CHAPTER SEVEN

We reached Thursday Island on the fifth and sailed up along the land to the signal station for recognition, then proceeded up the channel to drop anchor off the wharf, amid a cluster of luggers, making our tow fast alongside, I went ashore to report and order fuels and stores. Thursday Island itself is not a big island but was undoubtedly picked for a port because it is in the centre of an island cluster – Hammond, Prince of Wales, Tuesday and Horn Islands, to name a few,

Thursday Island is under the control of the Australian Army and what a mess some of it. The pearling industry was at a standstill, the Japanese section was wrecked; one could see diving gear lying in heaps; suits, pumps and hoses just tossed about. Local boys and other from various islands around Torres Straits dressed in Army greatcoats and boots going about their jobs loading the boats and doing minor work out and about.

We went for a swim in the local baths and a night at the open air pictures. In all it was eight days for our stores etc to be delivered so we checked the engine over, re-caulked the decking and all lashings checked and tightened.

Our Engineer met a lot of his old cronies here, for he had at one time worked here. After ordering fuel we then turned out attentions to the engine which was again giving us trouble. This heavy tow of ours was taking it out on our little craft. The ‘Destiny’ was also in our company. We had missed him for a few days and when we next met up with him; his crew informed us the Skipper had been up to his old tricks of shooting again. He had reached Portland Roads and had started shooting in the middle of the night. The officer of the Port came storming aboard and threatened to put the Skipper in the stockade to cool his heels. It was a very subdued man that we met later.

Thursday Island was centre of a group of islands and the main pearling base. Other islands were Hammond Island, Wednesday Island and Prince of Wales Island together with a number of other islands. Horn Island took a battering from the Japanese on their way to bomb Darwin, it has a air strip on it and the Japs did their best to destroy it.

We made new friends; they were also Small Ship crews. One of the boats and crew had been caught up in the bombing of Horn Island. The engineer, named Mick, was the most frightened man I had come upon. While at Horn Island the Japs had dropped what we call Daisy Cutters; these bombs send scrap metal waist high. The crew had a close call with these bombs, it was from this that Mick had not fully recovered.

We also had a surprise, an Australian corvette dropped anchor and its small boat lowered which came straight for us. Coming alongside we saw three people, two navy ratings and an officer to our surprise the officer, a chief engineer, was our old superintendent from the Red Funnel. He had been a reserve man and when the war started had gone into the Navy. He had gone on deck for some fresh air and had recognized the Nanagai just had to come over and see who was on it. He stayed on board for about an hour, and as he left he wished us luck; “I am sorry you are going to New Guinea. It is a terrible place I wish you all luck.”

I got our clearance from the Navy so once more away to sea. We were ready to hop across to New Guinea leaving Thursday Island on the thirteenth.

I had studied the charts of our passage across the strait to New Guinea; strong tides and half submerged cays. Before leaving Sydney I had been given dozens of charts from Sydney to the Philippines – I hope we don’t have to go there. The coastal waters have been charted but not so good, a lot a reefs marked but not much known, I shall have to take much care.

We had George and the Destiny for company. The crew was happy as they felt he would loose them if not with us.

We anchored at Saddle Island in the Torres Strait. We kept the guns in the best of conditions and ammunition boxes full for we were now in hostile waters and it paid to be prepared.

The next stop was Rennol Island, our first native village, but because of the war it was deserted; the natives were now on Thursday Island. We chased some pigs around the island but never managed to catch any.

We next passed Coconut Island, this island was the travel agents dream : looking perfect, south seas tropical island, low lying covered with swaying coconut trees. We could not see any habitation on it but certainly looked beautiful.

Our course takes us passed Murray Islands, home of once head hunters and Cannibals who use to prey on other Torres Strait natives and Australian natives, we did not stop.

The Torres Straits are full of islands, coconut trees covering them, all looking romantic as portrayed in books. Palms all around with thatched huts and outriggers pulled up on the beach, beautiful.

I had read lots of Ion Idriess and in his book ‘The Drums of Mur’ he writes of head hunters and cannibals on these islands. So here were where, what should we find here.

On we sailed though tropic waters small fish flying like small airplanes leaving the water, disturbed by our passage until we reached Darnley Island (Erub).

This was the largest of the outcrops on our route and inhabited by natives, our last calling place before reaching New Guinea. We had quite an enjoyable day here, no sooner has we dropped anchor that the beach was lined with natives, than a canoe pushed off and made its way to us. In it was two Aussie’s (wireless men) and three native counselors who made us welcome and invited us ashore. We agreed to go after lunch, the two Aussies joining us.

After lunch we found half the population alongside and on seeing old Ben the Engineer they nearly went mad with excitement: one old chap in particular “my very good friend Mr Huxley” he shouted. I told them they could come aboard. There was a mad rush; old men, a few young men, women, boys and girls; soon they were all over the boat and the lighter that was drawn alongside. They went on the lighter going all over it making clucking noises.

We were followed by the natives who were delighted when we allowed the oldest and the youngest have a go and to shoot a few rounds from the machine guns. They nearly went frantic all clambering for a go; we had to pry the gun from the hands the old chap who was Ben’s friend; he would press down the trigger and hang on, the recoil lifting him off his feet. They were all scrambling for the empty cartridges regardless of the fact they were all hot.

We made ready to go ashore, the three counselors would stay on board and no one else would be allowed on. When we reached the beach we were met by the chief, a huge native dressed in purple lava lava with gold edging, he made Big Jack appear small, his chest like a barrel, I bet he would have eaten us if he had half a chance. After begging a cigarette he next invited us to his hut, here goes I thought, he will stick a spear in us and toast us over a slow fire but this was not to be. He had a small boy climb a palm and drop some dozen or so coconuts. The nuts were huge, holding about a quart of cool juice, much nicer to us as our drinking water was always warm. These trees towered up eighty to hundred feet and to see the small boy race up one was an eye opener.

We went on a tour of inspection of the island. It was a small mountain rising from the sea; a path about twelve feet wide skirted the water’s edge. We lay in a small cove between two hillocks. On the top of one was built the island’s church, built by the natives from coral lime and all white, the font a huge clam shell. Below the church was the meeting place of the natives. Going over the hill and passed the church, we came upon the main village. Here the huts were built about fifty feet back from the path, flanked with an avenue of coconut trees. The houses were built of palm, laid over a bamboo frame raised some two feet off the ground. The whole area was covered by clean white sand bought up from the beach.

This particular part of the village was spotlessly clean and occupied by the counselors, and those who seemed to me to have a bit of pride. Travelling along the path we climbed up the mountain path to the gardens past tropical vegetation, palms, hibiscus, frangipani and other beautifully plants. I noticed many trees with a garland of palm leaves around their trunks, these were taboo; I was later told that some native had claimed the trees and others would not touch these trees. Soon we reached the path’s end and looking east could see Murray Island (Mer), twenty miles away, the home of natives who not many years ago were headhunters and cannibals who generally made a snack of their victims. Indeed, Darnley Island allied with them for lifting heads.

I later met on old native who had seen cannibalism in his day and the lifting of heads. I was shown how this was done and the tool that was used. The victim had been clubbed and using a bamboo knife and a thong. Using the thong was passed through a cut that was made under the chin and out the mouth the head was pulled back and stretched the bamboo knife finishing the job. I found the bamboo knife was very sharp like a razor.

Returning down the path we were hailed by an old native from the door of his hut who offered us drinks of limes and coconut juice, which was very welcome for the heat and humidity, was very tiring. The hut, like all the others, was made from a bamboo frame covered with coconut leaves with a palm and bamboo floor .The floor was raised off the ground two feet, this allowed the air to circulate and offered a degree of coolness.

After smokes all round we were once more on our way. Our cigarettes suffered here for there had been no trade ships through for months, the natives had to return to their native foods and they did not enjoy it.

We had a bag of sugar that had got wet and this was a good time to get rid of it, so Old Ben gave it to the old native meaning him to share it with the others but he kept it for himself, not telling anyone. The other natives soon found out and soon a bell was ringing can the counselors were calling a meeting to decide what to do with the old chap. In the end there was no punishment but the sugar was taken from him and finally shared by all.

As a punishment those who do wrong have to clear the area and keep the pathways cleaned. When we were there a young girl who had had an abortion was being punished. In the mornings the counselor would take her from her hut to a place where there was no shade and she then had to pluck the grass from the path in the hot sun. She must never go into the shade and no water was given to her until she arrived back to her hut. No-one was allowed to talk to her. This unfortunate girl had to go a week, through this ordeal. I do not know if this was true but I did not question the Aussies who had told me because they had been eighteen months on the island and knew most of the customs and speech.

Night was drawing in and it was time to return to the boats. The chief came to us and said “if you stay another day I will have a feast and dance put on for you”. Although we should be on our way this was too good an opportunity to miss so we retired to our boats to await the next day.

The morning saw us ashore again still finding new things to take our attention. In a native cooking oven this was a pit dug in the earth; this was lined with very hot stones covered with leaves. On top of this was a huge turtle caught by the natives and this again was covered with more palms and banana leaves; also yams were in with the turtle along with taro roots. The hole was then covered with more earth. Only those natives who figured in the capture of the turtle would share in it.

After seeing this we next went down to the beach to see the fish traps. These were built with rocks piled on top of each other and built to form a maze. The fish would come in with the tide and when the tide went out they would be trapped making the easy prey for the spears of the natives. These traps covered many acres of flat beach and had been built of many years.

Our next visit was to see the pigs, what a sight! I think they fed them on air; their ribs could be seen sticking out, I was told they were razor back hogs and this was how they grew but I think they were starved.

The time had come for the dinner, we made our way to the chief’s hut and after a little talk we passed around the smokes, something they always seem to be around for. Then to we went to the place the meal was to be. We had contributed a large part of the meal; a case of bully beef, ships biscuits and other can foods we could spare but we lay off these, giving the natives a fair go. Also a stick of trade tobacco for each adult – everyone smokes from kiddies to the old grandmas. We had bought a couple of boxes of this tobacco from Burns Philips at Cairns; Big Jack also smoked it.

The tables were made of rough logs and were set for about thirty, the men eating first the women last; they also served. The huge roasted turtle was carried in and was turned up on its back and the stomach shell removed, then slices cut from it. I saw no cleaning of it, you ate everything. I had pride of place; I sat next to the chief. The meal was served on crockery plates and mine was piled with some of the liver and entrails; the chief told me this was the prized piece. I did not enjoy it but for fear of offending I ate. Our plates were soon filled high with rice bamboo shoots, yams, fish all washed down with plenty of black tea. The roots to me were like rubber and stuck in my throat. Some other food was like our dumplings only it was more like eating a bath sponge, it was a bit hard on our digestion.

I have seen big eaters in my time but what went down the throat of the chief and his henchmen was terrific. A plate of rice which a family of six would eat went down into the belly of the native sitting opposite me, I thought the turtle would feed the village but after seeing these huge men eat I changed my mind.

After the usual smoke all round we made our way to the place where the dance was to be held. Our smokes were taking a beating; the Yanks gave us an allowance each month of cigarettes and pipe tobacco, chewing tobacco and cigarette tobacco. It is a small price to pay for such interesting times as we have had.

The place was a well beaten square surround by a half fence, seating was on the grass. Soon we could hear singing and the rattle of their dance rattles, made from seeds about the size of a mango seed. They were brown and hard. Each was cut in half and threaded on a native made twine, tied together in a bunch of about two dozen; they made a noise like a castanet when shaken. The dancers were all girls from the village; the boys and men were all at Thursday Island working and only a few elders and counselors were left on the island to keep order. The music was supplied by a drum carved from a tree trunk with a lizard skin stretched over it and a young girl played on battered kerosene tin.

The dancers lined up and formed a square. They still wore their Mother Hubbard dresses with a grass skirt around their waist. The chief gave us an explanation for the dance which always seemed to us to be the same movement. It signified our going to New Guinea and our boat and tow, our being attacked by planes and firing the guns. It was all novel and new at the start but after a couple of hours it became rather boring as it seemed to us to be repeating over and over again. Finally at midnight they ceased, the chief explaining to me that as this was Saturday they must stop at midnight as dancing was forbidden on Sunday.

I must tell you of a young girl who had come from Hawaii and was now living on the island. This girl danced for us the hulu dance. Another thing I notice was that when a visitor came they went first and greeted the women.

So we bid them goodnight and left for our boats but not before melons and fruit were pressed onto us for our kindness to them. One of the chief’s daughter gave me a turtleshell ring with mother of pearl setting; another have me some turtleshell, some mother of pearl shell and one small girl pressed some paper flowers into my hand. And so our stay on Darnley Island drew to a close.

Daylight saw us leaving Darnley Island, many natives saw us off – off the New Guinea many miles away. As we left the island behind and with the ‘Destiny’ in tow with us we set our course for Bramble Kay, a small pile of rocks and sand marked by a pile light although the light would not be lit. We had been told that turtles came there to lay their eggs, we had a fondness for turtle meat very much but the Navy warned us that Jap subs may be operating around here so we kept going on. While passing Bramble Bay I saw a huge water snake about ten feet long, swimming strongly, about a mile and a half from the bay.