home villages, and we sent away large numbers of food parcels.

Tuesday was squally, and the weather bulletin ominous; so the boats were safely anchored and the launch sent further along the bay. The flat was already flooding, and I tore around madly, collect ing all the hens with families, and other creatures in danger. The kitchen was crammed with poultry of all varieties and sizes—which must have blessed the old ship’s stove as much as I did. But. by the time they were dry, the water was already sweeping in under the door.

We were optimistic that the wind would abate by noon. Nevertheless, all had been made as safe as possible by the time the news came through that the centre of the hurricane would pass slightly to the east of us.

The squalls were increasing in strength by now, and the rain was torrential—this caused as much damage as anything else.

Water spurted under every door and around each window, and poured down through our new cream ceiling. It was impossible to save anything; even the piano stood under a waterfall. I tried to put the pictures away safely whilst we ourselves sat out the storm in one of the few dry areas.

The day passed in our succouring more drowning poultry and improvising relief measures around the homestead. At first, only leaves, fruit and branches flitted by; then the trees began to crash; and, by dusk, sheets of iron and outer woodwork were travelling along on the fearful wind.

Visibility was obscured by clouds of spray, lifted from the flooded grounds; but it cleared at times, so that we could watch the damage in progress.

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SHORTLY before 5 p.m. the barometer fell to 28.14 ins., although the home stead was still slightly sheltered from the full blast by the surrounding hills. We dined in the kitchen, between two broken windows, our feet tucked up, clear of the water, now 3-4 inches deep. Still more poultry was being brought in, so that the din almost drowned out the storm.

Due to some—fortunate —architectural fault, there was a dry island under a table, large enough for many hens to crowd on to, with packing cases for the rest to perch on.

By dusk, the wind had moved south, and then westwards; and although the barometer was rising slightly, the gusts became even more merciless. My father, long past the Biblical span, went out into the gale to call the overseer for volunteers to take another anchor out to the launch.

The men refused. It was bitter, indeed.

We sat out the evening by the light of a dim kerosene lantern, trying to scream an occasional remark, and comfort the terrified dogs. Water still poured in, the house swayed and, below the higher notes of wind, rain and sea, the hurricane throbbed like the engines of a giant liner.

It heightened the impression of un reality that I had had all day, as if watching a horror film and constantly re assuring myself that it was, after all, only on the screen.

The barometer continued to rise to 28.60 inches at 8 p.m., which we considered fairly safe, as the wind seemed to be abating. The weather bulletin, coming in uncannily clear and unemotional through ,the din, confirmed this; so we made for our damp beds.

Wednesday was still cold, wet, and bois terous. The destruction was unbelievable.

It seemed that every fourth palm was down and quite half the others—prize breadfruit groves ripped apart, one fruit tree left standing, the roads and food plantations devastated.

Heavy wood and iron copra-drying trays had been hurled against other buildings, garage doors wrenched off. all the build ings flooded, native houses obliterated, and ruin everywhere. The launch had dis appeared—smashed to pieces, with her new engine buried in the sand. The changing wind had swept her towards the shore, the anchor held and tore out the bow, whilst the stern drifted away, to crash against a stone wharf further along.

No anchor could have saved her from that westerly wind, nor could she have sur vived on the slip, as she would have been crushed under the tree that lay across it.

Nothing could have saved her except a trip to the lee side of the island—and, by that time it was far too dangerous to attempt. That comfort we had, and perhaps that alone, after the hurricane of 1948—our worst since 1912.

Lady Freeston, wife of Sir Brian Frees ton, Governor of Fiji, left Suva on Jan uary 10 by plane for New Zealand, en route to England, where the eldest daughter of Sir Brian and Lady Freeston is to be married shortly. Lady Freeston will be away for about six months. £ The Fijian infant mortality rate in the period 1926 to 1947 is illustrated by a graph in the annual report of the Medical Department. It shows an en couraging if not spectacular drop in recent years. Despite recessions in' 1930 (the worst year shown in the graph), 1936 and 1944, the death-rate for every 1,000 live births has dropped from more than 175 in 1930 to 75 in 1947. In 1945 the rate was below 70.