Trupicalities

The Radja Ampat Islanders Out for a Sail...

Nostalgic Memory

Of 60 Years Ago I WAS walking along Sussex St., Sydney, recently when suddenly I stopped in my tracks—to be roundly cursed by a gentleman with murderous-looking bag-hooks stuck in the belt supporting his leather apron.

He could not know, poor man, that a large truck-load of very ripe copra, which had just passed us, had carried me right back to December 29, 1902 - , .

That day, I had just left the old Aorangi at Suva, and was wending my wa y—for the first time—past the smelly old sheds between Suva wharf and Old Mother Mac’s famous hotel. That was my first sniff of ripe copra.

Three days later (January 1, 1903) all the Cable staff, of whom I was one, moved from the various places where they had been living into their newly-completed quarters overlook ing Albert Park. The furnishing had been very well done and our house keeper was Mrs. Hannah Pound, the widow of a doctor and a most effi cient lady.

But there was one thing just a bit out of order. In each bedroom there reposed a large piece of crockery ware which “single men in bar racks”, particularly in the tropics regard with a certain amount of dis favour.

A few hints doing no good, about a dozen of us, over our pre-dinner “wads” one evening, brought out the offending crocks, each with a hair or clothes brush, to serve as lali sticks.

We arranged the song Nadarivatu na Koro dina to the tune of Three Blind Mice; and with a pinky ponk! pinky ponk! pinky ponk! otf she went until the last piece of china crumbled, and we went down to find dear old Hannah weeping with laughter.

Some of the ladies, young or old, who now, I believe, occupy that old home of ours, might try standing at their bedroom door some late even ing and, tap-tap-tapping a whisky bottle with a corkscrew, see how many ghosts of the Old Brigade they can raise.—C. WAGER.

The Modern Pearl Trader IHAVE had an interesting hour or so lately, negotiating for pearls at Penryhn, in the Cook Islands.

Our vessel calls at the different islands in the group and the islanders are always glad to see us, as being off the beaten track of most shipping, they get few ships visiting them. We had hardly dropped our anchor when one or two small boats came sailing out to us and some of the “locals soon came aboard.

They all had pearl shell, pearls, native-made hats, fans and mats to

dispose of and most of the wa beautifully made. But it wasn’ much money they wanted, wanted clothes!

I had purposely brought away me a suit that I had been car: about for a long time and coul longer get into. I also had se pairs of second-hand shorts anc odd used shirt. Two or three of islanders soon crowded into my < and then the fun started!

They would unearth little bundles from some recess in clothes, which, when unwra would reveal one or two or pearls of various shapes, colour size. I would pick out two k ones and two or three small one ask, “How much?”

They would ask something tastic and point to my shoes “bula” shirt hanging up, and £ I had any shorts as well!

Then it was my turn: I t again pick out the two fair size and several smaller ones and la two pairs of shorts and say, what about it?” They would I dignant.

But eventually, both sides cai satisfactory agreement. Ill back in Suva with just abou clothes I stand in. —“Simmy .

This photo and those on the previous page are from the NNG Information Se: