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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c406aa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60960 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60960) diff --git a/old/60960-0.txt b/old/60960-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5255b07..0000000 --- a/old/60960-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7153 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In an Unknown Prison Land, by George Griffith - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: In an Unknown Prison Land - An account of convicts and colonists in New Caledonia with - jottings out and home - -Author: George Griffith - -Illustrator: Harold Piffard - -Release Date: December 18, 2019 [EBook #60960] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN AN UNKNOWN PRISON LAND *** - - - - -Produced by deaurider and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - -[Illustration: _Frontispiece._] - - - - - IN AN UNKNOWN - PRISON LAND - - AN ACCOUNT OF CONVICTS AND - COLONISTS IN NEW CALEDONIA - WITH JOTTINGS OUT AND HOME - - BY - - GEORGE GRIFFITH - - AUTHOR OF “MEN WHO HAVE MADE THE - EMPIRE,” “THE VIRGIN OF THE SUN,” - A TALE OF THE CONQUEST OF PERU, - “BRITON OR BOER?” A STORY OF THE - FIGHT FOR AFRICA, ETC., ETC. - - WITH A PORTRAIT AND NUMEROUS - ILLUSTRATIONS - - London: HUTCHINSON _&_ CO - Paternoster Row [Illustration] 1901 - - PRINTED BY - HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD. - LONDON AND AYLESBURY - - - - -To - -THE EARL OF DUNMORE - -WHOSE KINDNESS AND HOSPITALITY MADE MY SOJOURN IN PRISON-LAND MUCH MORE -PLEASANT THAN IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - Part I - - _A STREAK THROUGH THE STATES_ - - I. DUTIES AND DOLLARS 3 - - II. CONCERNING CITIES, WITH A PARENTHESIS ON MANNERS 17 - - III. THE QUEEN OF THE GOLDEN STATE 34 - - A SEA-INTERLUDE 51 - - Part II - - _PRISON LAND_ - - A PRELIMINARY NOTE ON CONVICTS AND COLONISTS 83 - - I. SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS 96 - - II. SOME SOCIAL SIDELIGHTS 109 - - III. ILE NOU 128 - - IV. MEASUREMENT AND MANIA 143 - - V. A CONVICT ARCADIA 160 - - VI. SOME HUMAN DOCUMENTS 176 - - VII. THE PLACE OF EXILES 194 - - VIII. A PARADISE OF KNAVES 202 - - IX. USE FOR THE USELESS 219 - - X. A LAND OF WOOD AND IRON 236 - - XI. MOSTLY MOSQUITOS AND MICROBES 262 - - Part III - - _HOMEWARD BOUND_ - - I. “TWENTY YEARS AFTER” 279 - - II. DEMOS AND DEAR MONEY 290 - - III. A COSMOPOLITAN COLONY 303 - - - - -NOTE - - -The last sentence on p. 137 should read: - -“The Cachots Noirs were never opened except at stated intervals,—once -every morning for inspection, and once every thirty days for exercise -and a medical examination of the prisoner.” I am glad to be able to -state on the authority of the Minister of Colonies that this terrible -punishment has now been made much less severe. Every seventh day the -prisoner is placed for a day in a light cell; he is also given an hour’s -exercise every day; and the maximum sentence has been reduced to two -years, subject to the medical veto. In the text I have described what I -saw; but this atrocity is now, happily, a thing of the past.—G. G. - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Portrait of the Author _Frontispiece._ - - Two Snapshots up and down the Rio Sacramento, taken as the - train was crossing the bridge _Page_ 30 - - Diamond Head, Honolulu ” 54 - - Sanford B. Dole. First Governor of the Territory of Hawaii ” 62 - - A Lake in the interior of New Caledonia ” 86 - - The Plague Area at Noumea. Offices of the Messageries - Maritimes, with Sentries in front ” 100 - - The Convict Band playing in the Kiosk in the Place des - Cocotiers, Noumea ” 116 - - The Town and Harbour of Noumea ” 120 - - In the Harbour, Noumea ” 122 - - The Inner Court of the Central Prison, Ile Nou ” 136 - - The Central Prison, Ile Nou ” 142 - - The Bureau of Anthropometry, Ile Nou ” 146 - - An Arab Type of Convict. A combination of Ideality and - Homicidal Mania ” 148 - - The Courtyard of a Disciplinary Camp, Ile Nou ” 150 - - The Avenue of Palms, leading to the Hospital, Ile Nou ” 154 - - Part of the Hospital Buildings, Ile Nou ” 156 - - The Island of “Le Sphinx,” one of the tying-up places on - the south-west coast of New Caledonia ” 162 - - A Native Temple, New Caledonia ” 168 - - Permit to visit a Prison or Penitentiary Camp _en détail_ ” 176 - - The Kiosk in which the Convict Courtships were conducted at - Bourail ” 180 - - Berezowski, the Polish Anarchist who attempted to murder - Napoleon III. and the Tsar Alexander II. in the Champs - Elysées ” 184 - - One of the Lowest Types of Criminal Faces ” 190 - - The Peninsula of Ducos ” 194 - - The remains of Henri Rochefort’s House ” 200 - - The Bedroom of Louis Chatelain, ”The Caledonian Dreyfus” in - Ducos ” 200 - - The “Market” in the Convent, Isle of Pines ” 212 - - The Convict Railway at Prony ” 240 - - The Mines of the International Copper Co., Pilou, New - Caledonia ” 266 - - The Saloon of the Ballande Liner, _St. Louis_ ” 270 - - The Quarantine Station, North Head, Sydney ” 282 - - The Storage House at Seppeltsfield, forty years ago ” 309 - - The Present Storage House ” 308 - - Grape-crushing by machinery, at Seppeltsfield ” 312 - - A Vineyard at Seppeltsfield, South Australia ” 316 - - - - -Part I - -_A STREAK THROUGH THE STATES_ - - - - -I - -_DUTIES AND DOLLARS_ - - -It was on the fifth night out from Southampton that the threatening -shadow of the American Custom House began to fall over the company in the -saloon. - -One could see ladies talking nervously together. The subject was the -one most dear to the female heart; but the pleasure of talking about -“things” was mingled—at least in the hearts of the uninitiated—with an -uneasiness which, in not a few cases, amounted to actual fear; for that -evening certain forms had been distributed by the purser, and these forms -contained questions calculated to search out the inmost secret of every -dress-basket and Saratoga trunk on board. - -By the time you had filled in the blanks, if you had done it honestly—as, -of course, no one except myself did—you had not only given a detailed -list of your wardrobe, but you had enumerated in a separate schedule -every article that you had bought new in Europe. - -You were graciously permitted to possess one hundred dollars’, or, say, -twenty pounds’ worth of personal effects. If you had more than that you -were treated as a commercial traveller importing dry goods, and had to -pay duty in case you sold them again, and thus came into competition with -the infant industries of Uncle Sam. - -At the foot of the schedule was a solemn declaration that you had given -your wardrobe away to the last pocket-handkerchief, and the next day you -had to repeat this declaration verbally to an urbane official, who was -polite enough to look as though he believed you. - -When it came to the actual examination in the wharf-shed, I found myself -wondering where Uncle Sam’s practical commonsense came in. You had to -take a paper, given to you on board in exchange for your declaration, to -a desk at which sat a single clerk. - -As there were about four hundred first- and second-class passengers, this -took some little time, and provoked considerable language. When you had -at length struggled to the desk the clerk gave you a ticket, beckoned to -a gentleman in uniform, handed him your paper, and remarked: - -“Here, George, see to this.” - -In my case George seemed to have a pressing engagement somewhere else, -for he went off and I never set eyes on him again. My modest effects, a -steamer trunk, a Gladstone-bag, and a camera-case, lay frankly open to -the gaze of all men in cold neglect, while small mountains of trunks were -opened, their contents tickled superficially by the lenient fingers of -the examiners, closed again, and carted off. - -A couple of hours later, when I had interviewed every official in the -shed on the subject of the missing George, and made a general nuisance of -myself, I was requested to take my things out and not worry—or words to -that effect. Outside I met a fellow-voyager, who informed me that he and -his wife had taken thirteen trunks full of dutiable stuff through without -paying a cent of duty—at least not to the Exchequer of the United States -Customs. - -He had been through before and knew his man. It may have cost him -ten dollars, but Uncle Sam would have wanted three or four hundred; -wherefore it is a good thing to know your man when you land at New York -with a wife and a two years’ wardrobe. - -From this it will be seen that there was none of that turning out of -trunks and shameless, heartless exhibition of things that should only -be seen in shop windows before they are bought, which one heard so much -about a few years ago. That is practically stopped now, and it was -stopped by the officials themselves. - -They didn’t scatter precious, if unmentionable, garments around the -shed floor out of pure devilry or levity of soul. The American official -is like any other; he wants to earn his salary as easily as possible, -and the new tariff regulations gave him a tremendous lot of work, so -he took counsel with himself and came to the astute conclusion that if -he systematically outraged the tenderest sentiments of the wives and -daughters of millionaires, senators, congressmen, political bosses, and -other American sovereigns for a certain period either the regulations -would have to be considerably watered down or there would be another -civil war. - -His conclusions were perfectly correct. The big customs officials faced -the music stubbornly for a time; then invitations to dinner and the most -select social functions began to fall off. Their wives and daughters -lost many opportunities of showing off the pretty frocks which they had -smuggled in from Europe. - -Election time came near—in other words, Judgment Day for every American -official from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It was openly hinted in high -places that the authors of such outrages on America’s proudest matrons -and most dainty maidens were soulless brutes who weren’t fit to hold -office, and then the United States Customs Department came down on its -knees, kissed the hems of the garments it had scattered around the shed -floor, and, as usual, the Eternal Feminine had conquered. - -In Paul Leicester Ford’s delightful word-picture of American political -life, “The Honourable Peter Sterling,” the worthy Peter delivers a -dinner-table homily on the immorality of five hundred first-class -steamboat passengers conspiring to defraud the revenue of their native -land by means of false declarations such as most of us signed on the _St. -Louis_. - -I was surprised to find that Peter, a shrewd politician and successful -ward-boss, knew so little of human nature. - -Never from now till the dawn of the millennium abolishes the last Customs -House will men and women be convinced that it is immoral or even wrong to -smuggle. It is simply a game between the travellers and the officials. If -they are caught they pay. If not the man smokes his cigars with an added -gusto, and the woman finds a new delight in wearing a dainty costume -which all the arts of all the Worths and all the Redferns on earth could -never give her—and of such were the voyagers on the _St. Louis_.[1] - -Before I got to bed that night I had come to the conclusion that no -country was ever better described in a single phrase than America was by -poor G. W. Steevens when he called it the Land of the Dollar. - -From the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from Maine to Mexico, you -simply can’t get away from it. In other countries people talk about -money,—generally and incidentally about pounds, or francs, or marks, or -pesetas,—but in America it is dollars first, last, and all the time. - -Where an Englishman would say a man was keen on making money, an American -would say “he’s out for dollars.” On this side we speak of making a -fortune, over there it’s “making a pile,”—of dollars understood,—and so -on. - -But there is another sense in which the pungent phrase is true. I am not -going to commit myself to the assertion that everything in the States is -a dollar, because there are many things which cost more than a dollar. -There are also some—a few—which cost less, such as newspapers and tramcar -tickets, but, as a rule, when you put your hand into your pocket a dollar -comes out—often several—and you don’t have much change. - -Thus, when I had released my baggage from the lax grip of the United -States Customs, I took a carriage ticket at the desk. Three dollars. In -London the fare from the station to the hotel would have been about half -a crown. The gentleman who put my luggage up received a quarter. If I -had offered him less he would probably have declined it and asked me, -with scathing irony, to come and have a drink at his expense. - -Still, that carriage was a carriage, and not a cab; well-hung, -well-cushioned, and well-horsed. In fact, I was not many hours in New -York before I began to see that, although you pay, you get. Everything -from a banquet to a boot-shine is done in better style than it is in -England. - -“We are very full, sir,” said the clerk at the Murray Hill Hotel; “but -I can give you a four-dollar room. I daresay you’ll like a comfortable -night after your passage.” - -I thought sixteen shillings and eightpence a good deal for a room, -but I found that the room was really a suite, a big bed-sitting-room, -beautifully furnished, with bathroom, lavatory, and clothes-cupboard -attached. - -The next morning I had a shine which cost fivepence, but that shine -lasted all the way to San Francisco. The boots simply needed dusting and -they were as bright as ever. Then I went and had a shilling shave, and -found that the American shave is to the English one as a Turkish bath is -to a cold tub; and so on throughout. You spend more money, far more, -than in England, but you get a great deal more for it. But to this rule -there is one great and glorious exception, and that is railway travelling. - -I presented my ordinary first-class tickets at the booking-office in the -Central Depôt, and then came from the lips of the keen-faced, but most -polite and obliging clerk, the inevitable “five dollars please—and if -you’re going on the South-Western Limited it will be one dollar more. -You see this is one of the fastest trains in the world, and we keep it -select. You’ll have a section to yourself all the way.” - -I checked my trunk in the baggage-office and said a thankful good-bye to -it for three thousand two hundred miles, after buying a new strap for it, -which, curiously enough, was not a dollar, but seventy-five cents. Then I -took possession of my cosy corner in the long, luxuriously furnished car -to be whirled over a thousand miles of iron road in twenty-three hours -and a half. - -Soon after we had pulled out of New York and the bogey wheels had begun -the deep-voiced hum which was to last day and night for the inside of a -week, I saw something which struck me again and again in the run across -the continent. A big American city is like a robe of cloth of gold with a -frayed and tattered border of dirty cotton. Its outskirts are unutterably -ragged and squalid. - -A few minutes after you leave the splendid streets and squares of Central -New York you are running through a region of mean and forlorn-looking -wooden huts—really, they can hardly be called houses—crowded up together -in terraces or blocks beside broad, unpaved roads, which may some day -be streets, or standing in little lots of their own, scraps of unkempt -land, too small for fields, and as much like gardens as a dumping-ground -for London rubbish. All the houses wanted painting, and most of them -repairing. The whole aspect was one of squalid poverty and mean -discomfort. - -But these soon fell behind the flying wheels of the South-Western -Limited. Another region was entered, a region of stately pleasure-houses -standing amidst broad, well-wooded lands, and presently the great train -swept with a stately swing round a sloping curve, and then began one of -the loveliest railway runs in the world, the seventy-mile-an-hour spin -along the level, four-track road which lies beside the eastern bank of -the broad and beautiful Hudson. - -It was during this delicious spin that I went into the smoking-room to -have a pipe and something else. I sat down in a seat opposite to a man -whose appearance stamped him as one of those quietly prosperous Americans -who just go to their work and do it with such splendid thoroughness that -the doing of it saves their country from falling into the social and -political chaos that some other Americans would make of it if they could. - -He gave me a light, and we began talking. If it had been in an English -train we might have glared at each other for five hundred miles without -a word. As it was, we had begun to know each other in half an hour. We -talked about the Hudson, and the Catskills, and West Point, and then -about the train, and so the talk came back to the inevitable dollar. - -“A gorgeous train this,” I said; “far and away beyond anything we have in -England. But,” I added with uncalculating haste, “it seems to me pretty -expensive.” - -“Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t think you’ve figured it out. You’re going -to San Francisco, thirty-two hundred miles from here. All the way you -have a comfortable train,”—that was his lordly way of putting it,—“you -have servants to wait on you day and night, a barber to shave you, a -stenographer to dictate your letters to, and you never need get off the -train except for the change at Chicago. - -“When you get to San Francisco you will find that the total cost works -out at about three cents a mile, say three halfpence. I believe the -legal first-class fare in England—without sleeping-accommodation, in -fact without anything you have here except a place to sit down in—is -threepence a mile.” - -I didn’t make the calculation, because when we subsequently exchanged -cards I found I was talking to the President of the Mercantile -Transportation Company, a man who knows just about as much of travel by -land and sea as there is to be learnt. - -After this we got on to railroading generally. I learnt much, and in -the learning thereof came to think even less of British railway methods -than I had done before. I learnt why it was cheaper to carry grain a -thousand miles from Chicago to New York than it is to carry it a couple -of hundred miles from Yorkshire to London; why cattle can be carried over -thousands of miles of prairie at less cost than over hundreds of miles of -English railroads; and many other things all bearing on the question of -the dollar and how to save it—for your true American is just as keen on -saving as he is lavish in spending—which I thought might well be taught -and still better learnt on this side. - -It was during this conversation that I had an example of that absolutely -disinterested kindness with which the wanderer so often meets in America -and so seldom in England. - -“By the way,” said Mr. President, “have you taken your berth from Chicago -in the Overland Limited?” - -“No,” I said; “I was told I could telegraph for it from Buffalo.” - -“Well,” he said, “you know the train is limited and will probably be -pretty full. There’s quite a number of people going west just now. -However, don’t trouble; I guess I can fix that for you.” - -Now, I had never seen this man before, and the probability was that I -should never meet him again, and yet when I got to the North-Western -Depôt at Chicago there was a section in the centre of one of the newest -and most luxurious cars reserved for me. - -“Mr. Griffith?” said the clerk, as I presented my transportation tickets. -“That’s all right, sir. Your section’s engaged. Here’s your check, ‘2 D, -San Vincente.’ Got a porter? Well, you can have your baggage taken down -right away. She pulls out 3.30 sharp. Seventeen dollars, please.” - - - - -II - -_CONCERNING CITIES, WITH A PARENTHESIS ON MANNERS_ - - -I have seen cities in many parts of the world, from the smoke-grimed, -flame-crowned, cloud-canopied hives of industry of middle and Northern -England, of Belgium, and Northern France, to the marble palaces and -broad-verandahed bungalows which sleep among the palm-groves by the white -shores of tropic seas; but never—north, south, east, or west—have I seen -a collection of human habitations and workshops so utterly hopeless, so -irretrievably ugly as that portion of Chicago about which I wandered -during my three hours’ wait for the starting of the Overland Limited. - -The roadways—really one cannot call them streets—would of themselves have -been far inferior to similar streets in Manchester or Wolverhampton, -because here at least the streets are paved. In Chicago they are not. - -Many years ago an attempt seems to have been made to pave them, but the -stones have sunk, and the mud and slush have come up, and every variety -of filth covers them except about the lines over which the tramcars rush, -hissing and clanging on their headlong way. But the roadways of Chicago -are also tunnels, for over them stretches the solid, continuous iron arch -of the overhead railway whence come the roar of wheels, the snorting -of steam-engines, the shriek of whistles, and the wailing groan of the -brakes. - -Now and then you reach a crossing or open place where you emerge from the -tunnel, out of semi-darkness into comparative light, and you see vast -shapes of stiff-angled, steep-roofed buildings lifting their sixteenth or -seventeenth storey up into the murky, smoke-laden sky. They are part and -parcel of Chicago—huge, ugly, dirty, and exceedingly useful. - -There are big buildings in New York, but they are to the Chicago -buildings as palaces compared to factories. There are others in -San Francisco which are merely eccentricities and not altogether -unpicturesque, but the Chicago sky-scraper is a sort of architectural -fungus, an insulting excrescence from the unoffending earth, which makes -you long to get big guns and shoot at it. Still, it is useful, and serves -the purpose for which it was built, and that is why Chicago is not only -content with it, but even proud of it. - -Believing many things that were said to me afterwards, I doubt not that -Chicago, elsewhere and other than I saw it, is one of the finest and most -beautiful cities on earth. Far be it from me to believe otherwise, since -some day I hope to see it again; and he who thinks ill of Chicago will -have about as good a time there as a man who thinks well of New York. - -Still, common honesty obliges me to say that the impression which I took -away with me in the Overland Limited was one of vastness, uncleanness, -and ugliness, redeemed only by that sombre, Plutonic magnificence which -seems to be the one reward of an absolute and unhesitating sacrifice to -blank utility. - -And yet I did find one view in Chicago which qualified this, and that -was from the western end of the Lake Front. The ragged steamboat piers, -the long rows of posts marking the shoals, the piles of the groynes, one -or two dilapidated and almost prehistoric steamboats, and blistered, -out-of-date yachts laid up along the lake wall, the stately sweep of -houses, the huge bulks of the factories in the east, with their towering -chimneys pouring out clouds of smoke and steam—these, with the smooth -water of the horizonless lake, made a pleasanter mental photograph to -take away with one than the unlovely roaring streets and the hideous -wealth-crammed stores and warehouses. - -From Chicago to Ogden the route of the Union Pacific is about as -uninteresting as the central section of the Canadian Pacific, only here -the towns and villages are more frequent and the country is naturally far -more advanced in cultivation. - -Cities, of course, are numerous. They vary in size from two to fifty -thousand inhabitants; but structurally they are all the same—tin-roofed -houses of weather-board, banks and offices, stores and factories, and -elevators of brick ranged along wide and mostly unpaved roads with plank -side-walks. - -No apparent attempt has been made at order or uniformity. Where a big -building is wanted there it is put, and where a little wooden shanty -serves its purpose there it remains. - -There is plenty of elbow-room, and so the village spreads itself into -the city in a quite promiscuous fashion, something like a boy left to -grow up into a man according to his own sweet will. But be it well noted -that he becomes a man all the same, for every one of these cities, big -or small, wood or brick, or both, was teeming with life and humming with -business. - -One of the many visible signs of this could be seen in the number of -telegraph-wires slung on huge unsightly poles running up both sides of -the unkempt streets; in fact, an American inland city of five thousand -inhabitants seems to do a good deal more telegraphing and telephoning -than an English town of fifty thousand. - -One other feature of the villages, towns, and “cities” along the route -struck me rather forcibly. Nearly all of them, big and little, have very -fine stations—I beg pardon, depôts. In fact, the practice seems to be -to build a fine, big depôt and let the city grow up to it. Thus, for -instance, at Omaha City, where we had a half-hour’s wait changing horses -and looking out for hot boxes, I found the depôt built of grey granite, -floored with marble, and entered by two splendid twin staircases curving -down through a domed and pillared hall to spacious waiting-rooms and -offices opening on to a platform about a quarter of a mile long. - -It was the sort of station you would expect to find in a go-ahead English -or European city that possessed streets and squares and houses to match. -Now Omaha is go-ahead, and big, and busy, but for all you can see of it -from the train and station it is scattered promiscuously around hill and -dale, and the palatial station itself stands in the midst of a waste -of sloppy roads traversed as usual by the hurrying electric trams, and -bordered by little, shabby, ill-assorted wooden houses which don’t look -worth fifty pounds apiece. For all that, Omaha is one of the busiest and -wealthiest cities of the Middle States. - -At Ogden, where the iron roads from every part of the continent seem -to meet, and where big, high-shouldered engines from Mexico and Texas -whistled their greetings to brother monsters from Maine and California, I -felt sorely tempted to stop off and take the thirty-mile run to Salt Lake -City, but - - “The steamer won’t wait for the train,” - -and I should have risked missing my boat to Honolulu—added to which I -had made some friends on the train who were going to show me round San -Francisco in case I had a day or so there, so I read my Kipling instead, -and saw the Mormon city with keener eyes than mine. - -By the way, American manners appear to have altered very much for the -better since Kipling made his journey “From Sea to Sea.” I traversed a -good deal of the same ground, and stayed at some of the same hotels that -he did, but I never met with more straight-spoken, dignified courtesy in -any part of the world. - -I never saw hotel clerks who blazed with diamonds, or who treated me -like a worm. As a matter of fact I never met more polite, obliging, -well-informed men in any similar position. Certainly they could give many -points to hotel managers and clerks in England and Australia. - -The waiters, too, both white and black, must have vastly improved. The -white waiter in America, as I found him, is quite the smartest, most -intelligent, and, in his own manly way, the most polite of his class—a -class very well typified by the bugler of the _St. Louis_. His coloured -_confrère_ does his work deftly, silently, and well. - -Kipling relates a conversation which took place in the Palace Hotel -between a coloured waiter and himself, in which George—every servant in -America whose name you don’t know is George—made the remark: - -“Oh ——! Wages like that wouldn’t keep me in cigars!” - -I stayed at the Palace in San Francisco, and from what I heard and saw I -should say that a waiter who made a remark like that nowadays would very -soon find that cigars were an unattainable luxury to a man out of work. -He would be “fired” on the spot. - -My own experience certainly is that the Americans are the politest people -on earth, or, perhaps I ought to say, the most courteous, because any -one can be polite if it pays him. Only a gentleman can be courteous. -They have learnt, apparently at the hands of Mother Nature herself, that -subtle blending of politeness and dignity which we call courtesy. - -For instance, an American waiter, or barber, or shoeblack says “Sir” -quite differently to anybody else in the world, except perhaps the -American gentleman who may be worth his millions. There is no suspicion -of cringing or inferiority about it, whether it comes from the shoeblack -or the millionaire. It seems to say equally from the one as from the -other “our circumstances may be different, but we are both of us -gentlemen in our way, and so we will behave to each other as gentlemen,” -and politeness of that sort is the pleasantest of all politeness. - -Now, in Australia—but Australia is still seven thousand miles away -across the broad Pacific, so we will talk about that later on. Meanwhile -a couple of iron giants have been harnessed to the long line of -palace-cars, the mails have been exchanged from train to train, the bells -begin to swing and clang out soft musical warning notes, the mellow -whistles sing good-bye from engine to engine; “all aboard” is the word, -and the Overland Limited threads its way through the maze of shining -metals, and heads away westward to where a long, gleaming line of silver -backed by a black screen of mountains tipped with diamonds shows the -position of the Inland Sea of the Wilderness. - -Salt Lake, the Dead Sea of the Mormon Land of Promise, is smaller now by -a good many scores of square miles than it was some thirty years ago, -when the Southern Pacific was connected up with the Union Pacific, and so -completed the iron chain which links the Hudson with the Sacramento. - -For three or four hours the train runs over embankments surrounded -by vast salt mud-flats, which in those days were covered by the -fast-shrinking waters. It is the old story, the story of nearly all these -upland desert regions. Every year less rain falls in the valleys and -less snow on the mountains. As the clouds grow thinner and fewer the sun -blazes hotter and sucks up more and more vapour, and so year by year the -waters of the Great Salt Lake are getting less great and more salt. - -With all due deference to American susceptibility on such points, I must -say that the scenery of the Rockies which one sees from the windows of -a car on the Union Pacific does not begin to compare with the scenery -along the Canadian Pacific line. Even Echo Cañon and Weber Cañon, the -show places of the line, struck me as comparatively insignificant when I -remembered the splendours of Eagle Pass and the grandeurs of Bear Cañon. - -But when the wilderness of Nevada had been cast behind our flying wheels, -and we began to climb up the wooded foothills of the Sierra Nevada—that -snow-crowned mountain wall which divides one of the dreariest from one -of the most beautiful regions on earth, the Great American Desert from -“God’s own country”—it was time to sit up and use both your eyes and do -your best to look out at both sides of the car at once. - -It was here that the last and most beautiful stretch of the -thirty-two-hundred-mile run began. Up the straight grades and round -and round the twice and thrice-tiered loops the great train twined -and circled; now skirting the shore of a still, pine-fringed lake, -filling the bottom of a mountain valley; and now burrowing under the -long snow-sheds, groaning under their weight of snow far away up the -mountain-side, and so, mile by mile of distance, and yard by yard of -height, the top of the Great Divide was reached. - -The iron horses took a rest and a long drink at Alta, the summit station, -and then, - - “Down the valley with our guttering breaks a-squeal,” - -we started on our way to that lovely land which lies between the -mountains and the sea. - -The snow vanished; first from the sides of the track, and then from the -gullies between the hills round which we twined. The mist-clouds rolled -away behind us up the wooded slopes. The snow-peaks far beyond gleamed -out above them, and ahead and below the dropping sun shone on a land of -broken red hills, and, beyond them, over a vast level stretch of green -grass and fruit-land, with a broad river flowing through it. - -Beyond this again it glimmered far and faintly on a long streak of -flickering silver. The red hills were the native land of Truthful -James; the green plains below were the Valley of the Sacramento; and -the shimmering silver in the far distance was the Pacific Ocean, whose -character I propose hereafter to revise. - -Then we rushed down through the last cañon out on to an open slope, and -pulled up at Red Gulch. That is not its name on the time-tables, but it -ought to be. - -A freight truck had got off the line about two miles lower down. So, -instead of a stop of ten minutes, we had to wait two hours, which I -thankfully employed in making a little excursion through Bret Harte -Land, the land of red earth and yellow gold, of towering pines and -flower-filled valleys, of deliciously mingled beauty and ugliness; where -the skies are as blue as they are above the Isles of the South, and the -air seems like what one would expect to breathe in Paradise. - -Climbing down from the car was like getting out of the world of reality, -as represented by the Overland Limited (which, remember, had brought me -from Chicago) into the Garden of Romance. I had left the comfortable but -emphatically materialistic gorgeousness of the Pulman Palace-car, and I -was actually standing on the same earth that Jack Hamlyn had trodden, -and I was breathing the same air that he had inspired when he sang that -famous song. - -All around I could see gashes of red amid the green and brown of the -slopes along the river banks—just such gulches as the one Tennessee lived -in with his immortal partner. Somewhere up in the dark valleys through -which the Overland Limited had just thundered the Outcasts of Poker -Flat had found their last refuge, and John Oakhurst, after pinning that -inscribed Deuce of Spades to the pine-tree with his bowie-knife, had -passed in his checks like a gambler and a gentleman. - -In just such a little schoolhouse as stood near the depôt, Mliss had -flung down her astronomy book and paralysed one part of her audience -and ecstasied the other by that famous heresy of hers re the Miracle of -Joshua. - -“It’s a damned lie. I don’t believe a word of it.” - -Down yonder, in the lowlands across the river, not very far from its -junction with a tributary, might have been North Fork and Poverty Flat; -and just such a red hole as I found a hundred yards or so from the track -might have been the forty-foot grave into which Dow descended “with a -derringer hid in his breast,” making his last despairing search for -water—and finding gold. - -The clang of the bell and the soft “hoo-too” of the whistle called me -back out of my dream as I was having a drink at just such a bar as the -gallant Colonel Starbottle might have slaked his immortal thirst at. A -few moments more and the tireless wheels had begun to revolve again, -and we slid down the curving slopes leading to the broad vale of the -Sacramento. - -[Illustration: Two Snapshots up and down the Rio Sacramento, taken as the -train was crossing the bridge.] - -On the way to the Golden Land I had fallen into conversation with a young -Californian, a fine specimen of the Western race, of whom his country -might well be proud, as he was proud of it. - -“It’s God’s own country, sir. And when you’ve seen more of it you’ll -think so,” he said, as we swept across the fat, fertile farmlands which -lay beneath the foot-hills. “You’ve travelled a bit, you tell me; but -I guess if you go from end to end of this country you’ll say you never -struck one like it.” - -“Well,” I said, “I sha’n’t see much of it this time, I’m afraid; but if I -ever do get the chance of seeing it right through I’ll tell you whether I -think it’s better than England.” - -“Yes,” he replied reflectively, “I’ve an uncle who went to England, and -he came back, right to home here, and said it was the most beautiful -place God had ever made—but then, you see, it was new to him. He hadn’t -been over there before.” - -I thought that this wasn’t a bad place to change the subject, so I asked -him to have a drink, and switched off on to purely local topics. We -crossed the big bridge over the Sacramento river, stopped a few minutes -in Sacramento City, and then rolled on to Porta Costa station. - -I have heard people say that they have gone from New York to San -Francisco by rail. This is one of those sayings which are wanting in -certain qualifications of fact to make them unimpeachable. It is nearly -true, but not quite. - -The train, weighing I am afraid to say how many tons, ran into Porta -Costa, which is a sort of detachable depôt on the estuary of the -Sacramento river. When it stopped I got out of the car to have a look -round. There was a “local” and a freight train lying alongside of us. -There was also a vast superstructure running over the station, and in -these I noticed two huge engine-beams slowly swinging. - -Shortly after this I became aware of the fact that this piece of the -depôt had gone adrift, and was, calmly and without any perceptible -motion, carrying our train and the two others across the river to the -depôt on the Oakland side. - -I had been four and a half days in America and so I didn’t feel -surprised. All the same, it was sufficiently wonderful for admiration -even there. I climbed back into the car and enjoyed the sensation of -travelling by rail and sea at the same time, and then I got out again to -see how the thing was done. - -The piece of the Porta Costa station on which we were floating steered -into another station. The rails on the steam-driven platform were fitted -on to other rails on _terra firma_; the engine-bell clanged; the whistle -tooted in its soft, melodious way; and the Overland Limited steamed from -sea to land in the most commonplace fashion possible. - -The next stop was at Oakland, on the eastern shore of the bay. Opposite -glittered the lights of the Golden City. Here we detrained, and, having -crossed on the biggest ferry in the world, we embarked on the biggest -ferry-boat in the world—California, like the rest of the States, is great -on big things—and an hour or so later I found myself installed at the -Palace Hotel, which is also believed by all good Californians to be the -biggest hotel in the world. - - - - -III - -_THE QUEEN OF THE GOLDEN STATE_ - -(FROM A GUIDE-BOOK—WITH ANNOTATIONS AND AN IMPRESSION OF CHINATOWN) - - “Serene, indifferent to Fate, - Thou sittest at the Western Gate.” - - -San Francisco—no well-bred American, unless he comes from Chicago, -ever says ’Frisco—is a delicious combination of wealth and wickedness, -splendour and squalor, vice, virtue, villainy, beauty, ugliness, solitude -and silence, rush and row—in short, San Francisco is just San Francisco, -and that’s all there is to it, as they say there. It was discovered and -settled by Franciscan friars. It would be no place for them now. - -It is also quite a considerable city as to size. This is what the local -guide-book says: - -“It is bounded on the west by the Pacific Ocean, on the north by Golden -Gate Strait and the Bay of San Francisco, on the east by the bay, and on -the south by San Mateo County.” - -One would naturally expect a city bounded on the west by the Pacific -Ocean to have a considerable water frontage, some nine thousand miles, -in fact. This, however, is not quite the case; it is only the American -guide-booker’s way of putting it. - -As a matter of fact, San Francisco is a most picturesque city of some -three hundred thousand inhabitants, and it is spread over the bay shore -and the adjacent hills to the extent of about twenty-seven thousand -acres. It is the eighth city in size in the United States, and the third -in commercial rank, but it is not jealous either of New York or Chicago. -It is the capital of God’s country, and with that it is modestly content. -A page advertisement of a magazine in the guide-book begins with the -query: - -“Are you interested in God’s country?” - -It doesn’t quite say Heaven, but the implied analogy is obvious. - -Still, even San Francisco has to keep its end up, and it is just a little -sore on the subject of earthquakes. - -“These,” says my guide-booker, “are of rare occurrence. For the past -half century there are not known to have been more than half a dozen -lives lost from the effects of earthquakes; while in the New England -and Middle States and in the Mississippi Valley hundreds are killed -annually by sunstroke, lightning, hurricanes, and tornadoes, in addition -to the millions of dollars’ worth of property destroyed by tornadoes and -blizzards.” - -Down east they say that the drink and other things you get in the West do -all that these can do, and a bit over. This, of course, is mere jealousy; -and to this San Francisco is as serenely indifferent as she is of Fate. - -She also seems to be indifferent to everything else. Even dollars. This -doesn’t sound true, but it is. The splendid recklessness of the Argonauts -of the fifties still glows in the blood of the true San Franciscan. - -Quite a short time ago a man worth a couple of million dollars—a -comparative pauper in a place where they think nothing of paying three -millions for a house—gambled every cent he had on the success of a -certain more or less honest deal. A friend of his had interests the other -way, and dumped down more millions to block the deal. He blocked it. They -met at their club the evening after the smash, and conversed as follows: - -“Well, how goes it?” - -“D——d bad.” - -“In that—deal?” - -“Steal, I call it.” - -“How much?” - -“Whole caboodle! Want a janitor up yonder?” - -“Janitor—no. I want a nervy man to come in with me. Come?” - -“I’m there.” - -And now those two men are piling up millions together instead of betting -them against each other. That’s San Francisco. - -The Golden City is entered naturally enough by a Golden Gate. It is as -proud of its Golden Gate and bay as Sydney is of “our harbour,” and that -is saying a good deal. All the same, Sydney doesn’t quite like California -calling itself God’s country. - -My guide-booker says, “The entrance through the Golden Gate cannot be -surpassed.” If he said that inside Sydney Heads he would be thrown to -the sharks. And, as a matter of fact, having said that which is not the -truth he would in some measure deserve his fate. Moreover, outside the -Golden Gate there is a bar, of which more anon. There are other bars -in the city which are safer except for millionaires, because you can’t -spend less than twenty-five cents in them. A drunk in San Francisco is -therefore an undertaking not to be entered on lightly. - -Talking of millionaires naturally suggests Nob Hill, the millionaire -quarter of the Golden City. It is veritably a place of palaces. I have -never seen so many splendid houses collected in such a small area. -Their price in bricks and mortar alone runs anywhere from two to four -millions, and yet it is a literal fact that the streets between them -are grass-grown. If I had five dollars I should be inclined to bet them -against five cents that this is a combination which no other city on -earth can show. - -The reason, of course, is that on the mountainous streets which the -cable-cars climb traffic of any other sort is practically impossible. No -good American walks more than a block or so on a quite level street, and -you might as well ask him to walk up the side of a house as to climb Nob -Hill. - -Wherefore the cable-cars rush solitary up and down through a wilderness -of stone-paved, grass-grown streets, flanked by palaces whose owners, I -presume, have horses and carriages. How they get them down to the city -and up again is one of the two or three unsolved problems which I brought -away with me. Another of these is: Why did the practical American genius -think it worth while to pave the precipices which they call streets round -Nob Hill? - -Talking about streets reminds me that they don’t say street much in -San Francisco. There isn’t time. They just mention the name. This is -the way my guide-booker speaks somewhat flippantly of the streets in -Millionairetown: - -“Upon taking the car you immediately pass through the banking and -insurance district, climb up one of the steepest hills of the city -to Nob Hill, passing on the left at the corner of Powell the late -Senator Stanford’s residence, corner of Mason, the late Mark Hopkins’ -residence.... Corner of Taylor, the residence of the late A. M. Towne.... -Corner of Jones, Mr. Whittles’.... Corner of Taylor, the Huntington -residence, while opposite is the residence of the late Charles Croker, -adjoining, and on the corner of Jones is the residence of his son, W. H. -Croker.” - -“Powell” has a cable one and a quarter inches in diameter, twenty-six -thousand feet long, and weighing sixty-six thousand six hundred and -twenty-five pounds. Some San Franciscan cables last three months. This -was expected to last about five weeks. You can understand how terrific -the clutch and the wear and tear must be when you sit down on the front -seat of a car carrying thirty or forty people, and see a hill half as -steep again as the one from Richmond up to the Star and Garter rush down -underneath you at about sixteen miles an hour. It was here that the newly -landed Chinaman saw his first cable-car and made the historic remark: - -“No pushee, no pullee; all same go like hellee,” which brings me, no -very great distance, only a few blocks in fact, from Millionaireville to -Chinatown. - -Chinatown, San Francisco, is a city within a city. Go through it by night -as I did with one who knows its inmost secrets, and you will find that it -is also a cancer in the body corporate of a fair city (which is itself -one of the most politely and delightfully wicked on earth), a foul blot -on a fair land, a smudge of old-world filth across a page written by the -most nervous hands and the keenest brains that modern civilisation has -produced. - -Geographically, as San Francisco is bounded on the west by the Pacific -Ocean, etc., Chinatown is bounded by “California” and “Pacific,” “Kearny” -and “Stockton.” It has a population of ten thousand Mongolians, and -an unknown number of Americans and Europeans, men and women, who have -lost caste so hopelessly that they can no longer live among their own -kind. The men certainly would not be considered fit society even for an -American politician. - -As for the women—well you see most of them painted and powdered and -tricked out in scanty, tawdry finery, sitting in little rooms behind -lattices open on to the street, and opposite these the wayfarer, western -or eastern, European or American, Jap or Chinaman, may stand and peer in. -There are whole streets of these latticed rooms, and the women are of all -nationalities. The leaseholders pay enormous rents for the houses, and -their owners are amongst the most respected citizens of San Francisco. - -To these last it is only due to say that San Francisco is also a city -of magnificent churches, and that it sends every month or so many -missionaries, male and female, travelling in palace-cars and the saloons -of steamers, to enlighten the heathen. Many of the good citizens -aforesaid subscribe tens of thousands of dollars both to the churches and -missions, and so, somehow, I suppose, they get the account squared. - -During my stroll through this quarter of Chinatown, I must admit that I -saw very few Chinamen. Of Japs, Tonkinese, Sandwich Islanders, niggers, -half castes, and the lower-down sort of American, there were plenty, and -business appeared to be fairly brisk. - -The better-class San Franciscan doesn’t go to Chinatown simply because -he doesn’t need to. In fact, as a distinguished and experienced resident -said to me after I had been through Chinatown: - -“My dear Mr. Griffith, Chinatown may be pretty bad, but anyhow it’s run -open and above board, as anybody can go and see that likes to take the -trouble. If you were stopping here a month instead of two or three days, -I could show you things that Chinatown isn’t a circumstance to. You -just roof all San Francisco in, and you’ll have the biggest, dandiest, -high-toned, up-to-date——” - -“Yes,” I interrupted, “I see what you mean. I heard about that in the -train. Sorry I’m not stopping.” - -This of course only referred to decent, Christian vice, the sort which -some of the most respectable of us practice without compunction as long -as we’re not found out. But when you have eastern and western vice mixed, -as you do in Chinatown and San Francisco, you get a compound calculated -to raise the gorge of a graven image. There are certain crimes which have -no names, and of such is the wickedness of Chinatown. - -Some one once said that the exterior of a house was a pretty good -criterion of the character of the people who lived in it. - -This is certainly true of Chinatown. The streets are narrow, ill-paved, -and dirty. They also smell, as the other streets in San Francisco don’t. -Those who have travelled know that the Purple East has a smell entirely -its own, just as a London lodging-house has. - -Moreover, wherever a piece of the East like Chinatown is transplanted -into the West, you get that smell, full-bodied and entire. Wherefore, -when I dived into Chinatown, San Francisco, I remarked: - -“Why, is this King Street, Hongkong, or Malay Street, Singapore?” - -The East never changes, no matter whether it is west or east. The -restaurants, with their gaudily carved beams and their queer windows, -with their upstairs rooms, containing priceless treasures of Oriental -art, their iron money-chests, with half a dozen different locks on them, -so that they could only be opened in the presence of all the partners in -the concern; the paper lanterns outside, the weird hieroglyphical signs, -the little joss tables in the inner compartments of the shops, with their -images and odorous incense sticks—it was all the undiluted Orient, ages -old, in the midst of the newest of the Occidental civilisations, one of -those queer paradoxes which go to show the looseness of our most rigid -principles and the shallowness of our deepest convictions. - -After seeing sundry other things which would be difficult of description -in printable English, I made a tour of a common lodging-house in -Chinatown. I have slept in a common lodging-house in London, and I have -seen humanity go to sleep under many and various conditions; but I never -saw anything like this. - -Only a few hundred yards away was the Palace Hotel, with its -rooms at four dollars a night; here you could sleep for five -cents,—twopence-halfpenny,—but what sleeping! - -Little, dark, stifling cells—I have seen infinitely better ones in -prisons—lit through a little window by a caged gas-jet on the flagged and -iron-railed footway which ran round each floor inside the court within -which these doss-houses are built. In the cell a narrow wooden bedstead, -covered with unwashed rags and nothing else. Below in the court, horrors -unnameable. - -In the particular lodging-house which I visited I was shown a big, dark, -hideous apartment, a perfect Black Hole, in which nine of the richest -merchants of Chinatown—and some of them are very rich—were confined on -ransom by the gang known as the High-Binders for four months until some -died and the others paid. A remnant who stuck out were released by the -police and a detachment of the United States Militia after a regular -siege. It was Alsatia over again, and yet it happened less than a dozen -years ago. - -As I was feeling my way down the stairs a figure rose out of a corner on -one of the landings, and I heard a thin voice say: - -“Boss, gimme ten cents—I’m hungry!” - -It was the first time I had ever heard an American beg, and it was quite -a shock. Somehow, the accent seemed to add an infinite pathos to the -words; perhaps because until now I had only heard it from the lips of -the proudly prosperous. As I passed he turned his face after me, and the -light from a distant gas-lamp fell on it. It was ghastly in its thinness -and paleness, and yet it was refined, and the voice, if not the speech, -was that of an educated man. I gave him a quarter, and my guide said: - -“Guess that’ll give him two days in heaven. It’s opium he’s hungry for. -Bin there myself.” - -When we left the lodging-house we went a few yards along the crowded, -weirdly lit street with its swarms of paper-lanterns, and then we plunged -down a narrow alley up which there drifted a wave of stench, dominated by -the acrid, penetrating smell of opium. - -Presently I discovered that there were lower depths in Chinatown even -than the doss-house and the brothel. Here were not houses, only miserable -sheds and shanties round an unpaved courtyard foul beyond description. - -We went into some of the shanties. There stood in each near the door a -little bench, and on this were two or three pipes and some tiny pots -filled with what looked like black-brown treacle. It was opium, and -each pot contained ten cents’ worth of Heaven and Hell, the Heaven of -oblivion opening out into dreamland of Paradise, and then the Hell of the -awakening horror. - -Behind the bench squatted a half-clad skeleton, pipe in hand and lamp -beside him. He opened his half-shut eyes as we entered, and murmured: - -“Wantee smoke, tlen cent!” Then he recognised my guide, and added, “Ah, -wantee look; all light.” Then his eyelids fell again, he dipped his -needle in his pot, and got ready for another whiff. - -Round the walls of the shanty were two tiers of bunks, just a few planks -propped on bare poles. There were ragged blankets on the boards, and on -these, with pipe and pot and lamp, lay other scantily clad skeletons, -some frizzling the globule of opium in the flame, some rolling it on the -flat top of the pipe-bowl, others inhaling the magic blue smoke, others -motionless and lifeless, their souls, if they had any, in paradise. One -of the skeletons had once been the figure of a white woman. - -Outside we found other hovels, but without lamps. We struck matches in -one, and found other figures, some white and some yellow, huddled about -the filthy floor. - -“Free dosses,” said the guide, in his curt speech, “they’re broke. Spent -their last dime on a smoke and got fired. After that it’s the poor-house -or the bay.” - -As we were picking our way out of the court, he continued: - -“There’s a cocaine fiend here; better see him. George, where are you?” - -The remains of a man tottered out from under a shed. He was white, what -there was left of him. As soon as his miserable eyes caught sight of me -he began a whining, rambling account of how he fell a victim to the drug; -his stock narrative, I suppose. - -Then he rolled up a dirty, ragged shirt sleeve, and showed me a thing of -skin and bone that had once been an arm. It was pitted and seamed and -scratched from elbow to wrist. I had seen two or three choice samples of -leprosy and other diseases that horrible night, but this made me nearer -sick than any of them. - -He had a strangely extemporised syringe of wood and quill and -sealing-wax, and a piece of hypodermic needle in his other hand. He -picked out a comparatively vacant spot, drove in the needle, and pushed. -The skin swelled up in a little lump. It may only have been water, -certainly the syringe was made ready for the occasion, but in a moment or -two he straightened up, his eye grew brighter, and his voice stronger as -he asked me for a dime to buy a supper. I gave it to him, and he crept -back into his hovel. I went out into the street feeling that I had been -in Hell. - -We went to wind up the night at the Chinese Theatre; but the performance -was nearly over. So, instead, we made a much more interesting excursion -through the subterranean dressing-rooms of the company. Women never -appear on Chinese boards. So when we visited the ladies’ dressing-rooms -we found men and boys in female attire, which, after all, doesn’t differ -very much from the male, standing before little mirrors painting and -powdering themselves and making-up their eyes and eyebrows, and fixing -themselves up generally for all the world like an European actress. - -In other dressing-rooms we found mild-eyed Celestials trying on or -taking off masks hideous enough to frighten even an American baby. -The rooms were merely little cellars connected by narrow, low, stone -passages. Their furniture was a little table under the mirror, a big, -brass-bound chest, on which stood the inevitable opium apparatus, and a -low, dirty sleeping-couch. - -The whole scene was literally a piece of the underworld. A few years ago -it was veritably so for unfortunates who were decoyed into its depths -and never got out again. That is done with now, but for all that I felt -better when I was out in the street again. - -If I had dreamt that night, the dream would certainly have been a -nightmare. As it is, whenever I hear any one letting his emotions loose -over the glories and triumphs of civilisation I think of Chinatown, San -Francisco, and remain in a comparatively humble frame of mind. - - - - -_A SEA-INTERLUDE_ - -ACROSS THE PACIFIC ON A STEAM-ROLLER - -(WITH INCIDENTAL REMARKS ON THE PARADISE THEREOF AND THE GREAT TROPICAL -FRAUD) - - -I - -By the end of my third day’s stay in San Francisco a splendid sea-wind -had blown the smell of Chinatown out of my nostrils, and the mephitic -stuffiness of its streets and shops and restaurants out of my lungs. I -would fain have stayed longer, for I was beginning to like the Queen of -the Golden Shore, and some of her loyal subjects were beginning to like -me, wherefore there was every prospect of a goodly time ahead for me. -When your Californian likes you he wants to give you his house, and his -town, and his clubs, and all that therein is, and when he doesn’t he -makes no secret of it. - -But for the man who has connections to make, who has to hitch trains on -to steamers and steamers on to trains, and get across the world in the -shortest possible time, even the temptations of Californian hospitality -must be in vain. So the next morning I and my baggage were jolted over a -couple of miles of appalling streets—the one defect in the beauty of the -Golden City—at a cost of three dollars and partial dislocation of the -vertebral column, to the wharf where a very polite citizen was obliging -enough to carry my steamer trunk on board the _Nippon Maru_, for half a -dollar more. - -The crowd on the wharf was cosmopolitan enough even for the Drive at -Singapore, or the Praya at Hongkong. Of course there were globe-trotters -like myself, speaking many tongues from Russian to American; there -were commercial travellers, mostly German, with mountains of samples -prepared with great cunning to suit the varied tastes of Hawaiians, -Japs, and Chinese; there were short, thick-set, flat-faced Japs in grey -tweed trousers, tail coats, and top hats, fresh from the colleges and -the counting-houses of the Eastern States; there were grave, impassive -Chinese, mandarins and millionaires, in silken robes and black skull-caps -(with the little red button on top), with their wives and children also -in silken vesture and orthodoxly shapeless; and then there were the -coolies and sailors, Jap and Chinese, with a sprinkling of wicked-eyed -Lascars and mild Hindoos. - -To finish the picture, on the Government wharf hard by a detachment -of blue-clad, felt-hatted United States troops were lining up for -embarkation on one of the transports bound for Manila. - -The good sea-wind did not seem quite so good when we got outside the -Golden Gate, for there was a villainous sea running on the bar and -through the narrow passage between the tail of the bar and the rock-bound -coast, which is called the Main Ship Channel. In a bad sea this is one of -the most ticklish pieces of navigation in the world. - -On the port side, as we went out, the breakers were piling themselves up -into mountains of foam on the end of the bar a couple of hundred yards -away. To starboard, another two or three hundred yards off, the big -Pacific rollers were thundering along the base of the cliffs, flinging -their spume and spindrift sky-high. The water in between was just what -one would expect it to be, and so passenger after passenger, male and -female, missionary and mercantile, disappeared from the deck. - -I afterwards learnt that there was much suffering below, and many of -the victims did not reappear till we reached the smooth, sunlit waters -which wash the shores of what the American tourist agencies, since the -Annexation, have christened “the Paradise of the Pacific.” The Jap -passengers collapsed first of all. - -When I had made the closer acquaintance of the _Nippon_ I found that -her sailors and quartermasters and junior officers were Japs, while her -stewards and barmen were Chinese. The captain and first officer were -English, and the chief engineer, of course, a Scotchman. I have often -wondered how many “Chiefs” on the Seven Seas are not Scotch. - -The _Nippon_, like most Japanese mail-boats, was cheap and gaudy. She -gave evidence of her cheapness by bursting a steam-pipe just as she was -fighting her way through the channel. It might have been serious, but it -wasn’t, though it lengthened our passage by several hours, for the wasted -steam, instead of getting into the cylinders, went roaring away in noisy -impotence up to the cloudy sky which overhung the alleged Pacific Ocean. - -[Illustration: Diamond Head, Honolulu. The town lies in the bay about -halfway between the two headlands.] - -On the third night we got into smoother water and stopped while the Chief -and his assistants repaired the damage. The next morning at breakfast the -deserted saloon began to fill up. - -So far I and a fellow-traveller from Chicago had had the corner table to -ourselves. By lunch-time it was full of lady missionaries going to China -and Japan. For three or four of them that was destined to be their last -voyage. The nicest and most pleasantly spoken of them was travelling many -thousands of miles to meet an unspeakable fate at the hands of the Boxers. - -On the fourth morning great blue-grey masses of land began to rise up -to port and ahead of us, and that day we spent steaming through summer -seas under a lovely sky, between shores whose beauty may well have led -Captain Cook’s sailors to believe that they had at last reached the -long-dreamed-of Islands of the Blest. - -For all that, I must confess that I was disappointed with the approach to -Honolulu. Even the most patriotic Hawaiian would, I think, agree with me -that the capital has not been placed either on the most beautiful of the -islands or in the most picturesque position possible. - -Still, you would travel far before you found a fairer sea-flanked city -than Honolulu itself. It is a city of broad, tree-shaded streets, of -buildings which are dignified without being pretentious, of palaces and -Government offices built on a scale of splendour which argues eloquently -for the financial conceptions of former monarchs and a belief in their -destinies which the sceptical Fates and the American Republic have since -declined to justify. - -There are, of course, many churches and schools in Honolulu. Your -Hawaiian takes his or her religion in a cheerfully earnest fashion, and -sings hymns with keener delight than any one else on earth. Still, the -schools and churches of Honolulu were not built wisely. Where everything -else is beautiful, softly lined, and tree-embowered, they are hard, bare, -and angular, even after the fashion of the Ebenezers of the Midlands and -the North of England. The very gaol looks nice in comparison with them. - -But the private houses—for instance, those stretching away along King -Street, west, to Waikiki, perhaps the loveliest bathing-place in the -world—are, after all, the pleasantest memories that one brings away from -Honolulu. Mostly low and broad-verandahed, white-painted, and embowered -in foliage of every shade of green, faced with smooth, emerald lawns -spangled with flower-beds blazing bright with every colour that Nature -loves to paint her tropical flowers, they seemed rather the dwellings of -lotus-eaters in “the land where it is always afternoon” than the houses -of hard-headed, keen-witted business men and politicians, mostly of -American descent, who have not only piled up many millions by various -methods, but have also created this leafy paradise out of the bare and -swampy seashore that it was when Captain Cook landed upon it. - -I happened to arrive in Honolulu at a very interesting time. The Monroe -Doctrine had been stretched across the Pacific from San Francisco to the -Philippines, and Honolulu was a sort of hitching-post which kept it from -sagging into the water. Among the white population there was a good deal -more American than English being spoken. The harbour was full of American -transports. Blue-clad, very business-like-looking American troops were -marching and drilling and patrolling all over the place. Many of the -men wore, in addition to their regimentals, portrait-medallions of the -President or their best girls—a sight to make a British War Office Person -ill for the rest of his official days. For myself, it liked me well. - -Saving the American occupation, but not by any means unconnected with -it, the four salient facts of Honolulu seemed to me to be Missionaries, -Mosquitos, Millionaires, and Morality spelt backwards. - -The missionaries and the mosquitos came to Honolulu at the same time, -about seventy-five years ago. The mosquitos are supposed to have come in -old sugar-casks from Mexico, and it is known that the missionaries came -chiefly first-class from San Francisco. I mention the coincidence for -what it is worth. Both are at present going strong. - -The missionaries practically own and run the place with the assistance of -the sugar millionaires who helped the United States to annex the islands. -The mosquitos are, with one exception, the most venomous and insidious -that I have ever suffered from. - -There is one notable point of difference between the missionaries and the -mosquitos in Honolulu. The missionaries and their congregations sing -voluminously, and also very prettily. The Hawaiian mosquito does not -sing. He makes his descent silently and stealthily, sucks the life-blood -out of you, and goes away, leaving you to scratch and swear and wonder -how on earth he managed to get his work in without you knowing it. - -There are some unregenerates, both white and bronze, still in Honolulu -who say something like this about the missionaries and the country. This -may or may not have any truth in it. It is certainly quite true that the -missionaries have done an immense amount of good in the Sandwich Islands. -It is also true that they and their descendants form the aristocracy -and ruling class of the islands. They have the most magnificent -houses and most beautiful estates. They also run the most lucrative -businesses. Not the worthy pastors themselves, of course. In Hawaii, -the word “missionary” means not only the missionaries themselves, but -their descendants to the third and fourth generations. Perhaps the most -good-natured way to put it would be to say that here the labourer was -worthy of his hire and saw that he got it. - -But there was one deadly contrast in Honolulu which I frankly say -shocked and horrified me, hardened globe-trotter as I am! I don’t think -I ever saw a place which possesses more churches, schools, missions, -and other missionary machinery to the acre than Honolulu. It also runs -considerably to saloons and hotels with bar-annexes; but these justify -their existence by paying enormous licences to the revenue. Wherefore -they charge the thirsting citizen a shilling a time for a drink, -no matter how small or common; which, of course, either keeps down -drunkenness or punishes those who drink with poverty. Millionaires, and, -some whisper, the missionaries, take their liquid comforts at home. - -But one night after dinner, having nothing else to do but smoke and -listen to small talk in the intervals of fighting the mosquitos, I went -off by myself to explore the Asiatic Quarter. I had no hint or direction -from anybody, and, by sheer accident, I found myself in a street which -was the exact replica of the slave-market in Chinatown, San Francisco. - -Slaves of all colours and nationalities, white and brown and yellow and -black, were sitting behind the lattices of their prisons. Chinese and -Japanese “Houses of Delight” were running full steam ahead. It was only -natural that I should catch myself wondering whether I had not been -spirited back into Chinatown, instead of walking the streets of Holy -Honolulu where the missionaries and the churches have reigned practically -supreme for fifty years. - -One curiously revolting feature of the scene was this: The -Americanisation of Hawaii was proceeding apace just then. Four or five -big transports, bound for Manila, were in the harbour. There were -American sentries at the Government Buildings over which Old Glory -floated from sunrise to sunset. Squads of American troops drilled daily -in the open places. American patrols marched through the streets by -night, and American soldiers and sailors jostled with Jap and Chinaman, -Negro and Malay along the narrow pavements of the Hawaiian slave-market. -It was a curious mingling of East and West, not by any means flattering -to the West. - -The next day I asked certain citizens who should have known how this -thing came to be in such a godly country, and the various answers about -came to this: “The Government and the Churches have done their best to -shut those places up, but somehow they haven’t succeeded. And then, you -see, they pay enormous rents.” - -“But who owns the property?” I asked one old and highly respected -resident. - -“Well, if _I_ did I shouldn’t tell you,” he replied. “Come and have a -drink!” - -It was a hot day and I thought I might as well leave it at that. - -Later on this moral plague-spot became a physical plague-spot as well. -The Black Death spread its sombre wings over it, and the purging fires -have swept it in smoke and flying flame from the face of the insulted -earth up to the yet more insulted heavens. Wherefore the Paradise of the -Pacific ought to be a good deal cleaner now than it was when I was there. - -[Illustration: Sanford B. Dole. First Governor of the Territory of -Hawaii.] - -That afternoon I called at Government House and sent my card in to Mr. -Sanford B. Dole, President of the Hawaiian Republic. He is the man who -came to the front when the reactionary tactics of King Kalakaua and -his sister and successor, Liliuokalani, raised the somewhat important -question as to whether the Hawaiian Islands were going to fall into line -with civilisation or fall back into a state of semi-barbarism—for that -is about what it came to. - -President Dole is a “missionary”; that is to say, he belongs to the -clerical aristocracy of Honolulu. He is not a clergyman himself, and he -has the credit of belonging to one of the very few missionary families in -the islands which have not become wealthy. - -The last President that I had interviewed was Paul Krüger, late of Kerk -Street, Pretoria. There was a very striking difference between the -two men. The Boer was bulky, slow of speech and motion, with manners -unspeakable; also little keen eyes which looked at you piercingly for a -moment, and then dodged away—cunning incarnate in the flesh and a good -deal both of the cunning and the flesh. - -Still, at the time, I confess that I thought him a man, and, in his way, -a great one—not a common boodler who would squeeze his country for all -it was worth, and then, at the first note of danger, bolt with all the -plunder he could lay his hands on. - -When I went into President Dole’s Council Chamber—which had once been the -Queen’s boudoir, and in Kalakaua’s time before her, the scene of many -a half-barbaric orgie—I was greeted by a tall, rather slight, but well -set-up man dressed in spotless white. - -He had the air of being at once virile and venerable, for his hair and -his long, almost patriarchal beard were both grey. But the figure was -alert. He walked up and down the room the whole time we were talking. -The grey-blue eyes were quick and keen and steady. I may also add, _en -parenthèse_, that he was one of the handsomest men I have ever spoken to. - -He told me the story of the battle between reaction and advancement, -corruption and comparative cleanliness, just as a man who had seen it all -but had taken no share in it might have done. The story is history now, -and needn’t be repeated here. To me the most interesting fact was that -President Dole told it without once mentioning himself until it became -unavoidable. - -When the fighting was over there were seven conspicuous citizens of -Honolulu in prison under sentence of death as conspirators against the -Commonwealth, and it rested with Mr. Dole to say whether they should be -executed or not. - -“It was, of course, a very painful position for me to be placed in,” he -said. “You see I was the head of the Provisional Government and Chief -Magistrate, and some of them were personal acquaintances of my own.” - -“Then, after all, you had something to do with it, Mr. President? That’s -the first time I’ve heard you mention yourself in the whole story.” - -There was a smile under the heavy moustache as he answered: - -“Oh, yes, of course, I had a good deal to do with it. When the revolution -was over they elected me President; and the prisoners—well, we sentenced -them to different terms of imprisonment, and then let them out gradually. -To tell you the truth I hadn’t much fancy for signing death-warrants.” - -I was afterwards told on quite reliable authority that if the revolution -had not succeeded, Sanford B. Dole and a few others would undoubtedly -have been hung. - -Mr. Dole, being of American descent, very naturally considered that the -United States were the proper Power to run the Hawaiian Islands, whether -the Hawaiians liked it or not. It is a way that all great Powers have -with small ones. We have it ourselves to a considerable extent. In -fact, we once had these same islands with all their vast possibilities. -That was in the dark ages of British diplomacy when colonies were “not -wanted.” So a few distinguished idiots in Downing Street gave orders -for the flag to be hauled down from the flagstaff on the Old Fort of -Honolulu. After which it avails little for an Englishman to talk about -Cousin Jonathan stealing the islands for himself. - -Mr. Dole assisted conspicuously and, I believe, quite conscientiously in -the transfer. He saw that it was either annexation or semi-barbarism and -corruption. He thought that what great Powers call annexation and small -ones call stealing was the better of the two, and I think he was right. - -Hawaii is now a Territory; and Sanford B. Dole is its Governor. Still, I -was a little afraid that there might be something of prophecy in the last -remark he made as we shook hands. - -“There is no doubt about the future or the prosperity of the islands,” -he said, in answer to my last question. “With good settled government -capital will come in, as it has been doing, and everything will go ahead. -But,” he added very gravely, “if we get the millionaire monopolist and -the professional politician over here, they’ll ruin us.” - -“Exactly!” I said. “Here you have the paradise, the Eden of the Pacific. -Politics will supply the serpent.” - -He shook his head and smiled, and I went away without telling him that I -had travelled from Chicago with a gentleman who had been to Washington to -see about the introduction of that self-same serpent. - - * * * * * - -When people who have not been there read about the tropics in books, -especially in story-books, the impression they get is one of general -gorgeousness pervading the heavens and the earth, and a human state of -things not far removed from what some of us honestly hope to deserve some -day when days have ceased to count. - -Blue seas lie rippling gently under azure skies; islands of almost -inconceivable beauty, palm-crowned and coral-fringed, gem the surface of -the waveless waters. The heat of the sun is tempered by cool, scented -breezes. - -The day begins and ends with sunrises and sunsets which seem like the -opening and shutting of the gates of Paradise. - -The nights are languorous dreams of soft delights under skies spangled -with myriads of stars such as northern eyes have never seen. On other -nights earth and sea are bathed in silvery moonlight such as never fell -on northern sea or shore. - -Some authors get their moon and stars shining at the same time. These -have probably done their travelling in an armchair. Diana of the Tropics -is a good deal too autocratic for that. - -Those are the tropics of the novelist and the traveller who wants to make -his untravelled readers envious. As a story-writer I have myself sinned -thus; wherefore, partly, this confession. - -The trouble with most people who have described the tropics in fiction -and otherwise is that they leave too much out. All that they put in is -correct. You really can see all these beauties, and more, between Cancer -and Capricorn; but you don’t see them everywhere or all the time. - -Another very serious fault with your tropical word-artist is that he -generally ignores the swamps, the fevers, the agues, the rains which -come down like bursting water-spouts, the hurricanes which blow brick -and stone walls about as if they were paper. Further, as to the rippling -sunlit sea, they too often omit to state that, when it is inclined that -way it can get up into waves which will take a ship clean over a reef and -land it halfway up a hillside, and that it has a swell through which a -ship may wallow for days, rolling scuppers under every minute of the day -and night for weeks on end. - -This, by the way, is one of the most villainous features of the tropical -Pacific. For instance, you wake up out of a nightmare-slumber, bruised -and sore and sweating, after hours of sleepy struggle to brace yourself -somehow between the sides of your berth so that you may not be flung -against the opposite side of your cabin. You watch for a favourable -moment—the best one is just when she is going to stop and your side is -down. Miss this, and you’ll wish you’d waited for the next. - -In spite of all your precautions your luggage has broken loose and has -taken charge of the floor. Nothing is where you put it the night before. - -Your hair-brushes are under the lower berth in the farthest possible -corner. Your tooth-brush is probably on the other side under the sofa; -and your box of tooth-powder has got into one of your boots and has -emptied itself there. Your bath-sponge has probably carried away from the -rack, and got itself saturated with the contents of your only bottle of -scent, which has dashed itself to pieces in its struggles to leap out of -its appointed place. - -You squeeze this sorrowfully out into the tumbler, if there’s one left -unbroken. At peril of life and limb you grope around and find your -deck-shoes, and then you start out for the bathroom. The ship is groaning -and shuddering like a man with tertian ague and toothache. If your -sea-legs are good you get there without a broken limb or many additions -to your bruises. - -The water in the bath is having a miniature storm all to itself. The bath -is usually marble nowadays, and very hard. If you lie down in it you are -absolutely at the mercy of the raging waters, and they dash you from side -to side, and end to end till you struggle feebly to your feet and try to -stand. - -You clutch at anything for support. Sometimes, as happened to a -fellow-voyager of mine, it is the steam-pipe for heating the water, and -off comes the skin in a twinkling. When you have got into something like -an erect position you keep yourself from being hurled out with one hand -and pull the string of the shower with the other. - -“Swish,” comes the douche, and you have a moment of cooling luxury. Then -follows the slow inexorable heave of the next roll. You hold on, partly -to the string; the water rises up on one side of the bath and slops -over, probably filling your shoes. The douche leaves you, crosses the -bathroom at an angle of sixty degrees, and drenches your pyjamas, and, -peradventure, your towels as well. If this has not happened, you stagger -out and dry yourself in the intervals of trying to sit or stand. - -Whatever else has happened to you in your bath, you’ve got cool for a few -minutes. Meanwhile the pitiless sun has been rising higher, the exertion -of drying yourself has put you into a violent perspiration, and you are -about as wet when you give it up in despair as you were when you began. - -You get into your pyjamas and shoes, and, if the demoralisation of the -tropics has gone far enough with you, and the bar is open, you go and -get a cocktail to put a little life into you after a night of gasping, -perspiring insomnia. This function is tropically termed “sweetening the -bilge-water,” and is greatly in vogue among those who have sat up late in -the smoking-room overnight. - -Then you pull yourself up on deck by handrails and anything else you can -get hold of. The morning air is delicious in its virgin freshness, and -you begin to draw new breaths of life. The decks are wet and sloppy, but -still cool. In a few hours the pitch will be boiling in the seams, and -the planks will be hot enough to melt the rubber soles off your shoes. - -The masts and funnels are describing slow arcs across the vault of the -Firmament; deck-chairs are skating about, chasing each other around, or -huddling themselves in scared heaps in the safest and wettest corners of -the deck. - -Down below there is the tinkling clatter of crockery, mingled with -language from the stewards who are trying to set the table for breakfast. -When you have cooled off a bit you nerve yourself to go below again into -the furnished oven you call your room and get dressed. Perhaps you have -to shave—but this is an added agony which may be passed over in silence. - -You stagger back on deck to get cool again. You meet your -fellow-sufferers and say things about the ship with disparaging -references to round-bottomed old tanks, butter-tubs, steam-rollers, and -the like. These things are not exaggerated. I crossed the Pacific from -Honolulu to Sydney on a steam-roller called the _Alameda_, and I am -speaking of that which I know. - -Then, perhaps after another visit to the bar, you go to breakfast. -You eat your meals in the tropics partly because you must repair the -exhaustion of perpetual perspiration, and partly because you have paid -for them in advance. Naturally, you don’t like the company to get too far -ahead of you. - -If it wasn’t for this you would probably eat a great deal less and -be much better, but human nature is human even in the saloon of a -steam-roller on the Pacific with the thermometer standing at 97° Fahr. -Thus you eat and drink and loaf your way through the listless, sweltering -hours, and vaguely wonder what your liver will be like when you get -ashore. - -There is another speciality of the tropics to which the tropical -glory-mongers have never done full justice. This is the mosquito. Of -course, there are mosquitos outside the tropics. A veracious British -Columbian once told me that on the Yukon they shoot them with revolvers -and catch them in seine nets. - -The tropical mosquito, however, does not run to size as a rule. In -Guayaquil I have seen them a little smaller than sparrows, but they were -exceptions. Still, for his size, the tropical mosquito carries a greater -load of sin and responsibility than any other beast of prey inside the -confines of Creation. - -I never really knew what artistic profanity was till I met him. I had no -idea of the magnificent capabilities of the English language, helped out -with a little American, till he had his first meal off me. - -I have said before that the Honolulu mosquito does not sing, so the -first night out I went to bed unsuspecting, and foolishly congratulating -myself that I had got rid of him for a time. I knew better when I woke -up in the still watches of the night, scraping myself from head to foot, -like Job with his potsherd—it was too hot for bed- or any other kind of -clothes—and wondering what had got me. - -I turned up the light, and there was the cloud of witnesses. I gave up -the struggle there and then, got into my pyjamas, and went on deck with a -rug over my arm and many evil thoughts in my heart. - -One of those mosquitos got as far as Samoa with me. He was the only one -that the sea air seemed to agree with, and he was as elusive as a Boer -brigand surrounded by half a dozen British armies. I killed him the -morning we sighted Apia. He was too gorged to fly. It was literally blood -for blood, only all the blood was on one side. - -I didn’t discover any mosquitos in Samoa. At least, none discovered me, -but that is perhaps because I escaped without sleeping there, and the old -steam-roller was lying a long way off the shore. There were, however, -plenty of the other winged pests which are characteristic of most -tropical paradises. - -Some of us walked up to Vailima in response to the invitation of a -fellow-traveller, a rich German merchant, who had bought the ruins of -Robert Louis Stevenson’s house—it was torn to pieces by the shells during -the bombardment—and “restored” it. I hope the gentle ghost of “R. L. S.” -will never revisit it in the glimpses of the moon. - -Samoa is one of those tropical paradises over which the romancers have -spread themselves with the most lavish verbal embroidery. The cold, or -rather tepid, truth as to my own brief experiences of it is this. - -We trudged over four miles and a half of muddy road, under a grey, leaden -sky that would have done justice to an English mid-summer day. From this -descended an almost impalpable but drenching mist, the air was thick with -flies and other intrusive things, which got into your eyes and nose and -mouth and ears. - -The exertion of plodding through the mud quickly reduced us to a state of -almost intolerable limpness. It was like four and a half miles of Turkish -bath adorned with tropical foliage. You had to get some of this foliage -and swing it about with what vigour you chanced to have left, so that you -might keep the flies far enough off to be able to breathe. - -We took a languid interest in the shell-smashed and bullet-pierced trees -by the wayside, and in the rude entrenchments which the Samoans had -thrown up, for it was along this road that the British and American -detachments had to fight their way to dubious victory so as to get things -ready for the German occupation. - -At Vailima we had warm champagne, for not even all the wealth of our -good-hearted host could buy an ounce of ice in Samoa, and we ate cakes -and pineapples where Robert Louis Stevenson had alternately feasted and -half starved, as he tells us in those daintily pathetic “Vailima Letters” -of his. - -But a proper respect for the eternal verities forces me to say that this -place, round which so many reams of imaginative eulogy have been written -and typewritten, entirely disappointed me. Everything was shabby and -ragged and squalid except the newly “restored” house and the furniture, -which might have been sent by telegraph from Tottenham Court Road that -morning. - -The avenue from the main road to the house, which the Samoans voluntarily -made for Stevenson in repayment for the whole-hearted work he had done -for them against the foreign aggressor, was puddle-strewn and inches -deep in mud. The paddock was no better than you would have found round -the shanty of a first-year selector in Australia. There were no paths, -only tracks, mostly mud. The historic stream was little more than a -stone-strewn brook. - -Even from the upper verandah of the house you can only just get a glimpse -of the sea. A hill crowded with tangled tropical growth rises on either -side of the little plateau on which the house stands. On the top of the -one to the left hand as you look towards the sea is the grave of the dead -Word-Magician. Behind the house another broken, tree-clad slope rising to -the misty clouds; and that is all. - -Personally I would not live at Vailima, rent free and everything found, -for a thousand a year. I know other places in the Pacific where with -suitable society life would be a dream of delight if one only had a tent, -a hammock, and about ten shillings sterling a week to spend. - -The steam-roller did not stop long enough for us to attempt the ascent -of the mountain. I left Vailima dejected and disappointed, in a state of -mind which even the warm champagne had failed to cheer. I tramped back -through the mud under the everlasting mist, and through the same cloud of -flies. - -When I got on board I found a sort of political demonstration, mingled -with a cosmopolitan orgie going on. - -The ship was crowded from end to end with splendid specimens of Samoan -manhood. There was a brass band on deck, and the smoking-room was simply -floating in champagne. When I got to the heart of matters I found that -the most popular man in Samoa was leaving. He was the American Consul, -and his name was Blacklock, which, being translated into Samoan, is -Pillackie-Lockie. Certain friends of his—men who would raise you out -of your boots on a pair of twos—were coming with us, and from Samoa to -Auckland it was my privilege to travel with the hardest crowd I have ever -been shipmates with. - -This was just the beginning of the German occupation. During the -bombardment the first shot fired from the German warship had wrecked -the German Consulate on the beach instead of hitting the hills beyond, -where Mataaffa’s men were supposed to be concealed; and this, with other -things, seemed to have produced a bad impression in the minds of the -natives. - -At any rate, after the second whistle had gone, when the band played -“God Save the Queen” and the “Star-Spangled Banner,” the Samoans sang -their versions of the words for all their lungs were worth, but when, in -deference to the presence of the German Consul on board, an attempt was -made at “Die Wacht am Rhein,” there was first a deadly silence and then a -deep-voice “hoo-o-o,” which I interpreted as being the Samoan for “come -out of it,” or words to that effect. - -This, by the way, is a humble, but by no means unmeaning “footnote to -history.” - - - - -Part II - -_PRISON LAND_ - - - - -A PRELIMINARY NOTE ON CONVICTS AND COLONISTS - - -There are not many portions of the sea-realm of Oceania, or, indeed, -of the whole Southern Hemisphere, of which the name is so well and -the history so little known as New Caledonia. Throughout Europe, not -excepting even France, it has for fifty years been the name of a convict -station. To the _forçat_ and the _relégué_ its name meant something even -worse than the traditions of the old galleys could tell of. It meant -banishment over an illimitable stretch of ocean; and, through the hazes -of distance, the French criminal, caged in the penal transport, saw -horrors unspeakable. To him it was the Land of the Chain, of the Lash, -and the Guillotine, a hell upon earth, a paradise of Nature transformed -by despotism into an inferno of crime and cruelty, and, above all, it was -the Land of Banishment. In earlier times it really was something like -what the _evadés_ who had reached Australia, through a thousand miles of -sea-peril and starvation, described it to be. It will be seen from the -chapters which follow that all this has long ago been done away with, but -even now the commandants of the various camps are careful to remind the -visitor from the other ends of the earth, that not the least part of the -punishment of transportation to New Caledonia consists in the fact of -banishment for many years, perhaps for ever from France. - -That is one of the reasons why France will never make a real living -colony out of New Caledonia until its present criminal and semi-criminal -population has utterly died out—a contingency which is not likely to come -to pass while French rule in the Pacific endures. The Frenchman cannot -colonise, although, curiously enough, under another flag he can become -a most excellent colonist. Take him away from France and plant him, as -in New Caledonia, under the tricolour and under the care of his all too -paternal, perhaps it would be more correct to say maternal government, -and, whether bond or free, he begins to get homesick, and a homesick man -is the last person on earth to begin colony-making. - -Of course, if you take him out in a convict transport and plant him on -an island as a prisoner you can make a colonist of a sort out of him, -and that is the sort you find in New Caledonia, a human machine whose -initiative, if he ever had any, has been ground out of him, not so -much by prison discipline, for that, as I shall show, is indulgent to -a degree that would be quite incomprehensible in England; but, rather, -by a rigid system of supervision which permits him to do nothing for -himself, which provides everything for him from the plough with which -he breaks the virgin soil of his concession to the prize which he gets -for a well-raised crop. Such a man walks on crutches all his life, and a -colonist on crutches is an entirely hopeless, if not a quite impossible, -person. - -An experience of something over forty years has convinced all the most -intelligent students of the question, that the convict civilisation of -New Caledonia is a dream the realisation of which is made impossible by -the conditions of the system itself. - -During my last conversation with the Director of the Penal -Administration, he asked me what I thought of the social conditions of -the island, and the possibility of sometime transforming it from a -penal settlement into a free colony? He was intensely in earnest on the -subject. He believed, or at least he did his best to believe, in the -future of that beautiful native land of his, and I would have encouraged -him in his loyal belief if I could have done so; but I had seen too much -of real colonisation in many lands to be able to do that honestly, and so -what I told him was this: - -“Noumea is the heart of New Caledonia, as Paris is the heart of France. -The greater part of it is founded upon what was once a miasmatic swamp, -and, no matter what you do, the poison-germs will find their way to the -surface, and pollute the atmosphere that you breathe. That is a concrete -likeness of your society. It is based on a substratum of crime. For -forty years the poison-germs of the mental disease which is called crime -have been rising from your lowest social stratum and permeating all the -others.” - -[Illustration: A Lake in the interior of New Caledonia.] - -He saw the justice of the parallel, and he tacitly admitted that the -source of moral contagion was every whit as deeply rooted and as -irremovable as the buried swamp that lies deep down beneath the palms -and the flamboyants which shade the squares and the gardens of Noumea. - -In Australia the matter was different. In the bad, old days men and -women were shipped over seas for offences which would not earn fourteen -days’ hard labour now, and the majority of them were morally and -physically sound. Moreover, they were Anglo-Saxons. They knew how to -tackle the wilderness and subdue it, and when they won their freedom -they mixed freely with freemen, and, in due course, the wilderness got -subdued, and the new nations got started. That was because there was a -maximum of individual initiative, and a minimum of government control -which made it possible for the man to work out his own moral and social -redemption, and at the same time to shape a country for his children to -dwell in. When I first went to Australia as a lad in the deck-house of a -limejuicer, the letters M.L.A. didn’t only mean Member of the Legislative -Assembly. Sometimes they meant Mustn’t Leave Australia; but to-day the -penal settlements of fifty years ago are federated nations. Caledonia -is still a convict settlement, and such it must remain until the last -drop of convict blood within its confines solidifies in the veins of its -last dead criminal, or until its moral and social swamp is drained and -purified by more drastic measures than its present rulers appear to have -dreamt of. - -For the last decade or so the French Government has been doing its -best to induce French peasants, artisans, and small tradesmen and -manufacturers to go out to New Caledonia as agricultural and industrial -colonists. It has given them free passages, land for nothing, free mining -concessions, and even capital to start on, but, in spite all of these -advantages and, perhaps, partly because of them, free colonisation has -not been a success in New Caledonia. The causes of this failure are not -very far to seek, and some of them are exactly the same as those which -operate against the success of German colonies. - -The first of them is the Functionary. New Caledonia is perhaps the most -over-governed place in the whole world. The Australian colonies are -beginning to suffer from over-government, the natural result of a too -triumphant democracy, but there, as elsewhere under the British flag, it -is still possible for the pioneer to fight his own battle for home and -fortune against the Spirit of the Wilderness with no more governmental -interference than is necessary to enforce obedience to the law. It -doesn’t matter of what nationality he is, he succeeds or fails by his own -strength or weakness. - -In a later chapter I shall describe the most marvellously successful -piece of cosmopolitan colonisation that has ever been accomplished, an -experiment, the success of which completely bears out all that I am -reluctantly obliged to say here against the French system. - -From the moment that the Frenchman, whether peasant or artisan, leaves -his native land to become a colonist in an oversea French possession he -has a functionary in front of him, one on each hand, and one behind him. -This is to ensure that he shall go along the dead straight line which -governmental wisdom has drawn for him. The man in front prevents him -going too fast, and the one behind sees that his footsteps to fortune -do not fall behind the regulation pace. When he lands in the colony, -his first task is to master more or less imperfectly the vast mass of -regulations by which all his comings and goings are ordered. Within the -sphere of action allotted to him everything is already cut and dried. To -be original is to transgress the code and to trample on the official -corns of a functionary. Wherefore, he very soon finds that originality -is at a heavy discount, and a colonist without originality is of about -as much use in a new country as a baby in long clothes. In fact the baby -is a more valuable citizen, for he may grow into something which the -officially conducted colonist never will. - -Then there is that fatal convict question. In the following pages I -have shown that in New Caledonia there are three classes into which the -criminal population of New Caledonia is rigidly divided. First, there -is the _forçat_, or convict proper, the man who has been sentenced to -a definite term of transportation, ranging from eight years to life. -The second class is composed of _relégués_ who have been banished to -New Caledonia for life, not for any particular crime, but because, by -an accumulation of offences, they have proved themselves to be hopeless -criminals, and therefore unfit for civilised society and incapable of -bearing the burden of responsibility which is inseparable from freedom. -The third class is composed of the _libérés_. We have no counterpart to -the _libéré_ in our criminal system. The nearest English analogue to him -is the convict released on license, but the only real likeness between -them is the fact that they are both responsible for their movements to -the police. - -In New Caledonia the _forçat_ may become a concessionaire and after that -a _libéré_, or he may become first a collective and then an individual -_libéré_. In the former case he is free to hire himself out for work -during the day, but he must return to sleep in barracks. In the latter -he is absolutely free within the limits of the colony. Subject to the -sanction of the Administration he may engage in any business he pleases. - -Many men in this class have done exceedingly well for themselves. Others -again have returned to France, of course under government sanction, to -present their petition for “rehabilitation.” If this is granted they -become freemen, their civil rights are restored to them, and they can -either settle down in France or return to the colony. As a rule they -choose the latter alternative. The keeper of the canteen where I lived at -Prony had done this, and had won his way back not only to citizenship, -but to universal respect. - -The _relégué_ has no such hope. He is banished for life and remains a -well-cared-for slave of the government for the rest of his days. In some -rare cases he may regain his freedom as a special act of grace, but his -civil rights are never restored to him. - -These three classes form the real substrata upon which the whole social -and official fabric of New Caledonian society rests, and it is into such -a soil, supersaturated with crime, that the French Government proposes to -transplant freemen and women, and make colonists of them. In other words -the free emigrant to New Caledonia must take his wife and children across -thirteen thousand miles of ocean and make a home for them in a land where -they will inhale the poison-germs of villainy with every breath they -breathe. Their servants and their labourers, if they can afford them, -will be thieves, swindlers, and assassins. Their sons and daughters will -have to work with them, grow up with their children, sit beside them at -school, and perhaps some day intermarry with them, for all children of -convicts born in New Caledonia are free before the law, and the legal -equals of all other children. It is obvious that under such conditions, -healthy colonisation is about as impossible as healthy physical life in a -colony of lepers. - -Many have tried the experiment and have gone back to France richer in -experience and poorer in pocket, and with such tales in their mouths -as have justly persuaded their fellow-peasants and artisans that their -hard, clean, thrifty life in France is infinitely better than State-aided -contamination in New Caledonia. - -Lastly, there is what I may call the commercial reason for failure, which -is of course closely connected with the others. Officialism has strangled -initiative, and crime has poisoned the sources of social prosperity; -wherefore in New Caledonia the French govern, but they do not develop. -Nine-tenths of the capital invested in the island is in the hands of -British and Australian firms, or is owned by foreigners who have become -naturalised French subjects. The French have had possession for half -a century of one of the richest islands in the world, yet I am only -telling the bare truth when I say that a withdrawal of foreign capital -would promptly bring the colony to bankruptcy, and that the stoppage of -the Australian carrying trade would starve it out in a month. This was -clearly proved by the extremities to which nearly all the outlying camps -were reduced by the interruption of the Coast Service during the plague -epidemic. - -Here, for instance, is one example out of many which might be quoted of -the extraordinary ineptitude of the French colonial official in matters -of business. An Anglo-French firm located in Sydney obtained a concession -for a term of years to import corn, grind it, and sell the flour at a -given price, which was about eight shillings per sack higher than the -average of Australian prices. The government objected to the price, but -yielded on condition that the firm would buy and grind all the corn -raised in the colonies. The firm knew perfectly well that all Caledonia -would not raise fifty bushels of wheat in as many years, so, of course, -they consented, and for the next ten years or so the astute partners will -go on selling flour to the government and the citizens at a much higher -price than they could import it for themselves from Australia. - -The whole trade of Noumea, which is the one trading centre of the island, -is practically in English or Australian hands, although several large -firms trade under French styles. The first essential of a commercial -education in New Caledonia is a sojourn in Australia, and no French -youth has a chance of a good start in a New Caledonian business house -unless he can speak and write English. In fact the only people in the -colony who do not speak English are the officials of the Administration -and the military officers. - -During the whole of my wanderings through the convict camps from end -to end of the island, I only found one official who could converse -intelligently in English, and that was the Director himself; and yet you -can go into almost any store or office in Noumea and get what you want by -asking for it in English. - -New Caledonia may, in short, be fairly described as a French penal colony -and a commercial dependency of Australia. - - - - -I - -_SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS_ - - -After a flying visit to Auckland, our old steam-roller staggered through -a southerly buster into Sydney Heads on Christmas Eve, and it was then -that I began to make acquaintance with the Microbe of the Black Death. - -We had got alongside the wharf at Circular Quay. On the other side of -the jetty a white-painted Messageries mail-boat was being moored. If -Sydney had only known the terrible cargo which she carried, Sydney would -have seen her sunk a thousand fathoms deep rather than let her touch -Australian soil. She was the _Pacifique_, the ship I was to cross to New -Caledonia in, and the Black Death was a passenger on board her. It was -many days more before I learnt the how and the why of this—after I had -walked in the same streets, lived in the same houses, and sat at the same -table with the Spectre. I had also seen his material reality. This was -what it looked like. - -A lot of little circular globules, flattened in the centre, some red and -some white, were floating in a greyish-white liquid under the microscope. -Among them were some tiny dark, wriggling things swimming in the fluid -and running their heads against the edges of the white globules. They -were plague-microbes in blood-serum. If they got inside the white -corpuscles the person to whom that blood belonged would have a very good -chance of dying the Black Death. If not, he would be very ill, but would -probably live, as I did. - -The newspapers had come on board, and I was having a farewell cocktail in -the Doctor’s cabin, a cosy little snuggery, which by this time contained -many pleasant memories for me. - -“There’s bubonic plague at Noumea,” said he; “and they seem to have it -pretty bad, too. Of course you won’t think of going while anything like -that’s messing around?” - -Now I loved the Doctor because, in addition to his social qualities and -medical skill, he possessed the art of making a cocktail which was an -entirely delightful antidote to his medicine. - -I confess that I didn’t like the news, but I made bold to reply: - -“Of course I shall. Do you suppose I’ve come fifteen thousand miles to -get into that place to be scared by——? Anyhow, I suppose it’s only among -the Kanakas?” - -“My dear fellow, bubonic plague’s a mighty good thing to stop away from,” -he said, with unwonted seriousness. - -“And therefore all the more interesting.” - -“Well, if you will go, so-long, and don’t get it. If you do, in a place -like that you’ll have about one chance in five of getting back.” - -Ten days afterwards I steamed into the lovely harbour of Noumea, the -Malta of the Pacific, which England lost by about three hours one morning -nearly fifty years ago. But the adventures of H.M.S. _Dodderer_ will be a -twist in another yarn. - -Even if we had not known that the terrible Black Death had come to -Noumea, the least observant of us would have asked: - -“What is the matter with this place?” - -A couple of dozen steamers and sailing-ships were laid up, and a ship out -of work is about as forlorn a spectacle as a deserted workhouse. - -The ships that were in work were all flying Yellow Jack—that spectre in -bunting which followed me across the world till I bade it, I hope, a last -farewell on the quay at Marseilles. Steam-launches, too, were flying it, -dodging backwards and forwards between the ships and the shore. They -were patrolling to stop all unauthorised communication. One of them ran -alongside. Other boats, containing friends of passengers, kept at a very -respectful distance. - -“Five fresh cases to-day; two deaths, one a white man,” were almost the -first words I heard at the gangway. Then the Doctor’s words came home to -me in a somewhat chill fashion. At Sydney it was only the news. This was -the ugly reality. We began to look at each other, and especially at the -people from the shore. - -Which of us would be first? You could see the unspoken question in every -one’s eyes. People who had been friends on the passage didn’t care to -shake hands now. We looked at the lovely landscape in front of us, the -white-walled, grey-roofed town, nestling under tall, feathery palms, and -the flamboyants blazing with crimson blossom, at the foot of the densely -wooded mountains, and it seemed strangely out of the order of things -that this demon which has devastated the world for ages should have -chosen so fair a spot from which to send that dread message forth to men -and doctors: - -“I am here, in spite of all your science. Kill me if you can. Meanwhile, -pay me my toll of life.” - -It was dark before we had passed the doctor and got ashore. The first -visible sign of the terrible presence was a long wall of corrugated iron -cutting off that portion of the town which lies along the wharves from -the rest. There were openings in this, and each was guarded by a sentry -with fixed bayonet, but more than twenty days before the Spectre had -slipped past the sentries and slain a white man. Even now it was standing -by the bedside of two white girls. - -The Kanakas and Tonkinois didn’t seem to matter so much. But white -people—that was a family matter to all of us. This seems uncharitable, -but it is none the less true. - -[Illustration: The Plague Area at Noumea. Offices of the Messageries -Maritimes, with Sentries in front.] - -When I found the place that I was to sleep in, I began to see, or, -rather, to smell, the reason why the Spectre had crossed the barriers. -Noumea has a magnificent water-supply. Fresh water flows constantly -from the mountains down through the stone channels on each side of the -streets; but its sanitation is about as rudimentary as that of a Kaffir -village. - -When I went to bed I shut the long windows opening on to the balcony to -keep the smell out. I also shut in the heat and some odd millions of -mosquitos, any of which, according to popular belief, might have had -thousands of microbes concealed about its person. As a matter of fact -they hadn’t; but they got their own work in all the same. - -I stood it for nearly an hour, and then I concluded that even the smell -was preferable to suffocation, so I opened the windows and went out on -the balcony to scratch and say things to the accompaniment of the song of -many vocal insects. The next morning I went down into the yard to cool my -wounds in a corrugated iron bathroom, which, with true French colonial -forethought, had been built within two yards of an open cesspool. A -shower-bath in tropical countries is usually a luxury as well as a -necessity. In Noumea it was only a necessity. - -When I set out for my first stroll round Noumea the morning after my -arrival the sun was shining out of a sky of unflecked blue. A delicious -breeze was flowing down the mountain-sides. The scent of fruit and -flowers was everywhere atoning for the stench of that backyard. I took -in long breaths of the sweet, soft air, and began to wonder whether that -black Spectre really was haunting such a paradise as this. - -Then I turned into the Place des Cocotiers, which is to Noumea what the -Champs Elysées are to Paris—a broad square shaded by blazing flamboyants -and flanked by rows of coco-palms. The next moment I saw a long, -four-wheeled, white-curtained vehicle being driven rapidly through it. It -was the ambulance, and inside it lay some stricken wretch. Who—yes, who -was it? A question of some significance to one who might have had to say -“here!” to the dread summons before the next sun rose. - -I went under the verandah of the Hotel de France, which fronts the -square, and ordered a _limonade_, so that I might ask the news. Yes, it -was the ambulance, and its occupant was one of the white girls. In three -days she was to be the first white bride of the Black Death. It was -rumoured that there were six new cases that morning, but the Sanitary -Commission very wisely only reported two “suspected” cases and one death. -If they had told the truth for a few days more there would have been -panic, and panic is the best—or worst—helpmeet of disease, especially in -a place like Noumea. - -From the hotel I wandered along the shady sidewalks of the broad streets, -and presently found myself in a quarter of the town which looked as if it -had been bombarded. The houses were wrecked and roofless. Some of them -were smouldering still, and some were cold, skeleton ruins. It was here -that the Black Death had found its first victims. They were only Kanakas -and Tonkinois, so their families had been cleared out, and their houses -and belongings burnt. - -Farther on up the hill leading to the military reservation I saw all -that was left of what had once been a pretty villa standing in its own -grounds, a garden such as one sees only in the tropics. This had been the -house of the first white victim, a young fellow of splendid physique, who -had fought the Demon through three weeks of torture, dying by inches in -multiplying horrors unspeakable. - -Later on the Demon was more merciful, because he struck harder and killed -quicker. In a few weeks it was to be a matter of hours rather than of -days. - -I learnt afterwards that, although the Sanitary Commission had burnt the -house down, they had allowed the furniture to be sold by public auction. -The same authority permitted the traveller by sea to take any sort of -luggage he liked on board the steamer, but would not allow even a package -of clean linen to be forwarded from one port to another unless it was in -the possession of its owner. Nail it up in a box and it could go, but -as personal effects—no. Later on the Demon took his revenge for this -foolishness. He laid his hands on the Chief of the Commission, and killed -him in thirty-six hours. - -That night I dined at the club, the Cercle de Noumea, an institution -which is devoted to eating and drinking during the day, and to poker and -baccarat during the night. - -There was only one subject of conversation among the Frenchmen round the -long table—_la Peste_. - -During the plague-time in Bombay it cost drinks round to mention the -word in white society, but in Noumea every one, doctors and laymen -alike, talked unrestrainedly of it. The doctors told of the new “cases,” -enlarged on symptoms, and described experiments in detail which made the -laymen mostly sick, and nearly all frightened. Which is one point of -difference between English and French ways of looking at ugly things. - -A day or two after, when the name of the Demon had become familiar to my -ears, and had, therefore, lost some of its terrors—I suppose I really -was quite as frightened as anybody else—I noticed that a man feeling -furtively under his armpits was looked at with suspicion, and a man seen -limping in the street was left to walk alone. - -One morning I got up feeling rather seedy. It may have been the -mosquitos, or the heat, or the last French cigar overnight. It is a true -saying that a man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client, and -that a man who is his own doctor has a still bigger fool for a patient; -but by this time I had heard enough of _la Peste_ in Noumea to convince -me that I had to take the latter risk into my own hands. If I had -described my symptoms to a doctor I should have been “under observation” -in the hospital within an hour. After that the date of my coming out -would have been a very uncertain one, so I smoked the mosquitos out of -my bedroom, took some chlorodyne, and went to bed. It is bad to take -opiates, but it is a great deal worse to lie awake in a plague-smitten -town and wonder whether or not you’ve got it. - -The next day I saw a coffin carried out of a house. That night the house -was pulled down, and the ruins burnt, but the day after that, as though -in mockery of every precaution taken, the Demon showed himself in a new -and deadlier form. - -A great cleaning-up had been going on all this time, just as it was in -Sydney later on. The filth-accumulations of years were being cleared out. -A white man, very much down on his luck, took a job with the Kanakas and -convicts who were cleaning out the basement of a store in which dead rats -had been found. The others had their mouths and noses covered with cloths -steeped in corrosive sublimate, but he wasn’t afraid of any blanked -plague, and so he went in without. - -He happened to stir up some dust out of which he disinterred the corpse -of a rat. He inhaled some of the dust. The little black wriggly thing -that I had seen under the microscope got into his lungs, and assisted -in the change of the venous into the arterial blood. In six hours that -man was dead. The pulmonary form of the Black Death is perhaps the most -swiftly killing of all diseases. - -After this the corrugated iron fence round the wharves came down, and -the sentries went back to barracks. The enemy had passed them, unseen -and unchallenged. Every gust of wind which raised a cloud of dust in the -street might carry death, and sometimes did. - -You might, for example, walk through one of these clouds on your way to -dinner. Your appetite would not be quite as good as usual. After dinner -you would feel headachy and sick, and, being disinclined to walk home,—a -very bad symptom, by the way,—you would call a cab and be driven there. -The next day you would have a drive in the ambulance, after which your -fate lay on the knees of the gods. In the particular case here referred -to the matter was decided in four days. - -It was little wonder that the microbe was thriving apace in this -outwardly lovely place, for dirt, disease, and death are a trinity found -ever hand in hand. Just _en passant_, I may say here that my excellent -landlady who, I am sorry to say, died of the plague soon after I left her -hospitable roof, subsequently confided to me that among her guests there -were some who had not had a bath for three weeks. Of course there was no -law to make them wash, but I think that in a tropical country in which -the Black Death has taken up its abode the penalty for not bathing, at -least once a day, should be delivery to the tender mercies of the local -fire brigade, with permission to squirt to taste. - - - - -II - -_SOME SOCIAL SIDELIGHTS_ - - -My first official business in the colony was, of course, to write to the -Governor acquainting him with the fact of my arrival. I did this with -considerable misgivings, for both at Sydney and on the boat, I had heard -the evil rumour that in consequence of the plague the Government of New -Caledonia had decided to close the prisons. This meant that the convicts -who had been hired out to work in the mines and elsewhere would be -recalled to the prisons and the camps, and that all communication would -be severed between them and the outer world until the epidemic was over. - -Now I carried credentials from the Ministry of the Colonies in Paris, -which is to New Caledonia what the Russian Ministry of Justice was to -Siberia, and these, under ordinary circumstances, authorised me to have -every prison door in the island opened to me. But M. Albert Décrais knew -nothing about the coming visitation when he gave them to me, and the -Governor would have been well within his powers if he had answered my -letter by expressing “his infinite regret that exceptional circumstances -made it impossible for him to act under the instructions of the Ministry -during the present disastrous epidemic, etc.” - -In this case my mission would have been brought to nought, and I should -have travelled fifteen thousand miles for the privilege of sojourning an -indefinite time in a plague-stricken town. It was three days before I got -an answer, and during that time I allayed my anxieties by making a closer -acquaintance with Noumea. - -Through the kindness of the Earl of Dunmore, who was then acting as -Administrator of one of the greatest mining enterprises in New Caledonia, -and a member of the Municipal Council with whom I had travelled from -Sydney, I was made a guest of the Cercle. Only the most exclusive -aristocracy of Noumea breakfast and dine at home. The rest—officials, -merchants, and professional men—knock off work at eleven, having begun -about six, breakfast at half-past, and then play or sleep till three. - -At six everything, except the hotels and cafés, shut up; then comes a -drive or a ride, tennis or a sail in the bay, then dinner, followed by -cards and drinks till midnight—and of such is the daily life of the -capital of New Caledonia. I learnt afterwards that this delightfully -situated little town is also one of the wickedest spots on earth, but of -that I shall have more to say hereafter. - -Socially, Noumea struck me as being somewhat cramped. Its society is -composed of educated, highly trained, and, in the main, well-mannered -men, living a little life among themselves, and being crushed into -smallness by the very narrowness of their environment. They were a -thousand miles from anywhere. Their only immediate connection with the -outer world was the cable to Sydney, controlled by the all-powerful -Administration, which published and suppressed whatever it pleased. - -There were the monthly Messagerie mails, and a few odd traders, now -mostly laid up in the harbour flying the Yellow Jack. Every night the -same men met and discussed the same subjects, the chief of which was _la -Peste_. Every day the same men went to the same duties, the same women -discussed the same gossip and the same scandal. Every night the same men -and women met in the Place des Cocotiers, under its swaying palms and -flaming flamboyants, and listened to the same music—which, by the way, -they will never listen to again. - -I had gone to Noumea full up to the roots of my hair with the utterly -erroneous notions which I had picked up from books and conversations. -The books appear to have been written mostly by returned _déportés_ or -_communards_ who had been banished in ’71 and ’72, and allowed to return -to France after the general amnesty. The people with whom I had conversed -had apparently got their knowledge from somewhat similar sources, but all -agreed in representing New Caledonia as a second Tasmania, or Norfolk -Island, where all the uncivilised barbarities of our own transportation -system had been prolonged to the end of the nineteenth century. - -Its population consisted of a vast horde of convicts, the most abandoned -and bloodthirsty wretches on earth, ground down into hopeless slavery -by the irresistible and unpitying strength of an official engine called -the Penitentiary Administration. The officials were a set of soulless -gaolers in whose natures every spark of humanity had been quenched by -the performance of their pitiless task. The surplus of the population -consisted of half-tamed natives and a few thousand _libérés_, or -ticket-of-leave men, any one of whom would knock you on the head or stick -a knife into you for a couple of francs. - -Finally I was regarded in Paris as rather madder than the average -Englishman for wanting to go to such a God-forsaken place, being neither -a convict who had to go nor an official who wanted to earn a comfortable -_retraite_ and save up the wherewithal to purchase rentes on which to -spend the balance of his days in that peace and quiet which is the -domestic heaven to which all good Frenchmen look forward. - -Now this is what I actually saw of convict-life in Noumea before I had -passed the prison gates for the first time. I had eaten my second dinner -at the Cercle, and Lord Dunmore, taking pity on my isolation, said: - -“The convict-band is playing in the square to-night, suppose we go and -get some seats?” - -“The convict what?” I said, harking back mentally to the rigid English -system, and trying to picture to myself an English convict blowing a -cornet. - -“It’s what they call here the Musique de la Transportation. It’s quite an -institution in Noumea. I don’t suppose there’s anything like it anywhere -else.” - -So I went, feeling verily a stranger in a strange land. - -It was an absolutely perfect tropical night. The moon was getting up over -the eastern end of the Chaine Centrale, a ridge of mountains which runs -through Caledonia from north-east to south-west; the cafés along the top -of the square were glittering with light; a deliciously cool breeze was -blowing down from the mountains through the trees. - -Little groups of people, mostly clad in white, were sitting on chairs -about the lawns, and others were strolling slowly round and round the -square and across the paths which radiated from the big kiosk in the -centre. There were pretty costumes and brilliant uniforms, stars and -medals and all the rest of it, and the one finishing tropical touch that -was needful was added by wandering bands of laughing Kanakas with gaudy -waistcloths and fantastic headgear, big, luminous eyes, and teeth that -gleamed whitely as they laughed. - -Saving these last there was nothing that would have been incongruous with -one of those delightful portions of outdoor Paris where “l’on s’amuse.” -The shadow of the Black Death seemed to have been lifted for the time, -and as for crime and convicts—well, presently up one of the avenues -through the flamboyants there appeared a line of grey-clad figures -carrying musical instruments. There were twenty-five of them all told. - -They sauntered up to the band-stand laughing and chatting as though -they hadn’t a care in the wide world. Possibly they had very few; fewer -certainly than the peasant toiling his sixteen hours a day for a bare -living in far-away France. - -They were guarded by a very bored-looking surveillant, who carried in -a sling a revolver which he was not allowed to use unless one of his -charges struck him first! - -The gentlemen of the orchestra took their places, and a short, thick-set -man, with a clever, but most unpleasant face, went into the middle and -looked around with an air of command, which reminded me oddly of the -preliminary gestures of other conductors of very different orchestras. -There was a little tuning-up, then the conductor tapped his music-stand, -waved his baton of authority, and forthwith the sweet strains of the -Intermezzo from “Cavalleria Rusticana” began to float out through the -drowsy hush of the tropical evening. - -There is really only one word which could describe the scene, and that -is bizarre. Take five-and-twenty musically inclined convicts out of an -English prison, put them into the Western Gardens at Earl’s Court on a -warm July evening and you would have something like it, but not quite. -At Earl’s Court the convict-band would be stared at as a curiosity, but -people would probably keep at a respectful distance from the band-stand, -especially if there was only one tired-looking warder to keep guard over -the musical criminals. - -[Illustration: The Convict Band playing in the Kiosk in the Place des -Cocotiers, Noumea.] - -But in Noumea no one, save, perhaps, myself, looked twice at the -enclosure which contained an amount of assorted villainy and potential -violence, rapine, and sudden death as you could find the wide world over -in a similar space. There were men from every station of life—soldiers, -priests, lawyers, politicians, financiers, and men who had once belonged -to the Golden Youth of France—inside the kiosk of the Musique de la -Transportation. - -Collectively they had committed every crime, from forgery to outrages for -which civilised speech has no name. The _chef d’orchestre_, for example, -was the man who, a few years ago, sent a thrill of horror through the -world by cutting the heart out of a man whom he believed to be his rival -in his wife’s affections, getting her to cook it as a sheep’s heart, -dining off it with her, and then telling her what she had been eating. In -addition to being a talented musician he was also a very clever painter -who has won quite a reputation in the island. - -And yet, while this unspeakable scoundrel was controlling with his baton -the flood of sweet sounds which flowed out from the kiosk over the -moonlight-spangled lawns, the most respectable people in Noumea were -sitting about in chairs smoking and chatting; young men and maidens were -wandering about among the trees; and little children were playing round -the grassy slope on which the band-stand stood, taking no more notice of -these human hyenas than if they had been the most respectable musicians -that ever wore long hair and swallow-tailed coats. - -The performance finished, as usual, with “La Marseillaise.” I stood up -and took off my helmet. Then I put it on again and sat down somewhat -suddenly. Not another person rose; not another head was uncovered. For -all the notice that was taken of it, the National Hymn of the Republic -might as well have been “Mrs. ’Enery ’Awkins,”—which did not strike me as -a particularly good thing for France generally. - -When the performance was over the artists gathered up their instruments, -lolled out on to the path in front of the kiosk, and shuffled into a -sort of double line. The weary warder counted them in a languid fashion, -right-about-faced them, and gave the order to march. They shambled away -through the gaily dressed crowds in the square. No one even turned to -look at them, and I, who had seen a party of English convicts on their -way to work through a public road, ranged up with their faces to the wall -because a break-load of excursionists was passing by, wondered greatly. - -The Musique de la Transportation is now, happily for the credit of -Noumea, a thing of the past. The pampered artists got to think themselves -indispensable to the gaiety of the town. So one night, having collected -more surreptitious coppers than usual, they halted on their way to -barracks, bought wine and brandy, and told the warder to go and report -them if he dared. He did dare, and the next day the Director of the -Administration published a brief edict which abolished them as musicians -for ever. - -The next morning, soon after coffee, a white-helmeted, gorgeously -uniformed gendarme presented himself at the door of the Hotel Gaquon with -a request to see “Monsieur Griffitte.” An Englishman or German official -would have saluted. He took his helmet off, bowed, and handed me a letter -from the Governor appointing an interview for the next day. I went to -breakfast at the club as usual, and before the meal was over I found that -everybody knew of the sending of that letter. I had been an interloper -before, and an Englishman at that. Now I was a guest, the guest of -the omnipotent Ministry upon whose will the fate of every official in -Caledonia depended. - -That was a morning of introductions, and I was surprised to find how -many friends I had in Noumea. - -The Governor’s offices at Noumea are in a corner of the lovely grounds -in the midst of which his official residence stands. It was a little, -unpretentious, two-storey building, wooden built, and with a verandah -giving on to the street. - -I gave my card to a collarless clerk, who appeared to be getting very hot -over the task of sorting a few papers. He sent it up to His Excellency, -and asked me “to give myself the trouble to sit down,” which I did. - -Soldiers, civilians, gendarmes, and convict messengers kept dropping in -every now and then to deliver messages or letters, or have a chat with -somebody by way of beguiling the tedium of official hours, and then a -half-caste boy came down with my card and requested me to give myself the -further trouble of going upstairs. I don’t know whether this was another -official, but if he was his uniform consisted of a pair of trousers and a -shirt, a linen jacket which hadn’t seen the laundry for some time, and a -pair of canvas deck-shoes. - -[Illustration: The Town and Harbour of Noumea. Across the bay are the -Barracks and the Military Reservation, which no civilian may enter -without authority. On the peninsula to the right are the stations of the -_libérés collectifs_.] - -I followed him upstairs. He opened the door without any ceremony, and -I found myself in the presence of the Governor—a man of medium French -height, with a square, close-cropped head, moustache, and close-clipped -beard. If the chin had matched the forehead it would have been a strong -face, but it did not. - -I learnt afterwards that his Excellency Monsieur Feuillet is a man -of decided anti-English tastes; but for all that he received me very -cordially. He had already received notice of my coming from the French -Government, and expressed himself as willing to do anything to further my -mission. As a matter of fact, this came to countersigning my credentials -from the Minister of Colonies and writing a letter to the Director of the -Administration. I then shook hands, and saw Monsieur Paul Feuillet no -more save from a distance. - -Then I went to the Direction, and in a few minutes I was sitting in a -half-darkened, comfortable room, with double doors, through which no -sound could penetrate. This room is the centre of the system which really -controls the destinies of bond and free throughout New Caledonia. On the -other side of an ample writing-table sat a square-headed, strong-jawed -man of about five-and-thirty, with close-cropped hair, and moustache and -shaven chin _à l’Anglais_. - -This was M. Edouard Telle, Director of the Penitentiary Administration -for New Caledonia and Dependencies, the strongest, politest, and most -friendly Frenchman I have ever met. - -He is supreme chief of an army of commandants, surveillants, and jailors, -whose duty it is to keep watch and ward over between ten thousand and -twelve thousand convicts, _relégues_ and _libérés_—terms which I have -already explained. - -He is absolutely independent of the Governor, who cannot even employ -convicts on public works without his permission. He is responsible to -no one but the Minister of Colonies and the President of the Republic, -and they are many a long thousand miles away. With the stroke of a pen -he could instantly stop all convict labour throughout the colony, and so -bring its principal industries to a standstill. It was he, too, and not -the Governor, who could have issued that ukase which would have closed -the prisons and turned my long journey into a wild-goose chase. - -[Illustration: In the Harbour, Noumea.] - -But, instead of this, he took quite as much trouble with me as if I had -been an inspector sent out by the French Government, rather than a -wandering Englishman who was only there on sufferance. He took the utmost -pains to find out exactly what I wanted; he mapped out my journeys for -me; gave me special passes authorising me to inspect all the prisons and -camps _en détail_—which is a very different thing to the ordinary, but -still rarely bestowed, visitor’s pass. - -He addressed a circular letter to the commandants, enjoining them to do -everything to help me; and, not content with this, he telegraphed to each -prison and camp so that conveyances might be ready for me. At the same -time, when I suggested fixing dates, he replied: - -“No, Mr. Griffith, go when you please. I wish you to see the -establishments exactly as they are always, and not as they might be if -they were got ready for you. When you have seen them come back and tell -me what you think of them. From what you have told me of your English -prisons”—this was at the end of a somewhat long conversation—“your -opinion will be most valuable to me.” - -Then I thanked him, and mentioned the delicate subject of photographs, -and his good nature and indulgence once move proved equal to the strain. - -“Photograph anything you please,” he said, “inside or outside the -prisons; but I shall ask you to remember that good English rule of yours -about photographing individual prisoners.” - -Of course, I agreed to this, and left the Direction well at ease and -wondering more than ever at the misconceptions I had managed to form of -the Caledonian prison system. I frankly admit that I had expected to be -received with suspicion and reserve, perhaps even with hostility. - -Instead of this the most powerful man in the colony had greeted me with -perfect cordiality and frankness, and had taken more trouble to make my -tour a success than I should certainly have expected a good many English -officials to take. - -During another interview with M. Telle, before I had yet seen the inside -of a Caledonian prison, we both managed to astonish each other not a -little. The Director is a criminologist and the son of a criminologist, -who was Director before him, but he was sufficiently French only to have -studied the continental systems. - -Therefore he was about as much surprised when I told him that the -cat and the birch were still used in English prisons; that English -prisoners ate and slept in absolute solitude and worked in silence, as -I was when he told me that, in this land of supposed horrors not only -had all corporal punishment been abolished, but that the surveillants -were not permitted even to lay a hand upon a prisoner, except in actual -self-defence; that cells and silence were only used as punishments; and -when he added that the better-behaved prisoners might smoke and drink -wine, I confess that I was almost shocked. All this, however, with other -strange things, I was soon to see for myself. - -I dined that night, as usual, at the club, in a more contented frame of -mind than heretofore, for now the omnipotent Administration had spoken, -and I was free of the colony—free to go where I pleased, to see what I -liked, and, within the limits of the law, do as I liked. - -No man might say me nay. All the prison-houses in the land must give up -their secrets to me. In short, I had in my pocket the keys of every cell -door in New Caledonia. - -Under these circumstances I naturally found things much pleasanter than -before. I listened with equanimity to a local editor’s remarks on the -war news—which he had been spending the day in mangling—and even the -military doctors’ descriptions of the new plague cases and the ghastly -operations which they had just been performing with those nail-stained -hands of theirs did not seem quite so loathsome as before. - -There was, by the way, another peculiarity of New Caledonian social life -to which I was already becoming accustomed. There are practically no -free servants in the colony. Male or female, they are either convicts or -ex-convicts, and it was no uncommon thing to have your knife and fork -laid for you at breakfast or dinner by a hand which had stuck a knife -into somebody else, or to take your food from hands that had poisoned. - -I admit that I did not like the idea at first, but in time I got -accustomed to it, just as I did later on to being shaved by a most -amiable and accomplished murderer, and having my bed made up by a lady -who had cut her child’s throat. It is, in fact, the fashion in New -Caledonia to have murderers for servants. As a distinguished resident -said to me: - -“You see, the assassins are reliable. They are the aristocrats of the -place. They don’t condescend to smaller crimes. In fact, they would be -absolutely insulted if they were accused of a theft, at least, the good -murderers would, and as for killing you, they would never dream of it. -Why should they? Besides, they know perfectly well that there wouldn’t be -the remotest chance of escape for them.” - -This I found afterwards to be the cold-drawn truth. Fewer after-crimes -are committed in New Caledonia by those who are sent there for -assassination than by minor criminals. Later on I shall have some curious -information to give on this subject. - - - - -III - -_ILE NOU_ - - -Half-past five on a glorious tropical morning. The sun was still hidden -behind the green, rugged mountains which gained its name for New -Caledonia; but it was still high enough for the shadows to be melting -out of the valleys; for the grey roofs and white walls of the town to be -glimmering among the dark masses of foliage; and for the smooth waters of -the lovely harbour to light up with foregleams of the glory of sunrise. - -A little beyond the northern end of the plague-infected area, with its -corrugated iron walls and its white-clad sentries, I found a collection -of pretty buildings, with neat little gardens round them. They were -the offices of the executive police, and when I had passed through -them I found myself on a short, board, wooden, T-shaped quay—the Quai -de la Transportation—which is used solely for the purposes of the -Administration. - -Leading down to this is one of the only two railways of New Caledonia on -which a locomotive travels. It is quite a toy affair, with a gauge of -about twenty inches, and a length of perhaps five hundred yards; but the -engine puffed around just as busily, and seemed just as proud of itself, -as if it had been hauling the Empire State Express. It runs from the -wharves to the head of the quay, and its function just then was carrying -ballast for a new road. - -It is a curious fact that the French have had possession of New Caledonia -for nearly half a century, and yet the only railway by which passengers -can travel is one on which the cars are drawn by convicts, concerning -which more hereafter. - -I presented my credentials at the _douanerie_, where my cameras were -viewed with considerable suspicion until the all-compelling documents had -been read. After that, I suppose, they would have almost let me take a -Maxim gun on to the island. Then they were noted and handed back to me -with a polite “_Très bien, monsieur._ The _canot_ will start in a quarter -of an hour. If you will give your apparatus to this officer he will see -it safe in the boat.” - -A polite surveillant stepped up, touched his helmet, and took them from -me. Then I lit a pipe and strolled up and down the quay to enjoy my -strange surroundings. - -I had seen hundreds of convicts in England working both within and -without the prison walls; working in grim, joyless silence, surrounded by -equally silent, rifle-armed warders, and never a prisoner moving without -one of these at his heels. Here it was difficult to believe that I was in -Prisonland at all save that the other occupants of the quay were wearing -two very different uniforms, and that I was the only one _en civile_. - -The surveillants were dressed in spotless white—the official washing-bill -of New Caledonia must be something enormous—their white helmets bore a -silver badge, the chief figure in which was a glorified representation -of the now forbidden rod, with the letters “A. P.” (Administration -Pénitentiare). Their rank was shown by _galons_, a sort of stripe worn on -the cuff of the left sleeve. This was of blue cloth with silver braid—the -lines of braid served the same purpose as stripes do with us. For -instance, the French equivalent for “two stripes” is “_à deux galons_.” - -The uniform of the others was chiefly conspicuous for its ugliness and -utility—a pair of trousers and a jumper of light grey canvas cloth, with -a vest underneath, and a very broad-brimmed straw hat, without a ribbon. -No convict in Caledonia is allowed a ribbon on his hat. Some had stout, -undressed brogues, and some were barefoot. They were without exception -extremely ugly and fairly hearty. - -A good many of them were smoking, and this rather got on my nerves, for -I kept on asking myself what would happen to an English prison official -if he saw a convict take out a cigarette and go and ask another one -for a light? But here surveillants strolled about puffing their own -cigarettes—making me wonder again what would happen to an English warder -smoking on duty?—and not worrying particularly over anything. - -At the same time, there was no lack of discipline of its kind, though it -was not what we should call discipline in England. Still, the convicts -worked hard and regularly; harder, indeed, than I have ever seen English -convicts work. - -Their task was loading the _canots_ and the steam-launch with provisions -for the great prison on the other side of the harbour; and they went -at it steadily and in excellent order until it was finished, scarcely -needing a word of direction from the surveillants. - -As I watched them I thought of the quiet-spoken, square-headed despot -with whom I had been talking a day or two before. These men, like -hundreds of others that I saw, evidently knew him, if only by repute. - -Presently the surveillant who had taken my cameras came and saluted and -told me that the _canot_ was ready. I got in, and found it manned by -twelve convicts, who were protected by an awning stretched from stem to -stern. They were chatting and smoking when we got in, and my conductor, -thinking perhaps to impress the Englishman with a sense of French -discipline, ordered them to be silent. - -They stopped talking for five minutes while they got under weigh, then, -like a lot of school-boys, they began again, whereupon the surveillant -rebuked them again. “_Silence, je vous dis!_” said he in his most -authoritative tone; and they obliged him more or less for the rest of the -passage. - -I must say that they rowed very well, and with a vigour which betokened -good nourishment. They looked at me with smiling curiosity. They -evidently knew pretty well all about me by this time—Heaven and the -mysterious “_loi du bagne_” only know how; and I daresay they wondered -why any one should have taken the trouble to come across the world just -to make their acquaintance. - -I was received on the quay at Ile Nou by an officer—a chief warder, as -we should call him in England—who took me to the Commandant’s house. -_En route_ I found that Ile Nou, about which I had read such terrible -stories, is a very pleasant little settlement, composed of white houses -and shady streets, at the foot of a hill on which the great prison -buildings stand. - -In a few minutes another illusion was shattered. I admit that I -expected to find the Commandant of the greatest prison in Caledonia a -semi-military despot in a braided uniform, boots and spurs, with a sword, -and, possibly, a revolver, to say nothing of fiercely waxed moustache and -imperial. - -Instead of this I found a mild-mannered, grey-haired gentleman of about -sixty, clad in a _négligé_ white suit, with no sign of official rank -about him save a silver-embroidered blue band round the left cuff of -his coat, which reminded me rather oddly of the band that a British -policeman wears when he is on duty. - -He was drinking his early coffee and receiving reports, which were noted -by a convict clerk at another table. He gave me a cup of coffee, and -ordered the carriage to be got ready. Meanwhile, he dropped his reports -and began to ask me about my journey, my impressions of New Caledonia, -and so on. - -Presently a surveillant came in to say that the carriage was ready. We -got in, and a couple of well-bred, well-fed horses pulled us at a good -pace up the winding road, until our convict driver halted in front of a -big black iron door in a long white-washed wall. As the Chief Surveillant -put his key into the lock the Commandant said to me, with a smile: - -“You will be the first Englishman who has ever passed this gate.” - -“_Mais pardon, Commandant_,” said the surveillant, as he threw the door -open. “There have been two others, but they did not come across the world -to see the prison, and they stayed a good deal longer than monsieur would -care to do.” - -“No doubt,” said I; and with that we crossed the Threshold of Lost -Footsteps. - -As the door swung to behind me I found myself in a long rectangular -courtyard, one side of which was almost filled by a row of long, white -buildings fronting endways on to the court, with a door at the end and -small windows along the side. - -At the further end, to the right hand, there was another door in the -high, white wall, of which I was to learn the use later on, for the -quadrangle which we were crossing is to the convicts of Ile Nou what the -Place de la Roquette was lately to the Parisians—the Field of Blood, the -Place of Execution. - -The Commandant apologised for not being able to invite me to assist at -the spectacle, as there was no patient available. I should see shortly a -_forçat_ awaiting trial for murder, but it would be some time before he -could be tried, and then there would be the ratification of the sentence. - -I should, of course, have assisted at such a spectacle if it had been -possible; but I had the advantage of hearing a simple, but none the less -graphic, description of an execution at Ile Nou from the lips of one who -had more than once been an eye-witness of the dread ceremony; and this -I will reproduce hereafter not only because of its dramatic interest, -but because it is so absolutely different from anything ever heard of in -England. - -After we had inspected the _cases_, or dormitories, where the convicts -of the third, or lowest, class sleep on sloping wooden shelves, with one -foot manacled to an iron bar running the whole length of the long room, -we went through other gates and walls into the central prison—the Prison -Cellulaire—the heart and centre of the vast organisation. - -Here I might have fancied myself in a somewhat old-fashioned English -prison. Here there were no convicts smoking cigarettes or chatting at -their work while their guardians smoked theirs and chatted also. The -chill of silence cut down through the warmth of the tropic morning as the -iron gates clashed to, and the heavy bolts shot back. Underfoot, black -stone or cement pavement; around, white walls and two tiers of little -black doors, the upper fronted by stone balconies and iron rails. - -[Illustration: The Inner Court of the Central Prison, Ile Nou. The -Cachots Noirs are to the right. The Condemned Cells are in the Upper -Gallery above the Archway.] - -On the ground floor we went through several cells into which light -as well as air was admitted, and here I found convicts who had been -sentenced to various terms of hard labour with solitary confinement. -This, with reduction of diet, is the first degree of punishment -inflicted on an idle or disorderly prisoner. It was about equal to the -ordinary hard labour of English prisons. - -Then, after a look into the two little exercise-yards, we mounted to -the second storey. Here I noticed that the cells had no windows and no -gratings in the doors. Some of them had little cards affixed to them. - -I went and read a couple of these; they contained the names of the -prisoners, their first sentence, their subsequent offences, and their -present sentences. - -In these two cases it was “ten years’ solitary confinement in the dark.” -Then I knew that I was standing in front of the terrible Cachot Noir, -or Black Cell—that engine of mental murder which the sentimentalism of -French deputies, some of them amnestied _communards_, has substituted for -the infinitely more merciful lash. - -I asked for the doors to be opened. My polite Commandant demurred for -a moment. It was not _réglementaire_. The Cachots Noirs were never -opened except at stated intervals,—once every thirty days, for an hour’s -exercise and medical inspection,—but the wording of my credentials was -explicit, and so the doors were opened. - -Out of the corner of one came something in human shape, crouching -forward, rubbing its eyes and blinking at the unaccustomed light. It had -been three and a half years in that horrible hole, about three yards -long, by one and a half broad. I gave him a feast of sunshine and outer -air by taking his place for a few minutes. - -After the first two or three the minutes lengthened out into hours. I had -absolutely no sense of sight. I was as blind as though I had been born -without eyes. The blackness seemed to come down on me like some solid -thing and drive my straining eyes back into my head. It was literally -darkness that could be felt, for I felt it, and the silence was like the -silence of upper space. - -When the double doors opened again the rays of light seemed to strike my -eyes like daggers. The criminal whose place I had taken had a record of -infamy which no printable words could describe, and yet I confess that I -pitied him as he went back into that living death of darkness and silence. - -We went along the galleries, looking into other cells and at other -prisoners, some of whom I was surprised to find quite cheerful, but they -were new-comers, and perhaps liked the idleness and the sleep. Then we -came to a corridor cut off by a heavy iron gate. There were six ordinary -cells in this, the cells of the condemned, and it is here that the last -tragedy of the convict’s life on Ile Nou begins. - -Let us suppose that, as often happens, there are four or five men lying -in these cells under sentence of death. The English murderer knows the -day and hour of his doom. These men do not. Every night they go to sleep -not knowing whether or not it is their last sleep on earth. All they know -is that they are doomed. Then the fiat goes forth that “_Un nommé D._” is -to make the final expiation of his crimes. - -That night, when the prison doors are locked, the parts of the guillotine -are brought in through the door at the end of the great courtyard, -and set up on a platform supported on a stone foundation, under the -supervision of “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou,” who is always a convict released -from his other duties in consideration of performing the last functions -of the law on his colleagues. - -Soon after three the next morning, accompanied by the Chaplain and the -Chief Surveillant, the Commandant mounts the little hill on which the -central prison stands. The black doors open, and they ascend to the -corridor of the condemned; a key clicks in the lock, and the bolts rattle -back. - -You can, perhaps, imagine what that sound means to A., B., C., and D. -Men in their position do not take much awakening. Perhaps they have been -waiting for this for weeks. - -They hear the footsteps coming along the stone-paved corridor. Which door -will they stop at? Think of the agony of apprehension that is compressed -into those few seconds! - -Then the footsteps stop. Three men wipe the sweat from their brows, and -fall back on their plank-beds. They at least will not die for a day or -two yet. The fourth hears a key rattle into the lock of his cell door. -The door swings open, and the early morning flows in. “_L’un nommé D._” -has already accepted his fate. He is already off his bed and standing -to attention as steadily as he can. The Commandant says kindly, and, -perhaps, with a check in his voice: - -“_C’est pour ce matin!_” - -Then he steps back, and the priest takes his place. The door is not -closed, but the Commandant and his assistants retire a little out of -respect for the last confidences of the condemned. - -Meanwhile “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou” has been summoned, and, in due course, -he takes the chaplain’s place. He binds his patient’s hands behind his -back, ties his legs so that he can only just walk, and cuts away the -collar of his shirt. - -At the same time, other and more picturesque preparations have been made -in the great courtyard. A company of infantry with loaded rifles and -fixed bayonets have been marched in and surround the scaffold in hollow -square. Almost at the same time come the Director of the Administration, -the Procurator-General, the Clerk of the Marine Tribunal, the Court which -holds the power of life and death over the convicts, and a few other -officials. - -The swift tropical dawn is approaching by this time. The gates and doors -of the prison are thrown open, and columns of convicts file into the -yard, guarded by surveillants, revolver on hip. They take their places in -ranks inside the hollow square of soldiers. - -The door at the end of the courtyard opens last of all, and through -it comes a little procession composed of the Commandant, the Chief -Surveillant, the priest, and “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou,” escorting the -principal actor in the scene. The priest mounts the scaffold with the -victim, followed by the executioner and his assistant; the clerk of the -court reads the verdict and sentence, the Commandant hands his warrant to -the Director and then he gives the order: - -“Uncover and kneel!” - -The broad-brimmed hats come off and the grey-clad ranks sink on their -knees around the Altar of Justice. The living sacrifice is asked if -he has anything to say. He usually makes a short speech either of -exhortation or bravado. - -Then, with the assistance of the executioners, he takes his place on a -sloping plank. A roll of drums rumbles echoing round the white walls. The -plank swings into a horizontal position, the body is thrust forward till -the neck is imprisoned in the lunette—the little window through which -those who die by French law take their last look at the world. “Monsieur -de l’Ile Nou” touches a button; then comes the “skirr” of the falling -knife, a sharp thud, and there is one scoundrel the less on Ile Nou. - -After which the comrades of the deceased are marched back to breakfast, -and thence to their daily tasks. - -[Illustration: The Central Prison, Ile Nou. In front is the Execution -Ground. The Quadrangle is enclosed by a high whitewashed stone wall. To -the left is the Chapel in which the condemned may, if they choose, attend -Mass for the last time.] - - - - -IV - -_MEASUREMENT AND MANIA_ - - -I left the central prison breathing the soft, sweet air, and looking up -at the deep blue sky with a sudden sensation of thankfulness which I had -never experienced before. In a sense I was like a man who had been blind -and had had his sight given back to him; and I thought of the wretches I -had left behind me in that high-walled enclosure and those little black -holes built away into the thick walls which, for so many of them, were to -be tombs of mental death. - -We came down the hill to the Pretoire, the Bureau of Anthropometry. This -is the ante-chamber through which every prisoner must pass who enters -the Prisonland of the South. On the way the Commandant and I discussed a -topic which I found a favourite one with all the officials whom I met in -Caledonia—the differences between the French system and our own. - -They were quite as much surprised at the rigours of our system as I at -first was at the leniency of theirs—always saving that horrible Cachot -Noir. - -We went then, as I did many times afterwards, with other officials, into -matters of diet, hours, and kinds of labour, detentions, and punishments, -and I succeeded in showing him that the Caledonian convict was to be -envied in every particular by the English convict, until he came to the -threshold of the dark cell. With us, three days’ dark cell and bread and -water is the maximum punishment. There it is five years, and sentences -may run consecutively. When the discussion was over the commandant added -an entirely French rider to it: - -“But, monsieur, you must remember that this is not only imprisonment—it -is exile. How many of these poor wretches will ever see France again? -Whereas your criminals, when their sentence is done, are set free in -their native land.” - -To which I replied: - -“Quite so, and more’s the pity! Every avenue of honest life is closed -to them, and they are released only to commit more crimes and deserve -another sentence. There your system is better. You exile them really, -but you give them another home where they have hope. We only exile them -socially, and give them no hope.” - -And this brought us to the door of the Pretoire. - -It consisted of three apartments, the middle one was the examination -room. To the right hand was a larger chamber, sometimes used as a -judgment room. To the left was a smaller one, the walls of which were -covered with cabinets containing the records in duplicate of every -criminal that had landed on Ile Nou. Beyond this there was a dark-room. - -When I had had a general look round and a chat with the Officer who -operated the Bertillon system, the Commandant asked me if I would care -to go through the mill. To which, not having been found out so far, I -consented. - -Thereupon I was delivered over into the hands of a functionary who had a -pair of eyes like visual gimlets. They bored clean through me every time -he looked at me. I was no longer the favoured guest of the all-powerful -Administration; I was simply a subject, a thing to be measured, and -weighed, and examined in the most minute detail, and to have my most -trivial characteristics noted and put down under their proper categories. - -He told me to take off my boots and coat. By rights my socks should have -come off also, but that, although I offered to do it, was dispensed with. -He put me up against a wall, fixed my head with one hand and pushed my -stomach in with the other, saw that my knees were properly back against -the wall, and lowered the bar on to my head. Then he moved my head a -little to right and left, and said to the clerk: - -“One metre, 816.” - -When this was noted down he sat me in a chair. The seat was -longitudinally divided by a ridge; the back was a measuring scale. Again -he took means to satisfy himself that I was sitting perfectly straight, -and so my sitting height was taken. - -Then he got a pair of callipers, and measured my head in two directions, -from back to front and across, all the time calling out the fatal figures -which, in case of need, would have identified me among ten million men. - -[Illustration: The Bureau of Anthropometry, Ile Nou.] - -After this he descended to minor matters, ears, nose, lips, thumb- and -finger-joints, eyelids, and so on. Then he stood me on a box on which was -rudely outlined a human foot. I put my right foot on this, bent forward, -and rested my right hand on a table, using my left leg and foot to keep -my balance. When I was steady my foot was measured. - -Then I rested my right arm on a table, standing on one leg the while. It -was measured from the elbow to the point of the middle finger. After this -the prints of my thumb and three fingers were taken, and duly impressed -on the _fiche_, or identification card. - -Then came the most trying part of the ordeal, the general observation. I -stood to attention in the middle of the floor. The gimlet-eyed official -walked round me, and looked through and through me, what time the clerk -at the table asked questions from the schedule he was filling up. - -No detail was so minute as to escape those all-searching eyes. A scar -which I had got twenty years before in a football match, though half -hidden under an eyebrow, was detected, measured, and noted. The scars -of a couple of old knife-stabs in my left hand, and the trace of a -parrot-bite on one of my fingers—nothing escaped. The colour of my hair -and moustache fell into a certain category. My eyes were examined, and -the colours of the iris duly placed in their proper category. - -By this time I began to feel as though I were being taken to pieces and -examined bit by bit. It was a sort of mental and physical vivisection -without the knife and the chloroform. Finally, the gentleman at the desk -asked the question, “Intellectuality?” - -“Mediocre,” replied Mr. Gimlet-eyes, with brutal frankness. Then I -laughed, and the Commandant suggested that I should be photographed. - -“_Pas artistique, mais exact_,” he said, as we went into the other room. - -“And, therefore,” I said, “it will resemble the remarks of your -anthropometric expert. I never had such an exact account of myself -before. Anthropometry strikes me as being a pretty good medicine for -human vanity.” - -[Illustration: An Arab Type of Convict. A combination of Ideality and -Homicidal Mania.] - -Out of the depth and width of his experience the Commandant agreed with -me, and then I was photographed. There was no artistic posing or anything -of that sort. I was planted on a chair with my back straightened up and -my head in a vice such as other photographers were once wont to torture -their victims with. The camera was brought within three feet of me. I was -taken full face, staring straight into the lens, and then I was taken -_en profile_. When, many weeks afterwards, I showed the result to my -wife, she was sorry I ever went; but for all that it’s a good likeness. - -By the time the negatives were developed, and I had satisfied the -Commandant that certain black spots which the pitiless lens had detected -under my skin were the result of a disease I had contracted years before -in South America, and not premonitory symptoms of the plague, it was -breakfast-time, and I went down to the canteen, where I found convicts -buying wine and cigarettes, and generally conducting themselves like -gentlemen at large. - -I did not see the Commandant again that day, save for a few minutes after -lunch, when he told me that he had an appointment at the Direction in -Noumea, and placed me in charge of his lieutenant, the Chief Surveillant. -The _Chef_ was a very jolly fellow, as, indeed, I found most of these -officials to be, and during our drives about the island, we chatted -with the utmost freedom. As a matter of fact, it was he who gave me the -description of the execution which I reproduced in the last chapter. - -He, too, was entirely of the same opinion as myself as to the pitiless -iniquity of the dark cell; but he took some pains to point out that -it was not the fault either of the French Government or of the -Administration, but simply of certain politicians in France who wanted -a “cry,” and got up a crusade among the sentimentalists against “the -brutality of flogging bound and helpless prisoners far away from all -civilised criticism in New Caledonia.” Some of these men, too, as I have -said, were _déportés_, or exiled _communards_ who had been forgiven, and -had brought back batches of stories with them as blood-curdling as they -were mendacious. - -“_Bien, monsieur_,” he said. “You have seen the Cachot Noir. Now we -will go to the Disciplinary Camp first, because it is on the road, and -then—well, you shall see what the _cachot_ does, and when you see that I -think you will say the lash is kinder.” - -The Disciplinary Camps in New Caledonia have no counterpart in the -English penal system. “Incorrigibles,” who won’t work, who are -insubordinate, or have a bad influence on their comrades of the Bagne, -are sent into them partly for punishment and partly for seclusion. - -[Illustration: The Courtyard of a Disciplinary Camp, Ile Nou. Inspection -at 5 a.m. after breakfast, and before hard labour. To the right is a -Kanaka “Policeman.” The average physique of the Criminals may be seen by -comparison with myself, standing in front of the Kanaka.] - -They have poorer food and harder work, no “gratifications” in the way -of wine or tobacco, or other little luxuries. They sleep on plank-beds -with their feet in anklets, and, if they don’t behave themselves, they -are promptly clapped into a cell for so many days’ solitary confinement -on bread and water. For graver offences they are, of course, sent back -to the central prison as hopeless cases, after which their own case is -usually hopeless for life. - -I found several of the men in this camp working in chains. This was -another subject about which the sentimentalists made a good deal of fuss -in France, but when I saw what the alleged chains really were, I laughed, -and said to my friend the _Chef_: - -“So that is what you call chains in New Caledonia, is it? May I have a -look at one?” - -He beckoned to one of the men to come up, and this is what I found: There -was an iron band riveted round his right ankle, and to this was attached -a chain which, as nearly as I could calculate with my hands, weighed -about six pounds. It was as absolutely no inconvenience to its wearer, -when he was either sitting or lying down. When he was walking or working -he tucked the end in under his belt, and, as far as I could see, it -didn’t make any difference to his walk, save a little dragging of the -foot. In fact, when I asked him whether it was any trouble to him, he -said: - -“No, not after a few days. One gets accustomed to it.” - -“Very likely!” I said. “If you got the chains in an English prison, you -would have them on both legs and arms, and you wouldn’t be able to take -more than a half-stride.” - -“Ah, they are brutal, those English!” said the scoundrel, with a shrug -of his shoulders, as he tucked the end of his chain round his belt and -sauntered away. - -The chain is usually a punishment for gross insubordination or attempted -escape. This man, the _Chef_ told me, had tried three times with the -chain on, and once had used the loose end to hammer a warder with, for -which he got twelve months’ Cachot Noir and the chain for life—and a -little more, since he would be buried in it.[2] - -Then, after I had made the round of the cells, I was taken to a very -curious punishment-chamber which is in great vogue in New Caledonia. In -one sense it reminded me of our treadwheel, though it is not by any means -so severe. I have seen a strong man reduced almost to fainting by fifteen -minutes on a treadwheel. Nothing like this could happen in the Salle des -Pas Perdus, as I christened the place when its use had been explained to -me. - -Here, after a brief and scanty meal at 4.30 a.m., the convicts are lined -up in a big room, or, rather, shed, about sixty feet long by forty feet -broad. There is absolutely no furniture in the place, with the exception -of a dozen flat-topped pyramids of stone placed in straight lines about -ten feet from each side. - -If there are twenty-four convicts condemned to this particular kind -of weariness, twenty-four are taken in, in single file. Then the -word “March!” is given, and they begin. Hour after hour the dreary -round-and-round is continued in absolute silence. Every half-hour they -are allowed to sit on the pyramids for a couple of minutes, and then -on again. At eleven the bell rings for _soupe_, which, in the Camp -Disciplinaire, resolves itself into hot water and fat with a piece of -bread. In the other camps the bell doesn’t go again till one, but these -have only their half-hour, and then the promenade begins again, and -continues till sunset. - -I was assured that those who could stand a week of this with the chain -_did_ feel its weight, and I don’t wonder at it, for a more miserable, -weary, limping, draggle-footed crowd of scoundrels I never saw in all -my life than I watched that day perambulating round the Hall of Lost -Footsteps. - -From here we drove across to the western side of the island, and -presently came to a magnificent sloping avenue of palm-trees. - -“The avenue of the hospital,” said the _Chef_. “Now you will see the best -and the worst of Ile Nou.” - -And so it was. We drove down the avenue to a white, heavy stone arch, -which reminded me somewhat quaintly of the entrance gates of some of the -old Spanish haciendas I had seen up-country in Peru. Inside was a vast, -shady garden, brilliant with flowers whose heavy scent was pleasantly -tempered by the sweet, cool breeze from the Pacific; for the eastern -wall of the whole enclosure was washed by the emerald waters of the -Lagoon. - -[Illustration: The Avenue of Palms, leading to the Hospital, Ile Nou.] - -In the midst of this garden stood the hospital, built in quadrangular -form, but with one side of each “quad” open to the garden. The houses -were raised on stone platforms something like the stoep of a Dutch house, -and over these the roofs came down in broad verandahs. Grey-clad figures -were sitting or lying about on the flags underneath, a few reading or -doing some trifling work, and others were wandering about the garden or -sleeping in some shady nook. It was, in short, very different from the -central prison and the disciplinary camp. - -I was introduced to the Medical Director, and he showed me round, -omitting one wing, in which he told me there were a couple of cases of -plague. I happened to know that there were really about a dozen, so I -readily agreed that that part should be left out. - -As prison hospital, it differed very little from others that I had -seen in England. There was the same neatness and exquisite cleanliness -everywhere, though the wards were somewhat darker, and therefore -cooler, which, with the midday sun at 106° in the shade, was not a bad -thing. All the nurses were, of course, Sisters of Mercy.[3] In fact, -practically all the nursing in New Caledonia is done by Sisters, and not -a few of these heroic women had become brides of the Black Death before I -left. - -Here, as in all other prison hospitals I have visited, diet, stimulants, -and medicine are absolutely at the discretion of the Director. No matter -what the cost, the spark of life must be kept alive as long as possible -in the breast of the murderer, the forger, and the thief, or the criminal -whose light of reason has already been quenched in the darkness of the -Black Cell. - -In fact, so careful are the authorities of their patients’ general health -that they give them nothing in the way of meat but the best beef and -mutton that can be imported from Australia; Caledonian fed meat is not -considered nourishing enough. In normal times the death-rate of Ile Nou, -which is wholly given over to convict camps, is two or three per cent. -lower than that of the town of Noumea. - -[Illustration: Part of the Hospital Buildings, Ile Nou. The -roofed-terrace in front is where the patients take their siesta in -the middle of the day. One of these is attached to each court of the -Hospital. Some of the mattresses may be seen to the right.] - -Then from this little flowery paradise of rest and quietness we went -across the road to another enclosure in which there were two long, white -buildings, a prison and a row of offices, at right angles to each other. -This was the “bad” side. On the other there had been invalids and invalid -lunatics; here there were only lunatics, and mostly dangerous at that—men -who, after being criminals, had become madmen; not like the dwellers in -Broadmoor, who are only criminal because they are mad. - -I once paid a visit to the worst part of the men’s side at Broadmoor, but -I don’t think it was quite as bad as the long corridor which led through -that gruesome home of madness. On either hand were heavy black-painted, -iron doors, and inside these a hinged grating through which the prisoner -could be fed. - -The cells were about nine feet by six feet. They had neither furniture -nor bedclothes in them. The furniture would have been smashed up either -in sheer wanton destruction or for use as missiles to hurl through the -grating, and the bedclothes would have been torn up into strips for -hanging or strangling purposes. - -It has been my good or bad luck to see poor humanity in a good many -shapes and guises, but I never saw such a series of pitiful parodies of -manhood as I saw when those cell doors were opened. - -Some were crouched down in the corners of their cells, muttering to -themselves and picking the sacking in which they were clothed to pieces, -thread by thread. It was no use giving them regular prison clothing, for -they would pick themselves naked in a couple of days. Others were walking -up and down the narrow limits of their cells, staring with horribly -vacant eyes at the roof or the floor, and not taking the slightest notice -of us. - -One man was lying down scraping with bleeding fingers at the black -asphalted floor under the impression that he was burrowing his way to -freedom; others were sitting or lying on the floor motionless as death; -and others sprang at the bars like wild beasts the moment the door was -opened. - -But the most horrible sight I saw during that very bad quarter of an hour -was a gaunt-faced, square-built man of middle-height who got up out of a -corner as his cell door opened, and stood in the middle facing us. - -He never moved a muscle, or winked an eyelid. His eyes looked at us with -the steady, burning stare of hate and ferocity. His lips were drawn back -from his teeth like the lips of an ape in a rage, and his hands were -half clenched like claws. The man was simply the incarnation of madness, -savagery, and despair. He had gone mad in the Black Cell, and the form -that his madness had taken was the belief that nothing would nourish him -but human flesh. Of course he had to be fed by force. - -When we got outside a big warder pulled up his jumper and showed me the -marks of two rows of human teeth in his side. If another man hadn’t -stunned the poor wretch with the butt of his revolver he would have -bitten the piece clean out—after which I was glad when the Doctor -suggested that I should go to his quarters and have a drink with him. - - - - -V - -_A CONVICT ARCADIA_ - - -I visited two or three other industrial camps and the farm-settlements -before I left Ile Nou, but as I had yet to go through the agricultural -portions of the colony it would be no use taking up space in describing -them here. - -There are practically no roads to speak of in New Caledonia outside a -short strip of the south-western coast. In September, 1863, Napoleon -the Little signed the decree which converted the virgin paradise of -New Caledonia into a hell of vice and misery—a description which is -perhaps somewhat strong, but which history has amply justified. In the -following year the transport _Iphigénie_ took a cargo of two hundred -and forty-eight galley-slaves from Toulon and landed them where the -town of Noumea now stands. This consignment was added to by rapidly -following transports, and for thirty years at least the administration -of New Caledonia has had at its disposal an average of from seven to -ten thousand able-bodied criminals for purposes of general improvement, -and more especially for the preparation of the colony for that free -colonisation which has been the dream of so many ministers and governors. - -Now the area of New Caledonia is, roughly speaking, between six thousand -and seven thousand square miles, and after an occupation of nearly forty -years it has barely fifty miles of roads over which a two-wheeled vehicle -can be driven, and these are only on the south-western side of the island. - -The only one of any consequence is that running from Noumea to -Bouloupari, a distance of about thirty miles. At Bourail, which is the -great agricultural settlement, there are about twelve miles of road and -a long ago abandoned railway bed. Between La Foa and Moindou there is -another road about as long; but both are isolated by miles of mountain -and bush from each other and are therefore of very little general use. - -One has only to contrast them with the magnificent coach roads made in a -much shorter space of time through the far more difficult Blue Mountain -district in New South Wales to see the tremendous difference between -the British and the French ideas of colonisation, to say nothing of the -railways—two thousand seven hundred miles—and thirty-three thousand miles -of telegraph lines. - -The result of this scarcity of roads and absolute absence of railways is -that when you want to go from anywhere to anywhere else in New Caledonia -you have to take the Service des Côtes, which for dirt, discomfort, -slowness, and total disregard of the convenience of passengers I can only -compare to the Amalgamated Crawlers presently known as the South-Eastern -and Chatham Railways. Like them, it is, of course, a monopoly, wherefore -if you don’t like to go by the boats you can either swim or walk. - -[Illustration: The Island of “Le Sphinx,” one of the tying-up places on -the south-west coast of New Caledonia.] - -The whole of New Caledonia is surrounded by a double line of exceedingly -dangerous reefs, cut here and there by “passes,” one of which Captain -Cook failed to find, and so lost us one of the richest islands in -the world. The navigable water both inside and outside the reefs is -plentifully dotted with tiny coral islands and sunken reefs a yard or so -below the surface and always growing, hence navigation is only possible -between sunrise and sunset. There is only one lighthouse in all Caledonia. - -Thus, when I began to make my arrangements for going to Bourail, I found -that I should have to be on the wharf at the unholy hour of 4.30 a.m. I -packed my scanty belongings overnight. At 4.15 the cab was at the door. -The _cochers_ of Noumea either work in relays or never go to sleep. I -was just getting awake, and the gorged mosquitoes were still sleeping. I -dressed and drank my coffee to the accompaniment of considerable language -which greatly amused the copper-skinned damsel who brought the coffee up. -She also never seemed to sleep. - -Somehow I got down to the wharf, and presented myself at the _douannerie_ -with my “_Certificat de Santé_,” which I had got from the hospital -the previous evening. The doctor in charge gave me a look over, and -countersigned it. Then I went with my luggage into an outer chamber. My -bag and camera-cases were squirted with phenic acid from a machine which -looked like a cross between a garden hose and a bicycle foot-pump. Then I -had to unbutton my jacket, and go through the same process. The rest of -the passengers did the same, and then we started in a strongly smelling -line for the steamer. - -As we went on board we gave up our bills of health, after which we were -not permitted to land again under penalty of forfeiting the passage and -being disinfected again. Our luggage now bore yellow labels bearing the -legend, “_colis désinfecté_,” signed by the medical inspector. These were -passed on to the ships by Kanakas, who freely went and came, and passed -things to and from the ship without hindrance. As Kanakas are generally -supposed to be much better carriers of the plague than white people, our -own examination and squirting seemed a trifle superfluous. - -The steamer was the _St. Antoine_, which may be described as the -Campania of the Service des Côtes. Until I made passages on one of her -sister-ships—to be hereafter anathematised—I didn’t know how bad a French -colonial passenger-boat could be. Afterwards I looked back to her with -profound regret and a certain amount of respect; wherefore I will not -say all that I thought of her during the eleven hours that she took to -struggle over the sixty-odd miles from Noumea to Bourail. - -There is no landing-place at the port of Bourail, save for boats, so, -after the usual medical inspection was over and I had made myself known -to the doctor, I went ashore in his boat. The Commandant was waiting on -the shore with his carriage. I presented my credentials, and then came -the usual _consommations_, which, being literally interpreted, is French -for mixed drinks, after which we drove off to the town of Bourail, eight -kilometres away. As we were driving down the tree-arched road I noticed -half a dozen horsewomen seated astride _à la Mexicaine_, with gaily -coloured skirts flowing behind. - -“Ah,” I said, “do your ladies here ride South American fashion?” - -“My dear sir,” he replied, “those are not ladies. They are daughters of -convicts, born here in Bourail, and reared under the care of our paternal -government! But that is all stopped now, later on you will see why.” - -“Yes,” I said, “I have heard that you have given up trying to make good -colonists out of convict stock.” - -“Yes,” he replied; “and none too soon, as you will see.” - -From which remark I saw that I had to do with a sensible man, so I -straightway began to win his good graces by telling him stories of -distant lands, for he was more of a Fleming than a Frenchman, and was -therefore able to rise to the conception that there are other countries -in the world besides France. - -I found Bourail a pretty little township, consisting of one street and -a square, in the midst of which stood the church, and by dinner-time I -found myself installed in a little hotel which was far cleaner and more -comfortable than anything I had seen in Noumea, except the club. When I -said good-night to the Commandant, he replied: - -“Good-night, and sleep well. You needn’t trouble to lock your door. We -are all criminals here, but there is no crime.” - -Which I subsequently found to be perfectly true. - -Everything in New Caledonia begins between five and half-past, unless -you happen to be starting by a steamer, and then it’s earlier. My visit -to Bourail happened to coincide with a governmental inspection, and -early coffee was ordered for five o’clock. That meant that one had to -get tubbed, shaved, and dressed, and find one’s boots a little before -five. Bar the Black Death, I disliked New Caledonia mostly on account of -its early hours. No civilised persons, with the exception of milkmen and -criminals under sentence of death, ought to be obliged to get up before -nine. - -Still, there was only one bath in the place, and I wanted to be first at -it, so I left my blind up, and the sun awoke me. - -I got out of bed and went on to the balcony, and well was I rewarded even -for getting up at such an unrighteous hour. The night before it had been -cloudy and misty, but now I discovered with my first glance from the -verandah that I had wandered into something very like a paradise. - -I saw that Bourail stood on the slope of a range of hills, and looked out -over a fertile valley which was dominated by a much higher range to the -north-east. The sun wasn’t quite up, and neither were the officers of the -Commission, so I went for my bath. There were no mosquitos in Bourail -just then, and I had enjoyed for once the luxury of an undisturbed sleep. -The water, coming from the hills, was delightfully cool, and I came back -feeling, as they say between New York and San Francisco, real good. - -The Commission, for some reason or other, did not get up before -breakfast-time (11.30), and so we got a good start of them. The -Commandant had the carriage round by six o’clock, and, after the usual -_consommations_, we got away. It was a lovely morning, the only one of -the sort I saw in Bourail, for the next day the clouds gathered and the -heavens opened, and down came the floods and made everything but wading -and swimming impossible; but this was a day of sheer delight and great -interest. - -We drove over the scene of a great experiment which, I fear, is destined -to fail badly. The province of Bourail is the most fertile in all -Caledonia, wherefore in the year 1869 it was chosen by the paternal -French Government as the Arcadia of the Redeemed Criminal. The Arcadia is -undoubtedly there, the existence of the redeemed criminal struck me as a -little doubtful. - -As soon as we got under way I reverted to the young ladies we had seen on -horseback the evening before. - -[Illustration: A Native Temple, New Caledonia.] - -“You shall see the houses of their parents,” said the Commandant; “and -afterwards you will see the school where the younger ones are being -educated. For example,” he went on, pointing down the street we were -just crossing, “all those shops and little stores are kept by people who -have been convicts, and most of them are doing a thriving trade. Yonder,” -he said, waving his hand to the right, “is the convicts’ general store, -the Syndicat de Bourail. It was founded by a convict, the staff are -convicts, and the customers must be convicts. It is what you would call -in English a Convict Co-operative Store. It is managed by scoundrels of -all kinds, assassins, thieves, forgers, and others. I have to examine -the books every three months, and there is never a centime wrong. That -is more than most of the great establishments in Sydney could say, is it -not?” - -I made a non-committal reply, and said: - -“Set a thief to catch a thief, or watch him.” - -“Exactly! There is no other business concern in Caledonia which is -managed with such absolute honesty as this is. I should be sorry for the -man who tried to cheat the management.” - -I knew enough of Caledonian society by this time to see that it would -not be good manners to press the question any further. Afterwards I -had an interview with the manager of the syndicate, an estimable and -excellently conducted forger, who had gained his _rémission_ and was -doing exceedingly well for himself and his wife, who, I believe, had -blinded somebody with vitriol, and was suspected of dropping her child -into the Seine. - -He presented me with a prospectus of the company, which showed that it -had started with a government loan of a few hundred francs, and now -had a reserve fund of nearly forty thousand francs. He was a patient, -quiet-spoken, hard-working man who never let a centime go wrong, and -increased his personal profits by selling liquors at the back door. - -Our route lay across the broad valley which is watered by the River -Nera. On either side the ground rose gently into little hillocks -better described by the French word _collines_ and on each of these, -usually surrounded by a grove of young palms and a dozen acres or -so of vineyards, orchards, manioc, plantain, or maize, stood a low, -broad-verandahed house, the residence of the redeemed criminal. - -I could well have imagined myself driving through a thriving little -colony of freemen in some pleasant tropical island upon which the curse -of crime had never descended, and I said so to the Commandant. - -“Yes,” he said, “it looks so, doesn’t it? Now, you see that house up -there to the left, with the pretty garden in front. The man who owns -that concession was a hopeless scoundrel in France. He finished up by -murdering his wife after he had lived for years on the wages of her -shame. Of course, the jury found extenuating circumstances. He was -transported for life, behaved himself excellently, and in about seven -years became a concessionnaire. - -“He married a woman who had poisoned her husband. They have lived quite -happily together, and bring up their children most respectably.” - -I was too busy thinking to reply, and he went on, pointing to the right: - -“Then, again, up there to the right—that pretty house on the hill -surrounded by palms. The man who owns that was once a cashier at the Bank -of France. He was a ‘_faussaire de première classe_,’ and he swindled the -bank out of three millions of francs before they found him out. He was -sent here for twenty years. After eight he was given a concession and -his wife and family voluntarily came out to him. You see, nothing was -possible for the wife and children of a convict forger in Paris. Here -they live happily on their little estate. No one can throw stones at -them, and when they die the estate will belong to their children.” - -“That certainly seems an improvement on our own system,” I said, -remembering the piteous stories I had heard of the wives and families of -English convicts, ruined through no fault of their own, and with nothing -to hope for save the return of a felon husband and father into a world -where it was almost impossible for him to live honestly. - -“Yes,” he said; “I think so. Now, as we turn the corner you will see the -house of one of our most successful colonists. There,” he said, as the -wagonette swung round into a delightful little valley, “that house on the -hillside, with the white fence round it, and the other buildings to the -side. The owner of that place was a thief, a forger, and an assassin in -Paris. He stole some bonds, and forged the coupons. He gave some of the -money to his mistress, and found her giving it to some one else, so he -stabbed her, and was sent here for life. - -“He got his concession, and married a woman who had been sent out for -infanticide, as most of them are here. If not that, it is generally -poison. Well, now he is a respectable colonist and a prosperous farmer. -He has about forty acres of ground well cultivated, as you see. He has -thirty head of cattle and a dozen horses, mares, and foals, to say -nothing of his cocks and hens and pigs. He supplies nearly the whole of -the district with milk, butter, and eggs, and makes a profit of several -thousand francs a year. I wish they were all like that!” he concluded, -with a little sigh which meant a good deal. - -“I wish we could do something like that with our hard cases,” I replied, -“instead of turning them out into the streets to commit more crimes and -beget more criminals. We know that crime is a contagious as well as an -hereditary disease, and we not only allow it to spread, but we even -encourage it as if we liked it.” - -“It is a pity,” he said sympathetically, “for you have plenty of islands -where you might have colonies like this. You do not need to punish them. -Remove them, as you would remove a cancer or a tumour, and see that they -do not come back. That is all. Society would be better, and so would -they.” - -I could not but agree with this since every turn of the road brought us -to fresh proofs of the present success of the system, and then I asked -again: - -“But how do these people get their first start? One can’t begin farming -like this without capital.” - -“Oh no,” he said, “the Government does that. For the first few years, -according to the industry and ability of the settler, these people cost -us about forty pounds a year each, about what you told me it costs you -to keep a criminal in prison. We give them materials for building their -houses, tools, and agricultural implements, six months’ provisions, and -seed for their first harvest. After that they are left to themselves. - -“If they cannot make their farm pay within five years or so they lose -everything; the children are sent to the convent, and the husband and -wife must hire themselves out as servants either to other settlers or to -free people. If they do succeed the land becomes absolutely theirs in -ten years. If they have children they can leave it to them, or, if they -prefer, they can sell it. - -“Some, for instance, have got their rehabilitation, their pardon, and -restoration of civil rights. They have sold their farms and stock and -gone back to France to live comfortably. Their children are, of course, -free, though the parents may not leave the colony without rehabilitation. -After breakfast I will take you down the street of Bourail, and introduce -you to some who have done well in trade, and to-morrow or next day you -can see what we do with the children.” - - - - -VI - -_SOME HUMAN DOCUMENTS_ - - -Society in Bourail, although in one sense fairly homogeneous, is from -another point of view distinctly mixed. Here, for example, are a few -personal items which I picked up during our stroll down the main and one -street of the village. - -First we turned into a little saddler’s shop, the owner of which once -boasted the privilege of making the harness for Victor Emmanuel’s horses. -Unfortunately his exuberant abilities were not content even with such -distinction as this, and so he deviated into coining, with the result of -hard labour for life. After a few years his good conduct gained him a -remission of his sentence, and in due course he became a concessionnaire. -His wife, who joined him after his release, is one of the aristocrats of -this stratum of Bourailian society. - -[Illustration: Permit to visit a Prison or Penitentiary Camp _en détail_. -This is the ordinary form; but the Author is the only Englishman for whom -the words in the left-hand corner were crossed out.] - -There is quite a little romance connected with this estimable family. -When Madame came out she brought her two daughters with her. Now the -elder of these had been engaged to a young man employed at the Ministry -of Colonies, and he entered the colonial service by accepting a clerkship -at Noumea. The result was naturally a meeting, and the fulfilment of the -proverb which says that an old coal is easily rekindled. The engagement -broken off by the conviction was renewed, and the wedding followed in due -course. The second daughter married a prosperous concessionnaire, and the -ex-coiner, well established, and making plenty of properly minted money, -has the satisfaction of seeing the second generation of his blood growing -up in peace and plenty about him. Imagine such a story as this being true -of an English coiner! - -A little further on, on the left hand side, is a little lending -library, and _cabinet de lecture_. This is kept by a very grave and -dignified-looking man, clean-shaven, and keen-featured, and with the -manners of a French Chesterfield. “That man’s a lawyer,” I said to the -Commandant, as we left the library. “What is he doing here?” - -“You are right. At least, he was a lawyer once, doing well, and married -to a very nice woman; but he chose to make himself a widower, and that’s -why he’s here. The old story, you know.” - -Next door was a barber’s shop kept by a most gentle-handed housebreaker. -He calls himself a “capillary artist,” shaves the officials and -gendarmerie, cuts the hair of the concessionnaires, and sells perfumes -and soaps to their wives and daughters. He also is doing well. - -A few doors away from him a _liberé_ has an establishment which in a way -represents the art and literature of Bourail. He began with ten years -for forgery and embezzlement. Now he takes photographs and edits, and, -I believe, also writes the _Bourail Indépendent_. As a newspaper for -ex-convicts and their keepers, the title struck me as somewhat humorous. - -Nearly all branches of trade were represented in that little street. But -these may be taken as fairly representative samples of the life-history -of those who run them. First, crime at home; then transportation and -punishment; and then the effort to redeem, made in perfect good faith by -the Government, and, so far as these particular camps and settlements are -concerned, with distinct success in the present. - -Unhappily, however, the Government is finding out already that free -and bond colonists will not mix. They will not even live side by side, -wherefore either the whole system of concessions must be given up, or the -idea of colonising one of the richest islands in the world with French -peasants, artisans, and tradesmen must be abandoned. - -Later on in the afternoon we visited the Convent, which is now simply a -girls’-school under the charge of the Sisters of St. Joseph de Cluny. A -few years ago this convent was perhaps the most extraordinary matrimonial -agency that ever existed on the face of the earth. In those days it was -officially styled, “House of Correction for Females.” The sisters had -charge of between seventy and eighty female convicts, to some of whom -I shall be able to introduce you later on in the Isle of Pines, and -from among these the bachelor or widower convict, who had obtained his -provisional release and a concession, was entitled to choose a bride to -be his helpmeet on his new start in life. The method of courtship was -not exactly what we are accustomed to consider as the fruition of love’s -young or even middle-aged dream. - -[Illustration: The Kiosk in which the Convict Courtships were conducted -at Bourail.] - -After Mass on a particular Sunday the prospective bridegroom was -introduced to a selection of marriageable ladies, young and otherwise. -Of beauty there was not much, nor did it count for much. What the -convict-cultivator wanted, as a rule, was someone who could help him to -till his fields, look after live-stock, and get in his harvests. - -When he had made his first selection the lady was asked if she was -agreeable to make his further acquaintance. As a rule, she consented, -because marriage meant release from durance vile. After that came the -queerest courtship imaginable. - -About fifty feet away from the postern door at the side of the Convent -there still stands a little octagonal kiosk of open trellis-work, which -is completely overlooked by the window of the Mother Superior’s room. -Here each Sunday afternoon the pair met to get acquainted with each other -and discuss prospects. - -Meanwhile the Mother Superior sat at her window, too far away to be able -to hear the soft nothings which might or might not pass between the -lovers, but near enough to see that both behaved themselves. Along a -path, which cuts the only approach to the kiosk, a surveillant marched, -revolver on hip and eye on the kiosk ready to respond to any warning -signal from the Mother Superior. - -As a rule three Sundays sufficed to bring matters to a happy -consummation. The high contracting parties declared themselves satisfied -with each other, and the wedding day was fixed, not by themselves, but by -arrangement between those who had charge of them. - -Sometimes as many as a dozen couples would be turned off together at the -_mairie_, and then in the little church at the top of the market-place -touching homilies would be delivered by the good old _curé_ on the -obvious subject of repentance and reform. A sort of general wedding feast -was arranged at the expense of the paternal Government, and then the -wedded assassins, forgers, coiners, poisoners, and child-murderers went -to the homes in which their new life was to begin. - -This is perhaps the most daring experiment in criminology that has ever -been made. The Administration claimed success for it on the ground -that none of the children of such marriages have ever been convicted -of an offence against the law. Nevertheless, the Government have most -wisely put a stop to this revolting parody on the most sacred of human -institutions, and now wife-murderers may no longer marry poisoners or -infanticides with full liberty to reproduce their species and have them -educated by the State, to afterwards take their place as free citizens of -the colony. - -The next day we drove out to the College of the Marist Brothers. It is -really a sort of agricultural school, in which from seventy to eighty -sons of convict parents are taught the rudiments of learning and religion -and the elements of agriculture. - -During a conversation with the Brother Superior I stumbled upon a very -curious and entirely French contradiction. I had noticed that families in -New Caledonia were, as a rule, much larger than in France, and I asked if -these were all the boys belonging to the concessionnaires of Bourail. - -“Oh no!” he replied; “but, then, you see, we have no power to compel -their attendance here. We can only persuade the parents to let them come.” - -“But,” I said, “I understood that primary education was compulsory here -as it is in France.” - -“For the children of free people, yes,” he replied regretfully, and with -a very soft touch of sarcasm, “but for these, no. The Administration has -too much regard for the sanctity of parental authority.” - -When the boys were lined up before us in the playground I saw about -seventy-six separate and distinct reasons for the abolition of convict -marriages. On every face and form were stamped the unmistakable brands of -criminality, imbecility, moral crookedness, and general degeneration, not -all on each one, but there were none without some. - -Later on I started them racing and wrestling, scrambling and -tree-climbing for pennies. They behaved just like monkeys with a dash of -tiger in them, and I came away more convinced than ever that crime is -a hereditary disease which can finally be cured only by the perpetual -celibacy of the criminal. Yet in Bourail it is held for a good thing -and an example of official wisdom that the children of convicts and of -freemen shall sit side by side in the schools and play together in the -playgrounds. - -[Illustration: Berezowski, the Polish Anarchist who attempted to murder -Napoleon III. and the Tsar Alexander II. in the Champs Elysées. All -Criminals in New Caledonia are photographed in every possible hirsute -disguise; and finally cropped and clean shaven. - -_By permission of C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd._] - -On our way home I was introduced to one of the most picturesque and -interesting characters that I met in the colony. We pulled up at the -top of a hill. On the right hand stood a rude cabin of mud and wattles -thatched with palm-leaves, and out of this came to greet us a strange, -half-savage figure, long-haired, long-bearded, hairy almost as a monkey -on arms and legs and breast, but still with mild and intelligent -features, and rather soft brown eyes, in which I soon found the shifting -light of insanity. - -Acting on a hint the Commandant had already given me, I got out and shook -hands with this ragged, shaggy creature, who looked much more like a man -who had been marooned for years on a far-away Pacific Island, than an -inhabitant of this trim, orderly Penal Settlement. I introduced myself as -a messenger from the Queen of England, who had come out for the purpose -of presenting her compliments and inquiring after his health. - -This was the Pole Berezowski, who more than thirty years ago fired a -couple of shots into the carriage in which Napoleon III. and Alexander -II. were driving up the Champs Elysées. He is perfectly harmless and -well-behaved; quite contented, too, living on his little patch and in a -world of dreams, believing that every foreigner who comes to Bourail is a -messenger from some of the crowned heads of Europe, who has crossed the -world to inquire after his welfare. Through me he sent a most courteous -message to the Queen, which I did not have the honour of delivering. - -That night the storm-clouds came over the mountains in good earnest, -and I was forced to abandon my intention of returning to Noumea by -road, since the said road would in a few hours be for the most part a -collection of torrents, practically impassible, to say nothing of the -possibility of a cyclone. There was nothing more to be seen or done, so I -accepted the Commandant’s offer to drive me back to the port. - -On the way he told me an interesting fact and an anecdote, both of which -throw considerable light upon the convict’s opinion of the settlement of -Bourail. - -The fact was this: There are in New Caledonia a class of convicts who -would be hard to find anywhere else. These are voluntary convicts, -and they are all women. A woman commits a crime in France and suffers -imprisonment for it. On her release she finds herself, as in England, -a social outcast, with no means of gaining a decent living. Instead of -continuing a career of crime, as is usually the case here, some of these -women will lay their case before the Correctional Tribunal, and petition -to be transported to New Caledonia, where they will find themselves in a -society which has no right to point the finger of scorn at them. - -As a rule the petition is granted, plus a free passage, unless the woman -has friends who can pay. Generally the experiment turns out a success. -The woman gets into service or a business, or perhaps marries a _liberé_ -or concessionnaire, and so wins her way back not only to respectability -as it goes in Caledonia, but sometimes to comfort and the possession of -property which she can leave to her children. - -As a matter of fact, the proprietress of the little hotel at the port -was one of these women. She had come out with a few hundred francs -that her friends had subscribed. She now owns the hotel, which does an -excellent business, a freehold estate of thirty or forty acres, and she -employs fifteen Kanakas, half a dozen convicts, and a Chinaman—who is her -husband, and works harder than any of them. - -The anecdote hinged somewhat closely on the fact, and was itself a fact. - -There is a weekly market at Bourail, to which the convict farmers bring -their produce and such cows, horses, calves, etc., as they have to sell. -Every two or three years their industry is stimulated and rewarded by the -holding of an agricultural exhibition, and, as a rule, the Governor goes -over to distribute the prizes. One of these exhibitions had been held, -I regret to say, a short time before my arrival, and the Governor who -has the work of colonisation very seriously at heart, made speeches both -appropriate and affecting to the various winners as they came to receive -their prizes. - -At length a hoary old scoundrel, who had developed into a most successful -stock-breeder, and had become quite a man of means, came up to receive -his prizes from his Excellency’s hands. M. Feuillet, as usual, made -a very nice little speech, congratulating him on the change in his -fortunes, which, by the help of a paternal government, had transformed -him from a common thief and vagabond to an honest and prosperous owner of -property. - -So well did his words go home that there were tears in the eyes of the -reformed reprobate when he had finished, but there were many lips in the -audience trying hard not to smile when he replied: - -“_Ah, oui, mon Gouverneur!_ if I had only known what good chances an -unfortunate man has here I would have been here ten years before.” - -What his Excellency really thought on the subject is not recorded. - -The hotel was crowded that night for the steamer was to sail for Noumea, -as usual, at five o’clock in the morning; but as Madame was busy she was -kind enough to give up her own chamber to me; and so I slept comfortably -to the accompaniment of a perfect bombardment of water on the corrugated -iron roof. Others spread themselves on tables and floors as best they -could, and paid for accommodation all the same. - -By four o’clock one of those magical tropic changes had occurred, and -when I turned out the moon was dropping over the hills to the westward, -and Aurora was hanging like a huge white diamond in a cloudless eastern -sky. The air was sweetly fresh and cool. There were no mosquitos, and -altogether it was a good thing to be alive, for the time being at least. - -Soon after the little convict camp at the port woke up. We had our early -coffee, with a dash of something to keep the cold out, and I made an -early breakfast on tinned beef and bread—convict rations—and both very -good for a hungry man. Then came the news that the steamboat _La France_ -had tied up at another port to the northward on account of the storm, and -would not put in an appearance until night, which made a day and another -night to wait, as the coast navigation is only possible in daylight. - -I naturally said things about getting up at four o’clock for nothing -more than a day’s compulsory loafing, but I got through the day somehow -with the aid of some fishing and yarning with the surveillants and the -convicts, one of whom, a very intelligent Arab, told me, with quiet -pride, the story of his escape from New Caledonia twelve years before. - -He had got to Australia in an open boat, with a pair of oars, the -branch of a tree for a mast and a shirt for a sail. He made his way to -Europe, roamed the Mediterranean as a sailor for nine years, and then, -at Marseilles, he had made friends with a man who turned out to be a -_mouchard_. This animal, after worming his secret out of him under pledge -of eternal friendship, earned promotion by giving him away, and so here -he was for life. - -He seemed perfectly content, but when I asked him what he would do with -that friend if he had him in the bush for a few minutes, I was answered -by a gleam of white teeth, a flash of black eyes, and a shake of the -head, which, taken together, were a good deal more eloquent than words. - -[Illustration: One of the Lowest Types of Criminal Faces. An illustration -of the ease with which it is possible to disguise the chin, typical of -moral weakness, and the wild-beast mouth, which nearly all Criminals -have, by means of moustache and beard. - -_By permission of C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd._] - -_La France_ turned up that afternoon, so did the Commission of -Inspection from Bourail with several other passengers. I was told that -we should be crowded, but until I got on board in the dawn of the next -morning I never knew how crowded a steamer could be. - -I had travelled by many crafts under sail and steam from a south sea -island canoe to an Atlantic greyhound, but never had the Fates shipped -me on board such a craft as _La France_. She was an English-built cargo -boat, about a hundred and thirty feet long, with engines which had -developed sixty horse-power over twenty years ago. She had three cabins -on each side of the dog-kennel that was called the saloon. - -If she had been allowed to leave an English port at all she would have -been licensed to carry about eight passengers aft and twenty on deck. -On this passage she had twelve first-class, about fifteen second, and -between fifty and sixty on deck, including twenty convicts and _relégués_ -on the forecastle, and a dozen hard cases in chains on the forehatch. - -She also carried a menagerie of pigs, goats, sheep, poultry, geese, -and ducks, which wandered at their own will over the deck-cargo which -was piled up to the tops of her bulwarks. Her quarter-deck contained -about twenty square feet, mostly encumbered by luggage. The second-class -passengers had to dine here somehow. The first-class dined in the saloon -in relays. - -The food was just what a Frenchman would eat on a Caledonian coast-boat. -It was cooked under indescribable conditions which you couldn’t help -seeing; but for all that the miserable meals were studiously divided into -courses just as they might have been in the best restaurant in Paris. - -Everything was dirty and everything smelt. In fact the whole ship -stank so from stem to stern that even the keenest nose could not have -distinguished between the smell of fried fish and toasted cheese. The -pervading odours were too strong. Moreover, nearly every passenger was -sick in the most reckless and inconsiderate fashion; so when it came to -the midday meal I got the _maître d’hôtel_, as they called the greasy -youth who acted as chief steward, to give me a bottle of wine, a little -tin of tongue, and some fairly clean biscuits, and with these I went -for’rard on to the forecastle and dined among the convicts. - -The forecastle was high out of the water, and got all the breeze, and the -convicts were clean because they had to be. I shared my meal and bread -and wine with two or three of them. Then we had a smoke and a yarn, after -which I lay down among them and went to sleep, and so _La France_ and her -unhappy company struggled and perspired through the long, hot day back -into plague-stricken Noumea. When I left _La France_ I cursed her from -stem to stern, and truck to kelson. If language could have sunk a ship -she would have gone down there and then at her moorings; but my anathemas -came back upon my own head, for the untoward Fates afterwards doomed me -to make three more passages in her. - -To get clean and eat a decent dinner at the Cercle was something of a -recompense even for an all-day passage in _La France_. But it is not a -very cheerful place to come back to, for the shadow of the Black Death -was growing deeper and deeper over the town. The plague was worse than -ever. The microbe had eluded the sentries and got under or over the iron -barriers, and was striking down whites and blacks indiscriminately, -wherefore I concluded that Noumea was a very good place to get out of, -and, as I thought, made my arrangements for doing so as quickly as -possible. - - - - -VII - -_THE PLACE OF EXILES_ - - -My next expedition was to include the forest camps to the south-west of -the island, and a visit to the Isle of Pines, an ocean paradise of which -I had read much in the days of my youth; wherefore I looked forward with -some anticipation to seeing it with the eyes of flesh. There would be no -steamer for three or four days, so the next day I took a trip over to the -Peninsula of Ducos, to the northward of the bay. - -The glory of Ducos as a penal settlement is past. There are now only a -few “politicals,” and traitors, and convicts condemned a _perpétuité_; -that is to say, prisoners for life, with no hope of remission or release. -A considerable proportion of them are in hospital, dragging out the -remainder of their hopeless days, waiting until this or the other disease -gives them final release. - -[Illustration: The Peninsula of Ducos. In the background is Ile Nou with -the Central Criminal Depôt.] - -On another part of the peninsula, in a semi-circular valley, hemmed in -by precipitous hills, there is a piteously forlorn colony, that of the -_liberés collectifs_; that is to say, convicts who have been released -from prison, but are compelled to live in one place under supervision. -They are mostly men whose health has broken down under the work of the -_bagne_, or who have been released on account of old age. - -They live in wretched little cabins on the allotments, which it is -their business to keep in some sort of cultivation. They have the poor -privileges of growing beards and moustaches if they like, and of wearing -blue dungaree instead of grey, and of earning a few pence a week by -selling their produce to the Administration. - -This is not much, but they are extremely proud of it, and hold themselves -much higher than the common _forçat_. They do not consider themselves -prisoners, but only “in the service of the Administration.” I have -seldom, if ever, seen a more forlorn and hopeless collection of human -beings in all my wanderings. - -There was, however, a time when Ducos was one of the busiest and -most important of the New Caledonian Settlements, for it was here -that the most notorious and most dangerous of the _communards_ were -imprisoned after their suppression in 1872. Here lived Louise Michel, -the high-priestess of anarchy, devoting herself to the care of the sick -and the sorrowing with a self-sacrifice which rivalled even that of the -Sisters of Mercy, and here, too, Henri Rochefort lived in a tiny stone -house in the midst of what was once a garden, and the delight of his days -of exile. - -Louise Michel’s house has disappeared in the course of improvements. -Rochefort’s house is a roofless ruin in the midst of a jungle which takes -a good deal of getting through. It was from here that he made his escape -with Pain and Humbert and two other _communards_ in an English cutter, -which may or may not have been in the harbour for that particular purpose. - -One night they did not turn up to muster, but it was explained that -Rochefort and Humbert had gone fishing, and the others were away on -a tour “with permission.” As they did not return during the night -search-parties were sent out for them. Meanwhile, they had kept a -rendezvous at midnight with the cutter’s boat and got aboard. - -The next day was a dead calm; and, as the cutter lay helpless at her -anchor, the fugitives concealed themselves about her cargo as best they -could. The hue and cry was out all over the coast, but the searchers -looked everywhere but just the one place where they were. If the next day -had been calm they must have been caught, for the authorities had decided -on a thorough search of every vessel in the harbour. Happily for them a -breeze sprang up towards the next morning, and the cutter slipped quietly -out. Once beyond the outward reef the fugitives were in neutral water, -and, being political prisoners, they could not be brought back. - -By daylight the truth was discovered, but pursuit was impossible. The -cutter had got too long a start for any sailing vessel to overtake her -in the light wind, and the only steamer which the administration then -possessed had gone away to Bourail to fetch back the Governor’s wife. If -it had been in the harbour that morning, at least one picturesque career -might have been very different. MacMahon was President at the time, and -of all men on earth he had the most deadly fear of Rochefort, so he took -a blind revenge for his escape by ordering the Governor to expel every -one who was even suspected of assisting in the escape. - -The story was told to me by one who suffered through this edict quite -innocently, and to his utter ruin. He was then one of the most prosperous -men in Noumea. He owned an hotel and several stores, and had mail and -road-making contracts with the government. Unhappily, one of his stores -was on the Peninsula of Ducos, and the man who managed it was reputed to -be very friendly with Rochefort. - -This was enough. He was ordered to clear out to Australia in two months. -It was in vain that he offered himself for trial on the definite charge -of assisting a prisoner to escape. The Governor and every one else -sympathised deeply with him, but they dare not even be just, and out -he had to go. He is now canteen-keeper on the Isle of Pines, selling -groceries and drink to the officials and _relégués_ at prices fixed by -the government. He told me this story one night at dinner at his own -table. - -The general amnesty of 1880 released Louise Michel and the rest of those -who had survived the terrible revolt of 1871 from Ducos and the Isle of -Pines. - -There are, however, two other celebrities left on Ducos. One of them -is a tall, erect, grizzled Arab, every inch a chieftain, even in his -prison garb. This is Abu-Mezrag-Mokrani, one of the leaders of the -Kabyle insurrection of 1871, a man who once had fifteen thousand desert -horsemen at his beck and call. Now he rules a little encampment in one -of the valleys of the peninsula, containing forty or fifty of his old -companions-in-arms, deported with him after the insurrection was put down. - -When the Kanaka rebellion broke out in New Caledonia in 1878, Abu-Mezrag -volunteered to lead his men against the rebels in the service of France. -The offer was accepted and the old warriors of the desert acquitted -themselves excellently among the tree-clad mountains of “La Nouvelle.” -When the rebellion was over a petition for their pardon was sent to the -home government, but the remnant of them are still cultivating their -little patches of ground on Ducos. - -The other surviving celebrity is known in Caledonia as the Caledonian -Dreyfus, and this is his story: - -In 1888 Louis Chatelain was a _sous-officier_ of the line stationed -in Paris. He was dapper, good-looking, and a delightful talker. He -engaged the affections of a lady whose ideas as to expenditure were far -too expansive to be gratified out of the pay of a _sous-officier_. Poor -Chatelain got into debt, mortgaged or sold everything that he had, and -still the lady was unsatisfied. Finally, after certain recriminations, -and when he had given her everything but his honour, she suggested a -means by which he could make a fortune with very little trouble. She -had, it appears, made the acquaintance of a gentleman who knew some one -connected with a foreign army, who would give twenty thousand francs for -one of the then new-pattern Lebel rifles. - -He entered into correspondence with the foreign gentleman, addressing -him—c/o the —— Embassy, Paris. His letters were stopped, opened, -photographed, and sent on. So were the replies. Then the negotiations -were suddenly broken off, Chatelain was summoned before the military -tribunal and confronted with the _pièces de conviction_. He confessed -openly, posing as a martyr to _la grande passion_—and his sentence was -deportation for life. - -[Illustration: The remains of Henri Rochefort’s House.] - -[Illustration: The Bedroom of Louis Chatelain, “The Caledonian Dreyfus” -in Ducos. The photographs on the wall and the one on the table are those -of the woman who ruined him.] - -When I went into his little sleeping-room at Ducos, I found on a -little table beside his mosquito-curtained bed, a photograph of a very -good-looking young woman. On the wall above the table there were two -others of the same enchantress, the evil genius of his life. The moment -he fell she deserted him. Unlike many another Frenchwoman, who has done -so for lover or husband, she did not follow him across the world to -Caledonia, and yet every night and morning of his life Louis Chatelain -kneels down in front of that table as he might before an altar, and says -his prayers with his eyes on those photographs. - - - - -VIII - -_A PARADISE OF KNAVES_ - - -For the next three or four days after my visit to the Peninsula of Ducos -there was nothing definite to be learnt about means of transit. In fact -there was nothing certain except the plague—always that Spectre which -seemed to stand at the end of every pathway. It was really getting quite -monotonous, and I was beginning to wonder whether I should ever get out -of Noumea at all. - -Then I began making inquiries as to an over-land journey through the -interior. No, that was impossible, save at great risk and expense. The -Spectre had jumped the mountains. Huge armies of rats had appeared in the -bush, just as though some Pied Piper of Hamelin had enticed them away -from the towns into the mountains, and they were spreading the plague in -all directions among the Kanakas. - -It is a curious fact that rats, who of all animals are the most -susceptible to the plague, will migrate from a plague-stricken town just -as they will try to escape from a sinking ship. - -Convicts and Kanakas were dying in unknown numbers. Camps were being -closed, and the rains were coming on. There was nothing to be seen or -done worth seeing or doing, so I had to content myself with wandering -about Noumea and the neighbourhood, taking photographs, making -acquaintances with convicts and _liberés_ and getting stories out of -them, wondering the while, as every one else was doing, what the Spectre -was going to do next. - -As far as I was concerned, he did me the unkindest turn that he could -have done, save one. He infected the only two decent boats on the Coast -Service, and so left me the choice between voyaging to the Isle of Pines -in _La France_ or stopping where I was. - -I had to get to the island somehow, so I chose _La France_, and at five -o’clock one morning, after being duly inspected and squirted, I once more -boarded the detestable little hooker. - -I thought my first passage in her was bad enough, but it was nothing to -this. She was swarming with passengers, bond and free, black, white, and -yellow, from end to end. She was loaded literally down to the deck, and -she smelt, if possible, even stronger than she did before. The worst of -this was that before we got to the Isle of Pines we had to get outside -the reef and into the open water. - -I have seen too much of seafaring to be easily frightened on salt water, -but I candidly admit that I was frightened then. In fact, when we got -outside and she began to feel the swell, I took out my swimming-jacket -and put it on, though, of course this was a pretty forlorn hope, as the -water was swarming with sharks and the shortest swim would have been a -couple of miles. Still, one always likes to take the last chance. - -Happily, she was English-built, and high in the bows, so she took nothing -but spray over. Two or three green seas would have swamped her to a -certainty, but they didn’t come, and so in time we got there. - -On board I renewed the acquaintance of the Commandant of Ile Nou, who was -taking his wife and family to the Isle of Pines, which is to Caledonia as -the Riviera is to Europe. At midday we stopped at Prony, the headquarters -of the forest camps which I was to visit later on my return; and we -lunched in the saloon with six inches of water on the floor. That was -the first time I ever saw a steamer baled out with buckets. Still, they -managed to get the water under somehow. There didn’t appear to be a pump -on board. - -When we passed the reef, and started on the sixty-mile run through the -open sea, some began to say their prayers and some said other things, but -in the end we worried through, and just as the evening star was growing -golden in the west we anchored in the lovely little Bay of Kuto. - -Never before had I heard the anchor chain rumble through the hawse-hole -with greater thankfulness than I did then, and, judging by the limp and -bedraggled look of every one, bond and free, who went ashore, I don’t -think I was alone in hoping that I had seen the last of _La France_—which -I hadn’t. - -My friend the Commandant introduced me to his _confrère_ of the Isle of -Pines. He was not particularly sympathetic. I believe I was the only -Englishman who had ever come to the island with authority to inspect his -domains, and he didn’t take very kindly to the idea. Still, ruler and -all as he was in his own land, the long arm of the Minister of Colonies -reached even to the Isle of Pines, and, although he did not even offer me -the usual courtesy of a glass of wine, he handed the credentials back to -me, and said: - -“_Très bien, monsieur!_ If you will come and see me at nine o’clock -to-morrow morning we will make arrangements. You will, I think, find -accommodation at the canteen.” - -With that I took my leave, and went out into the darkness to find the -canteen and some one to carry my luggage there. I found a surveillant, -who found a _relégué_, and he shouldered my bag and found the canteen, -the only semblance of an hotel on the island. - -There, quite unknowingly, I stumbled upon excellent friends. The -canteen-keeper was the man whose story I told in the last chapter. I was -a stranger from a very strange land. Their resources are very limited; -for communications with the _grand terre_ were few and far between, and -yet the twenty days that I was compelled to stop on the Isle of Pines, -proved after all to be the pleasantest time that I had spent in New -Caledonia. - -But there was one exception, happily only a transient experience, yet bad -enough in its way. If the plague was not on board _La France_ it ought -to have been, for never did a fitter nursery of microbes get afloat, and -when I got into the wretched little bedroom, which was all they could fix -up for me that night, I honestly believed that the little wriggling devil -had got into the white corpuscles of my blood. - -I had all the symptoms with which the conversation of the doctors at the -Cercle in Noumea had made me only too familiar—headache, stomachache, -nausea, dizziness, aching under the armpits and in the groins. - -Of course, I was about as frightened as an ordinary person could very -well be, a great deal more so in fact than I had been a few years before -when I first experienced the sensation of being shot at. It may have been -the fright or the fact, but the glands were swelling. - -Then I caught myself repeating fragments of “Abide with me,” mixed up -with Kipling’s “Song of the Banjo”; and when a lucid interval came I -decided that the case was serious. - -I had three things with me which no traveller in the outlands of the -world should be without—quinine, chlorodyne, and sulpholine lotion. I -took a big dose of quinine, and then one of chlorodyne. I should be -afraid to say how big they were. Then I soaked four handkerchiefs in the -lotion, put them where they were wanted, and laid down to speculate as to -what would happen if the microbe had really caught me? - -I had an appointment with the Commandant at nine o’clock the next -morning. His house was more than a mile away. What would happen if I -couldn’t walk in the morning? - -I should have to explain matters, if I were still sane, to the people at -the canteen. I had just come from Noumea, the very centre of the plague. -The inference would be instant. The military doctor in charge of the -hospital would be sent for, and he would say _la Peste_. I should be -taken to the hospital, where, a day or two after, I saw a man suspected -of the plague die of blood-poisoning, and once there—_quien sabe?_ - -Thinking this and many other incongruously mixed-up things, I went to -sleep. Probably it was only a matter of a few minutes altogether. Nine -hours after I woke and thought I was in heaven. The pains and the deadly -fear were gone. I pulled my watch out from under my pillow. It was ten -minutes to seven. The light was filtering in through the closely shut -_persiennes_. The waves on the silver-sanded beach within a few yards of -my bedroom were saying as plainly and seductively as waves ever said: - -“Come and have a dip, and wash all that plague nonsense out of your head.” - -So I got up, opened the window, put on my deck-shoes, and walked down to -the beach. - -I could walk! Out of hell I had come back to earth. A few hours before I -had really believed that the next dawn would be shadowed by the presence -of the Black Death. Now I looked up at the sapphire sky, and threw my -hands above my head to make sure that the pains in the armpits were gone. -Then I stepped out to the full length of my stride along the smooth, hard -coral sand, to see if the groins were right. - -Having reached a decent distance from the canteen I rolled into the cool, -bright, blue water, and for half an hour I splashed around—not daring to -go much beyond my depth, because those same blue waters are often cut by -the black triangle of a shark’s dorsal fin—thinking how good a thing it -was to live instead of dying, especially in such a paradise as this. - -When I paid my official visit after breakfast, I found M. le Commandant -in a more friendly mood. We exchanged cigarettes and compliments, and -then we had a stroll round the little settlement of Kuto. - -Kuto is most exquisitely situated on a promontory between two delicious, -white-shored, palm-fringed bays, broken with fantastic, tree-crowned -rocks. Long ago it was the home of the “politicals” and those soldiers -of the _Commune_ who had not been thought dangerous enough to be put -in batches against a wall and shot. In those days Kuto, so they told -me, might have been taken for a tiny suburb of Paris. It had a theatre, -and a couple of newspapers, one serious and one humorous. There were -social functions and many gaieties in the intervals of road-making and -barrack-building. - -But nowadays all this is changed. The _deportés_ have gone back to -France, and the _relégués_ have come in their place, which is the same -thing as saying that over this lovely scrap of earth there has descended -the moral night of incurable crime and hopeless despair. Kuto is now -a silent place of prisons, barracks, and workshops, inhabited by a few -soldiers and officials and many blue-clad figures with clean-shaven -faces, mostly repulsive to look upon and all stamped with the seal of -stolid despair. - -In order that you may understand what manner of people these were it is -necessary to explain the meaning of the French legal term _relégation_, -since there is nothing at all corresponding to it in the English system. - -In France, as in all countries, there are criminals of many kinds and -ranks, and of these the French _relégués_ are the lowest and meanest. -I have said before that in the criminal society of New Caledonia the -assassins, forgers, embezzlers, and what we should call swell-mobsmen -form the aristocracy. The _relégués_ are the lowest class. They are the -gutter-snipes of crime; the hard cases; the human refuse beyond all hope -of social salvation; mental and moral derelicts, of no use to themselves -or anybody else. - -We have thousands of them in this country, but we don’t deal as wisely -or as humanely with them as the French do. Our judges and magistrates -send them to prison again and again, well knowing that they will only -come out to commit more crimes and be sent again to prison, becoming in -the intervals of liberty the wives and husbands and parents of other -criminals. - -This is one of the social problems which they deal with better in -France. There is no nonsense there about a criminal “having paid his -debt to society” when he has served his sentence, and being, therefore, -free to go and commit more crimes. When a man or woman has committed a -certain number of crimes of the minor sort, or has been convicted of -hopeless immorality or alcoholism—in other words, when there is reason -to believe that he or she is absolutely unfit to possess the rights of -citizenship—such person may be, in the last resort, sentenced as in -England, say, to twelve or eighteen months’ hard labour as punishment for -that particular crime. - -Now in an English police-court the habitual criminal might possibly thank -the magistrate and go away to “do it on his head,” but in France he may -hear the fatal words: - -“At the expiration of your sentence you will be placed in _relégation_.” - -[Illustration: The “Market” in the Convent, Isle of Pines. The Female -_Réliqués_ are drawn up before one of the Prison Buildings. In the -foreground are the Kanakas waiting to sell their fruit and vegetables. - -_Drawn by Harold Piffard from a photograph._] - -Of this the meaning is: “You have proved yourself unfit to live in the -society of your fellow-citizens. Punishment is no warning to you. You -will neither reform yourself nor be reformed; therefore Society has done -with you: you are banished! You will be fed and clothed and attended when -you are sick. You will have work found for you, and you will be paid for -it. But if you won’t work there will be the prison and the cell for you. -Now go, and make the best of it.” - -The banishment is practically for life. There are circumstances under -which a _relégué_ can win his release, but there are two things that he -can never do: he can never gain a concession and marry and settle down on -his own property; and he can never gain restoration of the full rights of -citizenship—both of which, as I have shown, the _forçat_ can do. - -As we drove out through the big gate in the wall which had been built -across the neck of the peninsula to keep revolting Kanakas out, I -remarked what a pity it was that such a lovely land should be nothing -better than the habitation of scoundrels, to which the Commandant replied -that the island served the purposes of the Administration very well, and -if the _relégués_ were not there it would have to be given over to the -Kanakas, for free colonists would not come. - -I thought—but, of course, I didn’t say—what British colonists would -have made of such a paradise—fertile, well-watered, and blest with an -absolutely perfect climate. - -The first thing I noticed in the Isle of Pines was the excellence and -extent of the roads. They are broad, level, and beautifully kept, and, -tiny as the island is, there are many more miles of them than there are -in all New Caledonia. They were mostly made by the deported _communards_, -who also built the solid stone prisons, barracks, hospitals, chapels, and -official residences which seemed to me to be ample for about twice the -present white population of the island, which is under two thousand, bond -and free. - -I found very little difference between the treatment of the _relégués_ -and the best class of convicts, save that they were rather better fed, -and lived in open camps. They slept in hammocks in common dormitories, -and were permitted to have any little luxuries that they could buy -with their earnings. There were no plank-beds or chains to be seen -in the camps. In fact, they might just have been ordinary industrial -settlements, save for the blue cotton livery, the bandless straw hats, -and the hang-dog, hopeless faces which looked out under the brims. - -But before our first drive was half over we passed a big quadrangle of -high, white walls, and over the little black door in front was the word -“Prison” in big black letters. - -“That’s for the hard cases, I suppose?” I said to the Commandant as we -passed. - -“Yes,” he said; “we will visit it another day, and you shall see. This is -worse than Ile Nou, you know. There they have the aristocrats. Here we -have the canaille, the sweepings of the streets. Any one of these animals -here would cut your throat for a few francs if he dare.” - -Then I told him what the Commandant of Bourail had said about locking -doors. - -He laughed, and said: - -“_Parfaitement_, but you had better lock your door here, and if you have -a revolver put it under your pillow.” - -The advice was well-meant but somewhat superfluous. The faces I had seen -were quite enough. I soon found that my friend was somewhat of a cynic -and a humorist in his way, for when I asked him what was the greatest -punishment he could inflict on a recalcitrant _relégué_, he said: - -“Make him work. Look at that gang of men yonder,” he went on, pointing -to the hillside, which a long row of blue-clad figures was breaking up -with picks and spades. “Every stroke of the pick is a punishment to -those men. They are wretches whose only idea of life is to get through -it without working. They have been thieves and swindlers, beggars and -_souteneurs_—everything that is useless and vile. There is nothing they -have not done to save themselves from working. Now, you see, we make them -work.” - -“And if they won’t?” - -“_Eh bien!_ They have stomachs—and soup and fish and meat and coffee and -a drink of wine now and then, with a cigarette or a pipe, are better than -bread and water, and the open air in a country like this is better than -the black cell or the _quartier disciplinaire_, which you will see later -on.” - -“In other words,” I said, “you have gone back to the good old law: If a -man will not work, neither shall he eat. Well, I must admit that you deal -more sensibly with your hopeless vagabonds than we do with ours.” - -“_Bien possible_,” he said, with some justification, “you will see that -at least we make some use of them, more than they would in Paris or -London, I think. For instance, this is our farm.” - -As he said this we pulled up opposite to a rustic arch, over which were -the words _Ferme Uro_. - -We went down through a flowery avenue to a pretty verandahed house almost -buried in greenery and flowers—the home of the Farm Superintendent. He -came out and greeted his territorial lord, and then we went over the farm. - -It was as perfect a specimen of what the French call _petit culture_ as -could be imagined. It was, in fact, rather a collection of exquisitely -kept vegetable gardens than a farm. Every patch was irrigated by water -from the low hills which run across the centre of the island. Every kind -of vegetable, tropical and temperate, was under cultivation, and outside -the gardens there were broad fields of maize and grass pasture. - -In one of the fields I saw a long line of women hoeing the ridges for -corn, and at one end of the line stood a white-clad surveillant, revolver -on hip. For the fiftieth time my English prejudices were shocked when -I learnt that these were a detachment of the female _relégués_; and I -wondered what would be thought at home if the lady-guests at Aylesbury -were turned out to work in the fields under the charge of a male warder. -Here it was quite a matter of course. - -“Wait till you have made the acquaintance of the ladies,” laughed the -Commandant, in reply to a rather injudicious question, “and you will see -that they want some watching.” - - - - -IX - -_USE FOR THE USELESS_ - - -From the farm of Uro, after a drink of delicious milk, which, for some -reason or other, took me back instantly to far-away England, we went on a -few miles along the road to the ateliers, or workshops, where all kinds -of industries, from boot-making to waggon-building, were being carried on -in a somewhat leisurely style, and under what seemed to me very slight -supervision. - -“This is a hard school for them to learn and us to teach in,” said the -Commandant. “The _forçats_ generally know a trade and are accustomed to -work, if they have not been gentlemen; but these have been brought up -to hate the name of work. Yet you see we have made something of them. -Everything that is used on the island is made here. In fact, we make -something which will be used a long way from here.” - -I saw this later on during our visit to the prison, which was too -similar to the others to need any description. About a score of the -occupants of a big shed within the walls were busy plaiting a long, reedy -grass which others, squatted about the yard, were stripping and preparing -for them. They had to get through so much a day or their rations were -docked. The unhappy wastrels didn’t seem to like the regime at all, but -they worked, if only for their stomachs’ sake. - -When we left the prison we went to a long shed, where the plaits were -being worked up into matting—miles of it there appeared to be—and when I -asked what it was all for, I learnt that it was destined to be trodden by -the millions of careless feet which would saunter through the halls and -corridors of the Paris Exhibition. - -This was the contribution of this far-away spot to the great show. Of -course, those who were making it knew what it was for. Perhaps their -thoughts—if they had any by this time, beyond their daily meat and -drink, or any dreams of delight, beyond the little luxuries that their -hard-earned pence could buy them at the canteen—were travelling even -as they stitched back to the elysium of crime and idleness which they -would never see again. From what I saw and heard I doubt not that many -a bitter thought was woven in with the miles of matting which afterwards -covered the exhibition floors. - -The next day we went to make the acquaintance of the lady _reléguées_, -who are accommodated in the Convent, as it is called, under the charge -of a Mother Superior and six Sisters of St. Joseph, among whom I was a -little surprised to find one who, learning that I was English, came and -greeted me in a deliciously delicate Irish brogue. She was an Irish lady -who had taken the vows in a French Convent, and had voluntarily exiled -herself to this far-away foreign land to spend the rest of her days in a -prison. Still, she and her French sisters appeared to be most cheerfully -contented with their lot. - -They had, however, one little trace of feminine vanity left. They sorely -wanted their photographs taken, and my Irish compatriot wanted it most -of all. It was against the rules not only of the Administration, but of -their order, wherefore the photographs which I did take of the convent -and its occupants did not turn out successes. - -There were one hundred and seventy-six female _reléguées_ in the Convent -just then, mostly healthy, hearty-looking women of all ages, from twenty -to sixty. Their faces were, if anything, more repulsive than the men’s. -They had committed almost every possible crime, but most of them were -there for infanticide. I was the first man—not an official—that they had -seen, perhaps, for a good many years, for there are few visitors to the -Isles of Pines, and fewer still to the jealously guarded Convent. - -A little before dinner that evening I was sitting under the trees in -front of the canteen jotting down some notes when I heard a voice, with -a suspicion of tears in it, asking whether “monsieur would speak for a -minute with an unfortunate woman.” - -I turned round, and saw the gaunt figure and unlovely face of Marie, the -_reléguée_ housemaid of the canteen. Here was another human document, I -thought, so I told her to go on. - -She was in great trouble, she told me, and as I was a friend of the -Government and of the Administration I could help her if I would. She had -been released from the Convent to take service at the canteen, but though -she was comfortable, and had a good master and mistress, her heart -was pining for the society of her husband, who was working in enforced -celibacy in far-away Bourail. They had been parted for a trifle, and she -was sure that if “Milor” interceded for her with the Director she would -be restored to his longing arms. - -When she had finished, I said: - -“And what was your husband sent out here for?” - -“_Il a éventré un homme_,” she murmured. - -“And what are you here for?” I continued. - -“_J’ai tué mon enfant_,” she murmured again as softly as before. - -I did not think the reunion desirable, and so the petition was not -presented. Nevertheless, it would have probably been a very difficult -matter to have convinced that woman that she hadn’t a perfect right -to rejoin her husband, raise a family, and become with him a landed -proprietor. I learnt afterwards that she had been relegated to the Isle -of Pines for theft aggravated by assault with a hatchet. - -Somehow the food that she handed round the table at the canteen that -night didn’t taste quite as nice as usual, in spite of the conversation -of Madame Blaise and her two charming daughters, the elder of whom, -though she had never been farther into the world than Noumea, might, as -far as grace of speech and action went, have just come out from Paris. - -In the course of the next few days I wandered, sometimes in the -Commandant’s carriage and sometimes afoot, all over the island, and -ascended its only mountain, the Pic ’Nga, on the top of which there are -the foundations of an old fort and look-out tower, dating back, so they -say, to the old days of the pirates of the southern seas. From here you -can see every bay and inlet round the coast, and a very lovely picture -the verdant island made, fringed by its circlet of reefs and coral -islets, with their emerald lagoons and white breakers, and the deep blue -of the open ocean beyond. - -Another day I went through the native reserve, and visited the settlement -of the Marist Brothers, a most delightful little nook where the good -brothers lead a contented existence, teaching their bronze scholars the -beauties of the Catholic Faith, and the beneficence of the good French -Government, which graciously permits them to live in a part of their -own country, and sell their produce to the officials and such of their -prisoners as have money _à prix fixe_. - -After this I visited the coffee plantation—the only actually profitable -industry in which prisoners are employed in New Caledonia—the hospitals -and the disciplinary camps, which I found practically the same as those -which I had already seen on the mainland. - -The hospital was, however, an even more delightful abode of disease and -crime than the one on Ile Nou. It stands well up the hillside behind the -Convent, and the view from its terraces is one of the most beautiful I -have ever seen. With the exception of the man who died of blood-poisoning -under suspicion of the plague, the principal disease seemed general -decay and old age. In fact, out of a criminal population of over twelve -hundred, there were only thirty patients, for which reason the Isle of -Pines, with its perfect climate, reminded me of Mark Twain’s Californian -health resort, which was so healthy that the inhabitants had to go -somewhere else to die. - -Later on I saw a much more mournful place than the hospital. This was the -Camp des Impotents. - -I don’t think I ever saw a more miserable, forlorn-looking collection of -human beings than I found here. They were not suffering from any specific -disease, or else, of course, they would have been in the hospital. They -are just mental and physical derelicts, harmless imbeciles, cripples -incapable of work, and men dying quietly of old age. - -Of course, the camp was exquisitely situated, and their lot struck me as -being, after all, not a very bad ending to a useless, hopeless life—to -dream away the last years under that lovely sun, breathing that delicious -air, and waiting quietly for the end without anxiety or care. - -The poor wretches looked at me somewhat as they might have looked at -a visitor from some other world. They had ceased to be criminals or -prisoners. They had no more crime left in them, and they would not -have escaped if they could, so in their case discipline was relaxed -and I spent a few francs in buying some of the rude carvings and a few -walking-sticks which they had made out of lianes, the only work with -which they whiled away the long sunny hours. It was worth twenty times -the money to see their feeble, almost pitiful, delight as they looked at -the little silver coins in their brown, shrivelled hands, and I really -think that some at least of the blessings which followed me out of the -camp were sincere. But when I said this to the Commandant he only smiled, -and said: - -“Perhaps! But no doubt they would like a visitor from England every day.” - -A few days after I had finished my round of visits to the prison camps -I had the privilege of assisting at a session of the Disciplinary -Commission, a court whose function it is to hear complaints, grant -redresses and privileges, try offences against the penal regulations, -and inflict punishment. The Commandant is President, _ex officio_, and -he is assisted by an officer of the Administration, who is a sort of -civil magistrate and the Conductor of Works. These functionaries sit at a -curved desk on a platform, and here, for the first time, I took my seat -on a judicial bench. - -There was a space of about twelve feet between the end of the platform -and the railing which divided off the rest of the hall. Here the -Principal Surveillant sat at one desk, and opposite to him on the other -side of the room the _Greffier_ or Clerk of the Court. - -The court being a French one, precedence was, of course, given to the -ladies. They were brought in one by one through a side door between the -railings and the platform. The triviality of their complaints testified -eloquently to the narrowness of the little lives they led. - -One woman accused another of stealing her needle and thread so as to get -her into trouble. Another wanted three halfpence of her savings, which -she said the Mother Superior was unjustly keeping from her. A third -wanted to know why she hadn’t had a letter from a friend of hers in -service in Noumea, and was gravely informed that the plague had seriously -interrupted communications and the letter would probably arrive as soon -as possible. Another had rheumatism, and wanted to be taken off the -field-work; besides, she was getting too old, she was nearly seventy—and -her request was promptly granted. - -Then a few were accused of little acts of idleness or insubordination or -wastefulness. These were either fined a penny or so, according to the -magnitude of the offence, or dismissed with a caution. - -It must not, however, be imagined from this that the ladies of the -_relégation_ at the Isle of Pines are exactly models of female -deportment, for, as the Commandant told me afterwards, they once -revolted, and before help could be got they had caught two surveillants, -stripped them stark naked, and made them run the gauntlet of the Convent -between two rows of beautiful palms, after which they douched them well -in a muddy duck-pond. They were proceeding to treat the good sisters in -the same way when rescue arrived from Kuto and the other camps. - -The male prisoners were a terribly hard-looking lot. They were brought up -in twos and threes—plaintiff, defendant, and witnesses—and they accused -each other of every sort of crime, from stealing a bit of bread to -attempted murder. - -The English axiom about dog eating dog does not hold good among -_relégués_. They will steal from each other just as cheerfully as they -will from anybody else, and will descend to any little meanness to spite -each other. Most of the offences were of the pettiest and meanest kind, -such as stealing each other’s clothes, or food, or tools and selling them -for a penny or so to some one else who had lost his. - -Others were up for being out of bounds after hours, and I noticed that -these nearly all said they’d been fishing, which was not inappropriate. - -During the proceedings I was very much struck by the appearance of -an Arab in the grey uniform of the _quartier disciplinaire_. He was -a tall, well-built, handsome fellow of about thirty, with a frank, -open expression and an ever-smiling mouth which continually showed a -magnificent set of teeth. There was a wonderful difference between him -and his fellow-scoundrels, but I learned afterwards that he was the -biggest scoundrel of the whole lot. - -Two or three hundred years ago he would probably have commanded a fleet -of Corsairs, and made his name a terror from one end of the Mediterranean -to the other. Now, thanks to changed environment, he was only a deserter -and a common thief who could not even keep his hands off the property of -his fellow-thieves. - -The procedure of the Court was quite different to anything we have in -England. The prisoners were all, as I say, brought up and examined -individually with accusers and witnesses. Then they were taken away -what time the Court deliberated and fixed the sentence. Then the whole -lot were brought in and ranged up along the two sides of the room. The -_greffier_ called out the names, and each man stepped forward, heard his -sentence, and was marched out. The Arab took his fifteen days’ prison -with an even jauntier smile than usual. - -While this was going on I had been making a study in criminal -physiognomy, and I came to the conclusion that if forty criminals were -taken at random from English prisons, dressed exactly as these forty -French criminals were, and mixed up with them, it would be absolutely -impossible to tell which were French and which were English. There is no -nationality in crime. Criminals belong to a distinct branch of the human -family, and the family likeness among them is unmistakable. - -As we were driving back that morning the Commandant invited me to a -picnic which he was giving in honour of the Commandant of Ile Nou and -myself. Naturally I accepted, and, being on the subject of pleasure -excursions, I said: - -“Of course you must have some delightful yachting and fishing about these -lovely bays. I have been wondering why I haven’t seen any sailing craft -about.” - -“That is forbidden,” he said. “No one may own even a rowing boat without -the licence of the Administration in Noumea, and even then he would have -to give guarantees for its safety. You see these fellows would think -nothing of stealing a boat and trying to escape in it, and the owner -of the boat would be responsible for any escapes. Twenty-five of the -politicals once managed to make a big canoe and got away in it, but they -were all drowned or eaten by the sharks. Now all boats, even the Kanakas’ -canoes, have to be kept locked and chained and guarded from sunset to -sunrise.” - -This, then, was why these smooth, sunlit waters were sailless and -deserted—another effect of the curse of Crime on Paradise. - -The picnic was a great success, and the Commandant proved a most -excellent host. There were four wagonette loads of us, with a fair -sprinkling of pretty girls, among whom, of course, were my host’s -daughters. Everybody seemed to have forgotten for the time that I was an -Englishman, and so I passed a very jolly day. - -We camped in a big white stone building which had once been a -_gendarmerie_ barracks, standing in a delightful valley near to the -entrance of a magnificent limestone cavern. We lunched sumptuously under -the verandah, and I think I prattled French more volubly than I had ever -done before. Then we went and shot pigeons, quite half as big again as -the English variety, and splendid eating. The woods of the Isle of Pines -swarmed with them and other feathered game whose names I don’t remember. - -Of course, we wound up with a dance, and this was the queerest dance -I had ever seen. Our drivers and attendants were, of course, all -_relégués_, and so were the musicians. One ingenious scoundrel led the -orchestra with a fiddle that he had made himself, even to the strings and -the bow. It had an excellent tone, and he played it very well. I wanted -to buy it, but he loved it and wouldn’t sell. - -I must say that I pitied these musicians not a little as I watched them -standing in a corner looking with hungry eyes upon the Forbidden and the -Unattainable as it floated about the room in dainty light draperies with -the arms of other men about its waist—for the _relégué_ is not like the -_forçat_. He has no hope of marriage, even with the meanest of his kind. -His sentence includes, and very wisely too, perpetual celibacy. - -All the same, I tried to picture to myself a picnic, say, at Dartmoor, -with a company of English men and maidens dancing in one of the prison -halls to music made by a convict band! - -When the feast was over every bottle, full and empty, every knife, -fork, spoon, plate, cup, and dish was counted over. The remnants were -given away, but everything else was packed under the official eye. If -the slightest trifle had been overlooked it would have been immediately -stolen. This is one of the peculiarities of picnicing in Prisonland. - -A few days afterwards my pleasant exile came to an end. The ungainly form -of _La France_ waddled into the bay, bringing news of the outside world. -The principal items were to the effect that the plague was increasing -merrily in Noumea, and that the victorious Boers were driving the British -into the sea. - -We had quite a sad little supper that night at the canteen, for I -was rapidly becoming quite one of the family. Still this was the -turning-point in my thirty-thousand-mile journey. At daybreak the snub -nose of _La France_ would point toward home, and so when I had said -good-bye for the third or fourth time I pulled out across the bay which -lay like a sheet of shimmering silver under the glorious tropic moon, -and boarded the wretched little hooker for the last time with feelings -something akin to thankfulness. - -When many days afterwards, I got back to Noumea the Director asked me -what I thought of the Isle of Pines. - -“If you want my candid opinion,” I said, “I think it is an earthly -paradise which you have used as a dust-heap to shoot your rubbish on. If -the French Government would give me a hundred years’ lease of it, with -power to do as I liked as long as I didn’t break the law, I would find -capital enough in England and Australia to make it the Monte Carlo of the -South Pacific. I’d have everything there that there is at Monte Carlo, -and a couple of fast boats to bring the people over from Sydney in two -days. I’d have all the wealth and fashion of Australia and a good many -people from Europe there every year. In fact, your paradise should pay -you a million francs a year and me twenty millions.” - -“Ah!” he said, after a few moments of silence. “That is just like you -English. That is enterprise. Here we only have government.” - - - - -X - -_A LAND OF WOOD AND IRON_ - - -New Caledonia is essentially a land of contrasts, both in scenery -and climate, and when I had left the sunny hills and plains and the -silver-sanded, palm-fringed bays of the Isle of Pines some fifty miles -behind me, I found myself in a region of enormous forests, clothing the -slopes of rugged mountains running sheer down to the sea from the clouds -which rarely broke above them. - -There were no white beaches here, only boulder-strewn shores, which were -literally, as well as in the metaphorical sense, iron-bound. Not only the -rocks and the boulders, but the very sands of the shore themselves were -of iron, sometimes pure, but, as a rule, containing from eighty-five to -ninety per cent. of the metal. - -This was Prony, the chief of a cluster of convict camps scattered about -what is literally a land of wood and iron. The wood is used, the iron -is not. Millions of tons of it are lying round the shores of one of the -finest and safest natural harbours in the world. A thousand miles away -are the coal-fields of New South Wales. Since it pays to ship copper and -iron from Spain and even South America to Swansea, one would think it -would pay to ship this to Newcastle. However, there it lies, waiting, I -suppose for some one to make fortunes out of it, and the energies of the -eight hundred or one thousand _relégués_ are devoted to hewing timber in -the forests, bringing it down to the shore, and floating it in big barges -to Prony, where there is a finely equipped saw and planing mill. - -The dressed timber is, of course, the property of the Administration, and -is used for building wharves and jetties. A good deal of it is sold to -the public for building purposes. Some day, too, there is going to be a -real railway in Caledonia, and then the forest camps of the Baie du Sud -will furnish the sleepers, signal-posts, and platforms. - -Meanwhile Prony has a railway all to itself, of which I shall here give -some account. - -I was fortunate in making two very pleasant acquaintances in this -out-of-the-way corner of the world. One was the Commandant, who was -quite the most intelligent and broad-minded man of his class that I -met in Caledonia, and the other was the Doctor of the port. He was, of -course, a military Doctor, and held the rank of lieutenant in the army. -His official title was “Le Médecin Major!” He had seen a good deal of -the world, and had visited the United States on a French warship, and -from him I heard the first words of English that I had heard for nearly -three weeks. The dear little Doctor was proud of his English, and he had -a right to be. Although it was not very extensive, it was distinctly -select. One day the Commandant referred somewhat slightingly to it as -“_son peu d’Anglais_”; but perhaps that was because he couldn’t speak a -single word himself. At any rate, he never tried to. - -At Prony, too, I renewed my acquaintance with the microbe. In fact, the -Doctor was there because of him. One day a coast steamer had brought -some tons of flour for the station, which depended entirely for its -food on Noumea and Australia. The sacks were stacked under cover in the -Commissariat Department. The little daughter of the Chief Surveillant -got playing about among these sacks. Some infected rats had been doing -the same a short time before, and so she got the plague. - -The Doctor was telegraphed for to Noumea, and he came and saved her, and, -thanks to his skill and precautions, that was the only case in Prony, -although we actually had the infection in the midst of us, and for the -fifteen days that I was tied up there we ate bread made from that flour! - -I often had to pass the sacks, but I did so at a respectful distance. One -morning, however, I had a bit of a fright. There had been a deluge of -rain all night, and, when I woke, I found a dead and very wet mouse on my -bedroom floor. - -What if it had come from those sacks? - -I drenched it with corrosive sublimate, and pitched it carefully out of -doors with a stick. Then I poured petroleum over it and burnt it and the -stick, and there the incident closed. - -It always struck me as somewhat of a miracle that rats did not find those -sacks out and spread the plague broadcast among us. It would have been -a terrible thing in that isolated camp, cut off from all communication -with the world except the telegraph. Perhaps there were no rats. At any -rate, I never saw any, and felt duly thankful. - -There are no roads about Prony, only footpaths, and not many of these, so -we paid our visits to the camps in steam launches. When it was fine it -was very pleasant work cruising about the picturesque bays, discoursing -the while on crime, criminals, and colonisation with the intelligent -Commandant, or swopping Anglo-French jokes and stories with the Doctor, -who had a very pretty wit of his own. - -The Commandant was a firm believer in relegation and transportation -generally, but like every one else, he looked down upon the _liberé_ and -the _relégué_. According to him a _forçat_ was worth two _liberés_, and -a _liberé_ was worth a _relégué_ and a half, if not more. Nevertheless, -during my stay at Prony I saw a squad of _relégués_ working about as hard -as I have ever seen men work. This was on the railway aforesaid. - -[Illustration: The Convict Railway at Prony. - -_Drawn by Harold Piffard from a photograph._] - -We started one morning, as usual, about five o’clock, and steamed across -two or three bays to the Camp du Nord. In all the other camps the timber -is got down from the hills to the sea by means of wood-paved slides, -which are quite as much a feature of this part of Caledonia as the -ice-slides are in Norway, but the Camp du Nord rises to the dignity of a -railway on which that morning I did the most curious bit of railroading I -have ever done. - -When we had inspected the camp at the terminus and, for the Commandant’s -sake, I had duly admired the landing-stage, the trim buildings, and the -gardens in which the flowers and vegetables were struggling for existence -in the burning iron soil, the State car was brought out for us. - -It was a platform on wheels, with four sloping seats facing backwards. I -could see the line twining away up through the forest, but there was no -engine. - -Presently it, or, rather, they, materialised at the summons of the Chief -Surveillant. Fifteen blue-clad figures, each with a halter and hook-rope -over his shoulder, came out of one of the dormitories. There was a long -chain shackled to the front of the car. At an order the human beasts of -draught passed the halters over their heads and hooked on to the chain, -seven on each side and one ahead. - -Then the Commandant invited the company to mount. There were seven of -us. The Commandant had brought his two little girls, and there were four -besides: the Chief Surveillant, who weighed fifteen stone if he weighed -a pound, the Chief Forester, who weighed a good twelve stone, and the -Doctor and myself, who were comparatively light weights. - -I had often seen convicts harnessed to carts in England, and, of course, -I had ridden many miles in rickshaws in the East, but this was the first -time I had ever travelled in a car drawn by human beings who did it -because they had to, and who would have had their food docked if they had -refused to do it, and I confess that I didn’t exactly like it. Still, I -took my place, and the strange journey began. - -At first it didn’t seem very bad, for the line was almost level, but when -we got into the hills the collar-work began, and our human cattle had to -bend their necks and their backs to it. - -The line wound up through cuttings and over bridges at what seemed to me -an ever-increasing gradient. It was a damp, muggy, tropical morning. It -was not exactly raining, but the moisture soaked you to the bones for -all that, and the leaves and branches of the vast virgin forest on either -hand shone and dripped as the moisture condensed on them. - -We perspired sitting still and making no more exertion than was necessary -for breathing, so you can imagine how those poor wretches tugging at -the chains sweated—and, great heavens, how they stank!—though the most -fastidious, under the circumstances, could hardly blame them for this. - -For very shame’s sake I got off and walked whenever there was an excuse. -It made breathing pleasanter. So did the Doctor, who was a botanist -and found us Venus’ Fly-Traps and other weird vegetable monsters. The -Forester also got off now and then, not from motives of mercy, but to -point out varieties of timber to the Commandant. The Chief Surveillant -sat tight, probably on account of his weight, until I wanted to put him -into one of the halters. - -But what, though I hardly like to say so, disgusted me most was the -absolute callousness, as it seemed to me, of the two little girls. -Perhaps the worst of it was that it was absolutely innocent. They had -been born and bred in Prisonland, and I don’t suppose they really saw -any difference between that sweating, straining, panting team of human -cattle and a team of mules or donkeys. - -At last, to my own infinite relief, the journey was over. What it must -have been like to our team I can only guess from the fact that in a -distance of a little over four miles they had dragged us up one thousand -five hundred feet! It took an hour and three-quarters to do it. They were -dismissed when we got to the top and allowed to have a drink—of water. - -The Doctor took us back. He understood the brake, and in consideration -for the young ladies he kept the speed moderate. We got back in twelve -minutes and a half. He said he had done it in six; but I wasn’t with him -then, and didn’t want to be. - -Although forestry is, of course, the same all the world over, and, -therefore, not the sort of thing to describe here in detail, there were -two other camps that I visited which had interesting peculiarities of -their own. One of these was the Camp of Bonne Anse, a pretty little -spot whence a very steep and stony path led over a little range to a -promontory called Cap Ndoua, which is the telegraph station for the Isle -of Pines. I don’t know whether there are any other telegraphic stations -which have neither cables nor wires and make no use of electricity, but -this and the one on the Isle of Pines were the only ones I have ever seen. - -When I was taken into the operating-room at Cap Ndoua I saw an apparatus -which looked to me like a gigantic magic-lantern with a telescope fixed -to its side. In the front of the big iron box there was a huge lens about -eighteen inches across, behind this was another smaller one, and behind -this again a powerful oil lamp, with a movable screen in front of it, -worked with a sort of trigger; on a table in the corner of the room were -the usual telegraphic transmitters and receivers in connection with the -general telegraphic system to Noumea and the cable to Sydney. - -Every evening at seven, when it is of course quite dark, the operators -go on duty until nine. If Ndoua has a message to send to the island the -lamp is lit, and the man at the telescope in the observatory above the -hospital on the island sees a gleam of white light across the forty-six -miles of sea. He lights his lamp, and the preliminary signal twinkles -through the darkness. Then the shutter begins to work. Short and long -flashes gleam out in quick succession, the dots and dashes of the Morse -system in fact; and so the words which have come over the wire from -Noumea, or, perhaps, from the uttermost ends of the earth, are translated -into light, and sent through the darkness with even more than electrical -speed. - -Saving only fogs, which are not very frequent in those latitudes, the -optic telegraph is just as reliable as the cable and the wire, and they -are good for any distance up to the range of the telescope. The apparatus -cost about £50 apiece, while a cable would cost several thousands; and it -struck me that for quick communication between the mainland and islands -or distant light-houses, the optic telegraph is worthy of a wider use -than it seems to have. - -The other visit was to Port Boisé, near to Cape Queen Charlotte, which -is the extreme north-western point of Caledonia. Port Boisé is, like so -many other of the Caledonian convict camps, a most beautiful spot. It is -fertile, too, thanks to the existence of ancient bog lands, which make it -possible to temper the heat of the ferruginous soil, and so skill and -patience have made it a delightful oasis in the midst of the vast forest -and jungle which surround it on all sides save the one opening to the sea. - -These forests and jungles, by the way, are of somewhat peculiar growth; -the timber is mostly what is called _chêne-gomme_, and is an apparent -combination of oak- and gum-tree. It is almost as hard as the iron which -is the chief ingredient in the soil from which it derives its sap, and it -is practically indestructible. As for the jungle, it is composed of brush -and creepers which have the consistency of wire ropes—a sort of vegetable -steel cable, in fact. - -But for me, as an Englishman, the chief interest in Port Boisé was -connected with Cape Queen Charlotte, and a little island lying about five -miles out to sea, which is called Le Mouillage de Cook—the Anchorage -of Captain Cook. It was here that the great navigator made perhaps the -greatest mistake of his life. As every one knows, he discovered and named -New Caledonia. He sailed along its shores, and contented himself with -describing it as an island of lofty mountains surrounded by reefs which -made it inaccessible. - -He anchored at a little island, and named the bold promontory in front -of him Cape Queen Charlotte. He landed here, and, as he says, found -the natives very civil and obliging. It is a million pities that he -did not cultivate their friendship further, and learn something about -their country. He would not then have described it as “inaccessible” and -“unapproachable.” - -Beyond the bay in which his boats landed he would have found a stretch -of open country under the hills across which his men could have marched -till they discovered what is now the Baie du Sud—another Sydney Cove in -miniature. If he had only done this, Caledonia, with its enormous mineral -wealth and its magnificent harbours, would have been British instead -of French, a worthy appanage to that other Empire of the future, the -new-born Commonwealth of Australia. - -I discussed this with the Commandant as we walked back to Bonne Anse, -and he told me the story of how on a much later occasion we also lost -Caledonia. - -Once upon a time, a little more than fifty years ago, there were two -frigates lying in Sydney Harbour—one British and one French. We will -call the British ship H.M.S. _Dodderer_. She was commanded by an old -woman in naval uniform who ought to have been superannuated years before. -The Frenchman, as events proved, was a man of a very different sort. - -New Caledonia in those days was a sort of No-Man’s Land, but there were -both Catholic and Protestant European missionaries working among the -natives. The two warships received almost simultaneous orders to go -and annex the island. They started the same day. The British frigate -out-sailed the Frenchman, but her captain had got those fatal words of -Captain Cook’s deep-rooted in his mind, and when he got near the dreaded -reefs he began to take soundings. The Frenchman went ahead, neck or -nothing. He gambled his ship to win a colony, and, taking only the most -ordinary precautions, he kept on his course. - -By great good luck he struck the broad passage through the reef which -leads to the harbour of Noumea, and when H.M.S. _Dodderer_ eventually -groped her way in she found the French frigate at anchor, and the -Tricolour flying from a flagstaff on one of the hills, after which the -French captain politely invited him and his officers to lunch and to an -excursion on French soil; and here ends a short but exasperating chapter -in our colonial history. - -I had been ten days in Prony when we visited Port Boisé, and each day we -had been looking anxiously for the coming of the steamer which was to -bring us food and me release. Morning after morning we looked out across -the bay to the two islands which guarded the channel through which she -had to come, but for six more days never a whiff of smoke drifted across -the clear-cut horizon. Meanwhile, food was running very low, and we were -getting decidedly _ennuyés_. So one day, by way of a diversion, the -Doctor proposed that we should break the law and go dynamite-fishing and -shark-slaying. - -The fresh meat had given out. Vegetables—far more important to a -Frenchman than to an Englishman—were nearly a memory. The fruit supply of -the camp was represented by a lime-tree in the Doctor’s garden, and that -grew in imported soil. No fruit would grow in the iron soil of Prony. -The preserved Australian meat was getting very low. In short, in a few -more days we should have got within measurable distance of starvation, -and then mutiny; and it was with an idea of deferring such unpleasant -contingencies that the doctor suggested we should go fishing. - -Any change from the monotony of wandering about the little area walled in -by jungle and forest, impassable by any save those who knew the Kanaka -paths, was welcome, and I began to talk gladly about rods and line and -bait, to which the doctor replied: - -“Oh no, we must work quicker than that. We shall fish with dynamite! You -will see them come to the bait, and then—_pouf!_—there breaks out the -waterquake, not earthquake, as you say, and they are all dead—hundreds! -You shall see sharks, too. Dynamite is good medicine for them.” - -This sounded interesting, and I got up the next morning about half-past -four, more cheerfully than usual, because, of course, we were going -to start at five o’clock. It was a dull, cloudy, steamy morning when -I went down to the jetty, and found the big whale-boat manned by six -stalwart Kanakas armed with their throwing-spears, and the Doctor with -a little saloon rifle, and the Director of Works—the biggest and most -English-looking Frenchman that I met in the colony—with his pockets full -of dynamite. - -We first paid a visit to a camp about eight miles away, taking a -contribution of meat and bread, and the news that the long-expected -supplies had not yet come. Then we shaped our course for Sharks’ Bay, -which proved to be a most characteristically tropical piece of water. The -dense vegetation not only came down to the water’s edge, but threw out -long, snaky-looking roots a couple of yards from the shore. It was among -these that the first sport began, because it was in these oily-looking -shallows that the flat fish were wont to take refuge from the wolves of -the sea. - -This was the Kanakas’ part of the sport. We ran the boat in quietly and -four of them went ashore with their spears. The Director of Works did the -same, and when he had landed I felt that the Doctor and I were a little -farther off from the razor-edged brink of eternity than when he was -sitting beside us with enough dynamite in his pockets to blow the boat to -matchwood and ourselves beyond the confines of time. - -We amused ourselves by taking potshots at the black triangles which -keenly cut the unrippled surface of the brown water. As far as my own -experience goes, I don’t think there’s another piece of water in the -world that possesses as many sharks to the acre as that well-named bay. -Wherever you looked you could see a black fin cutting the water, and -every minute or so you would see a swirling eddy which meant that one -of the sea-wolves had made a dash at something, and had either got an -instalment of his breakfast or missed it. - -When I was talking this over afterwards with the Doctor, who was a bit -of a naturalist, I learnt a little more about the doctrine of evolution -and the survival of the fittest than I knew before. Sharks swarm in the -New Caledonian waters, and the only chance for their victims is flight; -wherefore about the shores of New Caledonia you find the fastest swimming -fish in the world. - -After we had had a few ineffective shots at dorsal fins, one of our crew -said “Ough!” and pointed to the shore. We pulled in, it being evident -that there was sport afoot. The Kanakas ashore had been climbing with -marvellous agility over the snaky water-roots of the trees until they had -come to a tiny little cove. - -They were leaning over the roots peering down into the water, motionless -as bronze images. Then one swiftly and silently shinned up a tree with -his spear in his mouth. He got a foot- and hand-hold. Then with his right -hand he took the spear out of his teeth, balanced it for a moment, and -then down it went like a flash of lightning. - -The next instant there was a terrific commotion in the water below. Three -other spears went down, and our men laid to their oars and rushed the -boat in. Two of the others jumped into the water, and the crowd began -struggling with a huge flat-fish, something like an exaggerated flounder, -which was nailed to the bottom by a couple of spears. When we got him -into the boat, I thought he would have knocked the side out of it. -Subsequently he made good eating for many hungry convicts. - -Meanwhile, the Director had been wandering about with a cigarette in his -mouth and a dynamite cartridge in his hand, looking for his prey, which, -unobligingly, kept too far out. His turn was to come later on, when we -had pulled across past the sulphur stream to the mouth of the river which -flows into Sharks’ Bay. - -It is a rather curious fact that the waters of this bay are strongly -impregnated with sulphur, and yet, as I have said, they are literally -swarming with fish. They evidently seemed to like it, for both the sharks -and their victims were thicker in the neighbourhood of the submarine -springs than they were anywhere else. Wherefore it was here that we made -the best bags. - -Our Kanakas seemed to have a faculty of seeing through the brown water -which none of us possessed. Again and again they located swarms of fish -that we had no notion of. One of them lay in the bows with his big black -eyes seeing things where we could see nothing, and directing our course -by moving his right or left hand. - -Meanwhile the dynamiter stood on the seat with one foot on the gunwale, -puffing at his cigarette, keeping it in a glow so that he might light -the fuse of his cartridge at it. Presently there came from the bows a -low intense whisper, “Stop!” The Kanakas use a good deal more English -than French when they’re out sporting. He got up and pointed to the water -about ten yards ahead, and hissed: - -“There, _là_! plenty! _beaucoup!_” - -The dynamiter took his cigarette from his lips, blew the ash away, and -touched the end of the fuse with it. Then he pitched his cartridge into -the water about ten yards from the boat. Ten seconds later a volcano -seemed to burst up from the bottom of the bay, and the boat jumped as if -a whale’s flipper had struck her. The water ahead boiled up into a little -hillock of foam and dropped again. - -Then all about us I saw the water sprinkled with the white bellies of -fish, some quite dead, and others swimming in a feeble, purposeless sort -of way with their tails. The next moment there were six big splashes, and -I saw six pairs of brown legs disappearing into the water, after which -heads and arms bobbed up, and it began to rain fish into the boat. - -They ran from eight to eighteen inches in length, and from two to six -pounds in weight, and so I took some pains to dodge them as they came -flying up out of the water. They were something like bass, but they had -the heads and tails of mackerel, and they swam like lightning—of course, -before they struck the dynamite. - -I have often watched, in clearer waters, the sharks hunting shoals of -them. The Caledonian shark can get a tremendous speed on him. I have seen -a twelve-footer carried clean out of the water by the impetus of his -rush. But the way these things dodged them just at the moment that they -turned over to make their grab was simply marvellous. You would see a -shark plunge into the midst of a swarm of them. The long, blue-grey body -would turn over, the mouth—the ugliest mouth in all creation—would open, -and the tripled-armed jaws would clash together on a mouthful of empty -water. Every fish had vanished, and brother shark would give a disgusted -wriggle, and go on the prowl again. - -Escapes of this kind were, of course, due to inherited wisdom, but -dynamite was a recent experience, and the fish fell victims to it through -sheer curiosity. When the cartridge dropped into the middle of the shoal -they naturally scattered in all directions. Then they came back to see -what had fallen into the water, and after that came the catastrophe. -Those who died were victims to curiosity. Those who escaped would -probably be about the most scared fish that ever wagged a fin. - -The effect of the dynamite on those who did not escape was most -extraordinary. In every case the vertebral column was broken just behind -the head, and the heart was as cleanly divided as if it had been cut with -a razor. - -When we had our boat about half full we started in pursuit of bigger -game. The shock of the explosion had startled the sharks, who, like -all bullies, are mostly cowards, and the Kanakas had kept them away by -beating the water every now and then with their hands in their usual -fashion. So our dripping, laughing crew, sure now of a splendid feed, -pulled merrily down the bay to a point on which we landed two of them and -the dynamiter. They crept stealthily along the tangled shore till one -of the Kanakas stopped and pointed to three little black spots on the -surface of a tiny jungle-fringed bay. - -The dynamiter took out a cigarette and lit it, watching the three points -the while as they moved along the oily surface through little eddies -made by the great bodies underneath. Presently they formed a triangle -not many feet apart. Two or three vigorous whiffs of his cigarette, a -touch to the fuse, and a motion of the hand, a scurry in the water—and -then a muffled bang and an uprising of muddy water. - -We waited a moment or two, and then we could see something white—three -streaks of it—gleaming through the water, and three livid shapes rose -slowly to the surface, wagging the great tails which would never send -them through the water again. Their horrible mouths were a little open, -but they would never close fish or man again. - -I took the Doctor’s word for it that their necks, so to speak, were -broken, and their hearts split as those of the smaller fry were; but I -didn’t make any personal investigations, for soon after the troubling of -the waters had subsided there came swift, swirling rushes from all sides; -black fins cut the water, white bellies gleamed under it, and then came -a clashing of cannibal jaws, a tugging and a tearing, a silent, horrible -contest, and presently all that was left of those three sharks was a -blood-reddened scum on the surface of the little leaf-fringed bay. - -Our morning’s fishing closed with the slaying of a shark who fell a -victim to his insatiable appetite just as the smaller fry had done to -their curiosity. When the tragedy was over we pulled out into the middle -of the outer bay and waited until quiet and confidence was restored among -our friends below. Meanwhile, one of the Kanakas had cut one of our -biggest fish open. The Director put a dynamite cartridge into it, and -then it was tied up, after which the end of a line was passed through its -gills. When one of the black triangles came within a few yards of us the -Director touched the end of about six inches of fuse with his cigarette -and dropped it quietly overboard. - -Brother Shark didn’t seem to notice the little fizzy splutter which made -this fish different from all others that he had eaten, or, if he did, he -took no notice of it. He turned over on his side, the jaws opened, and -the fish vanished. - -In a few moments and for just an immeasurable fraction of a second he was -the most astounded shark in the Pacific Ocean. After which came chaos -for him, and a breakfast for his brethren. The pieces weren’t very big, -with the exception of the head, which, after a bit of a scrimmage, was -carried off by a monster who might have been his mother-in-law. The rest -of the fragments disappeared in a swirl of bloody froth, and we went home -to breakfast to learn the glad news that the long-awaited _Emily_ had -really left Noumea at last. - - - - -XI - -_MOSTLY MOSQUITOS AND MICROBES_ - - -The _Emily_ arrived that evening, and we fed royally on good fresh -Australian beef, fried fish, and potatoes, and _compôte_ of fruit, -followed by fresh cream cheese, with bread and tinned butter—as usual, -from Australia. In fact, if it wasn’t for Australia I believe that New -Caledonia would either live on tinned everything or starve, which is of -course a good thing for Sydney and Newcastle. - -The Doctor produced a couple of bottles of excellent Burgundy from his -private cellar, and altogether we did ourselves exceeding well. The next -morning the _Emily_ sailed, of course, at five o’clock; but I turned -out of bed in the moonlight well contented, for my last journey but one -was over. The Commandant invited me on to his verandah for a farewell -consommation. After which I went with the Doctor and the Dynamiter for -another one or two at the canteen. Then we parted in as friendly a -fashion as English and French ever did. - -I was glad to get away, yet I left some regrets behind me. Though I had -come under unpromising circumstances, every one had made me welcome, and -although my stay had lengthened into something like a little exile, my -visit to the Land of Wood and Iron had been both pleasant and profitable. - -The Doctor I parted from with real regret. He was one of the best types -of the travelled French officer and gentleman that I have ever met. At -first his ideas about the Boers were hopelessly wrong, and that was -all there was the matter with him; but I was the first man he had ever -met who had actually lived among them, and when I left his views were -considerably altered. - -Just before I left, the Director of Posts and Telegraphs—every official -seems to be a director of something in Caledonia—brought me the first -letters that I had received in Prisonland. They had been carried -by a Kanaka over the mountains from Noumea, through fifty miles of -jungle-paths. These bush-postmen have never yet been known to lose a -letter. When I asked how much extra they were paid for work like this I -was told that they were made to do it as a punishment—which struck me as -being entirely French. - -The _Emily_—may her name be blessed!—was only a steam launch multiplied -by two, but she was clean and sweet, and her nose was pointed towards -home. She towed two lighters loaded with dressed timber, and she took -something like fifteen hours to do forty-five miles. But that mattered -little. It was a delicious day, and the scenery along the coast was -lovely. Moreover, you could lie down on her decks without having to -change afterwards and throw your clothes overboard, and so the long hours -passed pleasantly under the awning. - -When at length she had puffed and panted her way into Noumea, I looked -about the harbour and saw that Yellow Jack was flying more numerously -than ever. The first news I learnt when I landed was that the plague was -a great deal worse than the papers were allowed to say. It had begun to -jump about all over the town, just as it did later on in Sydney. The -Chief of the Sanitary Commission had just been struck down by it. - -The first thing I noticed as I drove from the wharf to my old quarters -was the number of people in mourning. My landlady, who—I dare say under -compulsion—had had her premises cleaned and disinfected, greeted me with -even more than French effusion. I owed her a long bill, and she thought I -was dead of the plague in some out-of-the-way spot. She nearly cried for -joy when she saw me. Poor old lady, she was to be one of the next of the -microbe’s victims! - -At dinner that night I learnt, to my intense disgust, that the Messagerie -Company and the Government had established a twelve-days’ quarantine on -a mosquito-haunted islet in the bay for any one who wanted to travel by -the monthly mail to Sydney. The principal reason for this was that the -Governor was going home and wanted to be quite certain that no microbes -got on board concealed about the persons of his fellow-passengers. - -From my point of view it amounted to this: Twelve days on _Ile -Freycinet_, four days’ passage, and from eight to ten days’ quarantine -in Sydney—total at least twenty-six days for a trip of a little over a -thousand miles. - -It had to be avoided somehow, and at the same time Noumea was getting -every day a better place to get out of. Even Lord Dunmore, who had stuck -to his offices down near the wharves while his neighbours were running -away, and while the rats, driven out of destroyed buildings, were coming -under his floors to die, at last admitted that things were serious, and -advised me to “get” as soon as I could. - -Fortunately one of the larger coast-boats had been disinfected and -was put on the line again, and in her I took passage to Pam, at the -north-eastern extremity of the island. - -Pam is the port and headquarters of an immensely rich mining district, -the property of the International Copper Company, of which his lordship -is Administrator. It has been said that when Nature made New Caledonia -she set herself to dump down as many ores and minerals in as small a -space as possible. - -She has certainly succeeded, for there is scarcely a mineral known to -science that is not represented in greater or less quantities in this -wonderful island. - -[Illustration: The Mines of the International Copper Co., Pilou, New -Caledonia. There is a greater variety of Metallic Ores within the area -shown here than in any other region in the world.] - -A very clever and experienced mining expert once went over from Australia -to make a survey for the International, and after an exhaustive -examination he was shipped to London to make a personal report to -the Board. He knew as much about mining as any one in the Southern -Hemisphere, but his language and deportment were those of the bush and -the mining camp. A noble lord asked him if he could give any estimate -of the amount of copper, nickel, cobalt, iron, silver, gold, etc., that -might be found in the Central Chain, and this was his answer: - -“My lord, if you were to take all the —— minerals there are out of those -—— mountains the —— island would —— well fall to pieces.” - -The report was taken as satisfactory. - -I brought some specimens away with me which certainly seem to bear out -his estimate. They were the wonder and envy of several mining experts -in Australia. One of the specimens weighs about three pounds, and I am -told that it contains about a dozen distinct kinds of minerals. It didn’t -come out of the mine. It was just chopped off the surface for me with a -pickaxe. - -The mines are not at Pam. They are at Pilou, about seven miles up the -river. Here, connecting the principal mining station with the wharf, -is the only other railway in Caledonia, which is run by steam. It is a -narrow gauge and about five miles long. - -That five miles is a journey through purgatory. The attendant demons are -little black and devilishly businesslike mosquitos. Now, I thought I knew -something about mosquitos. They had lived off me in many parts of the -world from Delagoa Bay to Panama, and Honolulu to Guayaquil, but when I -got to Pilou I found I hadn’t begun to learn about them. - -The air above the swamp over which the railway ran was black with them, -and their song made the whole atmosphere vocal. They were all over us in -a moment. They even settled on the boiler of the engine, and bit it until -it whistled in its agony. We were black with them from head to foot. -Clothing was no protection; and, of course, ours was pretty thin. They -just stood on their heads and rammed their probosces down into our flesh, -usually along the line of a vein, and sucked in our life-blood until they -were too gorged to get their blood-pumps out again. - -By constant sweeping with green branches we managed to keep our faces -fairly clear, and do our breathing without swallowing more than a dozen -at a time. Even the Kanakas, who are not as a rule a favourite article of -food with mosquitos, had to go on swishing themselves with boughs to keep -the little black demons out of their eyes and nose and mouth and ears. - -As for me, I visited the camps and the mines, and then I fled. I was a -sight which my worst enemy, if I have one, might well have looked upon -with eyes of pity. I had got a touch of fever, too, in the swamp, and an -illness in Pilou was too terrible for contemplation. I would not live in -the place, rent free and with nothing to do but fight mosquitos, for a -hundred pounds a week. - -The unhappy convicts who work the mines were the most miserable lot I had -seen in all Caledonia. Neither by day nor night have they any protection -from the swarming pests, which, as one or two of them told me, made their -lives one long misery. They sleep in open barracks without mosquito -curtains over their hammocks, and by day their tormentors pursue them -even down the shafts of the mine. - -It was the same with the officials and their wives and children. They all -looked anæmic, as though most of the blood had been sucked out of them. -They were worried and nervous. Their hands had got into a way of moving -mechanically towards their cheeks and necks and foreheads, the result of -long and mostly vain efforts to squash mosquitos. - -When we were going to have a meal a couple of fire-pots, covered with -green boughs, had to be put into the room until it was full of smoke and -comparatively empty of mosquitos. Then we went into the smoke, and the -fire-pots were put in the doorway. I wasn’t at Pilou long enough to get -used to being half-cooked myself while I was eating my dinner, but even -the smoke in your eyes and lungs was a more bearable affliction than the -winged tormentors who seemed to be a sort of punitive discount on the -vast mineral wealth of Pilou. - -No one but very wicked people ought to live there, and when they die -their accounts ought to be considered squared. - -[Illustration: The Saloon of the Ballande liner _St. Louis_.] - -With eyes puffed up and almost closed; with nose and ears and lips about -twice their normal size; with knuckles and wrists swollen and stiff—to -say nothing of a skinful of itching bumps—I got back to Pam, and on board -the cargo boat on which I had booked a passage in Noumea. - -We called her afterwards the Ballande liner _St. Louis_. She was an -exaggeration of _La France_, and belonged to the same distinguished firm. -She was bigger and, if possible, dirtier. She also smelt more, because -there was a larger area for the smells to spread themselves over. - -No provision had been made for the eight passengers who were doomed to -travel by her. The captain had no money or credit to buy stores, and when -I offered to lend him some, he declined, in case his owners should hold -him responsible. The result was that the food we ate on that miserable -voyage made me look back longingly to the days when I had eaten salt -horse and pickled pork in the forecastle of a black-birder. - -The decks were not washed down till the fifth morning, when we reached -Sydney Heads. Then there was a general clean-up before the Medical -Superintendent came on board, in case a worse fate than quarantine might -await us. Up went Yellow Jack again, and that afternoon saw us anchored -off the quarantine station at North Head. - -I have been in prisons of many sorts, but that quarantine taught me for -the first time what imprisonment really means. The penalty for leaving -the _St. Louis_ without authority was £300 fine _and_ six months’ hard -labour—so there we were for eight days and nights of about one hundred -and fifty hours each. - -On one side there was the quarantine station—about as beautiful a land -and seascape as those about to die ever took a last look from at earth -and sea and sky. - -On the other hand, the varied beauties of “Our Harbour,” with Manly Beach -to the northward, North Shore with its red-roofed villas sprinkled among -the trees; and, away in the dim distance, the spires and chimneys of -Sydney. A couple of hours would have taken us to it, but as we looked -at it with longing eyes, thinking of what a cocktail at the bar of the -Australia Hotel would taste like, it might just as well have been twenty -thousand miles away. - -It was during those eight days of mingled dirt and discomfort, cursing, -and cribbage that I saw as curious a contrast between life and death as -you might search the wide world over for. - -On the starboard side, which is the right-hand side looking forward, lay -the route of the excursion steamers running between Sydney and Manly -Beach. - -They came past at all hours of the day, and they came near enough for -us to hear strains of stringed and wind instruments, which brought back -memories of the dear old Thames with painful distinctness. - -On the port side, with almost equal frequency, there came a -green-painted, white-awninged launch, flying the Yellow Flag and carrying -corpses, “cases,” and “contacts” from the depôt at Wooloomooloo. As she -rounded into the jetty she whistled. Day and night for eight days and -nights we heard that whistle—and the meaning of it was usually death. But -you get hardened to all things in time, and before our durance vile ended -we had got to call her the Cold Meat Boat. - -One day the Medical Superintendent of the station acceded to an urgent -request made by myself and a fellow-passenger. Neither of us had washed -properly for six days, and so, after a little discussion and many -promises, he let us go ashore that we might enjoy ourselves under a hose. -We douched each other for more than half an hour, and then we went to -stretch ourselves on the beach—a silver-sanded rock-walled curve, trodden -by many feet which will never tread earth again. - -As we were coming back to the quay to go on board we heard that -never-to-be-forgotten whistle again, and the green Death Boat swung round -the corner. One of the sanitary police on the wharf put his hand up and -waved us back. - -In the stern there were about a dozen people sitting. Forward there was -a long shapeless bundle lying on a stretcher. It was a case. The others -were “contacts,” friends, lodgers, and relations who had lived in the -same house with the case. They had come to be isolated for ten days, so -that the microbe of the Black Death might show whether or not it was in -their blood. - -They were taken out of the boat first. Their own feelings didn’t matter, -for the Black Spectre takes no account of human affections, and permits -no other to do so. They were marched away to the quarters set apart for -contacts. No farewells were permitted, just a look that might be the -last, and that was all. - -Then the stretcher with the long bundle on it was lifted and carried on -to the wharf. Meanwhile the ambulance backed down to the shore-end, the -stretcher was put into it, and it drove away up through the trees to the -hospital. The next journey of that particular “case” was to the cemetery -four days afterwards. - -When we got back to our floating prison I told the chief engineer what we -had seen on shore, and he said in very epigrammatic French: - -“Quite so! What would you? You are a human being till you take the -plague; after that you are an outcast, a thing separate. You live and get -better; you die and are buried that’s all.” - -And, as it happened, the very next day brought an all-too vivid -illustration of the truth of this saying. About ten in the morning we -heard the “woo-hoo” of the Death Boat’s whistle. - -There was only one passenger this time, and he travelled in a coffin. A -common two-wheeled cart backed down to where the ambulance had been the -day before. The coffin was carried to it and put in just like any other -sort of packing-case might have been. The driver whipped up his horse, -and we watched the cart with its load of coffin, corpse, and quicklime, -trotting up the winding road which leads to the burying-ground of North -Head. - -I have seen many funerals in a good many places from Westminster Abbey to -Wooloomooloo, but this one was the simplest and the saddest of them all. - -Away on the other side of the bay, wife and children, brothers and -sisters and friends were mourning—and there was the indescribable Thing, -which two or three days ago had been a man, being carted away to be -dropped into a twelve-foot hole in the ground—buried like a dead dog, -because it had died of the Black Death instead of something else. From -which you will see that the Black Death has terrors for the living even -after it has claimed its dead. - - - - -Part III - -_HOMEWARD BOUND_ - - - - -I - -“_TWENTY YEARS AFTER_” - - -Everything, even quarantine, comes to an end in time; and so on the -morning of the eighth day at anchor, and the thirteenth out from Pam, the -sanitary policeman who formed our sole connection with the outside world -brought with our morning letters and newspapers the joyful news that -our imprisonment was to end at noon that day. Never did convicts hail -the hour of their release more gladly than the passengers on board the -Ballande liner _St. Louis_. - -We had managed to make our durance vile tolerable by means of yarning by -day, and cribbage by night. In the after saloon, an apartment measuring -about sixteen feet by eight, there were four of us—three men and the -wife of a mining superintendent in Pam. The miner was one of the good -old colonial hard-shell type, a man of vast and varied experience, and -the possessor of one of the most luxuriant vocabularies I have ever -had reason to admire in the course of many wanderings. One night, I -remember, we all woke up wondering whether the ship had broken from -her moorings and gone ashore or whether the Kanaka crew had mutinied. -It turned out that our shipmate had discovered a rat in his bunk, and -was giving his opinion as to the chances of our all dying of plague -before the quarantine was over. He knew that there had been fourteen -deaths from plague only a month before on the miserable old hooker, and -he was considerably scared. When he told us that the rat was alive I -began to laugh, whereupon he turned the stream of his eloquence upon -me. He literally coruscated with profanity, and the more his adjectives -multiplied the louder I laughed, and only the influence of my stable -companion, a pearl-sheller and diver from Thursday Island, who had been -exploring the ocean floor round New Caledonia, prevented a breach of our -harmonious relations. - -When I got my breath and the miner lost his, I explained that the fact of -the rat being alive proved it to be absolutely harmless. It was indeed -a guarantee that there was no plague on the ship. If it had been dead -and the sanitary authorities had got to know of it, it might have got -us another twenty days’ quarantine. Finally, it came out that the rat -had bitten the miner’s toe, and, as he believed, inoculated him with the -plague. I suggested that whiskey was the best antidote for anything of -that sort and so the proceedings terminated amicably. - -My friend the diver was also a man who could tell you tales of land -and sea and under-sea in language which was unhappily sometimes too -picturesque to be printable. We had travelled together all the way from -Noumea, and made friends before the _St. Antoine_ had left the wharf. -We had both been rope-haulers and climbers before the mast, and the -freemasonry of the sea made us chums at once. I never travelled with a -better shipmate, and if this book ever reaches him across the world I -hope that it will remind him of many hours that he made pleasant during -that evil time. - -I have brought two somewhat curious memories out of our brief friendship. - -I had not been talking to him for an hour before twenty years of hard-won -education and culture of a sort disappeared, and I found myself thinking -the thoughts and speaking the speech of the forecastle and the sailors’ -boarding-house: thoughts direct and absolutely honest; and speech terse, -blunt, and equally honest, for among the toilers of the sea it is not -permitted to use language to conceal one’s thoughts. The man who is found -out doing that hears himself dissected and discussed with blistering -irony garnished with epithets which stick like barbed arrows, and of -such was our conversation on the _St. Antoine_ and the _St. Louis_; not -exactly drawing-room-talk, but of marvellous adaptability to the true -description of men and things. - -On the morning of our release as we were taking our after-breakfast walk -and looking for the last time on that hatefully beautiful little cove at -North Head, I said to him: - -“Well, I’ll have to stop being a shell-back to-night, and get into -civilisation again.” - -“I suppose you will,” he said; and then he proceeded to describe -civilisation generally in a way that would have healthily shocked many -most excellent persons. I thoroughly agreed with him, and, curiously -enough, although our experiences had been none of the most pleasant, and -I had had anything but a succession of picnics during my stay in New -Caledonia, I was already beginning to feel sorry that I had to go back -to civilisation and dine in dress-clothes and a hard-boiled shirt—which -brings me to my second memory. - -[Illustration: The Quarantine Station, North Head, Sydney.] - -For nearly a month we had been living on food that a Kaffir in the -Kimberley compounds would turn his nose up at, and for fourteen days on -board the _St. Louis_ we had eaten dirt of many French descriptions. -Everything was dirty. Not even the insides of the loaves were clean. The -galley, where the disguised abominations were cooked, was so foul that a -whiff of its atmosphere on passing was enough to spoil the appetite of -a starving man. The cook was to match. The steward who waited on us was -willing and obliging, but remiss in the matter of washing both himself -and his crockery. The chief steward on French ships is called _maître -d’hôtel_, and by this title we addressed him. On shore we should have -said “here, you,” or something of that sort, but on the _St. Louis_ he -was a person of importance, for he had the key of the store-room and was -open to judicious bribery. - -We had worried through our last dirty _déjeûner_ on board, and -preparations were being made for getting the anchors up. The captain -and the mate had each put on a clean collar, and the chief engineer -was wringing his hands and dancing about the forecastle because the -donkey-engine had gone wrong and only fizzed feebly when it should have -been getting the cable in. - -“Well, thank God,” I said to my diver friend, “we shall have a decent -dinner to-night! You are going to dine with me at the Australia. We’ll -have a real cocktail at the bar, only one, for it won’t do to spoil a -precious appetite, then we’ll eat our way through the menu and drink -champagne. Looks like heaven, doesn’t it?” - -This is of course only an expurgated version of what I really said. His -reply consisted of a finely embroidered comparison between the Australia -Hotel and the _St. Louis_, calculated to start every rivet in her hull. - -Well, we got away from our anchorage and were towed up to Sydney. We took -two of the finest appetites on the Australian continent up with us. We -had that cocktail. We sat down in the dining-room of the Australia at a -table covered with the first clean table-cloth we had seen for a month -and glittering with polished glass and shining silver. The dinner was -as good a one as you will get anywhere between Sydney Harbour and King -George’s Sound—and we couldn’t eat it! We fooled about with the courses, -trying to believe that we were hungry and having a real treat, but it -was no good. We had lost our taste for clean, well-cooked food, and our -palates and digestions were hopelessly vitiated. Course after course went -away hardly touched. We said many things to each other across the table -in decently lowered tones, and ended by satisfying our hunger and thirst -with bread and butter and champagne! - -After dinner I renewed my acquaintance with the Doctor and the purser of -the steam-roller _Alameda_, and they imparted the unwelcome information -that the regular liners were not booking any passengers from Sydney lest -Melbourne and Adelaide, Albany and Perth might refuse them admittance, -or, at any rate, decline to take passage in a ship from a plague port. -Moreover, it was possible that Sydney passengers might be quarantined at -every port. Personally, I had had all the quarantine I wanted, and so -I was not sorry to accept the other alternative which was to go across -to Melbourne and Adelaide by train, and thence by a boat to Freemantle. -This would give me time to have a glimpse at Western Australia before -picking up the Messagerie liner at Albany. Unhappily, as I have said, we -ran up against the plague again at Freemantle, and the inevitable delay, -combined with the very leisurely gait of the West Australian trains, made -it just impossible for me to visit the gold-fields without missing my -steamer. - -One of the first people to welcome me back to Sydney was my very good -friend and fellow-voyager from Honolulu, the Accidental American, and -with him and his wife I travelled to Melbourne. - -After we had passed the customs and changed trains and gauges at Albury -the journey began to take on a new, or, rather, an old interest for me. -Twenty years before I had tramped up through the bush from Melbourne to -the Murray after taking French leave of the lime-juicer in which I had -made my first miserable voyage from Liverpool to Australia. I had halved -the fifteen shillings, with which I started, with a penniless “old chum” -in exchange for his company and experience, and then turned the other -seven and sixpence into about seventy pounds, and, on the strength of my -wealth, travelled back to Melbourne first-class. - -Now I was doing it again, and as the express swung past the little -station, which I had reached after an all-night tramp across the ranges, -I found it to be a good deal less changed than I was. Indeed, save for a -few new houses scattered about the clearing, it was just as it was when I -pitched my swag down on a bench before the hotel, put my blackened billy -beside it, and ordered my last breakfast in the bush. - -At Melbourne we put up at Menzies, and one afternoon I took my friend -down to Spencer Street to pay a visit to the hotel that I had last -stayed in—the Sailors’ Home. Here again nothing was altered. The very -cubicle I slept in twenty years before looked as though I had only just -turned out of the little blue-and-white counterpaned bed, and outside my -yester-self, to coin the only word that seems to fit, was loafing about -in beerless and penniless idleness “waiting for a ship.” - -“There I am as I was,” I said; “how do you like me?” - -“Not a little bit, Griff,” he replied in the terse speech of his -fortuitously native land. “I guess if you were to come like that among -the friends you have now you’d look mighty like a dirty deuce in a new -deck of cards.” - -The next morning I went over to Williamstown to have a look at the scene -of my old escapade, the only one, by the way, which ever brought me into -unpleasant relations with the police, for in those days breaking your -indentures was a matter of imprisonment. Happily they did not catch me. I -found the old Railway Hotel, known, aforetime to officers and apprentices -as the Hen and Chickens, since it was kept by a dear old Scotchwoman -assisted by four charming daughters with one or all of whom every -apprentice in port was supposed to be in love. It was through the kindly -offices of one of them that I had saved my kit and dodged the police. - -I sat in the little parlour on the same sofa I had sat on that memorable -night; opposite was the same old piano on which one or other of our -charmers used to accompany our shouting sea-songs, and there beside it -was the little cupboard in the wall in which my superfluous wardrobe had -been stowed away. Not a thing was altered, I believe the very table-cloth -was the same, and the patch of vacant ground opposite, across which I had -bolted at the penultimate moment to catch the last train to Melbourne, -was still unbuilt on; and there was I, still a wanderer, though of a -different sort, wanting only the old faces and the old voices to be able -to persuade myself that the twenty changing years had begun with the last -night’s dream and ended with the morning’s awaking. - - - - -II - -_DEMOS AND DEAR MONEY_ - - -No doubt it was due to the very wide difference between the two points -of view from which I had seen Australia and the Australians, but I must -confess that my first impressions were more pleasant than my second. -Naturally the happy-go-lucky-sailor lad who thought that the earth was -his and the fulness thereof as long as he had a shilling in his pocket -and a square meal ahead of him, would not look upon things in general -with the same eyes that I did after twenty years of changing fortunes -and the gradual fading of the “golden dreams of trustful twenty,”—or -eighteen, to be more exact. - -In those days I was, almost of necessity, a practical democrat living -in a democracy which neither had the time nor the inclination to bother -about politics; but now many experiences in many lands had taught me that -democracy of the political sort is more pleasant to read about than to -rub shoulders with! - -America has an aristocracy of blood, brains, and money which looks with -open contempt upon politics, and has no more connection with politicians -than is involved in the payment of bribes by its agents. Australia has no -such aristocracy, and everybody apparently goes into politics. In America -democracy is a political fiction, and the person whom political advocates -and managers call the working man is kept in his place by methods more -or less moral but still effective. The real rulers of the United States -believe, with Bismarck, that popular government of a country resembles -control of a household by the nursery. - -In Australia the democracy really does rule. It is the worst-mannered -country that I have ever travelled through, I mean, of course, as regards -the people you are brought into contact with in the ordinary course -of travel. Every man is as good as another unless he happens to be an -official, and then he is a good deal better—in his own opinion, and much -worse in that of the wanderer from other lands. - -Of course one meets, as I did, just as charming people in Australia -as you do anywhere else, but these are the exceptions. The American, -as I found him, no matter what his rank in life, was a born gentleman, -kindly and courteous, yet prompt and practical, and just as nice a fellow -whether he was inviting you to a banquet or giving you a shave. - -Now, with all due deference to Miss Australia’s many physical and mental -charms and her rapidly increasing stature, I venture to suggest that -she would not be the worse for a few lessons in social deportment. At -present she appears to be rather in danger of becoming the tomboy of the -international nursery. The chief trouble with her seems to be that she is -so desperately anxious not to appear servile that she forgets to be civil. - -One cause of this singular lack of manners in the conduct of every-day -affairs may be found in the fact that the vast majority of parents—and -particularly those belonging to the so-called working-class—consider that -the end and aim of their children’s education should be the obtaining of -“a good government billet.” The natural result is the creation of a huge -army of officials who have never had any training in the social ways -of the world, who know little or nothing of business in the wider sense -of the term, and whose education compels them either to do everything -according to official routine or to leave it undone. - -The fact is that Australia is beginning to suffer from too much -government. It is the most over-governed commonwealth in the world. -As every old Colonial knows, it is the interest of a large majority -of the voters to have a governmental machine with as many wheels in -it as possible. There is a curious likeness here between the middle- -and lower-class Australian, if I may be pardoned for using such a -heretical word as class in such a connection, and the Frenchman of the -same social grade. To both the highest ideal of personal ambition is -well-paid employment under government with a pension to follow; whence -it comes that both these utterly dissimilar nations are cursed with an -ever-increasing generation of office-seekers whose only object in life is -to live as well as possible out of the taxes. - -The Australian Commonwealth is composed of young and lusty nations -which have bred a magnificent race of men and women; but they have also -developed a form of government which is far too broadly based upon -that specious absurdity, the equality of man. In fact, in Australia, -they have gone farther, for another tenet of their political creed is -the equality of women with each other and with men. One of the natural -results of this is that, although the best sort of Australian wife is -almost invariably the political ally of her husband, her housemaid and -her cook and washer-woman, who of course greatly outnumber her and are -much more receptive of the wild-cat theories of the demagogue, have votes -also, and use them—frequently with weird effect. Education, experience, -social standing, and personal character go for nothing. A vote is a vote, -no matter who gives it. In fact this fundamentally hopeless system is -worked out to such a deplorably logical extremity that those women who, -through misfortune or intent, have crossed the borders of what we call -here respectable society have the lodger-vote in Australia. This fact -is, I believe, unique in the records of democracy from the days of Cleon -until now. - -It is, of course, only in the ordinary development of human affairs that -such a system of election should not produce the best of all possible -rulers. - -Some time after my return to England I wanted to write an article for an -English daily newspaper on the subject of Australian Politics. The editor -declined to have anything to do with it. He thought I was, as they say, -talking through the back of my hat, until I asked him whether he thought -the Australian politician was anything like the men whom he associated -with Downing Street? He seemed to think that they were about on the same -level, I then asked him whether he could conceive Lord Salisbury, Lord -Rosebery, and Mr. Joseph Chamberlain playing poker with travellers and -strangers in a London club, and then having to be telegraphed to by the -said strangers for the money they had lost to them? He said he couldn’t. -I said it was a fact, and so it is. That is the difference between -Imperial and Colonial politics and politicians—from which it will be -seen that there is no comparison to be drawn between the more or less -efficient statesmen whom we manage somehow to get into power in this -country, and the person whom the male and female votes of the Australian -Commonwealth puts into office over there. - -Some one once said that any government is good enough for the people -who can stand it. That is true of all countries, and it is so in a -peculiar sense of the empire which all good Englishmen hope will some -day develop out of the newly-made Australian Commonwealth. But before -that happens Australia will have to evolve an aristocracy of some -sort. The old territorial magnates of twenty-five and thirty years ago -have been gradually squeezed out. Some of them, the fortunate ones who -located themselves on well-watered territories, and others who found -minerals under their sheep pastures are still the highest class of -Australian society. The rest have seen their estates eaten into by the -cockatoo selector and the person who went out with an assisted passage -to a free grant of land in the hope of being bought off or selling his -“improvements.” This process almost destroyed the best aristocracy -that Australia could have possessed, and the democratic vote finally -wrecked it, for your true democrat never sees further than the day after -to-morrow. - -In fact, his political horizon is usually bounded by the next sunset, -and the natural result has been that the balance of political power in -Australia has been transferred from those who have put brains, capital, -and enterprise into the country, to those who had nothing but votes to -invest—and votes to-day are very cheap in Australia. - -The logical outcome of such a condition of affairs is that what the -uneducated and irresponsible majority want they get. It is not a question -of general utility or national prosperity. If the government of a colony -does not do what the more ignorant mass of voters want, that government -has either to give in or get out. As a rule ministers give in that they -may stop in, because places are snug and salaries liberally proportioned -to the labours which earn them. - -The observant wanderer picks up proofs of this all the time that he is -travelling, and the most significant of these is found in the very thinly -veiled hostility of the various colonies towards each other. If you are -in Sydney you must not say too much in praise of Melbourne; just as, -when you are in New York it isn’t wise to say too much about Chicago; -or, if you happen to be the guest of a club in San Francisco, you had -better not descant too eloquently on the culture of Boston. Still, in -the United States there is a healthy and unrestrained rivalry between -these and many other cities. There is free trade from Maine to Mexico, -and from New Orleans to Talama. In fact, as an American Senator once -said in defence of the first tariff, America within its own borders is -the biggest free-trading country in the world. For instance, throughout -the length and breadth of the United States you can communicate with -other people by letter or telegram on the same rate. Now, when I got to -Albany, Western Australia, I found that I owed a small account of one and -sixpence to a firm in Sydney. The money order cost me two and ninepence. -Again, all over the civilised world, saving Australia, a Bank of England -note is worth either its face value or little more. It happened that when -I landed in Sydney I had £80 in £10 Bank of England notes. I went to two -or three banks to get them changed, and I found that I could only get -gold for them at a discount of two and sixpence on the £5, or £2 in all. -I then went to the Comptoire d’Escompt, in Pitt Street, and got my £80 -changed into English gold for five shillings. - -When I came to inquire into the matter further I found that the -Australian banks had entered into a sort of conspiracy to defraud the -unsuspecting traveller who ventures to bring the best paper currency in -the world into the Australian colonies. For instance, you pay a deposit -into the Sydney branch of an Australian bank, you take its notes for the -amount that you may need in travelling, say, from Sydney to Melbourne, -and when you present those notes at a branch _of the same bank_ you -are charged two and a half per cent. for cashing them. In other words, -the bank goes back on its own paper to the extent of five shillings -on the £10-note. This seems bad enough, but my friend the Accidental -American told me of something even worse. He was representing one of -the biggest manufacturing firms in the United States. Their credit was -as good as gold anywhere. He paid a deposit in Auckland into the Bank -of New Zealand, believing that his cheque would be good for its face -value throughout the colonies, but when he tried to draw cheques on the -branches of the Bank of New Zealand in Australia he was charged two and a -half per cent. discount! - -I once had a similar experience in the Transvaal, but that was only -what one might have expected under the then governmental conditions, I -was in a hostile country and I didn’t look for anything better, but to -run up against the same swindle in a British colony was somewhat of a -shock. After that, when I wanted any money on my letter of credit, I took -gold because I didn’t see the force of giving English paper at par for -colonial paper at two and a half per cent. discount. - -I also noticed that if you complain about this sort of thing in Sydney -they put the blame on Melbourne, and if you are travelling further, -Melbourne puts the blame on Adelaide, and so on, and from Adelaide they -will refer you back to Auckland, while Perth will tell you that it is the -only really honest city in all Australasia. - -There is, however, one subject upon which all the Australian colonies -appear to be absolutely agreed. This is the relative importance of work -and play. They mostly play at work and work at play, especially the -officials. Australia seems to me to have almost as many legal holidays -as you find feast-days in Spain, and an Australian would as soon go to -work on a holiday as a member of the Lord’s Day Observance Society would -go to a music-hall on a Sunday, unless, of course, he happened to be on -the Continent. Still there is a considerable difference between the -amount of work which you can get done in the several capitals of the -Commonwealth. - -I came home with a man who might be described as the Universal Provider -of Australia, and he told me that he could do more business in Melbourne -in a day than he could in a week in Sydney, or in a fortnight in Adelaide -or Perth. My American friend told me that he could do more business in -the States in an hour than he could do in a day anywhere in Australia. - -One reason for this, no doubt, is the climate. “That tired feeling” -is very prevalent, and it affects the native-born much more than the -home-born. In fact, British-born parents at fifty and sixty have more -energy than their sons and daughters have at thirty and forty. All the -conditions in Australia are against indoor work, and in favour of outdoor -play. Hence the new Commonwealth’s physical vigour is considerably in -excess of its mental energy. - -Another very serious feature in present-day Australian life is the craze -for gambling. Of course most of us would like to make money without -working for it if we could, but with the Australian this desire amounts -to a perfect passion. Almost every other tobacconist’s shop is the -branch office of a bookmaker, and you can go in and plank your money and -take your ticket without the slightest fear of legal consequences. As -for mining stocks, you scarcely hear anything else talked about unless -there happens to be a horse race, a cycle meeting, or a cricket match -on. This is, of course, only one of the failings of youth, and in some -respects Miss Australia is very young. Still, now that she is growing -up into a nation, she would do well to put something of a curb on her -youthful ardour for playing. Sport of some sort is an essential both of -individual and national manhood, but colonies don’t grow into nations on -race-courses and cricket-fields any more than men can become permanently -wealthy by laying and taking odds, or speculating in futures. - - - - -III - -_A COSMOPOLITAN COLONY_ - - -It must not be gathered from what I have said in the last two chapters -that it is all play and no work in Australia. There is a great deal too -much play, and far too keen an interest in winning money instead of -making real wealth; but still Australia boasts of splendid industries -which she is working to real and lasting profit. - -While I was in Adelaide I renewed my acquaintance with a lady and -gentleman with whom I had come into contact by a lucky chance during -a coaching trip through the Blue Mountains and New South Wales, while -I was waiting for the steamer from Sydney to Noumea. During that trip -which, by the way, is one of the most delightful that you can take in any -of the Five Continents, I made the interesting discovery that they not -only knew me much better than I knew them, but that they had even named -their house after their favourite character in one of my stories. It was -through their kindness that I had an opportunity of realising by personal -experience the wonderful development of what bids fair to be Australia’s -greatest and, in the best sense, most profitable industry. The commercial -fabric of Australia rests upon wool, wine, wheat, and gold, and not the -least of these is wine. - -One day I received an invitation to go and spend three days at -Seppeltsfield, which is the centre of one of the largest and most -flourishing wine districts in Australia. Here I became the guest of Mr. -Benno Seppelt, whose father was the pioneer of wine-growing in South -Australia. It was here, too, that I found the most brilliant triumph -in cosmopolitan colonisation that I had seen in the course of many -wanderings. - -We went partly by train and partly by a coach, which landed us after -dark on a desperately wet night at a little township about eight miles -from the vineyard. Here, owing to a telegraphic mistake, we found no -conveyance to take us on to Seppeltsfield, so we put up at just such -a bush hotel as I had been wont to sleep at twenty years before when -I happened to have the money for bed and breakfast. The principal -attraction of the hostelry was a bagatelle-table on which Shem, Ham, -and Japheth might have practised. The bagatelle-room was evidently -the favourite lounge of the youth of the township, and the Accidental -American and I passed a most enjoyable hour playing under the instruction -of these gentle youths who would have been considerably astonished if -they had seen some of my friend’s performances on a billiard-table. -Everybody’s business in Australia is also everybody else’s, wherein -Australia does not differ very much from other parts of the world, and -the interest that our audience took in us was almost as flattering as -their absolutely unrestrained remarks on our play were occasionally the -reverse. We began as novices, and gratefully accepted the very freely -given hints as to our shortcomings and the way to improve our game. No -game, played on that ancient gambling machine, ever improved so quickly, -and the talk among our instructors, when they realised that we had been -fooling them, gave me the impression that they really regarded us as a -couple of sharps who had come down from Adelaide with the intention of -cleaning the country-side out. - -The next morning the wagonette came over from Seppeltsfield and I -began to have my object-lesson in colonisation. The country here was -very different to what I had seen in the bush at other times and other -places. In fact the bush was bush no longer; all was rolling farmland, -cleanly cleared and well fenced, arable land alternating with orchards, -vegetable-gardens, and tree-belts disposed so as to give due protection -to the young crops and fruit-trees. Everything was trim, neat, and -prosperous-looking. The white houses, surrounded by their broad -verandahs, were very different to the selectors’ cabins which I had seen -up country on my last visit to Australia, and their surroundings were -rather those of an English country house hundreds of years old, than of a -country which forty years ago was uninhabited scrub. - -Then came the vineyards. There are between two and three thousand acres -of them round Seppeltsfield, and every acre seemed to me to be as well -kept as an English nursery garden. - -This is the history of them, and incidentally of the other wine-growing -districts in South Australia. - -As long ago as 1829, which, for Australia, is quite ancient history, a -Mr. Robert Gouger began the colonisation of South Australia. His idea was -to parcel out the land into small lots and offer government assistance -to people who were ready to tackle the task of subduing the wilderness. -He failed to get the amount of capital to carry his ideas into practice; -the government, as governments did in those days, gave him the cold -shoulder, and, for the time being, his projects fell to the ground. Five -years later the South Australian Association was formed. Mr. Gouger was -the principal organiser of it. Then followed more correspondence with -the government, and more of the usual trouble with the circumlocutary -departments, and finally the South Australian Bill was brought before the -British Parliament. One of the chief supporters of the Bill in the House -of Lords was the Victor of Waterloo, and the first ship which landed a -company of emigrants on the shores of South Australia was named the _Duke -of York_. As these lines are being written, the Duke of Cornwall and -York is travelling through the new-born Commonwealth of Australia, as -the representative of the Emperor-King to give the Royal and Imperial -sanction to the youngest, and by no means the least vigorous of the -daughter-nations of the Empire. Curiously enough, too, it happened that -in 1838 Mr. George Fife Angus, Chairman of the South Australian Company, -brought out a company of two hundred German emigrants in a ship named the -_Prince George_. - -After them came more Germans, then Frenchmen and Italians, Austrians, -Hungarians, Swedes and Norwegians, English, Scotch, and Irish; the scrub -began to disappear, and the wilderness to blossom, not exactly as the -rose, but as tobacco plantations. The tobacco was a rank failure in more -senses than one. It grew luxuriantly, but its flavour was such that it -was very much more fitted for poisoning the insects which settled on the -vines which succeeded it than for filling those functions which Calverley -has so exquisitely described. - -[Illustration: The Storage House at Seppeltsfield, forty years ago.] - -[Illustration: The Present Storage House through which nearly a million -gallons pass every year.] - -In ’51, when the tidings of the great gold discoveries in Victoria were -drawing fortune-seekers to Australian shores from the uttermost ends -of the earth, the father of my host at Seppeltsfield came into the -Collingrove district and planted a vineyard which was about an acre -in extent. Not even the luckiest of all the argonauts of the fifties -ever pegged out a claim that yielded as much solid and ever-increasing -profit as that little patch of land in the South Australian scrub. In -those days Adelaide was a pleasant little town of about fifteen thousand -inhabitants; the capital of a province containing sixty-six thousand -souls. Now it is a stately city with between forty and fifty thousand -inhabitants, the capital of a colony with a population of four hundred -thousand. - -Mr. Seppelt’s acre of vineyard has grown into more than two thousand, and -its produce has increased to eight hundred thousand gallons of matured -wine, to say nothing of vinegar and brandy. Every year two thousand tons -of grapes come in from the vinelands which lie for eight miles round -Seppeltsfield, to pass through the crushers and the winery into the great -vats of the cellars, and thence into the casks in which their juice is -shipped to lands which have never seen the Southern Cross. - -After I had been through the whole process of Australian wine-making from -the grape-crushers—Australian wine is not trodden out of the grape by -the same process that still obtains in France, Spain, and Portugal—to the -laboratory in which samples of every kind of wine are tested in order -to make sure that the process of sterilisation is perfect; and after I -had tasted ports and sherries, Madeiras, Hocks, Moselles, and certain -specialities native to the vineyard, I said to my host the evening before -we had to start away in the grey dawn to catch the train at Freeling: - -“I have learnt a good deal in the last week, but I want you to tell me -now how you managed to put your wines on to the European market and get a -sale for them against the competition of the French, German, and Spanish -wines which had had the vogue for centuries, their vineyards are all -within five hundred miles of London, for instance, and here you’re ten -thousand miles away. How did you manage it?” - -This chapter is not an advertisement of Australian wines in general or -of the products of Seppeltsfield in particular, and therefore I shall -not say everything that he told me, but the nett result came to this: -When the wine-growing industry of Australia began to get a bit too big -for Australia’s consumption, and when it was found that varieties of -European vines produced wines of delicately differentiated flavours, it -became a question where markets were to be found for the products of an -industry which was growing much more rapidly than the native consumption. - -When they found the solution of this problem the Australian wine-growers -did one of the best strokes of business that ever was done within the -confines of real business. By real business, I mean honest business. -Those who know a great deal more about the subject than I will see much -more meaning in those two words than perhaps I do. If Australian wine -was going to make its way in the markets of the world it had to be wine; -in other words, those who made it had to rely for their success and -for the interest on the capital and the brains that they had put into -the work upon a reversion to principles as old as the days of Solomon. -They had to make wine from grapes and nothing else. Their rivals in the -European markets had already learnt everything there was to be known -about fortifying and flavouring and chemical essences. They knew how, -for instance, German potato spirit could be turned into seven-year-old -brandy in a few weeks, and how sherry which had never been within a -hundred miles of a vineyard could be made such a perfect counterfeit of -the original fluid that a custom’s expert couldn’t tell the difference -between a cask worth sixty pounds and one worth six. They made many -failures, but in the end they not only got into the European markets, but -actually out-sold the home wine-growers who had had hundreds of years -start of them. - -The Australian grape goes into the crusher as grape it comes out as -grape-juice, and as grape-juice it crosses the seas and makes its -appearance in bottles and flagons on our tables. It has been fermented -and sterilised and that is all, and it is not too much to say that, -saving these two necessary processes, when you drink a glass of -Australian wine, red or white, still or sparkling, you are actually -drinking the juice of the grape and nothing else; wherefore it may be -fairly said that the development of the Australian wine industry from -very small beginnings, as, for instance, from that one acre first planted -with vines at Seppeltsfield into the two thousand odd acres of to-day -yielding two thousand tons of grapes and eight hundred thousand gallons -of wine a year, is just about as good a proof as one can get that -honesty is sometimes the best policy even in business. - -[Illustration: Grape-crushing by machinery at Seppeltsfield. The Grapes -from which Australian Wine is made are never touched by hand (or foot) -after the process of Wine-making has begun.] - -Happily there was no speculation about the wine industry in Australia. If -this were also true of her gold-mines and her wool-crops she would be a -good deal richer and more honestly wealthy than she is. - -I have seen French colonists in French colonies, Germans in German -colonies, and colonists of many nationalities under the alien flags of -the South American Republics, where, as a rule, they do a great deal -better than in their own colonies, if they have any, but never have I -seen such a perfect realisation of the ideal of cosmopolitan colonisation -as I saw during my stay at Seppeltsfield. - -Day after day we drove out along broad roads through the pleasant -vineyards and farmlands which lay under the ranges that shielded them -from the hot north winds, and every hour or so we pulled up in a village -which might have been picked up by superhuman hands out of Germany, or -France, or Holland, Ireland, Scotland, or England, and just put down -there in the midst of what forty years ago was the South Australian -Wilderness. - -My host was a German and the son of a German, and he has nine sons, all -good Australians, true sons of the soil, worthy citizens of the empire -who have found all that men seek to find within the wide confines of the -Pax Britannica. - -I have a certain reason for using that phrase. I had just come from a -French colony which, in the national sense, could only be described as -a house divided against itself. There was the conflict between bond and -free, between French and English, Australians, Germans, Jews, naturalised -foreigners, and those who were still wondering which side of the -international fence it would pay them best to sit on, but in the pleasant -country about Seppeltsfield I found all the elements of international -unity and none of discord. - -Within that eight-mile radius there was an epitome of Europe. In one -township you might have closed your eyes for a moment of forgetfulness, -opened them again and seen yourself in a German town not very far from -the banks of the Rhine. Having a little German at my disposal, I accepted -the illusion and found myself drinking good lager beer out of the same -old glasses that I had drunk it ten years before in the Fatherland, -and listening to just the same quaintly turned conversation that I had -listened to and joined in during a walking tour down the Valley of -the Weser and over the Hartz Mountains. The houses were built in the -same way, the same beer was drunk to the same toasts and with the same -old-world choruses, and I and the Accidental American played a game for -the championship of England and America on just such a kegel-bahn as you -could find behind any country hotel in Germany. I won because I didn’t -laugh quite as much as my opponent did. - -At the end of another drive I found myself in France listening to the -soft speech of the Côte d’Or and drinking the wine of the country which -might have been sent that day by telegraph. A few miles farther on we -were in Ireland. I am not prepared to say that the mountain dew was -actually distilled on Irish hillsides, but it was very like the original -brew, and the brogue was as rich and pure as any that you would hear -between Dublin and Dingle Bay. - -Men and women of many nationalities were there, founding their own -fortunes and helping to found those of an Empire of To-morrow, -but everywhere you heard the English speech, and recognised the -self-restraint and the quiet orderly manners of the Anglo-Saxon, for -though these colonists had come from many lands and had known many -different governments they had all come under the influence of that -magical power which the Anglo-Saxon alone seems to possess, the power of -making all men his fellow-citizens and friends if he can once get them -on his own land and under his own flag. In Europe these people would -have been enemies, actual or potential; in their own colonies they would -have been discontented and home-sick, longing only for the day of their -return with a trifling competence; here they were just neighbours working -out their destinies side by side on a soil that was common to all, and -under a rule which is perhaps the most perfect that the wit of man has -yet devised for the welding together of conflicting human interests. If I -could only have brought my good friend the Director of the Administration -of New Caledonia to Seppeltsfield, and taken him for a six days’ driving -tour through that cosmopolitan collection of townships, I think he would -have understood more completely than he did what I meant when I said to -him on the verandah of his house in Noumea the day before I sailed: - -“The Latin nations have colonies, but they have not yet learnt how to -colonise.” - -[Illustration: A Vineyard at Seppeltsfield, South Australia.] - -I left South Australia with a regret that was fully equalled by the -pleasure with which I had taken leave of Noumea, and that is saying -a good deal. From Port Adelaide we trundled round the coast in an -exaggerated edition of the old steam-roller that had brought us across -the Pacific. The only interesting event on the six days’ passage was a -scare which the Accidental American innocently raised by developing a -sore throat and a little swelling of the glands of the neck. Of course -the rumour that he had brought the plague from Sydney went like wildfire -through the ship, and I, as his nurse, was looked upon with undisguised -suspicion. When I brought him up for a stroll on deck just before we -reached Albany our fellow-passengers very kindly gave us half the deck -to ourselves. I had tried to explain that the period of incubation was -twelve days at the outside, and that hence, as we were nearly a month out -from Sydney, we could no more have brought the plague from Port Jackson -than we could have done from San Francisco; but it was no good, and -when the sanitary officers came on board at Freemantle with the news -that the dreaded visitor had got there before us, I think nine-tenths -of the passengers would have been well content to see us walked off to -quarantine. - -In the end the doctor passed us without a stain upon our sanitary -character, and our baggage was put into a lighter, tightly sealed up -and battened down, and then fumigated. One of our lady-passengers had a -pet canary in a cage and there was much discussion as to what should be -done with it. Its constitution would not stand fumigation, and yet the -law said that nothing was to go into the colony without either medical -examination or disinfection. I presume the Doctor must have compromised -either with his conscience or with the lady, for the last I saw of the -suspected bird was on the quay, where it was chirping a merry defiance -of sanitary regulations, on the top of a truck load of baggage which had -neither been inspected nor disinfected. - -Sanitary officials seem to have the same kind of ideas all over the -world. In Noumea they burnt down the house of the first white man who -died of the plague, but they allowed his furniture to be sold by auction -and spread over the town. At Freemantle they fumigated your steamer -trunk and your Gladstone-bag, but they allowed steerage passengers to -walk off with swags and bundles which might have held any number of -millions of microbes for all they knew. - -Western Australia is a very wonderful young country, and when it settles -down to real business and discovers that it is better to get gold than -to gamble in gold shares, it will do great things. It will also be the -better for the abolition of its ridiculous system of protection. Some -parts of it will one day be great fruit-growing districts and by way of -developing these the government impose a big duty on fruit from other -colonies, for instance, Tasmanian apples were selling in Perth and -Freemantle at a shilling a pound, although they can be brought across the -world and sold in London for fivepence. Meanwhile, the Westralian sells -his fruit at artificial prices, having no competition to worry about. -While the import duty enables him to put his prices up fifty per cent. -he is quite content to produce half what he could have done. In fact it -was this problem of protection which kept Western Australia aloof from -federation for such a long time. Some day, when intercolonial free trade -follows after federation, the Westralian will find his new conditions not -quite so pleasant, but a good deal more healthily stimulating. - -Westralia is popularly described in other colonies as the land of sin, -sand, sore eyes, sorrow, and Sir John Forrest. Sir John Forrest was one -of the men who discovered it. He is now its premier. He also discovered -the gold-fields; and he has the loudest voice I ever heard even on a -politician. What his connection with his other alliterative titles of -his adopted land have been I could not discover. They are most probably -creations of the luxuriant fancy of other politicians who would be very -glad to have made as much out of the country as he has done. - -Westralians are called by other colonials “sand-gropers,” and to this -they reply with fine irony by describing all other Australians as, -“T’other-Siders,” or “dwellers on the other side of Nowhere.” Young -nations are after all very like young children, they all possess the -finest countries on earth and it is only right that they should do so, -if they didn’t think so they would go somewhere else, and so new nations -would never get made. - -On the whole I am afraid I must say that the new Australia did not quite -come up to the expectations that I had based on my memories of the old; -but I don’t suppose that fact will trouble Australia any more than the -lack of appreciation of a once distinguished poet and dramatist troubled -the Atlantic Ocean. One thing is certain, no country which breeds such -men and women as you find from Brisbane to Freemantle can help being -great some day; and when Miss Australia settles down a little more -seriously to work she will begin to grow very great indeed. - -At Albany I found the long, white, graceful shape of the Messagerie -liner _Australien_ lying on the smooth waters of St. George’s Sound, -and in her I made as pleasant a homeward trip as the most fastidious of -globe-trotters could wish for. I have often been amused by the pathetic -appeals of untravelled Englishmen on behalf of British steamer lines. -Such an appeal usually ends with reflections on the patriotism of British -travellers who patronise foreign ships. The fact is that the boot is on -the other leg. Why are not the British companies patriotic enough to -make their boats as pleasant to travel in as French, and German, and -American boats are? Travellers whose journeys are counted by tens of -thousands of miles want to do their travelling as pleasantly as possible, -and the pleasantest ship to journey in, is the one that has the fewest -regulations. On the Messagerie boats you will find none that are not -absolutely essential to the proper discipline of the ship and the comfort -of your fellow-passengers. While you are on board you are treated as -a welcome guest, and not as an intruder whose presence is tolerated -because your passage money is necessary to make dividends. You are also -looked upon as a reasonable being, capable of taking care of yourself and -ordering your comings and goings within decent limits, not as a child -who mustn’t sit up playing cards after a certain hour, and who is not to -be trusted with the management of an electric light in the small hours -of the tropical night when you can’t sleep and want to read. In short, -the principal reason why experienced travellers prefer foreign lines to -British is simply the fact that they like to be treated as grown men -and women, and not as children or irresponsible lunatics. It is not a -question of patriotism at all, it is one of commercial consideration on -the one side and comfort and convenience on the other. - -The first thing we heard when we reached Marseilles was the welcome news -that the tide of war had turned, and Mafeking was relieved. - -Our company in the saloon was about half French and half English and -Australian, and a more friendly crowd it would have been difficult to -find afloat. We had had the usual concert the night before, and wound -up with the Marseillaise and God Save the Queen, and when we set up the -champagne for the last time in the smoking-room and drank to B.P. and his -merry men, the only man who declined to join in was, I regret to say, an -Irishman. He was as jolly a _compagnon de voyage_ and as good-hearted a -man as you would wish to meet in a ten-thousand-mile trip; but on that -particular subject he was a trifle eccentric. - -When I left the _Australien_ I looked upon Yellow Jack, as I hope, for -the last time, for it ever a man was heart-sick of the sight of a piece -of bunting I was of that miserable little yellow oblong. - -The next morning we took our places in the P.L.M. _Rapide_ and went -whirling away over the pleasant lands of Southern France, through Lyons, -Dijon, and Maçon, to Paris and thence to Calais in trains that were well -worthy to run over the same metals as the “South Western Limited,” and -the “Overland.” - -Then came the usual bucketing across the Channel, and after that a crawl -of seventy-six miles in two hours and thirty-five minutes in a dirty, -rickety, first-class compartment on one of the alleged expresses of the -Amalgamated Crawlers. The splendid corridor train of the Nord had covered -the hundred and eighty-five miles between Paris and Calais inside four -hours; but that was in France. Still the “boat-express” did at last -manage to struggle into Charing Cross, and I found myself standing in the -familiar Strand once more. The thirty-thousand-mile trip was finished, -and Prisonland with all its new experiences and varied memories was -itself now only a memory. - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] Since my return, I find that there has been a recrudescence of this -fiscal foolishness in New York with an addition of personal persecution. -By the time these pages are in my readers’ hands the autocrats of the -inquisition will probably have heard something drop. To bully the -American Woman is too large an order even for the Great Republic. - -[2] With true French economy the price of the chain is charged against -the convict’s “Succession”—_i.e._ any deferred savings that he may leave -behind him. - -[3] _Les Sœurs de St. Joseph de Cluny._ - - -THE END. - - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's In an Unknown Prison Land, by George Griffith - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN AN UNKNOWN PRISON LAND *** - -***** This file should be named 60960-0.txt or 60960-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/9/6/60960/ - -Produced by deaurider and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: In an Unknown Prison Land - An account of convicts and colonists in New Caledonia with - jottings out and home - -Author: George Griffith - -Illustrator: Harold Piffard - -Release Date: December 18, 2019 [EBook #60960] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN AN UNKNOWN PRISON LAND *** - - - - -Produced by deaurider and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 475px;" id="illus1"> -<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="475" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption"><i>Frontispiece.</i></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<h1>IN AN UNKNOWN<br /> -PRISON LAND</h1> - -<p class="center larger">AN ACCOUNT OF CONVICTS AND<br /> -COLONISTS IN NEW CALEDONIA<br /> -WITH JOTTINGS OUT AND HOME</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -GEORGE GRIFFITH</p> - -<p class="center smaller">AUTHOR OF “MEN WHO HAVE MADE THE<br /> -EMPIRE,” “THE VIRGIN OF THE SUN,”<br /> -A TALE OF THE CONQUEST OF PERU,<br /> -“BRITON OR BOER?” A STORY OF THE<br /> -FIGHT FOR AFRICA, ETC., ETC.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">WITH A PORTRAIT AND NUMEROUS<br /> -ILLUSTRATIONS</p> - -<p class="titlepage">London: HUTCHINSON <i>&</i> CO<br /> -Paternoster Row <img class="inline" src="images/leaf.jpg" width="40" height="20" alt="" /> 1901</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">PRINTED BY<br /> -HAZELL, WATSON, AND VINEY, LD.<br /> -LONDON AND AYLESBURY</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - -<p class="dedication"><span class="gothic">To</span><br /> -<span class="larger">THE EARL OF DUNMORE</span><br /> -WHOSE KINDNESS AND HOSPITALITY MADE MY<br /> -SOJOURN IN PRISON-LAND MUCH MORE<br /> -PLEASANT THAN IT MIGHT<br /> -HAVE BEEN.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#Part_I"><span class="gothic">Part I</span></a><br /><i>A STREAK THROUGH THE STATES</i></td> - <td class="tdpg"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td>DUTIES AND DOLLARS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_I_I">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td>CONCERNING CITIES, WITH A PARENTHESIS ON MANNERS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_I_II">17</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td>THE QUEEN OF THE GOLDEN STATE</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_I_III">34</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td>A SEA-INTERLUDE</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#A_SEA-INTERLUDE">51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#Part_II"><span class="gothic">Part II</span></a><br /><i>PRISON LAND</i></td> - <td class="tdpg"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td>A PRELIMINARY NOTE ON CONVICTS AND COLONISTS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#A_PRELIMINARY_NOTE">83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td>SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_I">96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td>SOME SOCIAL SIDELIGHTS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_II">109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span>III.</td> - <td>ILE NOU</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_III">128</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td>MEASUREMENT AND MANIA</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_IV">143</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td>A CONVICT ARCADIA</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_V">160</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td>SOME HUMAN DOCUMENTS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_VI">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td>THE PLACE OF EXILES</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_VII">194</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td>A PARADISE OF KNAVES</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_VIII">202</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td>USE FOR THE USELESS</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_IX">219</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td>A LAND OF WOOD AND IRON</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_X">236</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td>MOSTLY MOSQUITOS AND MICROBES</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_II_XI">262</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"></td> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#Part_III"><span class="gothic">Part III</span></a><br /><i>HOMEWARD BOUND</i></td> - <td class="tdpg"></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td>“TWENTY YEARS AFTER”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_III_I">279</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td>DEMOS AND DEAR MONEY</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_III_II">290</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td>A COSMOPOLITAN COLONY</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#Part_III_III">303</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>NOTE</h2> - -<p>The last sentence on <a href="#Page_137">p. 137</a> should read:</p> - -<p>“The Cachots Noirs were never opened except at stated -intervals,—once every morning for inspection, and once every -thirty days for exercise and a medical examination of the -prisoner.” I am glad to be able to state on the authority of -the Minister of Colonies that this terrible punishment has -now been made much less severe. Every seventh day the -prisoner is placed for a day in a light cell; he is also given an -hour’s exercise every day; and the maximum sentence has -been reduced to two years, subject to the medical veto. In -the text I have described what I saw; but this atrocity is -now, happily, a thing of the past.—G. G.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></p> - -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="List of illustrations"> - <tr> - <td>Portrait of the Author</td> - <td colspan="2" class="tdpg"><a href="#illus1"><i>Frontispiece.</i></a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Two Snapshots up and down the Rio Sacramento, taken as - the train was crossing the bridge</td> - <td class="center"><i>Page</i></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus2">30</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Diamond Head, Honolulu</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus3">54</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Sanford B. Dole. First Governor of the Territory of Hawaii</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus4">62</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A Lake in the interior of New Caledonia</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus5">86</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Plague Area at Noumea. Offices of the Messageries - Maritimes, with Sentries in front</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus6">100</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Convict Band playing in the Kiosk in the Place des - Cocotiers, Noumea</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus7">116</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Town and Harbour of Noumea</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus8">120</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>In the Harbour, Noumea</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus9">122</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Inner Court of the Central Prison, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus10">136</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Central Prison, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus11">142</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Bureau of Anthropometry, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus12">146</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>An Arab Type of Convict. A combination of Ideality and - Homicidal Mania</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus13">148</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Courtyard of a Disciplinary Camp, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus14">150</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Avenue of Palms, leading to the Hospital, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus15">154</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Part of the Hospital Buildings, Ile Nou</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus16">156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Island of “Le Sphinx,” one of the tying-up places on - the south-west coast of New Caledonia</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus17">162</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A Native Temple, New Caledonia</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus18">168</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Permit to visit a Prison or Penitentiary Camp <i lang="fr">en détail</i></td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus19">176</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Kiosk in which the Convict Courtships were conducted - at Bourail</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus20">180</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> - Berezowski, the Polish Anarchist who attempted to murder - Napoleon III. and the Tsar Alexander II. in the - Champs Elysées</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus21">184</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>One of the Lowest Types of Criminal Faces</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus22">190</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Peninsula of Ducos</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus23">194</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The remains of Henri Rochefort’s House</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus24">200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Bedroom of Louis Chatelain, ”The Caledonian Dreyfus” - in Ducos</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus25">200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The “Market” in the Convent, Isle of Pines</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus26">212</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Convict Railway at Prony</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus27">240</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Mines of the International Copper Co., Pilou, New - Caledonia</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus28">266</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Saloon of the Ballande Liner, <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i></td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus29">270</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Quarantine Station, North Head, Sydney</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus30">282</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Storage House at Seppeltsfield, forty years ago</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus31">309</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>The Present Storage House</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus32">308</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>Grape-crushing by machinery, at Seppeltsfield</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus33">312</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>A Vineyard at Seppeltsfield, South Australia</td> - <td class="center">”</td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#illus34">316</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="Part_I"><span class="gothic larger">Part I</span><br /> -<i>A STREAK THROUGH THE STATES</i></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_I_I">I<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>DUTIES AND DOLLARS</i></span></h3> - -<p>It was on the fifth night out from Southampton -that the threatening shadow of the American -Custom House began to fall over the company -in the saloon.</p> - -<p>One could see ladies talking nervously together. -The subject was the one most dear to the female -heart; but the pleasure of talking about “things” -was mingled—at least in the hearts of the uninitiated—with -an uneasiness which, in not a few -cases, amounted to actual fear; for that evening -certain forms had been distributed by the purser, -and these forms contained questions calculated to -search out the inmost secret of every dress-basket -and Saratoga trunk on board.</p> - -<p>By the time you had filled in the blanks, if -you had done it honestly—as, of course, no one -except myself did—you had not only given a -detailed list of your wardrobe, but you had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -enumerated in a separate schedule every article -that you had bought new in Europe.</p> - -<p>You were graciously permitted to possess one -hundred dollars’, or, say, twenty pounds’ worth -of personal effects. If you had more than that -you were treated as a commercial traveller importing -dry goods, and had to pay duty in -case you sold them again, and thus came into -competition with the infant industries of Uncle -Sam.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the schedule was a solemn declaration -that you had given your wardrobe away to -the last pocket-handkerchief, and the next day you -had to repeat this declaration verbally to an urbane -official, who was polite enough to look as though -he believed you.</p> - -<p>When it came to the actual examination in the -wharf-shed, I found myself wondering where Uncle -Sam’s practical commonsense came in. You had -to take a paper, given to you on board in exchange -for your declaration, to a desk at which sat -a single clerk.</p> - -<p>As there were about four hundred first- and -second-class passengers, this took some little time, -and provoked considerable language. When you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -had at length struggled to the desk the clerk gave -you a ticket, beckoned to a gentleman in uniform, -handed him your paper, and remarked:</p> - -<p>“Here, George, see to this.”</p> - -<p>In my case George seemed to have a pressing -engagement somewhere else, for he went off and -I never set eyes on him again. My modest effects, -a steamer trunk, a Gladstone-bag, and a camera-case, -lay frankly open to the gaze of all men in -cold neglect, while small mountains of trunks were -opened, their contents tickled superficially by the -lenient fingers of the examiners, closed again, and -carted off.</p> - -<p>A couple of hours later, when I had interviewed -every official in the shed on the subject of the -missing George, and made a general nuisance of -myself, I was requested to take my things out and -not worry—or words to that effect. Outside I -met a fellow-voyager, who informed me that he and -his wife had taken thirteen trunks full of dutiable -stuff through without paying a cent of duty—at -least not to the Exchequer of the United States -Customs.</p> - -<p>He had been through before and knew his man. -It may have cost him ten dollars, but Uncle Sam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -would have wanted three or four hundred; wherefore -it is a good thing to know your man when -you land at New York with a wife and a two -years’ wardrobe.</p> - -<p>From this it will be seen that there was none of -that turning out of trunks and shameless, heartless -exhibition of things that should only be seen in -shop windows before they are bought, which one -heard so much about a few years ago. That is -practically stopped now, and it was stopped by the -officials themselves.</p> - -<p>They didn’t scatter precious, if unmentionable, -garments around the shed floor out of pure devilry -or levity of soul. The American official is like -any other; he wants to earn his salary as easily as -possible, and the new tariff regulations gave him a -tremendous lot of work, so he took counsel with -himself and came to the astute conclusion that -if he systematically outraged the tenderest sentiments -of the wives and daughters of millionaires, -senators, congressmen, political bosses, and other -American sovereigns for a certain period either the -regulations would have to be considerably watered -down or there would be another civil war.</p> - -<p>His conclusions were perfectly correct. The big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -customs officials faced the music stubbornly for a -time; then invitations to dinner and the most select -social functions began to fall off. Their wives and -daughters lost many opportunities of showing off -the pretty frocks which they had smuggled in -from Europe.</p> - -<p>Election time came near—in other words, -Judgment Day for every American official from -the Atlantic to the Pacific. It was openly hinted -in high places that the authors of such outrages -on America’s proudest matrons and most dainty -maidens were soulless brutes who weren’t fit to -hold office, and then the United States Customs -Department came down on its knees, kissed the -hems of the garments it had scattered around the -shed floor, and, as usual, the Eternal Feminine had -conquered.</p> - -<p>In Paul Leicester Ford’s delightful word-picture -of American political life, “The Honourable Peter -Sterling,” the worthy Peter delivers a dinner-table -homily on the immorality of five hundred first-class -steamboat passengers conspiring to defraud the -revenue of their native land by means of false -declarations such as most of us signed on the -<i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> - -<p>I was surprised to find that Peter, a shrewd -politician and successful ward-boss, knew so little -of human nature.</p> - -<p>Never from now till the dawn of the millennium -abolishes the last Customs House will men and -women be convinced that it is immoral or even -wrong to smuggle. It is simply a game between -the travellers and the officials. If they are caught -they pay. If not the man smokes his cigars with -an added gusto, and the woman finds a new delight -in wearing a dainty costume which all the arts of -all the Worths and all the Redferns on earth could -never give her—and of such were the voyagers -on the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>Before I got to bed that night I had come to -the conclusion that no country was ever better -described in a single phrase than America was by -poor G. W. Steevens when he called it the Land -of the Dollar.</p> - -<p>From the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from Maine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -to Mexico, you simply can’t get away from it. In -other countries people talk about money,—generally -and incidentally about pounds, or francs, or marks, -or pesetas,—but in America it is dollars first, last, -and all the time.</p> - -<p>Where an Englishman would say a man was keen -on making money, an American would say “he’s -out for dollars.” On this side we speak of making -a fortune, over there it’s “making a pile,”—of -dollars understood,—and so on.</p> - -<p>But there is another sense in which the pungent -phrase is true. I am not going to commit myself -to the assertion that everything in the States is a -dollar, because there are many things which cost -more than a dollar. There are also some—a few—which -cost less, such as newspapers and tramcar -tickets, but, as a rule, when you put your hand into -your pocket a dollar comes out—often several—and -you don’t have much change.</p> - -<p>Thus, when I had released my baggage from -the lax grip of the United States Customs, I took -a carriage ticket at the desk. Three dollars. In -London the fare from the station to the hotel would -have been about half a crown. The gentleman who -put my luggage up received a quarter. If I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -offered him less he would probably have declined -it and asked me, with scathing irony, to come and -have a drink at his expense.</p> - -<p>Still, that carriage was a carriage, and not a cab; -well-hung, well-cushioned, and well-horsed. In -fact, I was not many hours in New York before -I began to see that, although you pay, you get. -Everything from a banquet to a boot-shine is -done in better style than it is in England.</p> - -<p>“We are very full, sir,” said the clerk at the -Murray Hill Hotel; “but I can give you a four-dollar -room. I daresay you’ll like a comfortable -night after your passage.”</p> - -<p>I thought sixteen shillings and eightpence a good -deal for a room, but I found that the room was -really a suite, a big bed-sitting-room, beautifully -furnished, with bathroom, lavatory, and clothes-cupboard -attached.</p> - -<p>The next morning I had a shine which cost fivepence, -but that shine lasted all the way to San -Francisco. The boots simply needed dusting and -they were as bright as ever. Then I went and had -a shilling shave, and found that the American shave -is to the English one as a Turkish bath is to a -cold tub; and so on throughout. You spend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -more money, far more, than in England, but you -get a great deal more for it. But to this rule -there is one great and glorious exception, and -that is railway travelling.</p> - -<p>I presented my ordinary first-class tickets at the -booking-office in the Central Depôt, and then came -from the lips of the keen-faced, but most polite -and obliging clerk, the inevitable “five dollars -please—and if you’re going on the South-Western -Limited it will be one dollar more. You see this -is one of the fastest trains in the world, and we -keep it select. You’ll have a section to yourself -all the way.”</p> - -<p>I checked my trunk in the baggage-office and -said a thankful good-bye to it for three thousand -two hundred miles, after buying a new strap for it, -which, curiously enough, was not a dollar, but -seventy-five cents. Then I took possession of my -cosy corner in the long, luxuriously furnished car -to be whirled over a thousand miles of iron road -in twenty-three hours and a half.</p> - -<p>Soon after we had pulled out of New York and -the bogey wheels had begun the deep-voiced hum -which was to last day and night for the inside of -a week, I saw something which struck me again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -and again in the run across the continent. A -big American city is like a robe of cloth of gold -with a frayed and tattered border of dirty cotton. -Its outskirts are unutterably ragged and squalid.</p> - -<p>A few minutes after you leave the splendid -streets and squares of Central New York you are -running through a region of mean and forlorn-looking -wooden huts—really, they can hardly be -called houses—crowded up together in terraces or -blocks beside broad, unpaved roads, which may -some day be streets, or standing in little lots of -their own, scraps of unkempt land, too small for -fields, and as much like gardens as a dumping-ground -for London rubbish. All the houses wanted -painting, and most of them repairing. The whole -aspect was one of squalid poverty and mean -discomfort.</p> - -<p>But these soon fell behind the flying wheels -of the South-Western Limited. Another region -was entered, a region of stately pleasure-houses -standing amidst broad, well-wooded lands, and -presently the great train swept with a stately swing -round a sloping curve, and then began one of -the loveliest railway runs in the world, the seventy-mile-an-hour -spin along the level, four-track road<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -which lies beside the eastern bank of the broad -and beautiful Hudson.</p> - -<p>It was during this delicious spin that I went -into the smoking-room to have a pipe and something -else. I sat down in a seat opposite to -a man whose appearance stamped him as one of -those quietly prosperous Americans who just -go to their work and do it with such splendid -thoroughness that the doing of it saves their -country from falling into the social and political -chaos that some other Americans would make of -it if they could.</p> - -<p>He gave me a light, and we began talking. -If it had been in an English train we might have -glared at each other for five hundred miles without -a word. As it was, we had begun to know each -other in half an hour. We talked about the -Hudson, and the Catskills, and West Point, and -then about the train, and so the talk came back -to the inevitable dollar.</p> - -<p>“A gorgeous train this,” I said; “far and away -beyond anything we have in England. But,” -I added with uncalculating haste, “it seems to -me pretty expensive.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me,” he said, “I don’t think you’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -figured it out. You’re going to San Francisco, -thirty-two hundred miles from here. All the -way you have a comfortable train,”—that was his -lordly way of putting it,—“you have servants to -wait on you day and night, a barber to shave you, -a stenographer to dictate your letters to, and -you never need get off the train except for the -change at Chicago.</p> - -<p>“When you get to San Francisco you will -find that the total cost works out at about three -cents a mile, say three halfpence. I believe the -legal first-class fare in England—without sleeping-accommodation, -in fact without anything you have -here except a place to sit down in—is threepence -a mile.”</p> - -<p>I didn’t make the calculation, because when -we subsequently exchanged cards I found I was -talking to the President of the Mercantile Transportation -Company, a man who knows just about -as much of travel by land and sea as there is to -be learnt.</p> - -<p>After this we got on to railroading generally. -I learnt much, and in the learning thereof came -to think even less of British railway methods -than I had done before. I learnt why it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -cheaper to carry grain a thousand miles from -Chicago to New York than it is to carry it -a couple of hundred miles from Yorkshire to -London; why cattle can be carried over thousands -of miles of prairie at less cost than over hundreds -of miles of English railroads; and many other things -all bearing on the question of the dollar and -how to save it—for your true American is just -as keen on saving as he is lavish in spending—which -I thought might well be taught and still -better learnt on this side.</p> - -<p>It was during this conversation that I had an -example of that absolutely disinterested kindness -with which the wanderer so often meets in America -and so seldom in England.</p> - -<p>“By the way,” said Mr. President, “have you -taken your berth from Chicago in the Overland -Limited?”</p> - -<p>“No,” I said; “I was told I could telegraph -for it from Buffalo.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, “you know the train is -limited and will probably be pretty full. There’s -quite a number of people going west just now. -However, don’t trouble; I guess I can fix that -for you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now, I had never seen this man before, and -the probability was that I should never meet him -again, and yet when I got to the North-Western -Depôt at Chicago there was a section in the -centre of one of the newest and most luxurious -cars reserved for me.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Griffith?” said the clerk, as I presented -my transportation tickets. “That’s all right, sir. -Your section’s engaged. Here’s your check, -‘2 D, San Vincente.’ Got a porter? Well, you -can have your baggage taken down right away. -She pulls out 3.30 sharp. Seventeen dollars, -please.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_I_II">II<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>CONCERNING CITIES, WITH A PARENTHESIS -ON MANNERS</i></span></h3> - -<p>I have seen cities in many parts of the world, -from the smoke-grimed, flame-crowned, cloud-canopied -hives of industry of middle and Northern -England, of Belgium, and Northern France, to the -marble palaces and broad-verandahed bungalows -which sleep among the palm-groves by the white -shores of tropic seas; but never—north, south, -east, or west—have I seen a collection of human -habitations and workshops so utterly hopeless, so -irretrievably ugly as that portion of Chicago about -which I wandered during my three hours’ wait -for the starting of the Overland Limited.</p> - -<p>The roadways—really one cannot call them streets—would -of themselves have been far inferior to -similar streets in Manchester or Wolverhampton, -because here at least the streets are paved. In -Chicago they are not.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>Many years ago an attempt seems to have -been made to pave them, but the stones have -sunk, and the mud and slush have come up, and -every variety of filth covers them except about -the lines over which the tramcars rush, hissing -and clanging on their headlong way. But the -roadways of Chicago are also tunnels, for over -them stretches the solid, continuous iron arch of -the overhead railway whence come the roar of -wheels, the snorting of steam-engines, the shriek -of whistles, and the wailing groan of the brakes.</p> - -<p>Now and then you reach a crossing or open -place where you emerge from the tunnel, out of -semi-darkness into comparative light, and you see -vast shapes of stiff-angled, steep-roofed buildings -lifting their sixteenth or seventeenth storey up -into the murky, smoke-laden sky. They are part -and parcel of Chicago—huge, ugly, dirty, and exceedingly -useful.</p> - -<p>There are big buildings in New York, but they -are to the Chicago buildings as palaces compared -to factories. There are others in San Francisco -which are merely eccentricities and not altogether -unpicturesque, but the Chicago sky-scraper is a -sort of architectural fungus, an insulting excrescence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -from the unoffending earth, which makes you long -to get big guns and shoot at it. Still, it is useful, -and serves the purpose for which it was built, and -that is why Chicago is not only content with it, -but even proud of it.</p> - -<p>Believing many things that were said to me -afterwards, I doubt not that Chicago, elsewhere and -other than I saw it, is one of the finest and most -beautiful cities on earth. Far be it from me to -believe otherwise, since some day I hope to see -it again; and he who thinks ill of Chicago will -have about as good a time there as a man who -thinks well of New York.</p> - -<p>Still, common honesty obliges me to say that the -impression which I took away with me in the -Overland Limited was one of vastness, uncleanness, -and ugliness, redeemed only by that sombre, Plutonic -magnificence which seems to be the one reward -of an absolute and unhesitating sacrifice to blank -utility.</p> - -<p>And yet I did find one view in Chicago which -qualified this, and that was from the western end -of the Lake Front. The ragged steamboat piers, -the long rows of posts marking the shoals, the piles -of the groynes, one or two dilapidated and almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -prehistoric steamboats, and blistered, out-of-date -yachts laid up along the lake wall, the stately sweep -of houses, the huge bulks of the factories in the -east, with their towering chimneys pouring out -clouds of smoke and steam—these, with the smooth -water of the horizonless lake, made a pleasanter -mental photograph to take away with one than the -unlovely roaring streets and the hideous wealth-crammed -stores and warehouses.</p> - -<p>From Chicago to Ogden the route of the Union -Pacific is about as uninteresting as the central -section of the Canadian Pacific, only here the towns -and villages are more frequent and the country -is naturally far more advanced in cultivation.</p> - -<p>Cities, of course, are numerous. They vary in -size from two to fifty thousand inhabitants; but -structurally they are all the same—tin-roofed houses -of weather-board, banks and offices, stores and -factories, and elevators of brick ranged along wide -and mostly unpaved roads with plank side-walks.</p> - -<p>No apparent attempt has been made at order or -uniformity. Where a big building is wanted there -it is put, and where a little wooden shanty serves -its purpose there it remains.</p> - -<p>There is plenty of elbow-room, and so the village<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -spreads itself into the city in a quite promiscuous -fashion, something like a boy left to grow up into -a man according to his own sweet will. But be it -well noted that he becomes a man all the same, -for every one of these cities, big or small, wood or -brick, or both, was teeming with life and humming -with business.</p> - -<p>One of the many visible signs of this could be -seen in the number of telegraph-wires slung on -huge unsightly poles running up both sides of the -unkempt streets; in fact, an American inland city -of five thousand inhabitants seems to do a good -deal more telegraphing and telephoning than an -English town of fifty thousand.</p> - -<p>One other feature of the villages, towns, and -“cities” along the route struck me rather forcibly. -Nearly all of them, big and little, have very fine -stations—I beg pardon, depôts. In fact, the practice -seems to be to build a fine, big depôt and -let the city grow up to it. Thus, for instance, -at Omaha City, where we had a half-hour’s wait -changing horses and looking out for hot boxes, I -found the depôt built of grey granite, floored with -marble, and entered by two splendid twin staircases -curving down through a domed and pillared hall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -to spacious waiting-rooms and offices opening on to -a platform about a quarter of a mile long.</p> - -<p>It was the sort of station you would expect to -find in a go-ahead English or European city that -possessed streets and squares and houses to match. -Now Omaha is go-ahead, and big, and busy, but for -all you can see of it from the train and station it -is scattered promiscuously around hill and dale, -and the palatial station itself stands in the midst of -a waste of sloppy roads traversed as usual by the -hurrying electric trams, and bordered by little, -shabby, ill-assorted wooden houses which don’t -look worth fifty pounds apiece. For all that, -Omaha is one of the busiest and wealthiest cities -of the Middle States.</p> - -<p>At Ogden, where the iron roads from every part -of the continent seem to meet, and where big, -high-shouldered engines from Mexico and Texas -whistled their greetings to brother monsters from -Maine and California, I felt sorely tempted to stop -off and take the thirty-mile run to Salt Lake -City, but</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“The steamer won’t wait for the train,”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">and I should have risked missing my boat to -Honolulu—added to which I had made some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -friends on the train who were going to show me -round San Francisco in case I had a day or so -there, so I read my Kipling instead, and saw the -Mormon city with keener eyes than mine.</p> - -<p>By the way, American manners appear to have -altered very much for the better since Kipling -made his journey “From Sea to Sea.” I traversed -a good deal of the same ground, and stayed at -some of the same hotels that he did, but I never -met with more straight-spoken, dignified courtesy -in any part of the world.</p> - -<p>I never saw hotel clerks who blazed with -diamonds, or who treated me like a worm. As a -matter of fact I never met more polite, obliging, -well-informed men in any similar position. Certainly -they could give many points to hotel -managers and clerks in England and Australia.</p> - -<p>The waiters, too, both white and black, must -have vastly improved. The white waiter in -America, as I found him, is quite the smartest, -most intelligent, and, in his own manly way, the -most polite of his class—a class very well typified -by the bugler of the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>. His coloured -<i lang="fr">confrère</i> does his work deftly, silently, and well.</p> - -<p>Kipling relates a conversation which took place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -in the Palace Hotel between a coloured waiter and -himself, in which George—every servant in America -whose name you don’t know is George—made -the remark:</p> - -<p>“Oh ——! Wages like that wouldn’t keep -me in cigars!”</p> - -<p>I stayed at the Palace in San Francisco, and -from what I heard and saw I should say that a -waiter who made a remark like that nowadays -would very soon find that cigars were an unattainable -luxury to a man out of work. He -would be “fired” on the spot.</p> - -<p>My own experience certainly is that the -Americans are the politest people on earth, or, -perhaps I ought to say, the most courteous, because -any one can be polite if it pays him. Only a -gentleman can be courteous. They have learnt, -apparently at the hands of Mother Nature herself, -that subtle blending of politeness and dignity which -we call courtesy.</p> - -<p>For instance, an American waiter, or barber, or -shoeblack says “Sir” quite differently to anybody -else in the world, except perhaps the American -gentleman who may be worth his millions. There -is no suspicion of cringing or inferiority about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -it, whether it comes from the shoeblack or the -millionaire. It seems to say equally from the -one as from the other “our circumstances may -be different, but we are both of us gentlemen -in our way, and so we will behave to each other -as gentlemen,” and politeness of that sort is the -pleasantest of all politeness.</p> - -<p>Now, in Australia—but Australia is still seven -thousand miles away across the broad Pacific, so -we will talk about that later on. Meanwhile a -couple of iron giants have been harnessed to the -long line of palace-cars, the mails have been -exchanged from train to train, the bells begin to -swing and clang out soft musical warning notes, -the mellow whistles sing good-bye from engine -to engine; “all aboard” is the word, and the -Overland Limited threads its way through the -maze of shining metals, and heads away westward -to where a long, gleaming line of silver backed by -a black screen of mountains tipped with diamonds -shows the position of the Inland Sea of the -Wilderness.</p> - -<p>Salt Lake, the Dead Sea of the Mormon Land -of Promise, is smaller now by a good many scores -of square miles than it was some thirty years ago,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -when the Southern Pacific was connected up with -the Union Pacific, and so completed the iron chain -which links the Hudson with the Sacramento.</p> - -<p>For three or four hours the train runs over -embankments surrounded by vast salt mud-flats, -which in those days were covered by the fast-shrinking -waters. It is the old story, the story -of nearly all these upland desert regions. Every -year less rain falls in the valleys and less snow -on the mountains. As the clouds grow thinner -and fewer the sun blazes hotter and sucks up -more and more vapour, and so year by year the -waters of the Great Salt Lake are getting less -great and more salt.</p> - -<p>With all due deference to American susceptibility -on such points, I must say that the scenery -of the Rockies which one sees from the windows -of a car on the Union Pacific does not begin to -compare with the scenery along the Canadian Pacific -line. Even Echo Cañon and Weber Cañon, the -show places of the line, struck me as comparatively -insignificant when I remembered the splendours -of Eagle Pass and the grandeurs of Bear Cañon.</p> - -<p>But when the wilderness of Nevada had been -cast behind our flying wheels, and we began to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -climb up the wooded foothills of the Sierra Nevada—that -snow-crowned mountain wall which divides -one of the dreariest from one of the most beautiful -regions on earth, the Great American Desert from -“God’s own country”—it was time to sit up and -use both your eyes and do your best to look out -at both sides of the car at once.</p> - -<p>It was here that the last and most beautiful -stretch of the thirty-two-hundred-mile run began. -Up the straight grades and round and round the -twice and thrice-tiered loops the great train twined -and circled; now skirting the shore of a still, -pine-fringed lake, filling the bottom of a mountain -valley; and now burrowing under the long snow-sheds, -groaning under their weight of snow far -away up the mountain-side, and so, mile by mile -of distance, and yard by yard of height, the top -of the Great Divide was reached.</p> - -<p>The iron horses took a rest and a long drink -at Alta, the summit station, and then,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Down the valley with our guttering breaks a-squeal,”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">we started on our way to that lovely land which -lies between the mountains and the sea.</p> - -<p>The snow vanished; first from the sides of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -the track, and then from the gullies between the -hills round which we twined. The mist-clouds -rolled away behind us up the wooded slopes. -The snow-peaks far beyond gleamed out above -them, and ahead and below the dropping sun -shone on a land of broken red hills, and, beyond -them, over a vast level stretch of green grass and -fruit-land, with a broad river flowing through it.</p> - -<p>Beyond this again it glimmered far and faintly -on a long streak of flickering silver. The red -hills were the native land of Truthful James; the -green plains below were the Valley of the Sacramento; -and the shimmering silver in the far distance -was the Pacific Ocean, whose character I propose -hereafter to revise.</p> - -<p>Then we rushed down through the last cañon -out on to an open slope, and pulled up at Red -Gulch. That is not its name on the time-tables, -but it ought to be.</p> - -<p>A freight truck had got off the line about two -miles lower down. So, instead of a stop of ten -minutes, we had to wait two hours, which I -thankfully employed in making a little excursion -through Bret Harte Land, the land of red earth -and yellow gold, of towering pines and flower-filled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -valleys, of deliciously mingled beauty and -ugliness; where the skies are as blue as they are -above the Isles of the South, and the air seems -like what one would expect to breathe in Paradise.</p> - -<p>Climbing down from the car was like getting -out of the world of reality, as represented by the -Overland Limited (which, remember, had brought -me from Chicago) into the Garden of Romance. I -had left the comfortable but emphatically materialistic -gorgeousness of the Pulman Palace-car, and I -was actually standing on the same earth that -Jack Hamlyn had trodden, and I was breathing -the same air that he had inspired when he sang -that famous song.</p> - -<p>All around I could see gashes of red amid the -green and brown of the slopes along the river -banks—just such gulches as the one Tennessee -lived in with his immortal partner. Somewhere -up in the dark valleys through which the Overland -Limited had just thundered the Outcasts of Poker -Flat had found their last refuge, and John Oakhurst, -after pinning that inscribed Deuce of Spades -to the pine-tree with his bowie-knife, had passed -in his checks like a gambler and a gentleman.</p> - -<p>In just such a little schoolhouse as stood near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -the depôt, Mliss had flung down her astronomy -book and paralysed one part of her audience and -ecstasied the other by that famous heresy of hers -re the Miracle of Joshua.</p> - -<p>“It’s a damned lie. I don’t believe a word -of it.”</p> - -<p>Down yonder, in the lowlands across the river, -not very far from its junction with a tributary, -might have been North Fork and Poverty Flat; -and just such a red hole as I found a hundred -yards or so from the track might have been the -forty-foot grave into which Dow descended “with -a derringer hid in his breast,” making his last -despairing search for water—and finding gold.</p> - -<p>The clang of the bell and the soft “hoo-too” of -the whistle called me back out of my dream as I -was having a drink at just such a bar as the gallant -Colonel Starbottle might have slaked his immortal -thirst at. A few moments more and the tireless -wheels had begun to revolve again, and we slid -down the curving slopes leading to the broad vale -of the Sacramento.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus2"> -<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Two Snapshots up and down the Rio Sacramento, taken as the train was -crossing the bridge.</p> -</div> - -<p>On the way to the Golden Land I had fallen -into conversation with a young Californian, a -fine specimen of the Western race, of whom his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -country might well be proud, as he was proud -of it.</p> - -<p>“It’s God’s own country, sir. And when you’ve -seen more of it you’ll think so,” he said, as we -swept across the fat, fertile farmlands which lay -beneath the foot-hills. “You’ve travelled a bit, -you tell me; but I guess if you go from end to -end of this country you’ll say you never struck -one like it.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I said, “I sha’n’t see much of it this -time, I’m afraid; but if I ever do get the chance -of seeing it right through I’ll tell you whether I -think it’s better than England.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he replied reflectively, “I’ve an uncle -who went to England, and he came back, right to -home here, and said it was the most beautiful place -God had ever made—but then, you see, it was new -to him. He hadn’t been over there before.”</p> - -<p>I thought that this wasn’t a bad place to change -the subject, so I asked him to have a drink, and -switched off on to purely local topics. We crossed -the big bridge over the Sacramento river, stopped -a few minutes in Sacramento City, and then rolled -on to Porta Costa station.</p> - -<p>I have heard people say that they have gone from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -New York to San Francisco by rail. This is -one of those sayings which are wanting in certain -qualifications of fact to make them unimpeachable. -It is nearly true, but not quite.</p> - -<p>The train, weighing I am afraid to say how many -tons, ran into Porta Costa, which is a sort of detachable -depôt on the estuary of the Sacramento river. -When it stopped I got out of the car to have a look -round. There was a “local” and a freight train -lying alongside of us. There was also a vast superstructure -running over the station, and in these I -noticed two huge engine-beams slowly swinging.</p> - -<p>Shortly after this I became aware of the fact that -this piece of the depôt had gone adrift, and was, -calmly and without any perceptible motion, carrying -our train and the two others across the river to -the depôt on the Oakland side.</p> - -<p>I had been four and a half days in America and -so I didn’t feel surprised. All the same, it was -sufficiently wonderful for admiration even there. I -climbed back into the car and enjoyed the sensation -of travelling by rail and sea at the same time, and -then I got out again to see how the thing was -done.</p> - -<p>The piece of the Porta Costa station on which we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -were floating steered into another station. The rails -on the steam-driven platform were fitted on to other -rails on <i lang="la">terra firma</i>; the engine-bell clanged; the -whistle tooted in its soft, melodious way; and the -Overland Limited steamed from sea to land in -the most commonplace fashion possible.</p> - -<p>The next stop was at Oakland, on the eastern -shore of the bay. Opposite glittered the lights of -the Golden City. Here we detrained, and, having -crossed on the biggest ferry in the world, we embarked -on the biggest ferry-boat in the world—California, -like the rest of the States, is great on -big things—and an hour or so later I found myself -installed at the Palace Hotel, which is also believed -by all good Californians to be the biggest hotel in -the world.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_I_III">III<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE QUEEN OF THE GOLDEN STATE</i></span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">From a Guide-book—with Annotations and an Impression -of Chinatown</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Serene, indifferent to Fate,</div> -<div class="verse">Thou sittest at the Western Gate.”</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>San Francisco—no well-bred American, -unless he comes from Chicago, ever says -’Frisco—is a delicious combination of wealth and -wickedness, splendour and squalor, vice, virtue, -villainy, beauty, ugliness, solitude and silence, rush -and row—in short, San Francisco is just San -Francisco, and that’s all there is to it, as they say -there. It was discovered and settled by Franciscan -friars. It would be no place for them now.</p> - -<p>It is also quite a considerable city as to size. -This is what the local guide-book says:</p> - -<p>“It is bounded on the west by the Pacific Ocean, -on the north by Golden Gate Strait and the Bay -of San Francisco, on the east by the bay, and on -the south by San Mateo County.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p>One would naturally expect a city bounded on -the west by the Pacific Ocean to have a considerable -water frontage, some nine thousand miles, in fact. -This, however, is not quite the case; it is only -the American guide-booker’s way of putting it.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, San Francisco is a most -picturesque city of some three hundred thousand -inhabitants, and it is spread over the bay shore and -the adjacent hills to the extent of about twenty-seven -thousand acres. It is the eighth city in size -in the United States, and the third in commercial -rank, but it is not jealous either of New York or -Chicago. It is the capital of God’s country, and -with that it is modestly content. A page advertisement -of a magazine in the guide-book begins -with the query:</p> - -<p>“Are you interested in God’s country?”</p> - -<p>It doesn’t quite say Heaven, but the implied -analogy is obvious.</p> - -<p>Still, even San Francisco has to keep its end -up, and it is just a little sore on the subject of -earthquakes.</p> - -<p>“These,” says my guide-booker, “are of rare -occurrence. For the past half century there are -not known to have been more than half a dozen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -lives lost from the effects of earthquakes; while -in the New England and Middle States and in -the Mississippi Valley hundreds are killed annually -by sunstroke, lightning, hurricanes, and tornadoes, -in addition to the millions of dollars’ worth of -property destroyed by tornadoes and blizzards.”</p> - -<p>Down east they say that the drink and other -things you get in the West do all that these can -do, and a bit over. This, of course, is mere -jealousy; and to this San Francisco is as serenely -indifferent as she is of Fate.</p> - -<p>She also seems to be indifferent to everything -else. Even dollars. This doesn’t sound true, but -it is. The splendid recklessness of the Argonauts -of the fifties still glows in the blood of the true -San Franciscan.</p> - -<p>Quite a short time ago a man worth a couple -of million dollars—a comparative pauper in a -place where they think nothing of paying three -millions for a house—gambled every cent he had -on the success of a certain more or less honest -deal. A friend of his had interests the other way, -and dumped down more millions to block the -deal. He blocked it. They met at their club the -evening after the smash, and conversed as follows:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Well, how goes it?”</p> - -<p>“D——d bad.”</p> - -<p>“In that—deal?”</p> - -<p>“Steal, I call it.”</p> - -<p>“How much?”</p> - -<p>“Whole caboodle! Want a janitor up yonder?”</p> - -<p>“Janitor—no. I want a nervy man to come in -with me. Come?”</p> - -<p>“I’m there.”</p> - -<p>And now those two men are piling up millions -together instead of betting them against each other. -That’s San Francisco.</p> - -<p>The Golden City is entered naturally enough -by a Golden Gate. It is as proud of its Golden -Gate and bay as Sydney is of “our harbour,” and -that is saying a good deal. All the same, Sydney -doesn’t quite like California calling itself God’s -country.</p> - -<p>My guide-booker says, “The entrance through -the Golden Gate cannot be surpassed.” If he -said that inside Sydney Heads he would be thrown -to the sharks. And, as a matter of fact, having -said that which is not the truth he would in some -measure deserve his fate. Moreover, outside the -Golden Gate there is a bar, of which more anon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -There are other bars in the city which are safer -except for millionaires, because you can’t spend -less than twenty-five cents in them. A drunk -in San Francisco is therefore an undertaking not -to be entered on lightly.</p> - -<p>Talking of millionaires naturally suggests Nob -Hill, the millionaire quarter of the Golden City. -It is veritably a place of palaces. I have never -seen so many splendid houses collected in such -a small area. Their price in bricks and mortar -alone runs anywhere from two to four millions, -and yet it is a literal fact that the streets between -them are grass-grown. If I had five dollars I -should be inclined to bet them against five cents -that this is a combination which no other city -on earth can show.</p> - -<p>The reason, of course, is that on the mountainous -streets which the cable-cars climb traffic of any other -sort is practically impossible. No good American -walks more than a block or so on a quite level -street, and you might as well ask him to walk -up the side of a house as to climb Nob Hill.</p> - -<p>Wherefore the cable-cars rush solitary up and -down through a wilderness of stone-paved, grass-grown -streets, flanked by palaces whose owners,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -I presume, have horses and carriages. How they -get them down to the city and up again is one -of the two or three unsolved problems which I -brought away with me. Another of these is: -Why did the practical American genius think -it worth while to pave the precipices which they -call streets round Nob Hill?</p> - -<p>Talking about streets reminds me that they don’t -say street much in San Francisco. There isn’t -time. They just mention the name. This is the -way my guide-booker speaks somewhat flippantly -of the streets in Millionairetown:</p> - -<p>“Upon taking the car you immediately pass -through the banking and insurance district, climb -up one of the steepest hills of the city to Nob -Hill, passing on the left at the corner of Powell -the late Senator Stanford’s residence, corner of -Mason, the late Mark Hopkins’ residence.... -Corner of Taylor, the residence of the late A. M. -Towne.... Corner of Jones, Mr. Whittles’.... -Corner of Taylor, the Huntington residence, while -opposite is the residence of the late Charles Croker, -adjoining, and on the corner of Jones is the -residence of his son, W. H. Croker.”</p> - -<p>“Powell” has a cable one and a quarter inches in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -diameter, twenty-six thousand feet long, and weighing -sixty-six thousand six hundred and twenty-five -pounds. Some San Franciscan cables last three -months. This was expected to last about five -weeks. You can understand how terrific the clutch -and the wear and tear must be when you sit down -on the front seat of a car carrying thirty or forty -people, and see a hill half as steep again as the one -from Richmond up to the Star and Garter rush -down underneath you at about sixteen miles an -hour. It was here that the newly landed Chinaman -saw his first cable-car and made the historic remark:</p> - -<p>“No pushee, no pullee; all same go like hellee,” -which brings me, no very great distance, only a few -blocks in fact, from Millionaireville to Chinatown.</p> - -<p>Chinatown, San Francisco, is a city within a city. -Go through it by night as I did with one who -knows its inmost secrets, and you will find that it -is also a cancer in the body corporate of a fair -city (which is itself one of the most politely and -delightfully wicked on earth), a foul blot on a fair -land, a smudge of old-world filth across a page -written by the most nervous hands and the keenest -brains that modern civilisation has produced.</p> - -<p>Geographically, as San Francisco is bounded on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -the west by the Pacific Ocean, etc., Chinatown is -bounded by “California” and “Pacific,” “Kearny” -and “Stockton.” It has a population of ten -thousand Mongolians, and an unknown number -of Americans and Europeans, men and women, who -have lost caste so hopelessly that they can no longer -live among their own kind. The men certainly -would not be considered fit society even for an -American politician.</p> - -<p>As for the women—well you see most of them -painted and powdered and tricked out in scanty, -tawdry finery, sitting in little rooms behind lattices -open on to the street, and opposite these the -wayfarer, western or eastern, European or American, -Jap or Chinaman, may stand and peer in. There -are whole streets of these latticed rooms, and the -women are of all nationalities. The leaseholders -pay enormous rents for the houses, and their owners -are amongst the most respected citizens of San -Francisco.</p> - -<p>To these last it is only due to say that San -Francisco is also a city of magnificent churches, and -that it sends every month or so many missionaries, -male and female, travelling in palace-cars and the -saloons of steamers, to enlighten the heathen.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -Many of the good citizens aforesaid subscribe tens -of thousands of dollars both to the churches and -missions, and so, somehow, I suppose, they get -the account squared.</p> - -<p>During my stroll through this quarter of Chinatown, -I must admit that I saw very few Chinamen. -Of Japs, Tonkinese, Sandwich Islanders, niggers, -half castes, and the lower-down sort of American, -there were plenty, and business appeared to be -fairly brisk.</p> - -<p>The better-class San Franciscan doesn’t go to -Chinatown simply because he doesn’t need to. In -fact, as a distinguished and experienced resident -said to me after I had been through Chinatown:</p> - -<p>“My dear Mr. Griffith, Chinatown may be -pretty bad, but anyhow it’s run open and above -board, as anybody can go and see that likes to -take the trouble. If you were stopping here a -month instead of two or three days, I could show -you things that Chinatown isn’t a circumstance to. -You just roof all San Francisco in, and you’ll have -the biggest, dandiest, high-toned, up-to-date——”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I interrupted, “I see what you mean. -I heard about that in the train. Sorry I’m not -stopping.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>This of course only referred to decent, -Christian vice, the sort which some of the most -respectable of us practice without compunction as -long as we’re not found out. But when you have -eastern and western vice mixed, as you do in -Chinatown and San Francisco, you get a compound -calculated to raise the gorge of a graven image. -There are certain crimes which have no names, -and of such is the wickedness of Chinatown.</p> - -<p>Some one once said that the exterior of a house -was a pretty good criterion of the character of the -people who lived in it.</p> - -<p>This is certainly true of Chinatown. The streets -are narrow, ill-paved, and dirty. They also smell, -as the other streets in San Francisco don’t. Those -who have travelled know that the Purple East -has a smell entirely its own, just as a London -lodging-house has.</p> - -<p>Moreover, wherever a piece of the East like -Chinatown is transplanted into the West, you get -that smell, full-bodied and entire. Wherefore, -when I dived into Chinatown, San Francisco, I -remarked:</p> - -<p>“Why, is this King Street, Hongkong, or Malay -Street, Singapore?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<p>The East never changes, no matter whether it -is west or east. The restaurants, with their -gaudily carved beams and their queer windows, -with their upstairs rooms, containing priceless -treasures of Oriental art, their iron money-chests, -with half a dozen different locks on them, so -that they could only be opened in the presence -of all the partners in the concern; the paper -lanterns outside, the weird hieroglyphical signs, -the little joss tables in the inner compartments -of the shops, with their images and odorous -incense sticks—it was all the undiluted Orient, -ages old, in the midst of the newest of the -Occidental civilisations, one of those queer paradoxes -which go to show the looseness of our -most rigid principles and the shallowness of our -deepest convictions.</p> - -<p>After seeing sundry other things which would -be difficult of description in printable English, I -made a tour of a common lodging-house in Chinatown. -I have slept in a common lodging-house -in London, and I have seen humanity go to sleep -under many and various conditions; but I never -saw anything like this.</p> - -<p>Only a few hundred yards away was the Palace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -Hotel, with its rooms at four dollars a night; here -you could sleep for five cents,—twopence-halfpenny,—but -what sleeping!</p> - -<p>Little, dark, stifling cells—I have seen infinitely -better ones in prisons—lit through a little window -by a caged gas-jet on the flagged and iron-railed -footway which ran round each floor inside the -court within which these doss-houses are built. In -the cell a narrow wooden bedstead, covered with -unwashed rags and nothing else. Below in the -court, horrors unnameable.</p> - -<p>In the particular lodging-house which I visited -I was shown a big, dark, hideous apartment, a -perfect Black Hole, in which nine of the richest -merchants of Chinatown—and some of them are -very rich—were confined on ransom by the gang -known as the High-Binders for four months until -some died and the others paid. A remnant who -stuck out were released by the police and a detachment -of the United States Militia after a regular -siege. It was Alsatia over again, and yet it -happened less than a dozen years ago.</p> - -<p>As I was feeling my way down the stairs a figure -rose out of a corner on one of the landings, and I -heard a thin voice say:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Boss, gimme ten cents—I’m hungry!”</p> - -<p>It was the first time I had ever heard an American -beg, and it was quite a shock. Somehow, the -accent seemed to add an infinite pathos to the -words; perhaps because until now I had only -heard it from the lips of the proudly prosperous. -As I passed he turned his face after me, and the -light from a distant gas-lamp fell on it. It was -ghastly in its thinness and paleness, and yet it was -refined, and the voice, if not the speech, was -that of an educated man. I gave him a quarter, -and my guide said:</p> - -<p>“Guess that’ll give him two days in heaven. -It’s opium he’s hungry for. Bin there myself.”</p> - -<p>When we left the lodging-house we went a -few yards along the crowded, weirdly lit street -with its swarms of paper-lanterns, and then we -plunged down a narrow alley up which there drifted -a wave of stench, dominated by the acrid, penetrating -smell of opium.</p> - -<p>Presently I discovered that there were lower -depths in Chinatown even than the doss-house and -the brothel. Here were not houses, only miserable -sheds and shanties round an unpaved courtyard -foul beyond description.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>We went into some of the shanties. There stood -in each near the door a little bench, and on this -were two or three pipes and some tiny pots filled -with what looked like black-brown treacle. It was -opium, and each pot contained ten cents’ worth of -Heaven and Hell, the Heaven of oblivion opening -out into dreamland of Paradise, and then the -Hell of the awakening horror.</p> - -<p>Behind the bench squatted a half-clad skeleton, -pipe in hand and lamp beside him. He opened his -half-shut eyes as we entered, and murmured:</p> - -<p>“Wantee smoke, tlen cent!” Then he recognised -my guide, and added, “Ah, wantee look; all -light.” Then his eyelids fell again, he dipped his -needle in his pot, and got ready for another whiff.</p> - -<p>Round the walls of the shanty were two tiers of -bunks, just a few planks propped on bare poles. -There were ragged blankets on the boards, and on -these, with pipe and pot and lamp, lay other scantily -clad skeletons, some frizzling the globule of opium -in the flame, some rolling it on the flat top of the -pipe-bowl, others inhaling the magic blue smoke, -others motionless and lifeless, their souls, if they -had any, in paradise. One of the skeletons had -once been the figure of a white woman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> - -<p>Outside we found other hovels, but without -lamps. We struck matches in one, and found other -figures, some white and some yellow, huddled about -the filthy floor.</p> - -<p>“Free dosses,” said the guide, in his curt speech, -“they’re broke. Spent their last dime on a -smoke and got fired. After that it’s the poor-house -or the bay.”</p> - -<p>As we were picking our way out of the court, he -continued:</p> - -<p>“There’s a cocaine fiend here; better see him. -George, where are you?”</p> - -<p>The remains of a man tottered out from under a -shed. He was white, what there was left of him. -As soon as his miserable eyes caught sight of me -he began a whining, rambling account of how -he fell a victim to the drug; his stock narrative, -I suppose.</p> - -<p>Then he rolled up a dirty, ragged shirt sleeve, -and showed me a thing of skin and bone that had -once been an arm. It was pitted and seamed and -scratched from elbow to wrist. I had seen two or -three choice samples of leprosy and other diseases -that horrible night, but this made me nearer sick -than any of them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> - -<p>He had a strangely extemporised syringe of wood -and quill and sealing-wax, and a piece of hypodermic -needle in his other hand. He picked out a comparatively -vacant spot, drove in the needle, and -pushed. The skin swelled up in a little lump. It -may only have been water, certainly the syringe was -made ready for the occasion, but in a moment or -two he straightened up, his eye grew brighter, and -his voice stronger as he asked me for a dime to -buy a supper. I gave it to him, and he crept back -into his hovel. I went out into the street feeling -that I had been in Hell.</p> - -<p>We went to wind up the night at the Chinese -Theatre; but the performance was nearly over. -So, instead, we made a much more interesting excursion -through the subterranean dressing-rooms of -the company. Women never appear on Chinese -boards. So when we visited the ladies’ dressing-rooms -we found men and boys in female attire, -which, after all, doesn’t differ very much from the -male, standing before little mirrors painting and -powdering themselves and making-up their eyes and -eyebrows, and fixing themselves up generally for all -the world like an European actress.</p> - -<p>In other dressing-rooms we found mild-eyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -Celestials trying on or taking off masks hideous -enough to frighten even an American baby. The -rooms were merely little cellars connected by narrow, -low, stone passages. Their furniture was a little -table under the mirror, a big, brass-bound chest, -on which stood the inevitable opium apparatus, and -a low, dirty sleeping-couch.</p> - -<p>The whole scene was literally a piece of the -underworld. A few years ago it was veritably so -for unfortunates who were decoyed into its depths -and never got out again. That is done with now, -but for all that I felt better when I was out in -the street again.</p> - -<p>If I had dreamt that night, the dream would -certainly have been a nightmare. As it is, whenever -I hear any one letting his emotions loose -over the glories and triumphs of civilisation I think -of Chinatown, San Francisco, and remain in a -comparatively humble frame of mind.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="A_SEA-INTERLUDE"><i>A SEA-INTERLUDE</i><br /> -<span class="smaller">ACROSS THE PACIFIC ON A STEAM-ROLLER</span></h3> - -<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">With Incidental remarks on the Paradise thereof -and the Great Tropical Fraud</span>)</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p>By the end of my third day’s stay in San -Francisco a splendid sea-wind had blown the -smell of Chinatown out of my nostrils, and the -mephitic stuffiness of its streets and shops and -restaurants out of my lungs. I would fain have -stayed longer, for I was beginning to like the -Queen of the Golden Shore, and some of her -loyal subjects were beginning to like me, wherefore -there was every prospect of a goodly time -ahead for me. When your Californian likes -you he wants to give you his house, and his -town, and his clubs, and all that therein is, and -when he doesn’t he makes no secret of it.</p> - -<p>But for the man who has connections to make, -who has to hitch trains on to steamers and steamers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -on to trains, and get across the world in the -shortest possible time, even the temptations of -Californian hospitality must be in vain. So the -next morning I and my baggage were jolted over -a couple of miles of appalling streets—the one -defect in the beauty of the Golden City—at a -cost of three dollars and partial dislocation of the -vertebral column, to the wharf where a very polite -citizen was obliging enough to carry my steamer -trunk on board the <i>Nippon Maru</i>, for half a -dollar more.</p> - -<p>The crowd on the wharf was cosmopolitan enough -even for the Drive at Singapore, or the Praya -at Hongkong. Of course there were globe-trotters -like myself, speaking many tongues from Russian -to American; there were commercial travellers, -mostly German, with mountains of samples prepared -with great cunning to suit the varied tastes -of Hawaiians, Japs, and Chinese; there were -short, thick-set, flat-faced Japs in grey tweed -trousers, tail coats, and top hats, fresh from the -colleges and the counting-houses of the Eastern -States; there were grave, impassive Chinese, -mandarins and millionaires, in silken robes and -black skull-caps (with the little red button on top),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -with their wives and children also in silken vesture -and orthodoxly shapeless; and then there were -the coolies and sailors, Jap and Chinese, with a -sprinkling of wicked-eyed Lascars and mild Hindoos.</p> - -<p>To finish the picture, on the Government wharf -hard by a detachment of blue-clad, felt-hatted -United States troops were lining up for embarkation -on one of the transports bound for Manila.</p> - -<p>The good sea-wind did not seem quite so good -when we got outside the Golden Gate, for there -was a villainous sea running on the bar and through -the narrow passage between the tail of the bar -and the rock-bound coast, which is called the Main -Ship Channel. In a bad sea this is one of the -most ticklish pieces of navigation in the world.</p> - -<p>On the port side, as we went out, the breakers -were piling themselves up into mountains of foam -on the end of the bar a couple of hundred yards -away. To starboard, another two or three hundred -yards off, the big Pacific rollers were thundering -along the base of the cliffs, flinging their spume -and spindrift sky-high. The water in between -was just what one would expect it to be, and so -passenger after passenger, male and female, missionary -and mercantile, disappeared from the deck.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>I afterwards learnt that there was much suffering -below, and many of the victims did not reappear -till we reached the smooth, sunlit waters which -wash the shores of what the American tourist -agencies, since the Annexation, have christened -“the Paradise of the Pacific.” The Jap passengers -collapsed first of all.</p> - -<p>When I had made the closer acquaintance of -the <i>Nippon</i> I found that her sailors and quartermasters -and junior officers were Japs, while her -stewards and barmen were Chinese. The captain -and first officer were English, and the chief engineer, -of course, a Scotchman. I have often wondered -how many “Chiefs” on the Seven Seas are not -Scotch.</p> - -<p>The <i>Nippon</i>, like most Japanese mail-boats, was -cheap and gaudy. She gave evidence of her cheapness -by bursting a steam-pipe just as she was -fighting her way through the channel. It might -have been serious, but it wasn’t, though it -lengthened our passage by several hours, for the -wasted steam, instead of getting into the cylinders, -went roaring away in noisy impotence up to the -cloudy sky which overhung the alleged Pacific -Ocean.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus3"> -<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Diamond Head, Honolulu. The town lies in the bay about halfway between the two headlands.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the third night we got into smoother water -and stopped while the Chief and his assistants -repaired the damage. The next morning at breakfast -the deserted saloon began to fill up.</p> - -<p>So far I and a fellow-traveller from Chicago -had had the corner table to ourselves. By lunch-time -it was full of lady missionaries going to -China and Japan. For three or four of them that -was destined to be their last voyage. The nicest -and most pleasantly spoken of them was travelling -many thousands of miles to meet an unspeakable -fate at the hands of the Boxers.</p> - -<p>On the fourth morning great blue-grey masses -of land began to rise up to port and ahead of -us, and that day we spent steaming through -summer seas under a lovely sky, between shores -whose beauty may well have led Captain Cook’s -sailors to believe that they had at last reached the -long-dreamed-of Islands of the Blest.</p> - -<p>For all that, I must confess that I was disappointed -with the approach to Honolulu. Even -the most patriotic Hawaiian would, I think, agree -with me that the capital has not been placed either -on the most beautiful of the islands or in the -most picturesque position possible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<p>Still, you would travel far before you found a -fairer sea-flanked city than Honolulu itself. It -is a city of broad, tree-shaded streets, of buildings -which are dignified without being pretentious, of -palaces and Government offices built on a scale of -splendour which argues eloquently for the financial -conceptions of former monarchs and a belief in -their destinies which the sceptical Fates and the -American Republic have since declined to justify.</p> - -<p>There are, of course, many churches and schools -in Honolulu. Your Hawaiian takes his or her -religion in a cheerfully earnest fashion, and sings -hymns with keener delight than any one else on -earth. Still, the schools and churches of Honolulu -were not built wisely. Where everything else is -beautiful, softly lined, and tree-embowered, they -are hard, bare, and angular, even after the fashion -of the Ebenezers of the Midlands and the North -of England. The very gaol looks nice in comparison -with them.</p> - -<p>But the private houses—for instance, those -stretching away along King Street, west, to Waikiki, -perhaps the loveliest bathing-place in the world—are, -after all, the pleasantest memories that one -brings away from Honolulu. Mostly low and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -broad-verandahed, white-painted, and embowered -in foliage of every shade of green, faced with -smooth, emerald lawns spangled with flower-beds -blazing bright with every colour that Nature loves -to paint her tropical flowers, they seemed rather -the dwellings of lotus-eaters in “the land where -it is always afternoon” than the houses of hard-headed, -keen-witted business men and politicians, -mostly of American descent, who have not only -piled up many millions by various methods, but -have also created this leafy paradise out of the -bare and swampy seashore that it was when Captain -Cook landed upon it.</p> - -<p>I happened to arrive in Honolulu at a very -interesting time. The Monroe Doctrine had been -stretched across the Pacific from San Francisco to -the Philippines, and Honolulu was a sort of -hitching-post which kept it from sagging into the -water. Among the white population there was -a good deal more American than English being -spoken. The harbour was full of American -transports. Blue-clad, very business-like-looking -American troops were marching and drilling and -patrolling all over the place. Many of the men -wore, in addition to their regimentals, portrait-medallions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -of the President or their best girls—a -sight to make a British War Office Person ill -for the rest of his official days. For myself, -it liked me well.</p> - -<p>Saving the American occupation, but not by any -means unconnected with it, the four salient facts -of Honolulu seemed to me to be Missionaries, -Mosquitos, Millionaires, and Morality spelt -backwards.</p> - -<p>The missionaries and the mosquitos came to -Honolulu at the same time, about seventy-five years -ago. The mosquitos are supposed to have come -in old sugar-casks from Mexico, and it is known -that the missionaries came chiefly first-class from -San Francisco. I mention the coincidence for what -it is worth. Both are at present going strong.</p> - -<p>The missionaries practically own and run the -place with the assistance of the sugar millionaires -who helped the United States to annex the islands. -The mosquitos are, with one exception, the most -venomous and insidious that I have ever suffered -from.</p> - -<p>There is one notable point of difference between -the missionaries and the mosquitos in Honolulu. -The missionaries and their congregations sing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -voluminously, and also very prettily. The -Hawaiian mosquito does not sing. He makes his -descent silently and stealthily, sucks the life-blood -out of you, and goes away, leaving you to scratch -and swear and wonder how on earth he managed -to get his work in without you knowing it.</p> - -<p>There are some unregenerates, both white and -bronze, still in Honolulu who say something like -this about the missionaries and the country. This -may or may not have any truth in it. It is -certainly quite true that the missionaries have done -an immense amount of good in the Sandwich -Islands. It is also true that they and their -descendants form the aristocracy and ruling class -of the islands. They have the most magnificent -houses and most beautiful estates. They also run -the most lucrative businesses. Not the worthy -pastors themselves, of course. In Hawaii, the word -“missionary” means not only the missionaries -themselves, but their descendants to the third and -fourth generations. Perhaps the most good-natured -way to put it would be to say that here -the labourer was worthy of his hire and saw that -he got it.</p> - -<p>But there was one deadly contrast in Honolulu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -which I frankly say shocked and horrified me, -hardened globe-trotter as I am! I don’t think I -ever saw a place which possesses more churches, -schools, missions, and other missionary machinery -to the acre than Honolulu. It also runs considerably -to saloons and hotels with bar-annexes; but -these justify their existence by paying enormous -licences to the revenue. Wherefore they charge -the thirsting citizen a shilling a time for a drink, -no matter how small or common; which, of course, -either keeps down drunkenness or punishes those -who drink with poverty. Millionaires, and, some -whisper, the missionaries, take their liquid comforts -at home.</p> - -<p>But one night after dinner, having nothing else -to do but smoke and listen to small talk in the -intervals of fighting the mosquitos, I went off by -myself to explore the Asiatic Quarter. I had no -hint or direction from anybody, and, by sheer -accident, I found myself in a street which was the -exact replica of the slave-market in Chinatown, -San Francisco.</p> - -<p>Slaves of all colours and nationalities, white and -brown and yellow and black, were sitting behind -the lattices of their prisons. Chinese and Japanese<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -“Houses of Delight” were running full steam -ahead. It was only natural that I should catch -myself wondering whether I had not been spirited -back into Chinatown, instead of walking the streets -of Holy Honolulu where the missionaries and -the churches have reigned practically supreme for -fifty years.</p> - -<p>One curiously revolting feature of the scene was -this: The Americanisation of Hawaii was proceeding -apace just then. Four or five big transports, -bound for Manila, were in the harbour. -There were American sentries at the Government -Buildings over which Old Glory floated from -sunrise to sunset. Squads of American troops -drilled daily in the open places. American patrols -marched through the streets by night, and American -soldiers and sailors jostled with Jap and Chinaman, -Negro and Malay along the narrow pavements -of the Hawaiian slave-market. It was a curious -mingling of East and West, not by any means -flattering to the West.</p> - -<p>The next day I asked certain citizens who should -have known how this thing came to be in such -a godly country, and the various answers about -came to this: “The Government and the Churches<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -have done their best to shut those places up, but -somehow they haven’t succeeded. And then, you -see, they pay enormous rents.”</p> - -<p>“But who owns the property?” I asked one -old and highly respected resident.</p> - -<p>“Well, if <em>I</em> did I shouldn’t tell you,” he -replied. “Come and have a drink!”</p> - -<p>It was a hot day and I thought I might as -well leave it at that.</p> - -<p>Later on this moral plague-spot became a -physical plague-spot as well. The Black Death -spread its sombre wings over it, and the purging -fires have swept it in smoke and flying flame from -the face of the insulted earth up to the yet more -insulted heavens. Wherefore the Paradise of the -Pacific ought to be a good deal cleaner now than -it was when I was there.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus4"> -<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Sanford B. Dole. First Governor of the Territory of Hawaii.</p> -</div> - -<p>That afternoon I called at Government House -and sent my card in to Mr. Sanford B. Dole, -President of the Hawaiian Republic. He is the -man who came to the front when the reactionary -tactics of King Kalakaua and his sister and successor, -Liliuokalani, raised the somewhat important question -as to whether the Hawaiian Islands were going to -fall into line with civilisation or fall back into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -state of semi-barbarism—for that is about what it -came to.</p> - -<p>President Dole is a “missionary”; that is to say, -he belongs to the clerical aristocracy of Honolulu. -He is not a clergyman himself, and he has the -credit of belonging to one of the very few missionary -families in the islands which have not become -wealthy.</p> - -<p>The last President that I had interviewed was -Paul Krüger, late of Kerk Street, Pretoria. There -was a very striking difference between the two men. -The Boer was bulky, slow of speech and motion, -with manners unspeakable; also little keen eyes -which looked at you piercingly for a moment, and -then dodged away—cunning incarnate in the flesh -and a good deal both of the cunning and the flesh.</p> - -<p>Still, at the time, I confess that I thought -him a man, and, in his way, a great one—not a -common boodler who would squeeze his country -for all it was worth, and then, at the first note -of danger, bolt with all the plunder he could lay -his hands on.</p> - -<p>When I went into President Dole’s Council -Chamber—which had once been the Queen’s -boudoir, and in Kalakaua’s time before her, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -scene of many a half-barbaric orgie—I was greeted -by a tall, rather slight, but well set-up man dressed -in spotless white.</p> - -<p>He had the air of being at once virile and -venerable, for his hair and his long, almost -patriarchal beard were both grey. But the figure -was alert. He walked up and down the room the -whole time we were talking. The grey-blue eyes -were quick and keen and steady. I may also add, -<i lang="fr">en parenthèse</i>, that he was one of the handsomest -men I have ever spoken to.</p> - -<p>He told me the story of the battle between -reaction and advancement, corruption and comparative -cleanliness, just as a man who had seen it -all but had taken no share in it might have done. -The story is history now, and needn’t be repeated -here. To me the most interesting fact was that -President Dole told it without once mentioning -himself until it became unavoidable.</p> - -<p>When the fighting was over there were seven -conspicuous citizens of Honolulu in prison under -sentence of death as conspirators against the -Commonwealth, and it rested with Mr. Dole to -say whether they should be executed or not.</p> - -<p>“It was, of course, a very painful position for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -me to be placed in,” he said. “You see I was the -head of the Provisional Government and Chief -Magistrate, and some of them were personal -acquaintances of my own.”</p> - -<p>“Then, after all, you had something to do with -it, Mr. President? That’s the first time I’ve -heard you mention yourself in the whole story.”</p> - -<p>There was a smile under the heavy moustache -as he answered:</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, of course, I had a good deal to do -with it. When the revolution was over they -elected me President; and the prisoners—well, we -sentenced them to different terms of imprisonment, -and then let them out gradually. To tell you the -truth I hadn’t much fancy for signing death-warrants.”</p> - -<p>I was afterwards told on quite reliable authority -that if the revolution had not succeeded, Sanford -B. Dole and a few others would undoubtedly have -been hung.</p> - -<p>Mr. Dole, being of American descent, very -naturally considered that the United States were -the proper Power to run the Hawaiian Islands, -whether the Hawaiians liked it or not. It is a way -that all great Powers have with small ones. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -have it ourselves to a considerable extent. In fact, -we once had these same islands with all their -vast possibilities. That was in the dark ages of -British diplomacy when colonies were “not wanted.” -So a few distinguished idiots in Downing Street -gave orders for the flag to be hauled down from -the flagstaff on the Old Fort of Honolulu. After -which it avails little for an Englishman to talk about -Cousin Jonathan stealing the islands for himself.</p> - -<p>Mr. Dole assisted conspicuously and, I believe, -quite conscientiously in the transfer. He saw -that it was either annexation or semi-barbarism and -corruption. He thought that what great Powers -call annexation and small ones call stealing was -the better of the two, and I think he was right.</p> - -<p>Hawaii is now a Territory; and Sanford B. Dole -is its Governor. Still, I was a little afraid that -there might be something of prophecy in the last -remark he made as we shook hands.</p> - -<p>“There is no doubt about the future or the -prosperity of the islands,” he said, in answer to -my last question. “With good settled government -capital will come in, as it has been doing, and -everything will go ahead. But,” he added very -gravely, “if we get the millionaire monopolist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -and the professional politician over here, they’ll -ruin us.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly!” I said. “Here you have the -paradise, the Eden of the Pacific. Politics will -supply the serpent.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head and smiled, and I went away -without telling him that I had travelled from -Chicago with a gentleman who had been to -Washington to see about the introduction of that -self-same serpent.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When people who have not been there read -about the tropics in books, especially in story-books, -the impression they get is one of general -gorgeousness pervading the heavens and the earth, -and a human state of things not far removed from -what some of us honestly hope to deserve some -day when days have ceased to count.</p> - -<p>Blue seas lie rippling gently under azure skies; -islands of almost inconceivable beauty, palm-crowned -and coral-fringed, gem the surface of the waveless -waters. The heat of the sun is tempered by cool, -scented breezes.</p> - -<p>The day begins and ends with sunrises and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -sunsets which seem like the opening and shutting -of the gates of Paradise.</p> - -<p>The nights are languorous dreams of soft delights -under skies spangled with myriads of stars such as -northern eyes have never seen. On other nights -earth and sea are bathed in silvery moonlight such -as never fell on northern sea or shore.</p> - -<p>Some authors get their moon and stars shining -at the same time. These have probably done their -travelling in an armchair. Diana of the Tropics -is a good deal too autocratic for that.</p> - -<p>Those are the tropics of the novelist and the -traveller who wants to make his untravelled readers -envious. As a story-writer I have myself sinned -thus; wherefore, partly, this confession.</p> - -<p>The trouble with most people who have described -the tropics in fiction and otherwise is that they -leave too much out. All that they put in is -correct. You really can see all these beauties, and -more, between Cancer and Capricorn; but you -don’t see them everywhere or all the time.</p> - -<p>Another very serious fault with your tropical -word-artist is that he generally ignores the swamps, -the fevers, the agues, the rains which come down -like bursting water-spouts, the hurricanes which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -blow brick and stone walls about as if they were -paper. Further, as to the rippling sunlit sea, they -too often omit to state that, when it is inclined -that way it can get up into waves which will take -a ship clean over a reef and land it halfway up a -hillside, and that it has a swell through which a -ship may wallow for days, rolling scuppers under -every minute of the day and night for weeks on end.</p> - -<p>This, by the way, is one of the most villainous -features of the tropical Pacific. For instance, you -wake up out of a nightmare-slumber, bruised and -sore and sweating, after hours of sleepy struggle -to brace yourself somehow between the sides of -your berth so that you may not be flung against -the opposite side of your cabin. You watch for -a favourable moment—the best one is just when -she is going to stop and your side is down. -Miss this, and you’ll wish you’d waited for -the next.</p> - -<p>In spite of all your precautions your luggage -has broken loose and has taken charge of the floor. -Nothing is where you put it the night before.</p> - -<p>Your hair-brushes are under the lower berth -in the farthest possible corner. Your tooth-brush -is probably on the other side under the sofa; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -your box of tooth-powder has got into one of your -boots and has emptied itself there. Your bath-sponge -has probably carried away from the rack, -and got itself saturated with the contents of your -only bottle of scent, which has dashed itself to -pieces in its struggles to leap out of its appointed -place.</p> - -<p>You squeeze this sorrowfully out into the tumbler, -if there’s one left unbroken. At peril of life and -limb you grope around and find your deck-shoes, -and then you start out for the bathroom. The -ship is groaning and shuddering like a man with -tertian ague and toothache. If your sea-legs are -good you get there without a broken limb or many -additions to your bruises.</p> - -<p>The water in the bath is having a miniature -storm all to itself. The bath is usually marble -nowadays, and very hard. If you lie down in it -you are absolutely at the mercy of the raging waters, -and they dash you from side to side, and end to -end till you struggle feebly to your feet and try -to stand.</p> - -<p>You clutch at anything for support. Sometimes, -as happened to a fellow-voyager of mine, it is the -steam-pipe for heating the water, and off comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -the skin in a twinkling. When you have got -into something like an erect position you keep -yourself from being hurled out with one hand -and pull the string of the shower with the other.</p> - -<p>“Swish,” comes the douche, and you have a -moment of cooling luxury. Then follows the slow -inexorable heave of the next roll. You hold on, -partly to the string; the water rises up on one -side of the bath and slops over, probably filling -your shoes. The douche leaves you, crosses the -bathroom at an angle of sixty degrees, and drenches -your pyjamas, and, peradventure, your towels as -well. If this has not happened, you stagger out -and dry yourself in the intervals of trying to sit -or stand.</p> - -<p>Whatever else has happened to you in your bath, -you’ve got cool for a few minutes. Meanwhile the -pitiless sun has been rising higher, the exertion of -drying yourself has put you into a violent perspiration, -and you are about as wet when you give -it up in despair as you were when you began.</p> - -<p>You get into your pyjamas and shoes, and, if the -demoralisation of the tropics has gone far enough -with you, and the bar is open, you go and get -a cocktail to put a little life into you after a night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -of gasping, perspiring insomnia. This function -is tropically termed “sweetening the bilge-water,” -and is greatly in vogue among those who have -sat up late in the smoking-room overnight.</p> - -<p>Then you pull yourself up on deck by handrails -and anything else you can get hold of. The -morning air is delicious in its virgin freshness, -and you begin to draw new breaths of life. The -decks are wet and sloppy, but still cool. In a -few hours the pitch will be boiling in the seams, -and the planks will be hot enough to melt the -rubber soles off your shoes.</p> - -<p>The masts and funnels are describing slow arcs -across the vault of the Firmament; deck-chairs -are skating about, chasing each other around, or -huddling themselves in scared heaps in the safest -and wettest corners of the deck.</p> - -<p>Down below there is the tinkling clatter of -crockery, mingled with language from the stewards -who are trying to set the table for breakfast. When -you have cooled off a bit you nerve yourself to -go below again into the furnished oven you call -your room and get dressed. Perhaps you have -to shave—but this is an added agony which -may be passed over in silence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<p>You stagger back on deck to get cool again. -You meet your fellow-sufferers and say things about -the ship with disparaging references to round-bottomed -old tanks, butter-tubs, steam-rollers, and -the like. These things are not exaggerated. I -crossed the Pacific from Honolulu to Sydney on a -steam-roller called the <i>Alameda</i>, and I am speaking -of that which I know.</p> - -<p>Then, perhaps after another visit to the bar, -you go to breakfast. You eat your meals in the -tropics partly because you must repair the -exhaustion of perpetual perspiration, and partly -because you have paid for them in advance. -Naturally, you don’t like the company to get too -far ahead of you.</p> - -<p>If it wasn’t for this you would probably eat a -great deal less and be much better, but human -nature is human even in the saloon of a steam-roller -on the Pacific with the thermometer standing at -97° Fahr. Thus you eat and drink and loaf your -way through the listless, sweltering hours, and -vaguely wonder what your liver will be like when -you get ashore.</p> - -<p>There is another speciality of the tropics to -which the tropical glory-mongers have never done<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -full justice. This is the mosquito. Of course, -there are mosquitos outside the tropics. A veracious -British Columbian once told me that on the -Yukon they shoot them with revolvers and catch -them in seine nets.</p> - -<p>The tropical mosquito, however, does not run -to size as a rule. In Guayaquil I have seen them -a little smaller than sparrows, but they were exceptions. -Still, for his size, the tropical mosquito -carries a greater load of sin and responsibility than -any other beast of prey inside the confines of -Creation.</p> - -<p>I never really knew what artistic profanity was -till I met him. I had no idea of the magnificent -capabilities of the English language, helped out with -a little American, till he had his first meal off me.</p> - -<p>I have said before that the Honolulu mosquito -does not sing, so the first night out I went to bed -unsuspecting, and foolishly congratulating myself -that I had got rid of him for a time. I knew better -when I woke up in the still watches of the night, -scraping myself from head to foot, like Job with -his potsherd—it was too hot for bed- or any other -kind of clothes—and wondering what had got me.</p> - -<p>I turned up the light, and there was the cloud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -of witnesses. I gave up the struggle there and -then, got into my pyjamas, and went on deck -with a rug over my arm and many evil thoughts -in my heart.</p> - -<p>One of those mosquitos got as far as Samoa -with me. He was the only one that the sea air -seemed to agree with, and he was as elusive as a -Boer brigand surrounded by half a dozen British -armies. I killed him the morning we sighted -Apia. He was too gorged to fly. It was literally -blood for blood, only all the blood was on one -side.</p> - -<p>I didn’t discover any mosquitos in Samoa. At -least, none discovered me, but that is perhaps -because I escaped without sleeping there, and the -old steam-roller was lying a long way off the -shore. There were, however, plenty of the other -winged pests which are characteristic of most -tropical paradises.</p> - -<p>Some of us walked up to Vailima in response -to the invitation of a fellow-traveller, a rich German -merchant, who had bought the ruins of Robert -Louis Stevenson’s house—it was torn to pieces -by the shells during the bombardment—and -“restored” it. I hope the gentle ghost of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -“R. L. S.” will never revisit it in the glimpses -of the moon.</p> - -<p>Samoa is one of those tropical paradises over -which the romancers have spread themselves with -the most lavish verbal embroidery. The cold, or -rather tepid, truth as to my own brief experiences -of it is this.</p> - -<p>We trudged over four miles and a half of muddy -road, under a grey, leaden sky that would have -done justice to an English mid-summer day. From -this descended an almost impalpable but drenching -mist, the air was thick with flies and other intrusive -things, which got into your eyes and nose and -mouth and ears.</p> - -<p>The exertion of plodding through the mud -quickly reduced us to a state of almost intolerable -limpness. It was like four and a half miles of -Turkish bath adorned with tropical foliage. You -had to get some of this foliage and swing it -about with what vigour you chanced to have left, -so that you might keep the flies far enough off -to be able to breathe.</p> - -<p>We took a languid interest in the shell-smashed -and bullet-pierced trees by the wayside, and in -the rude entrenchments which the Samoans had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -thrown up, for it was along this road that the -British and American detachments had to fight -their way to dubious victory so as to get things -ready for the German occupation.</p> - -<p>At Vailima we had warm champagne, for not -even all the wealth of our good-hearted host could -buy an ounce of ice in Samoa, and we ate cakes -and pineapples where Robert Louis Stevenson had -alternately feasted and half starved, as he tells us in -those daintily pathetic “Vailima Letters” of his.</p> - -<p>But a proper respect for the eternal verities -forces me to say that this place, round which -so many reams of imaginative eulogy have been -written and typewritten, entirely disappointed me. -Everything was shabby and ragged and squalid -except the newly “restored” house and the -furniture, which might have been sent by telegraph -from Tottenham Court Road that morning.</p> - -<p>The avenue from the main road to the house, -which the Samoans voluntarily made for Stevenson -in repayment for the whole-hearted work he had -done for them against the foreign aggressor, was -puddle-strewn and inches deep in mud. The -paddock was no better than you would have -found round the shanty of a first-year selector<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -in Australia. There were no paths, only tracks, -mostly mud. The historic stream was little more -than a stone-strewn brook.</p> - -<p>Even from the upper verandah of the house -you can only just get a glimpse of the sea. A -hill crowded with tangled tropical growth rises on -either side of the little plateau on which the house -stands. On the top of the one to the left hand -as you look towards the sea is the grave of the -dead Word-Magician. Behind the house another -broken, tree-clad slope rising to the misty clouds; -and that is all.</p> - -<p>Personally I would not live at Vailima, rent -free and everything found, for a thousand a year. -I know other places in the Pacific where with -suitable society life would be a dream of delight -if one only had a tent, a hammock, and about -ten shillings sterling a week to spend.</p> - -<p>The steam-roller did not stop long enough for -us to attempt the ascent of the mountain. I left -Vailima dejected and disappointed, in a state of -mind which even the warm champagne had failed -to cheer. I tramped back through the mud under -the everlasting mist, and through the same cloud -of flies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> - -<p>When I got on board I found a sort of political -demonstration, mingled with a cosmopolitan orgie -going on.</p> - -<p>The ship was crowded from end to end with -splendid specimens of Samoan manhood. There -was a brass band on deck, and the smoking-room -was simply floating in champagne. When I got -to the heart of matters I found that the most -popular man in Samoa was leaving. He was the -American Consul, and his name was Blacklock, -which, being translated into Samoan, is Pillackie-Lockie. -Certain friends of his—men who would -raise you out of your boots on a pair of twos—were -coming with us, and from Samoa to Auckland -it was my privilege to travel with the hardest -crowd I have ever been shipmates with.</p> - -<p>This was just the beginning of the German -occupation. During the bombardment the first -shot fired from the German warship had wrecked -the German Consulate on the beach instead of -hitting the hills beyond, where Mataaffa’s men -were supposed to be concealed; and this, with -other things, seemed to have produced a bad -impression in the minds of the natives.</p> - -<p>At any rate, after the second whistle had gone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -when the band played “God Save the Queen” -and the “Star-Spangled Banner,” the Samoans sang -their versions of the words for all their lungs -were worth, but when, in deference to the presence -of the German Consul on board, an attempt was -made at “Die Wacht am Rhein,” there was first -a deadly silence and then a deep-voice “hoo-o-o,” -which I interpreted as being the Samoan for “come -out of it,” or words to that effect.</p> - -<p>This, by the way, is a humble, but by no means -unmeaning “footnote to history.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="Part_II"><span class="gothic larger">Part II</span><br /> -<i>PRISON LAND</i></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="A_PRELIMINARY_NOTE">A PRELIMINARY NOTE ON CONVICTS -AND COLONISTS</h3> - -<p>There are not many portions of the sea-realm -of Oceania, or, indeed, of the whole Southern -Hemisphere, of which the name is so well and the -history so little known as New Caledonia. Throughout -Europe, not excepting even France, it has for -fifty years been the name of a convict station. To -the <i lang="fr">forçat</i> and the <i lang="fr">relégué</i> its name meant something -even worse than the traditions of the old galleys -could tell of. It meant banishment over an illimitable -stretch of ocean; and, through the hazes of -distance, the French criminal, caged in the penal -transport, saw horrors unspeakable. To him it -was the Land of the Chain, of the Lash, and the -Guillotine, a hell upon earth, a paradise of Nature -transformed by despotism into an inferno of crime -and cruelty, and, above all, it was the Land of -Banishment. In earlier times it really was something -like what the <i lang="fr">evadés</i> who had reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -Australia, through a thousand miles of sea-peril -and starvation, described it to be. It will be seen -from the chapters which follow that all this has -long ago been done away with, but even now -the commandants of the various camps are careful -to remind the visitor from the other ends of the -earth, that not the least part of the punishment -of transportation to New Caledonia consists in the -fact of banishment for many years, perhaps for -ever from France.</p> - -<p>That is one of the reasons why France will never -make a real living colony out of New Caledonia -until its present criminal and semi-criminal population -has utterly died out—a contingency which is -not likely to come to pass while French rule in the -Pacific endures. The Frenchman cannot colonise, -although, curiously enough, under another flag he -can become a most excellent colonist. Take him -away from France and plant him, as in New -Caledonia, under the tricolour and under the care -of his all too paternal, perhaps it would be more -correct to say maternal government, and, whether -bond or free, he begins to get homesick, and a -homesick man is the last person on earth to begin -colony-making.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of course, if you take him out in a convict -transport and plant him on an island as a prisoner -you can make a colonist of a sort out of him, and -that is the sort you find in New Caledonia, a human -machine whose initiative, if he ever had any, has -been ground out of him, not so much by prison -discipline, for that, as I shall show, is indulgent to -a degree that would be quite incomprehensible in -England; but, rather, by a rigid system of supervision -which permits him to do nothing for himself, which -provides everything for him from the plough with -which he breaks the virgin soil of his concession to -the prize which he gets for a well-raised crop. Such -a man walks on crutches all his life, and a colonist -on crutches is an entirely hopeless, if not a quite -impossible, person.</p> - -<p>An experience of something over forty years -has convinced all the most intelligent students of -the question, that the convict civilisation of New -Caledonia is a dream the realisation of which is -made impossible by the conditions of the system -itself.</p> - -<p>During my last conversation with the Director -of the Penal Administration, he asked me what I -thought of the social conditions of the island, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -the possibility of sometime transforming it from -a penal settlement into a free colony? He was -intensely in earnest on the subject. He believed, -or at least he did his best to believe, in the -future of that beautiful native land of his, and -I would have encouraged him in his loyal belief -if I could have done so; but I had seen too -much of real colonisation in many lands to be -able to do that honestly, and so what I told him -was this:</p> - -<p>“Noumea is the heart of New Caledonia, as Paris -is the heart of France. The greater part of it is -founded upon what was once a miasmatic swamp, -and, no matter what you do, the poison-germs will -find their way to the surface, and pollute the atmosphere -that you breathe. That is a concrete likeness -of your society. It is based on a substratum of -crime. For forty years the poison-germs of the -mental disease which is called crime have been rising -from your lowest social stratum and permeating -all the others.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus5"> -<img src="images/illus5.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A Lake in the interior of New Caledonia.</p> -</div> - -<p>He saw the justice of the parallel, and he tacitly -admitted that the source of moral contagion was -every whit as deeply rooted and as irremovable as -the buried swamp that lies deep down beneath the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -palms and the flamboyants which shade the squares -and the gardens of Noumea.</p> - -<p>In Australia the matter was different. In the bad, -old days men and women were shipped over seas -for offences which would not earn fourteen days’ -hard labour now, and the majority of them were -morally and physically sound. Moreover, they were -Anglo-Saxons. They knew how to tackle the -wilderness and subdue it, and when they won their -freedom they mixed freely with freemen, and, in -due course, the wilderness got subdued, and the new -nations got started. That was because there was a -maximum of individual initiative, and a minimum -of government control which made it possible for -the man to work out his own moral and social redemption, -and at the same time to shape a country -for his children to dwell in. When I first went to -Australia as a lad in the deck-house of a limejuicer, -the letters M.L.A. didn’t only mean Member of -the Legislative Assembly. Sometimes they meant -Mustn’t Leave Australia; but to-day the penal -settlements of fifty years ago are federated nations. -Caledonia is still a convict settlement, and such it -must remain until the last drop of convict blood -within its confines solidifies in the veins of its last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -dead criminal, or until its moral and social swamp -is drained and purified by more drastic measures -than its present rulers appear to have dreamt of.</p> - -<p>For the last decade or so the French Government -has been doing its best to induce French -peasants, artisans, and small tradesmen and manufacturers -to go out to New Caledonia as agricultural -and industrial colonists. It has given them free -passages, land for nothing, free mining concessions, -and even capital to start on, but, in spite all of -these advantages and, perhaps, partly because of -them, free colonisation has not been a success in -New Caledonia. The causes of this failure are not -very far to seek, and some of them are exactly -the same as those which operate against the success -of German colonies.</p> - -<p>The first of them is the Functionary. New -Caledonia is perhaps the most over-governed place -in the whole world. The Australian colonies are -beginning to suffer from over-government, the -natural result of a too triumphant democracy, but -there, as elsewhere under the British flag, it is still -possible for the pioneer to fight his own battle for -home and fortune against the Spirit of the Wilderness -with no more governmental interference than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -is necessary to enforce obedience to the law. It -doesn’t matter of what nationality he is, he succeeds -or fails by his own strength or weakness.</p> - -<p>In a later chapter I shall describe the most -marvellously successful piece of cosmopolitan -colonisation that has ever been accomplished, an -experiment, the success of which completely bears -out all that I am reluctantly obliged to say here -against the French system.</p> - -<p>From the moment that the Frenchman, whether -peasant or artisan, leaves his native land to become -a colonist in an oversea French possession he has -a functionary in front of him, one on each hand, -and one behind him. This is to ensure that he -shall go along the dead straight line which governmental -wisdom has drawn for him. The man in -front prevents him going too fast, and the one -behind sees that his footsteps to fortune do not -fall behind the regulation pace. When he lands -in the colony, his first task is to master more or -less imperfectly the vast mass of regulations by -which all his comings and goings are ordered. -Within the sphere of action allotted to him everything -is already cut and dried. To be original is -to transgress the code and to trample on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -official corns of a functionary. Wherefore, he very -soon finds that originality is at a heavy discount, -and a colonist without originality is of about as -much use in a new country as a baby in long -clothes. In fact the baby is a more valuable -citizen, for he may grow into something which -the officially conducted colonist never will.</p> - -<p>Then there is that fatal convict question. In -the following pages I have shown that in New -Caledonia there are three classes into which the -criminal population of New Caledonia is rigidly -divided. First, there is the <i lang="fr">forçat</i>, or convict -proper, the man who has been sentenced to a definite -term of transportation, ranging from eight years -to life. The second class is composed of <i lang="fr">relégués</i> -who have been banished to New Caledonia for life, -not for any particular crime, but because, by an -accumulation of offences, they have proved themselves -to be hopeless criminals, and therefore unfit -for civilised society and incapable of bearing the -burden of responsibility which is inseparable from -freedom. The third class is composed of the -<i lang="fr">libérés</i>. We have no counterpart to the <i lang="fr">libéré</i> in -our criminal system. The nearest English analogue -to him is the convict released on license, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -only real likeness between them is the fact that -they are both responsible for their movements to -the police.</p> - -<p>In New Caledonia the <i lang="fr">forçat</i> may become a -concessionaire and after that a <i lang="fr">libéré</i>, or he may -become first a collective and then an individual -<i lang="fr">libéré</i>. In the former case he is free to hire -himself out for work during the day, but he must -return to sleep in barracks. In the latter he is -absolutely free within the limits of the colony. -Subject to the sanction of the Administration he -may engage in any business he pleases.</p> - -<p>Many men in this class have done exceedingly -well for themselves. Others again have returned -to France, of course under government sanction, -to present their petition for “rehabilitation.” If -this is granted they become freemen, their civil -rights are restored to them, and they can either -settle down in France or return to the colony. -As a rule they choose the latter alternative. The -keeper of the canteen where I lived at Prony had -done this, and had won his way back not only -to citizenship, but to universal respect.</p> - -<p>The <i lang="fr">relégué</i> has no such hope. He is banished -for life and remains a well-cared-for slave of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -government for the rest of his days. In some rare -cases he may regain his freedom as a special act of -grace, but his civil rights are never restored to him.</p> - -<p>These three classes form the real substrata upon -which the whole social and official fabric of New -Caledonian society rests, and it is into such a soil, -supersaturated with crime, that the French Government -proposes to transplant freemen and women, -and make colonists of them. In other words the -free emigrant to New Caledonia must take his -wife and children across thirteen thousand miles -of ocean and make a home for them in a land -where they will inhale the poison-germs of -villainy with every breath they breathe. Their -servants and their labourers, if they can afford them, -will be thieves, swindlers, and assassins. Their -sons and daughters will have to work with them, -grow up with their children, sit beside them at -school, and perhaps some day intermarry with -them, for all children of convicts born in New -Caledonia are free before the law, and the legal -equals of all other children. It is obvious that -under such conditions, healthy colonisation is about -as impossible as healthy physical life in a colony -of lepers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>Many have tried the experiment and have gone -back to France richer in experience and poorer -in pocket, and with such tales in their mouths -as have justly persuaded their fellow-peasants and -artisans that their hard, clean, thrifty life in France -is infinitely better than State-aided contamination -in New Caledonia.</p> - -<p>Lastly, there is what I may call the commercial -reason for failure, which is of course closely -connected with the others. Officialism has strangled -initiative, and crime has poisoned the sources of -social prosperity; wherefore in New Caledonia the -French govern, but they do not develop. Nine-tenths -of the capital invested in the island is in -the hands of British and Australian firms, or is -owned by foreigners who have become naturalised -French subjects. The French have had possession -for half a century of one of the richest islands in -the world, yet I am only telling the bare truth -when I say that a withdrawal of foreign capital -would promptly bring the colony to bankruptcy, -and that the stoppage of the Australian carrying -trade would starve it out in a month. This was -clearly proved by the extremities to which nearly -all the outlying camps were reduced by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -interruption of the Coast Service during the plague -epidemic.</p> - -<p>Here, for instance, is one example out of many -which might be quoted of the extraordinary ineptitude -of the French colonial official in matters -of business. An Anglo-French firm located in -Sydney obtained a concession for a term of years -to import corn, grind it, and sell the flour at a -given price, which was about eight shillings per -sack higher than the average of Australian prices. -The government objected to the price, but yielded -on condition that the firm would buy and grind -all the corn raised in the colonies. The firm knew -perfectly well that all Caledonia would not raise -fifty bushels of wheat in as many years, so, of course, -they consented, and for the next ten years or so -the astute partners will go on selling flour to the -government and the citizens at a much higher -price than they could import it for themselves -from Australia.</p> - -<p>The whole trade of Noumea, which is the one -trading centre of the island, is practically in English -or Australian hands, although several large firms -trade under French styles. The first essential of -a commercial education in New Caledonia is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -sojourn in Australia, and no French youth has a -chance of a good start in a New Caledonian business -house unless he can speak and write English. In -fact the only people in the colony who do not -speak English are the officials of the Administration -and the military officers.</p> - -<p>During the whole of my wanderings through -the convict camps from end to end of the island, -I only found one official who could converse -intelligently in English, and that was the Director -himself; and yet you can go into almost any store -or office in Noumea and get what you want by -asking for it in English.</p> - -<p>New Caledonia may, in short, be fairly described -as a French penal colony and a commercial -dependency of Australia.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_I">I<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS</i></span></h3> - -<p>After a flying visit to Auckland, our old -steam-roller staggered through a southerly -buster into Sydney Heads on Christmas Eve, and -it was then that I began to make acquaintance -with the Microbe of the Black Death.</p> - -<p>We had got alongside the wharf at Circular Quay. -On the other side of the jetty a white-painted -Messageries mail-boat was being moored. If -Sydney had only known the terrible cargo which -she carried, Sydney would have seen her sunk -a thousand fathoms deep rather than let her touch -Australian soil. She was the <i lang="fr">Pacifique</i>, the ship -I was to cross to New Caledonia in, and the Black -Death was a passenger on board her. It was -many days more before I learnt the how and the -why of this—after I had walked in the same streets, -lived in the same houses, and sat at the same table<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -with the Spectre. I had also seen his material -reality. This was what it looked like.</p> - -<p>A lot of little circular globules, flattened in the -centre, some red and some white, were floating -in a greyish-white liquid under the microscope. -Among them were some tiny dark, wriggling things -swimming in the fluid and running their heads -against the edges of the white globules. They -were plague-microbes in blood-serum. If they got -inside the white corpuscles the person to whom that -blood belonged would have a very good chance -of dying the Black Death. If not, he would be -very ill, but would probably live, as I did.</p> - -<p>The newspapers had come on board, and I was -having a farewell cocktail in the Doctor’s cabin, a -cosy little snuggery, which by this time contained -many pleasant memories for me.</p> - -<p>“There’s bubonic plague at Noumea,” said he; -“and they seem to have it pretty bad, too. Of -course you won’t think of going while anything -like that’s messing around?”</p> - -<p>Now I loved the Doctor because, in addition -to his social qualities and medical skill, he possessed -the art of making a cocktail which was an entirely -delightful antidote to his medicine.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>I confess that I didn’t like the news, but I -made bold to reply:</p> - -<p>“Of course I shall. Do you suppose I’ve come -fifteen thousand miles to get into that place to -be scared by——? Anyhow, I suppose it’s only -among the Kanakas?”</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, bubonic plague’s a mighty -good thing to stop away from,” he said, with -unwonted seriousness.</p> - -<p>“And therefore all the more interesting.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if you will go, so-long, and don’t get -it. If you do, in a place like that you’ll have -about one chance in five of getting back.”</p> - -<p>Ten days afterwards I steamed into the lovely -harbour of Noumea, the Malta of the Pacific, which -England lost by about three hours one morning -nearly fifty years ago. But the adventures of -H.M.S. <i>Dodderer</i> will be a twist in another yarn.</p> - -<p>Even if we had not known that the terrible Black -Death had come to Noumea, the least observant -of us would have asked:</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with this place?”</p> - -<p>A couple of dozen steamers and sailing-ships -were laid up, and a ship out of work is about -as forlorn a spectacle as a deserted workhouse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>The ships that were in work were all flying -Yellow Jack—that spectre in bunting which followed -me across the world till I bade it, I hope, a last -farewell on the quay at Marseilles. Steam-launches, -too, were flying it, dodging backwards and forwards -between the ships and the shore. They were -patrolling to stop all unauthorised communication. -One of them ran alongside. Other boats, containing -friends of passengers, kept at a very respectful -distance.</p> - -<p>“Five fresh cases to-day; two deaths, one a -white man,” were almost the first words I heard -at the gangway. Then the Doctor’s words came -home to me in a somewhat chill fashion. At Sydney -it was only the news. This was the ugly reality. -We began to look at each other, and especially -at the people from the shore.</p> - -<p>Which of us would be first? You could see -the unspoken question in every one’s eyes. People -who had been friends on the passage didn’t care -to shake hands now. We looked at the lovely -landscape in front of us, the white-walled, grey-roofed -town, nestling under tall, feathery palms, -and the flamboyants blazing with crimson blossom, -at the foot of the densely wooded mountains, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -it seemed strangely out of the order of things -that this demon which has devastated the world -for ages should have chosen so fair a spot from -which to send that dread message forth to men -and doctors:</p> - -<p>“I am here, in spite of all your science. Kill -me if you can. Meanwhile, pay me my toll -of life.”</p> - -<p>It was dark before we had passed the doctor -and got ashore. The first visible sign of the -terrible presence was a long wall of corrugated iron -cutting off that portion of the town which lies -along the wharves from the rest. There were -openings in this, and each was guarded by a sentry -with fixed bayonet, but more than twenty days -before the Spectre had slipped past the sentries and -slain a white man. Even now it was standing by -the bedside of two white girls.</p> - -<p>The Kanakas and Tonkinois didn’t seem to -matter so much. But white people—that was a -family matter to all of us. This seems uncharitable, -but it is none the less true.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus6"> -<img src="images/illus6.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Plague Area at Noumea. Offices of the Messageries Maritimes, with Sentries in front.</p> -</div> - -<p>When I found the place that I was to sleep in, -I began to see, or, rather, to smell, the reason why -the Spectre had crossed the barriers. Noumea has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -a magnificent water-supply. Fresh water flows -constantly from the mountains down through the -stone channels on each side of the streets; but -its sanitation is about as rudimentary as that of -a Kaffir village.</p> - -<p>When I went to bed I shut the long windows -opening on to the balcony to keep the smell out. -I also shut in the heat and some odd millions of -mosquitos, any of which, according to popular belief, -might have had thousands of microbes concealed -about its person. As a matter of fact they hadn’t; -but they got their own work in all the same.</p> - -<p>I stood it for nearly an hour, and then I -concluded that even the smell was preferable to -suffocation, so I opened the windows and went out -on the balcony to scratch and say things to the -accompaniment of the song of many vocal insects. -The next morning I went down into the yard to -cool my wounds in a corrugated iron bathroom, -which, with true French colonial forethought, had -been built within two yards of an open cesspool. -A shower-bath in tropical countries is usually a -luxury as well as a necessity. In Noumea it was -only a necessity.</p> - -<p>When I set out for my first stroll round Noumea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -the morning after my arrival the sun was shining -out of a sky of unflecked blue. A delicious breeze -was flowing down the mountain-sides. The scent -of fruit and flowers was everywhere atoning for -the stench of that backyard. I took in long -breaths of the sweet, soft air, and began to wonder -whether that black Spectre really was haunting -such a paradise as this.</p> - -<p>Then I turned into the Place des Cocotiers, which -is to Noumea what the Champs Elysées are to Paris—a -broad square shaded by blazing flamboyants and -flanked by rows of coco-palms. The next moment -I saw a long, four-wheeled, white-curtained vehicle -being driven rapidly through it. It was the -ambulance, and inside it lay some stricken wretch. -Who—yes, who was it? A question of some -significance to one who might have had to say -“here!” to the dread summons before the next -sun rose.</p> - -<p>I went under the verandah of the Hotel de -France, which fronts the square, and ordered a -<i lang="fr">limonade</i>, so that I might ask the news. Yes, it -was the ambulance, and its occupant was one of the -white girls. In three days she was to be the first -white bride of the Black Death. It was rumoured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -that there were six new cases that morning, but -the Sanitary Commission very wisely only reported -two “suspected” cases and one death. If they -had told the truth for a few days more there -would have been panic, and panic is the best—or -worst—helpmeet of disease, especially in a place -like Noumea.</p> - -<p>From the hotel I wandered along the shady -sidewalks of the broad streets, and presently found -myself in a quarter of the town which looked -as if it had been bombarded. The houses were -wrecked and roofless. Some of them were -smouldering still, and some were cold, skeleton -ruins. It was here that the Black Death had found -its first victims. They were only Kanakas and -Tonkinois, so their families had been cleared out, -and their houses and belongings burnt.</p> - -<p>Farther on up the hill leading to the military -reservation I saw all that was left of what had once -been a pretty villa standing in its own grounds, a -garden such as one sees only in the tropics. This -had been the house of the first white victim, a -young fellow of splendid physique, who had fought -the Demon through three weeks of torture, dying -by inches in multiplying horrors unspeakable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>Later on the Demon was more merciful, because -he struck harder and killed quicker. In a few -weeks it was to be a matter of hours rather than -of days.</p> - -<p>I learnt afterwards that, although the Sanitary -Commission had burnt the house down, they had -allowed the furniture to be sold by public auction. -The same authority permitted the traveller by sea -to take any sort of luggage he liked on board the -steamer, but would not allow even a package of -clean linen to be forwarded from one port to another -unless it was in the possession of its owner. Nail -it up in a box and it could go, but as personal -effects—no. Later on the Demon took his revenge -for this foolishness. He laid his hands on the -Chief of the Commission, and killed him in thirty-six -hours.</p> - -<p>That night I dined at the club, the Cercle de -Noumea, an institution which is devoted to eating -and drinking during the day, and to poker and -baccarat during the night.</p> - -<p>There was only one subject of conversation -among the Frenchmen round the long table—<i lang="fr">la -Peste</i>.</p> - -<p>During the plague-time in Bombay it cost drinks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -round to mention the word in white society, but -in Noumea every one, doctors and laymen alike, -talked unrestrainedly of it. The doctors told of -the new “cases,” enlarged on symptoms, and -described experiments in detail which made the -laymen mostly sick, and nearly all frightened. -Which is one point of difference between English -and French ways of looking at ugly things.</p> - -<p>A day or two after, when the name of the Demon -had become familiar to my ears, and had, therefore, -lost some of its terrors—I suppose I really was -quite as frightened as anybody else—I noticed -that a man feeling furtively under his armpits was -looked at with suspicion, and a man seen limping -in the street was left to walk alone.</p> - -<p>One morning I got up feeling rather seedy. It -may have been the mosquitos, or the heat, or the -last French cigar overnight. It is a true saying -that a man who is his own lawyer has a fool for -his client, and that a man who is his own doctor -has a still bigger fool for a patient; but by this -time I had heard enough of <i lang="fr">la Peste</i> in Noumea -to convince me that I had to take the latter risk -into my own hands. If I had described my -symptoms to a doctor I should have been “under<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -observation” in the hospital within an hour. After -that the date of my coming out would have been -a very uncertain one, so I smoked the mosquitos -out of my bedroom, took some chlorodyne, and -went to bed. It is bad to take opiates, but it is -a great deal worse to lie awake in a plague-smitten -town and wonder whether or not you’ve got it.</p> - -<p>The next day I saw a coffin carried out of a -house. That night the house was pulled down, -and the ruins burnt, but the day after that, as -though in mockery of every precaution taken, the -Demon showed himself in a new and deadlier -form.</p> - -<p>A great cleaning-up had been going on all this -time, just as it was in Sydney later on. The -filth-accumulations of years were being cleared out. -A white man, very much down on his luck, took -a job with the Kanakas and convicts who were -cleaning out the basement of a store in which -dead rats had been found. The others had their -mouths and noses covered with cloths steeped in -corrosive sublimate, but he wasn’t afraid of any -blanked plague, and so he went in without.</p> - -<p>He happened to stir up some dust out of which -he disinterred the corpse of a rat. He inhaled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -some of the dust. The little black wriggly thing -that I had seen under the microscope got into his -lungs, and assisted in the change of the venous -into the arterial blood. In six hours that man -was dead. The pulmonary form of the Black -Death is perhaps the most swiftly killing of all -diseases.</p> - -<p>After this the corrugated iron fence round the -wharves came down, and the sentries went back -to barracks. The enemy had passed them, unseen -and unchallenged. Every gust of wind which -raised a cloud of dust in the street might carry -death, and sometimes did.</p> - -<p>You might, for example, walk through one of -these clouds on your way to dinner. Your appetite -would not be quite as good as usual. After dinner -you would feel headachy and sick, and, being -disinclined to walk home,—a very bad symptom, -by the way,—you would call a cab and be driven -there. The next day you would have a drive in -the ambulance, after which your fate lay on the -knees of the gods. In the particular case here -referred to the matter was decided in four days.</p> - -<p>It was little wonder that the microbe was thriving -apace in this outwardly lovely place, for dirt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -disease, and death are a trinity found ever hand -in hand. Just <i lang="fr">en passant</i>, I may say here that -my excellent landlady who, I am sorry to say, -died of the plague soon after I left her hospitable -roof, subsequently confided to me that among her -guests there were some who had not had a bath -for three weeks. Of course there was no law to -make them wash, but I think that in a tropical -country in which the Black Death has taken up -its abode the penalty for not bathing, at least once -a day, should be delivery to the tender mercies -of the local fire brigade, with permission to squirt -to taste.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_II">II<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>SOME SOCIAL SIDELIGHTS</i></span></h3> - -<p>My first official business in the colony was, of -course, to write to the Governor acquainting -him with the fact of my arrival. I did this with -considerable misgivings, for both at Sydney and on -the boat, I had heard the evil rumour that in consequence -of the plague the Government of New -Caledonia had decided to close the prisons. This -meant that the convicts who had been hired out -to work in the mines and elsewhere would be -recalled to the prisons and the camps, and that all -communication would be severed between them -and the outer world until the epidemic was over.</p> - -<p>Now I carried credentials from the Ministry of -the Colonies in Paris, which is to New Caledonia -what the Russian Ministry of Justice was to Siberia, -and these, under ordinary circumstances, authorised -me to have every prison door in the island opened -to me. But M. Albert Décrais knew nothing about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -the coming visitation when he gave them to me, -and the Governor would have been well within his -powers if he had answered my letter by expressing -“his infinite regret that exceptional circumstances -made it impossible for him to act under the -instructions of the Ministry during the present -disastrous epidemic, etc.”</p> - -<p>In this case my mission would have been brought -to nought, and I should have travelled fifteen -thousand miles for the privilege of sojourning an -indefinite time in a plague-stricken town. It was -three days before I got an answer, and during that -time I allayed my anxieties by making a closer -acquaintance with Noumea.</p> - -<p>Through the kindness of the Earl of Dunmore, -who was then acting as Administrator of one of the -greatest mining enterprises in New Caledonia, and -a member of the Municipal Council with whom I -had travelled from Sydney, I was made a guest of -the Cercle. Only the most exclusive aristocracy -of Noumea breakfast and dine at home. The rest—officials, -merchants, and professional men—knock -off work at eleven, having begun about six, -breakfast at half-past, and then play or sleep -till three.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<p>At six everything, except the hotels and cafés, -shut up; then comes a drive or a ride, tennis or -a sail in the bay, then dinner, followed by cards and -drinks till midnight—and of such is the daily -life of the capital of New Caledonia. I learnt -afterwards that this delightfully situated little town -is also one of the wickedest spots on earth, but -of that I shall have more to say hereafter.</p> - -<p>Socially, Noumea struck me as being somewhat -cramped. Its society is composed of educated, -highly trained, and, in the main, well-mannered -men, living a little life among themselves, and -being crushed into smallness by the very narrowness -of their environment. They were a thousand -miles from anywhere. Their only immediate -connection with the outer world was the cable -to Sydney, controlled by the all-powerful Administration, -which published and suppressed whatever -it pleased.</p> - -<p>There were the monthly Messagerie mails, and -a few odd traders, now mostly laid up in the -harbour flying the Yellow Jack. Every night the -same men met and discussed the same subjects, -the chief of which was <i lang="fr">la Peste</i>. Every day the -same men went to the same duties, the same women<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -discussed the same gossip and the same scandal. -Every night the same men and women met in the -Place des Cocotiers, under its swaying palms and -flaming flamboyants, and listened to the same music—which, -by the way, they will never listen to -again.</p> - -<p>I had gone to Noumea full up to the roots of -my hair with the utterly erroneous notions which -I had picked up from books and conversations. -The books appear to have been written mostly -by returned <i lang="fr">déportés</i> or <i lang="fr">communards</i> who had been -banished in ’71 and ’72, and allowed to return -to France after the general amnesty. The people -with whom I had conversed had apparently got -their knowledge from somewhat similar sources, -but all agreed in representing New Caledonia as -a second Tasmania, or Norfolk Island, where all -the uncivilised barbarities of our own transportation -system had been prolonged to the end of the -nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>Its population consisted of a vast horde of convicts, -the most abandoned and bloodthirsty wretches -on earth, ground down into hopeless slavery by -the irresistible and unpitying strength of an official -engine called the Penitentiary Administration. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -officials were a set of soulless gaolers in whose -natures every spark of humanity had been quenched -by the performance of their pitiless task. The -surplus of the population consisted of half-tamed -natives and a few thousand <i lang="fr">libérés</i>, or ticket-of-leave -men, any one of whom would knock you -on the head or stick a knife into you for a couple -of francs.</p> - -<p>Finally I was regarded in Paris as rather madder -than the average Englishman for wanting to go -to such a God-forsaken place, being neither a -convict who had to go nor an official who wanted -to earn a comfortable <i lang="fr">retraite</i> and save up the -wherewithal to purchase rentes on which to spend -the balance of his days in that peace and quiet -which is the domestic heaven to which all good -Frenchmen look forward.</p> - -<p>Now this is what I actually saw of convict-life -in Noumea before I had passed the prison gates -for the first time. I had eaten my second dinner -at the Cercle, and Lord Dunmore, taking pity -on my isolation, said:</p> - -<p>“The convict-band is playing in the square -to-night, suppose we go and get some seats?”</p> - -<p>“The convict what?” I said, harking back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -mentally to the rigid English system, and trying -to picture to myself an English convict blowing -a cornet.</p> - -<p>“It’s what they call here the Musique de la -Transportation. It’s quite an institution in -Noumea. I don’t suppose there’s anything like -it anywhere else.”</p> - -<p>So I went, feeling verily a stranger in a strange -land.</p> - -<p>It was an absolutely perfect tropical night. The -moon was getting up over the eastern end of the -Chaine Centrale, a ridge of mountains which runs -through Caledonia from north-east to south-west; -the cafés along the top of the square were glittering -with light; a deliciously cool breeze was blowing -down from the mountains through the trees.</p> - -<p>Little groups of people, mostly clad in white, -were sitting on chairs about the lawns, and others -were strolling slowly round and round the square -and across the paths which radiated from the big -kiosk in the centre. There were pretty costumes -and brilliant uniforms, stars and medals and all -the rest of it, and the one finishing tropical touch -that was needful was added by wandering bands -of laughing Kanakas with gaudy waistcloths and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -fantastic headgear, big, luminous eyes, and teeth -that gleamed whitely as they laughed.</p> - -<p>Saving these last there was nothing that would -have been incongruous with one of those delightful -portions of outdoor Paris where “l’on s’amuse.” -The shadow of the Black Death seemed to have -been lifted for the time, and as for crime and -convicts—well, presently up one of the avenues -through the flamboyants there appeared a line -of grey-clad figures carrying musical instruments. -There were twenty-five of them all told.</p> - -<p>They sauntered up to the band-stand laughing -and chatting as though they hadn’t a care in the -wide world. Possibly they had very few; fewer -certainly than the peasant toiling his sixteen hours -a day for a bare living in far-away France.</p> - -<p>They were guarded by a very bored-looking -surveillant, who carried in a sling a revolver which -he was not allowed to use unless one of his charges -struck him first!</p> - -<p>The gentlemen of the orchestra took their places, -and a short, thick-set man, with a clever, but most -unpleasant face, went into the middle and looked -around with an air of command, which reminded -me oddly of the preliminary gestures of other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -conductors of very different orchestras. There was -a little tuning-up, then the conductor tapped his -music-stand, waved his baton of authority, and -forthwith the sweet strains of the Intermezzo from -“Cavalleria Rusticana” began to float out through -the drowsy hush of the tropical evening.</p> - -<p>There is really only one word which could -describe the scene, and that is bizarre. Take -five-and-twenty musically inclined convicts out of -an English prison, put them into the Western -Gardens at Earl’s Court on a warm July evening -and you would have something like it, but not -quite. At Earl’s Court the convict-band would -be stared at as a curiosity, but people would -probably keep at a respectful distance from the -band-stand, especially if there was only one tired-looking -warder to keep guard over the musical -criminals.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus7"> -<img src="images/illus7.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Convict Band playing in the Kiosk in the Place des Cocotiers, Noumea.</p> -</div> - -<p>But in Noumea no one, save, perhaps, myself, -looked twice at the enclosure which contained an -amount of assorted villainy and potential violence, -rapine, and sudden death as you could find the -wide world over in a similar space. There were -men from every station of life—soldiers, priests, -lawyers, politicians, financiers, and men who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -once belonged to the Golden Youth of France—inside -the kiosk of the Musique de la -Transportation.</p> - -<p>Collectively they had committed every crime, -from forgery to outrages for which civilised speech -has no name. The <i lang="fr">chef d’orchestre</i>, for example, -was the man who, a few years ago, sent a thrill -of horror through the world by cutting the heart -out of a man whom he believed to be his rival -in his wife’s affections, getting her to cook it -as a sheep’s heart, dining off it with her, and then -telling her what she had been eating. In addition -to being a talented musician he was also a very -clever painter who has won quite a reputation in -the island.</p> - -<p>And yet, while this unspeakable scoundrel was -controlling with his baton the flood of sweet sounds -which flowed out from the kiosk over the moonlight-spangled -lawns, the most respectable people -in Noumea were sitting about in chairs smoking -and chatting; young men and maidens were -wandering about among the trees; and little children -were playing round the grassy slope on which -the band-stand stood, taking no more notice of -these human hyenas than if they had been the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -most respectable musicians that ever wore long -hair and swallow-tailed coats.</p> - -<p>The performance finished, as usual, with “La -Marseillaise.” I stood up and took off my helmet. -Then I put it on again and sat down somewhat -suddenly. Not another person rose; not -another head was uncovered. For all the notice -that was taken of it, the National Hymn of the -Republic might as well have been “Mrs. ’Enery -’Awkins,”—which did not strike me as a particularly -good thing for France generally.</p> - -<p>When the performance was over the artists -gathered up their instruments, lolled out on to -the path in front of the kiosk, and shuffled into -a sort of double line. The weary warder counted -them in a languid fashion, right-about-faced them, -and gave the order to march. They shambled -away through the gaily dressed crowds in the -square. No one even turned to look at them, -and I, who had seen a party of English convicts -on their way to work through a public road, ranged -up with their faces to the wall because a break-load -of excursionists was passing by, wondered -greatly.</p> - -<p>The Musique de la Transportation is now,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -happily for the credit of Noumea, a thing of the -past. The pampered artists got to think themselves -indispensable to the gaiety of the town. -So one night, having collected more surreptitious -coppers than usual, they halted on their way to -barracks, bought wine and brandy, and told the -warder to go and report them if he dared. He -did dare, and the next day the Director of -the Administration published a brief edict which -abolished them as musicians for ever.</p> - -<p>The next morning, soon after coffee, a white-helmeted, -gorgeously uniformed gendarme presented -himself at the door of the Hotel Gaquon -with a request to see “Monsieur Griffitte.” An -Englishman or German official would have saluted. -He took his helmet off, bowed, and handed me -a letter from the Governor appointing an interview -for the next day. I went to breakfast at the club -as usual, and before the meal was over I found -that everybody knew of the sending of that letter. -I had been an interloper before, and an Englishman -at that. Now I was a guest, the guest of -the omnipotent Ministry upon whose will the -fate of every official in Caledonia depended.</p> - -<p>That was a morning of introductions, and I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -surprised to find how many friends I had in -Noumea.</p> - -<p>The Governor’s offices at Noumea are in a -corner of the lovely grounds in the midst of -which his official residence stands. It was a -little, unpretentious, two-storey building, wooden -built, and with a verandah giving on to the -street.</p> - -<p>I gave my card to a collarless clerk, who appeared -to be getting very hot over the task of sorting -a few papers. He sent it up to His Excellency, -and asked me “to give myself the trouble to sit -down,” which I did.</p> - -<p>Soldiers, civilians, gendarmes, and convict messengers -kept dropping in every now and then to -deliver messages or letters, or have a chat with -somebody by way of beguiling the tedium of official -hours, and then a half-caste boy came down with -my card and requested me to give myself the -further trouble of going upstairs. I don’t know -whether this was another official, but if he was his -uniform consisted of a pair of trousers and a shirt, -a linen jacket which hadn’t seen the laundry for -some time, and a pair of canvas deck-shoes.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus8"> -<img src="images/illus8.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Town and Harbour of Noumea. Across the bay are the Barracks and the Military Reservation, which no civilian may enter -without authority. On the peninsula to the right are the stations of the <i lang="fr">libérés collectifs</i>.</p> -</div> - -<p>I followed him upstairs. He opened the door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -without any ceremony, and I found myself in the -presence of the Governor—a man of medium -French height, with a square, close-cropped head, -moustache, and close-clipped beard. If the chin -had matched the forehead it would have been a -strong face, but it did not.</p> - -<p>I learnt afterwards that his Excellency Monsieur -Feuillet is a man of decided anti-English tastes; -but for all that he received me very cordially. He -had already received notice of my coming from -the French Government, and expressed himself as -willing to do anything to further my mission. As -a matter of fact, this came to countersigning my -credentials from the Minister of Colonies and -writing a letter to the Director of the Administration. -I then shook hands, and saw Monsieur -Paul Feuillet no more save from a distance.</p> - -<p>Then I went to the Direction, and in a few -minutes I was sitting in a half-darkened, comfortable -room, with double doors, through which no -sound could penetrate. This room is the centre -of the system which really controls the destinies -of bond and free throughout New Caledonia. On -the other side of an ample writing-table sat a square-headed, -strong-jawed man of about five-and-thirty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -with close-cropped hair, and moustache and shaven -chin <i lang="fr">à l’Anglais</i>.</p> - -<p>This was M. Edouard Telle, Director of the -Penitentiary Administration for New Caledonia -and Dependencies, the strongest, politest, and most -friendly Frenchman I have ever met.</p> - -<p>He is supreme chief of an army of commandants, -surveillants, and jailors, whose duty it is to keep -watch and ward over between ten thousand and -twelve thousand convicts, <i lang="fr">relégues</i> and <i lang="fr">libérés</i>—terms -which I have already explained.</p> - -<p>He is absolutely independent of the Governor, -who cannot even employ convicts on public works -without his permission. He is responsible to no -one but the Minister of Colonies and the President -of the Republic, and they are many a long thousand -miles away. With the stroke of a pen he could -instantly stop all convict labour throughout the -colony, and so bring its principal industries to a -standstill. It was he, too, and not the Governor, -who could have issued that ukase which would -have closed the prisons and turned my long journey -into a wild-goose chase.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus9"> -<img src="images/illus9.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">In the Harbour, Noumea.</p> -</div> - -<p>But, instead of this, he took quite as much -trouble with me as if I had been an inspector<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -sent out by the French Government, rather than -a wandering Englishman who was only there on -sufferance. He took the utmost pains to find out -exactly what I wanted; he mapped out my journeys -for me; gave me special passes authorising me to -inspect all the prisons and camps <i lang="fr">en détail</i>—which -is a very different thing to the ordinary, but still -rarely bestowed, visitor’s pass.</p> - -<p>He addressed a circular letter to the commandants, -enjoining them to do everything to help me; and, -not content with this, he telegraphed to each prison -and camp so that conveyances might be ready for -me. At the same time, when I suggested fixing -dates, he replied:</p> - -<p>“No, Mr. Griffith, go when you please. I wish -you to see the establishments exactly as they are -always, and not as they might be if they were got -ready for you. When you have seen them come -back and tell me what you think of them. From -what you have told me of your English prisons”—this -was at the end of a somewhat long conversation—“your -opinion will be most valuable -to me.”</p> - -<p>Then I thanked him, and mentioned the delicate -subject of photographs, and his good nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -and indulgence once move proved equal to the -strain.</p> - -<p>“Photograph anything you please,” he said, -“inside or outside the prisons; but I shall ask -you to remember that good English rule of yours -about photographing individual prisoners.”</p> - -<p>Of course, I agreed to this, and left the Direction -well at ease and wondering more than ever at the -misconceptions I had managed to form of the -Caledonian prison system. I frankly admit that I -had expected to be received with suspicion and -reserve, perhaps even with hostility.</p> - -<p>Instead of this the most powerful man in the -colony had greeted me with perfect cordiality and -frankness, and had taken more trouble to make -my tour a success than I should certainly have -expected a good many English officials to take.</p> - -<p>During another interview with M. Telle, before -I had yet seen the inside of a Caledonian prison, -we both managed to astonish each other not a -little. The Director is a criminologist and the son -of a criminologist, who was Director before him, -but he was sufficiently French only to have studied -the continental systems.</p> - -<p>Therefore he was about as much surprised when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -I told him that the cat and the birch were still -used in English prisons; that English prisoners -ate and slept in absolute solitude and worked in -silence, as I was when he told me that, in this -land of supposed horrors not only had all corporal -punishment been abolished, but that the surveillants -were not permitted even to lay a hand upon a -prisoner, except in actual self-defence; that cells -and silence were only used as punishments; and -when he added that the better-behaved prisoners -might smoke and drink wine, I confess that I -was almost shocked. All this, however, with other -strange things, I was soon to see for myself.</p> - -<p>I dined that night, as usual, at the club, in a -more contented frame of mind than heretofore, -for now the omnipotent Administration had spoken, -and I was free of the colony—free to go where -I pleased, to see what I liked, and, within the -limits of the law, do as I liked.</p> - -<p>No man might say me nay. All the prison-houses -in the land must give up their secrets to -me. In short, I had in my pocket the keys of -every cell door in New Caledonia.</p> - -<p>Under these circumstances I naturally found -things much pleasanter than before. I listened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -with equanimity to a local editor’s remarks on the -war news—which he had been spending the day -in mangling—and even the military doctors’ descriptions -of the new plague cases and the ghastly -operations which they had just been performing -with those nail-stained hands of theirs did not -seem quite so loathsome as before.</p> - -<p>There was, by the way, another peculiarity of -New Caledonian social life to which I was already -becoming accustomed. There are practically no -free servants in the colony. Male or female, they -are either convicts or ex-convicts, and it was no -uncommon thing to have your knife and fork -laid for you at breakfast or dinner by a hand -which had stuck a knife into somebody else, or -to take your food from hands that had poisoned.</p> - -<p>I admit that I did not like the idea at first, -but in time I got accustomed to it, just as I -did later on to being shaved by a most amiable -and accomplished murderer, and having my bed -made up by a lady who had cut her child’s throat. -It is, in fact, the fashion in New Caledonia to -have murderers for servants. As a distinguished -resident said to me:</p> - -<p>“You see, the assassins are reliable. They are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -the aristocrats of the place. They don’t condescend -to smaller crimes. In fact, they would be absolutely -insulted if they were accused of a theft, at -least, the good murderers would, and as for killing -you, they would never dream of it. Why should -they? Besides, they know perfectly well that -there wouldn’t be the remotest chance of escape -for them.”</p> - -<p>This I found afterwards to be the cold-drawn -truth. Fewer after-crimes are committed in New -Caledonia by those who are sent there for assassination -than by minor criminals. Later on I shall -have some curious information to give on this -subject.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_III">III<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i lang="fr">ILE NOU</i></span></h3> - -<p>Half-past five on a glorious tropical -morning. The sun was still hidden behind -the green, rugged mountains which gained its name -for New Caledonia; but it was still high enough for -the shadows to be melting out of the valleys; for -the grey roofs and white walls of the town to be -glimmering among the dark masses of foliage; and -for the smooth waters of the lovely harbour to light -up with foregleams of the glory of sunrise.</p> - -<p>A little beyond the northern end of the plague-infected -area, with its corrugated iron walls and -its white-clad sentries, I found a collection of pretty -buildings, with neat little gardens round them. -They were the offices of the executive police, and -when I had passed through them I found myself -on a short, board, wooden, T-shaped quay—the -Quai de la Transportation—which is used solely -for the purposes of the Administration.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> - -<p>Leading down to this is one of the only two -railways of New Caledonia on which a locomotive -travels. It is quite a toy affair, with a gauge of -about twenty inches, and a length of perhaps five -hundred yards; but the engine puffed around just -as busily, and seemed just as proud of itself, as if -it had been hauling the Empire State Express. It -runs from the wharves to the head of the quay, -and its function just then was carrying ballast for -a new road.</p> - -<p>It is a curious fact that the French have had -possession of New Caledonia for nearly half a -century, and yet the only railway by which passengers -can travel is one on which the cars are -drawn by convicts, concerning which more hereafter.</p> - -<p>I presented my credentials at the <i lang="fr">douanerie</i>, -where my cameras were viewed with considerable -suspicion until the all-compelling documents had -been read. After that, I suppose, they would have -almost let me take a Maxim gun on to the island. -Then they were noted and handed back to me with -a polite “<i lang="fr">Très bien, monsieur.</i> The <i lang="fr">canot</i> will -start in a quarter of an hour. If you will give -your apparatus to this officer he will see it safe -in the boat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>A polite surveillant stepped up, touched his -helmet, and took them from me. Then I lit a -pipe and strolled up and down the quay to enjoy -my strange surroundings.</p> - -<p>I had seen hundreds of convicts in England -working both within and without the prison walls; -working in grim, joyless silence, surrounded by -equally silent, rifle-armed warders, and never a -prisoner moving without one of these at his heels. -Here it was difficult to believe that I was in -Prisonland at all save that the other occupants of -the quay were wearing two very different uniforms, -and that I was the only one <i lang="fr">en civile</i>.</p> - -<p>The surveillants were dressed in spotless white—the -official washing-bill of New Caledonia must be -something enormous—their white helmets bore a -silver badge, the chief figure in which was a glorified -representation of the now forbidden rod, with -the letters “A. P.” (Administration Pénitentiare). -Their rank was shown by <i lang="fr">galons</i>, a sort of stripe -worn on the cuff of the left sleeve. This was of -blue cloth with silver braid—the lines of braid -served the same purpose as stripes do with us. -For instance, the French equivalent for “two -stripes” is “<i lang="fr">à deux galons</i>.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<p>The uniform of the others was chiefly conspicuous -for its ugliness and utility—a pair of -trousers and a jumper of light grey canvas cloth, -with a vest underneath, and a very broad-brimmed -straw hat, without a ribbon. No convict in -Caledonia is allowed a ribbon on his hat. Some -had stout, undressed brogues, and some were -barefoot. They were without exception extremely -ugly and fairly hearty.</p> - -<p>A good many of them were smoking, and this -rather got on my nerves, for I kept on asking -myself what would happen to an English prison -official if he saw a convict take out a cigarette -and go and ask another one for a light? But -here surveillants strolled about puffing their own -cigarettes—making me wonder again what would -happen to an English warder smoking on duty?—and -not worrying particularly over anything.</p> - -<p>At the same time, there was no lack of discipline -of its kind, though it was not what we should call -discipline in England. Still, the convicts worked -hard and regularly; harder, indeed, than I have -ever seen English convicts work.</p> - -<p>Their task was loading the <i lang="fr">canots</i> and the steam-launch -with provisions for the great prison on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -other side of the harbour; and they went at it -steadily and in excellent order until it was finished, -scarcely needing a word of direction from the -surveillants.</p> - -<p>As I watched them I thought of the quiet-spoken, -square-headed despot with whom I had been talking -a day or two before. These men, like hundreds -of others that I saw, evidently knew him, if only -by repute.</p> - -<p>Presently the surveillant who had taken my -cameras came and saluted and told me that the -<i lang="fr">canot</i> was ready. I got in, and found it manned by -twelve convicts, who were protected by an awning -stretched from stem to stern. They were chatting -and smoking when we got in, and my conductor, -thinking perhaps to impress the Englishman with a -sense of French discipline, ordered them to be silent.</p> - -<p>They stopped talking for five minutes while -they got under weigh, then, like a lot of school-boys, -they began again, whereupon the surveillant -rebuked them again. “<i lang="fr">Silence, je vous dis!</i>” -said he in his most authoritative tone; and they -obliged him more or less for the rest of the passage.</p> - -<p>I must say that they rowed very well, and with -a vigour which betokened good nourishment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -They looked at me with smiling curiosity. They -evidently knew pretty well all about me by this -time—Heaven and the mysterious “<i lang="fr">loi du bagne</i>” -only know how; and I daresay they wondered why -any one should have taken the trouble to come -across the world just to make their acquaintance.</p> - -<p>I was received on the quay at Ile Nou by an -officer—a chief warder, as we should call him in -England—who took me to the Commandant’s -house. <i lang="fr">En route</i> I found that Ile Nou, about -which I had read such terrible stories, is a very -pleasant little settlement, composed of white houses -and shady streets, at the foot of a hill on which -the great prison buildings stand.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes another illusion was shattered. -I admit that I expected to find the Commandant -of the greatest prison in Caledonia a semi-military -despot in a braided uniform, boots and spurs, with -a sword, and, possibly, a revolver, to say nothing -of fiercely waxed moustache and imperial.</p> - -<p>Instead of this I found a mild-mannered, grey-haired -gentleman of about sixty, clad in a <i lang="fr">négligé</i> -white suit, with no sign of official rank about him -save a silver-embroidered blue band round the -left cuff of his coat, which reminded me rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -oddly of the band that a British policeman wears -when he is on duty.</p> - -<p>He was drinking his early coffee and receiving reports, -which were noted by a convict clerk at another -table. He gave me a cup of coffee, and ordered the -carriage to be got ready. Meanwhile, he dropped -his reports and began to ask me about my journey, -my impressions of New Caledonia, and so on.</p> - -<p>Presently a surveillant came in to say that the -carriage was ready. We got in, and a couple -of well-bred, well-fed horses pulled us at a good -pace up the winding road, until our convict driver -halted in front of a big black iron door in a long -white-washed wall. As the Chief Surveillant put -his key into the lock the Commandant said to -me, with a smile:</p> - -<p>“You will be the first Englishman who has -ever passed this gate.”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Mais pardon, Commandant</i>,” said the surveillant, -as he threw the door open. “There have been -two others, but they did not come across the -world to see the prison, and they stayed a good -deal longer than monsieur would care to do.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt,” said I; and with that we crossed -the Threshold of Lost Footsteps.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>As the door swung to behind me I found myself -in a long rectangular courtyard, one side of which -was almost filled by a row of long, white buildings -fronting endways on to the court, with a door -at the end and small windows along the side.</p> - -<p>At the further end, to the right hand, there -was another door in the high, white wall, of -which I was to learn the use later on, for the -quadrangle which we were crossing is to the -convicts of Ile Nou what the Place de la Roquette -was lately to the Parisians—the Field of Blood, -the Place of Execution.</p> - -<p>The Commandant apologised for not being able -to invite me to assist at the spectacle, as there -was no patient available. I should see shortly -a <i lang="fr">forçat</i> awaiting trial for murder, but it would -be some time before he could be tried, and then -there would be the ratification of the sentence.</p> - -<p>I should, of course, have assisted at such a -spectacle if it had been possible; but I had the -advantage of hearing a simple, but none the less -graphic, description of an execution at Ile Nou -from the lips of one who had more than once been -an eye-witness of the dread ceremony; and this I -will reproduce hereafter not only because of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -dramatic interest, but because it is so absolutely -different from anything ever heard of in England.</p> - -<p>After we had inspected the <i lang="fr">cases</i>, or dormitories, -where the convicts of the third, or lowest, class sleep -on sloping wooden shelves, with one foot manacled -to an iron bar running the whole length of the -long room, we went through other gates and walls -into the central prison—the Prison Cellulaire—the -heart and centre of the vast organisation.</p> - -<p>Here I might have fancied myself in a somewhat -old-fashioned English prison. Here there were -no convicts smoking cigarettes or chatting at -their work while their guardians smoked theirs -and chatted also. The chill of silence cut down -through the warmth of the tropic morning as -the iron gates clashed to, and the heavy bolts -shot back. Underfoot, black stone or cement -pavement; around, white walls and two tiers -of little black doors, the upper fronted by stone -balconies and iron rails.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus10"> -<img src="images/illus10.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Inner Court of the Central Prison, Ile Nou. The Cachots Noirs are to the right. The Condemned Cells are in the Upper -Gallery above the Archway.</p> -</div> - -<p>On the ground floor we went through several -cells into which light as well as air was admitted, -and here I found convicts who had been sentenced -to various terms of hard labour with solitary confinement. -This, with reduction of diet, is the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -degree of punishment inflicted on an idle or disorderly -prisoner. It was about equal to the -ordinary hard labour of English prisons.</p> - -<p>Then, after a look into the two little exercise-yards, -we mounted to the second storey. Here -I noticed that the cells had no windows and no -gratings in the doors. Some of them had little -cards affixed to them.</p> - -<p>I went and read a couple of these; they contained -the names of the prisoners, their first sentence, their -subsequent offences, and their present sentences.</p> - -<p>In these two cases it was “ten years’ solitary -confinement in the dark.” Then I knew that -I was standing in front of the terrible Cachot Noir, -or Black Cell—that engine of mental murder -which the sentimentalism of French deputies, some -of them amnestied <i lang="fr">communards</i>, has substituted -for the infinitely more merciful lash.</p> - -<p>I asked for the doors to be opened. My polite -Commandant demurred for a moment. It was -not <i lang="fr">réglementaire</i>. The Cachots Noirs were never -opened except at stated intervals,—once every thirty -days, for an hour’s exercise and medical inspection,—but -the wording of my credentials was explicit, -and so the doors were opened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<p>Out of the corner of one came something in -human shape, crouching forward, rubbing its eyes -and blinking at the unaccustomed light. It had -been three and a half years in that horrible hole, -about three yards long, by one and a half broad. -I gave him a feast of sunshine and outer air by -taking his place for a few minutes.</p> - -<p>After the first two or three the minutes -lengthened out into hours. I had absolutely no -sense of sight. I was as blind as though I had -been born without eyes. The blackness seemed -to come down on me like some solid thing and -drive my straining eyes back into my head. It -was literally darkness that could be felt, for I felt it, -and the silence was like the silence of upper space.</p> - -<p>When the double doors opened again the rays of -light seemed to strike my eyes like daggers. The -criminal whose place I had taken had a record of -infamy which no printable words could describe, -and yet I confess that I pitied him as he went back -into that living death of darkness and silence.</p> - -<p>We went along the galleries, looking into other -cells and at other prisoners, some of whom I was -surprised to find quite cheerful, but they were -new-comers, and perhaps liked the idleness and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -sleep. Then we came to a corridor cut off by a -heavy iron gate. There were six ordinary cells in -this, the cells of the condemned, and it is here that the -last tragedy of the convict’s life on Ile Nou begins.</p> - -<p>Let us suppose that, as often happens, there are -four or five men lying in these cells under sentence -of death. The English murderer knows the day -and hour of his doom. These men do not. Every -night they go to sleep not knowing whether or not -it is their last sleep on earth. All they know is -that they are doomed. Then the fiat goes forth -that “<i lang="fr">Un nommé D.</i>” is to make the final expiation -of his crimes.</p> - -<p>That night, when the prison doors are locked, -the parts of the guillotine are brought in through -the door at the end of the great courtyard, and set -up on a platform supported on a stone foundation, -under the supervision of “Monsieur de l’Ile -Nou,” who is always a convict released from his -other duties in consideration of performing the -last functions of the law on his colleagues.</p> - -<p>Soon after three the next morning, accompanied -by the Chaplain and the Chief Surveillant, the -Commandant mounts the little hill on which the -central prison stands. The black doors open,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -and they ascend to the corridor of the condemned; -a key clicks in the lock, and the bolts rattle back.</p> - -<p>You can, perhaps, imagine what that sound -means to A., B., C., and D. Men in their position -do not take much awakening. Perhaps they have -been waiting for this for weeks.</p> - -<p>They hear the footsteps coming along the stone-paved -corridor. Which door will they stop at? -Think of the agony of apprehension that is compressed -into those few seconds!</p> - -<p>Then the footsteps stop. Three men wipe the -sweat from their brows, and fall back on their plank-beds. -They at least will not die for a day or two -yet. The fourth hears a key rattle into the lock -of his cell door. The door swings open, and the -early morning flows in. “<i lang="fr">L’un nommé D.</i>” has -already accepted his fate. He is already off his -bed and standing to attention as steadily as he -can. The Commandant says kindly, and, perhaps, -with a check in his voice:</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">C’est pour ce matin!</i>”</p> - -<p>Then he steps back, and the priest takes his -place. The door is not closed, but the Commandant -and his assistants retire a little out of respect for -the last confidences of the condemned.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<p>Meanwhile “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou” has been -summoned, and, in due course, he takes the chaplain’s -place. He binds his patient’s hands behind his back, -ties his legs so that he can only just walk, and cuts -away the collar of his shirt.</p> - -<p>At the same time, other and more picturesque -preparations have been made in the great courtyard. -A company of infantry with loaded rifles and fixed -bayonets have been marched in and surround the -scaffold in hollow square. Almost at the same time -come the Director of the Administration, the Procurator-General, -the Clerk of the Marine Tribunal, -the Court which holds the power of life and death -over the convicts, and a few other officials.</p> - -<p>The swift tropical dawn is approaching by this -time. The gates and doors of the prison are thrown -open, and columns of convicts file into the yard, -guarded by surveillants, revolver on hip. They -take their places in ranks inside the hollow square -of soldiers.</p> - -<p>The door at the end of the courtyard opens last -of all, and through it comes a little procession -composed of the Commandant, the Chief Surveillant, -the priest, and “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou,” escorting -the principal actor in the scene. The priest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -mounts the scaffold with the victim, followed by -the executioner and his assistant; the clerk of the -court reads the verdict and sentence, the Commandant -hands his warrant to the Director and -then he gives the order:</p> - -<p>“Uncover and kneel!”</p> - -<p>The broad-brimmed hats come off and the grey-clad -ranks sink on their knees around the Altar of -Justice. The living sacrifice is asked if he has -anything to say. He usually makes a short speech -either of exhortation or bravado.</p> - -<p>Then, with the assistance of the executioners, -he takes his place on a sloping plank. A roll of -drums rumbles echoing round the white walls. -The plank swings into a horizontal position, the -body is thrust forward till the neck is imprisoned -in the lunette—the little window through which -those who die by French law take their last look -at the world. “Monsieur de l’Ile Nou” touches -a button; then comes the “skirr” of the falling -knife, a sharp thud, and there is one scoundrel -the less on Ile Nou.</p> - -<p>After which the comrades of the deceased are -marched back to breakfast, and thence to their -daily tasks.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus11"> -<img src="images/illus11.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Central Prison, Ile Nou. In front is the Execution Ground. The Quadrangle is enclosed by a high whitewashed stone wall. -To the left is the Chapel in which the condemned may, if they choose, attend Mass for the last time.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_IV">IV<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>MEASUREMENT AND MANIA</i></span></h3> - -<p>I left the central prison breathing the soft, -sweet air, and looking up at the deep blue -sky with a sudden sensation of thankfulness which -I had never experienced before. In a sense I was -like a man who had been blind and had had his -sight given back to him; and I thought of the -wretches I had left behind me in that high-walled -enclosure and those little black holes built away -into the thick walls which, for so many of them, -were to be tombs of mental death.</p> - -<p>We came down the hill to the Pretoire, the -Bureau of Anthropometry. This is the ante-chamber -through which every prisoner must pass -who enters the Prisonland of the South. On the -way the Commandant and I discussed a topic -which I found a favourite one with all the -officials whom I met in Caledonia—the differences -between the French system and our own.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>They were quite as much surprised at the rigours -of our system as I at first was at the leniency of -theirs—always saving that horrible Cachot Noir.</p> - -<p>We went then, as I did many times afterwards, -with other officials, into matters of diet, hours, -and kinds of labour, detentions, and punishments, -and I succeeded in showing him that the Caledonian -convict was to be envied in every particular by -the English convict, until he came to the threshold -of the dark cell. With us, three days’ dark cell -and bread and water is the maximum punishment. -There it is five years, and sentences may run -consecutively. When the discussion was over the -commandant added an entirely French rider to it:</p> - -<p>“But, monsieur, you must remember that this -is not only imprisonment—it is exile. How many -of these poor wretches will ever see France again? -Whereas your criminals, when their sentence is -done, are set free in their native land.”</p> - -<p>To which I replied:</p> - -<p>“Quite so, and more’s the pity! Every avenue -of honest life is closed to them, and they are -released only to commit more crimes and deserve -another sentence. There your system is better. -You exile them really, but you give them another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -home where they have hope. We only exile them -socially, and give them no hope.”</p> - -<p>And this brought us to the door of the Pretoire.</p> - -<p>It consisted of three apartments, the middle one -was the examination room. To the right hand -was a larger chamber, sometimes used as a judgment -room. To the left was a smaller one, the -walls of which were covered with cabinets containing -the records in duplicate of every criminal that had -landed on Ile Nou. Beyond this there was a -dark-room.</p> - -<p>When I had had a general look round and a -chat with the Officer who operated the Bertillon -system, the Commandant asked me if I would care -to go through the mill. To which, not having -been found out so far, I consented.</p> - -<p>Thereupon I was delivered over into the hands -of a functionary who had a pair of eyes like visual -gimlets. They bored clean through me every -time he looked at me. I was no longer the -favoured guest of the all-powerful Administration; -I was simply a subject, a thing to be measured, and -weighed, and examined in the most minute detail, -and to have my most trivial characteristics noted -and put down under their proper categories.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>He told me to take off my boots and coat. By -rights my socks should have come off also, but -that, although I offered to do it, was dispensed -with. He put me up against a wall, fixed my -head with one hand and pushed my stomach in -with the other, saw that my knees were properly -back against the wall, and lowered the bar on to -my head. Then he moved my head a little to -right and left, and said to the clerk:</p> - -<p>“One metre, 816.”</p> - -<p>When this was noted down he sat me in a chair. -The seat was longitudinally divided by a ridge; -the back was a measuring scale. Again he took -means to satisfy himself that I was sitting perfectly -straight, and so my sitting height was taken.</p> - -<p>Then he got a pair of callipers, and measured -my head in two directions, from back to front -and across, all the time calling out the fatal figures -which, in case of need, would have identified me -among ten million men.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus12"> -<img src="images/illus12.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Bureau of Anthropometry, Ile Nou.</p> -</div> - -<p>After this he descended to minor matters, ears, -nose, lips, thumb- and finger-joints, eyelids, and so -on. Then he stood me on a box on which was -rudely outlined a human foot. I put my right -foot on this, bent forward, and rested my right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -hand on a table, using my left leg and foot to -keep my balance. When I was steady my foot -was measured.</p> - -<p>Then I rested my right arm on a table, standing -on one leg the while. It was measured from the -elbow to the point of the middle finger. After -this the prints of my thumb and three fingers -were taken, and duly impressed on the <i lang="fr">fiche</i>, or -identification card.</p> - -<p>Then came the most trying part of the ordeal, -the general observation. I stood to attention in -the middle of the floor. The gimlet-eyed official -walked round me, and looked through and through -me, what time the clerk at the table asked questions -from the schedule he was filling up.</p> - -<p>No detail was so minute as to escape those -all-searching eyes. A scar which I had got twenty -years before in a football match, though half hidden -under an eyebrow, was detected, measured, and -noted. The scars of a couple of old knife-stabs -in my left hand, and the trace of a parrot-bite on -one of my fingers—nothing escaped. The colour -of my hair and moustache fell into a certain -category. My eyes were examined, and the colours -of the iris duly placed in their proper category.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>By this time I began to feel as though I were -being taken to pieces and examined bit by bit. -It was a sort of mental and physical vivisection -without the knife and the chloroform. Finally, -the gentleman at the desk asked the question, -“Intellectuality?”</p> - -<p>“Mediocre,” replied Mr. Gimlet-eyes, with -brutal frankness. Then I laughed, and the Commandant -suggested that I should be photographed.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Pas artistique, mais exact</i>,” he said, as we went -into the other room.</p> - -<p>“And, therefore,” I said, “it will resemble the -remarks of your anthropometric expert. I never -had such an exact account of myself before. -Anthropometry strikes me as being a pretty good -medicine for human vanity.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus13"> -<img src="images/illus13.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">An Arab Type of Convict. A combination of Ideality and Homicidal Mania.</p> -</div> - -<p>Out of the depth and width of his experience -the Commandant agreed with me, and then I was -photographed. There was no artistic posing or -anything of that sort. I was planted on a chair -with my back straightened up and my head in a -vice such as other photographers were once wont -to torture their victims with. The camera was -brought within three feet of me. I was taken full -face, staring straight into the lens, and then I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -taken <i lang="fr">en profile</i>. When, many weeks afterwards, -I showed the result to my wife, she was sorry I -ever went; but for all that it’s a good likeness.</p> - -<p>By the time the negatives were developed, and -I had satisfied the Commandant that certain black -spots which the pitiless lens had detected under -my skin were the result of a disease I had contracted -years before in South America, and not -premonitory symptoms of the plague, it was -breakfast-time, and I went down to the canteen, -where I found convicts buying wine and cigarettes, -and generally conducting themselves like gentlemen -at large.</p> - -<p>I did not see the Commandant again that day, -save for a few minutes after lunch, when he told -me that he had an appointment at the Direction -in Noumea, and placed me in charge of his -lieutenant, the Chief Surveillant. The <i lang="fr">Chef</i> was -a very jolly fellow, as, indeed, I found most of -these officials to be, and during our drives about -the island, we chatted with the utmost freedom. -As a matter of fact, it was he who gave me the -description of the execution which I reproduced -in the last chapter.</p> - -<p>He, too, was entirely of the same opinion as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -myself as to the pitiless iniquity of the dark cell; -but he took some pains to point out that it was -not the fault either of the French Government or -of the Administration, but simply of certain -politicians in France who wanted a “cry,” and -got up a crusade among the sentimentalists against -“the brutality of flogging bound and helpless -prisoners far away from all civilised criticism -in New Caledonia.” Some of these men, too, as -I have said, were <i lang="fr">déportés</i>, or exiled <i lang="fr">communards</i> -who had been forgiven, and had brought back -batches of stories with them as blood-curdling as -they were mendacious.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Bien, monsieur</i>,” he said. “You have seen -the Cachot Noir. Now we will go to the -Disciplinary Camp first, because it is on the road, -and then—well, you shall see what the <i lang="fr">cachot</i> -does, and when you see that I think you will -say the lash is kinder.”</p> - -<p>The Disciplinary Camps in New Caledonia have -no counterpart in the English penal system. -“Incorrigibles,” who won’t work, who are insubordinate, -or have a bad influence on their -comrades of the Bagne, are sent into them partly -for punishment and partly for seclusion.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus14"> -<img src="images/illus14.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Courtyard of a Disciplinary Camp, Ile Nou. Inspection at 5 a.m. after breakfast, and before hard labour. To the right -is a Kanaka “Policeman.” The average physique of the Criminals may be seen by comparison with myself, standing in front of -the Kanaka.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> - -<p>They have poorer food and harder work, no -“gratifications” in the way of wine or tobacco, -or other little luxuries. They sleep on plank-beds -with their feet in anklets, and, if they don’t behave -themselves, they are promptly clapped into a cell -for so many days’ solitary confinement on bread and -water. For graver offences they are, of course, sent -back to the central prison as hopeless cases, after -which their own case is usually hopeless for life.</p> - -<p>I found several of the men in this camp working -in chains. This was another subject about which -the sentimentalists made a good deal of fuss in -France, but when I saw what the alleged chains -really were, I laughed, and said to my friend -the <i lang="fr">Chef</i>:</p> - -<p>“So that is what you call chains in New -Caledonia, is it? May I have a look at one?”</p> - -<p>He beckoned to one of the men to come up, -and this is what I found: There was an iron -band riveted round his right ankle, and to this -was attached a chain which, as nearly as I could -calculate with my hands, weighed about six pounds. -It was as absolutely no inconvenience to its wearer, -when he was either sitting or lying down. -When he was walking or working he tucked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -end in under his belt, and, as far as I could see, -it didn’t make any difference to his walk, save a -little dragging of the foot. In fact, when I asked -him whether it was any trouble to him, he said:</p> - -<p>“No, not after a few days. One gets accustomed -to it.”</p> - -<p>“Very likely!” I said. “If you got the chains -in an English prison, you would have them on -both legs and arms, and you wouldn’t be able to -take more than a half-stride.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, they are brutal, those English!” said -the scoundrel, with a shrug of his shoulders, as -he tucked the end of his chain round his belt -and sauntered away.</p> - -<p>The chain is usually a punishment for gross -insubordination or attempted escape. This man, -the <i lang="fr">Chef</i> told me, had tried three times with the -chain on, and once had used the loose end to -hammer a warder with, for which he got twelve -months’ Cachot Noir and the chain for life—and -a little more, since he would be buried -in it.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then, after I had made the round of the cells, -I was taken to a very curious punishment-chamber -which is in great vogue in New Caledonia. In -one sense it reminded me of our treadwheel, though -it is not by any means so severe. I have seen -a strong man reduced almost to fainting by fifteen -minutes on a treadwheel. Nothing like this -could happen in the Salle des Pas Perdus, as I -christened the place when its use had been explained -to me.</p> - -<p>Here, after a brief and scanty meal at 4.30 a.m., -the convicts are lined up in a big room, or, rather, -shed, about sixty feet long by forty feet broad. -There is absolutely no furniture in the place, -with the exception of a dozen flat-topped pyramids -of stone placed in straight lines about ten feet -from each side.</p> - -<p>If there are twenty-four convicts condemned -to this particular kind of weariness, twenty-four -are taken in, in single file. Then the word -“March!” is given, and they begin. Hour after -hour the dreary round-and-round is continued in -absolute silence. Every half-hour they are allowed -to sit on the pyramids for a couple of minutes, -and then on again. At eleven the bell rings for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -<i lang="fr">soupe</i>, which, in the Camp Disciplinaire, resolves -itself into hot water and fat with a piece of bread. -In the other camps the bell doesn’t go again till -one, but these have only their half-hour, and then -the promenade begins again, and continues till -sunset.</p> - -<p>I was assured that those who could stand a -week of this with the chain <em>did</em> feel its weight, -and I don’t wonder at it, for a more miserable, -weary, limping, draggle-footed crowd of scoundrels -I never saw in all my life than I watched that day -perambulating round the Hall of Lost Footsteps.</p> - -<p>From here we drove across to the western side -of the island, and presently came to a magnificent -sloping avenue of palm-trees.</p> - -<p>“The avenue of the hospital,” said the <i lang="fr">Chef</i>. -“Now you will see the best and the worst of Ile -Nou.”</p> - -<p>And so it was. We drove down the avenue -to a white, heavy stone arch, which reminded me -somewhat quaintly of the entrance gates of some -of the old Spanish haciendas I had seen up-country -in Peru. Inside was a vast, shady garden, brilliant -with flowers whose heavy scent was pleasantly -tempered by the sweet, cool breeze from the Pacific;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -for the eastern wall of the whole enclosure was -washed by the emerald waters of the Lagoon.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus15"> -<img src="images/illus15.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Avenue of Palms, leading to the Hospital, Ile Nou.</p> -</div> - -<p>In the midst of this garden stood the hospital, -built in quadrangular form, but with one side of -each “quad” open to the garden. The houses -were raised on stone platforms something like the -stoep of a Dutch house, and over these the roofs -came down in broad verandahs. Grey-clad figures -were sitting or lying about on the flags underneath, -a few reading or doing some trifling work, and -others were wandering about the garden or sleeping -in some shady nook. It was, in short, very different -from the central prison and the disciplinary camp.</p> - -<p>I was introduced to the Medical Director, and -he showed me round, omitting one wing, in which -he told me there were a couple of cases of plague. -I happened to know that there were really about -a dozen, so I readily agreed that that part should -be left out.</p> - -<p>As prison hospital, it differed very little from -others that I had seen in England. There was -the same neatness and exquisite cleanliness everywhere, -though the wards were somewhat darker, -and therefore cooler, which, with the midday sun -at 106° in the shade, was not a bad thing. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -the nurses were, of course, Sisters of Mercy.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> -In fact, practically all the nursing in New -Caledonia is done by Sisters, and not a few of -these heroic women had become brides of the -Black Death before I left.</p> - -<p>Here, as in all other prison hospitals I have -visited, diet, stimulants, and medicine are absolutely -at the discretion of the Director. No matter -what the cost, the spark of life must be kept alive -as long as possible in the breast of the murderer, -the forger, and the thief, or the criminal whose -light of reason has already been quenched in the -darkness of the Black Cell.</p> - -<p>In fact, so careful are the authorities of their -patients’ general health that they give them nothing -in the way of meat but the best beef and mutton -that can be imported from Australia; Caledonian -fed meat is not considered nourishing enough. In -normal times the death-rate of Ile Nou, which is -wholly given over to convict camps, is two or three -per cent. lower than that of the town of Noumea.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus16"> -<img src="images/illus16.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Part of the Hospital Buildings, Ile Nou. The roofed-terrace in front is where the patients take their siesta in the middle of the day. -One of these is attached to each court of the Hospital. Some of the mattresses may be seen to the right.</p> -</div> - -<p>Then from this little flowery paradise of rest and -quietness we went across the road to another -enclosure in which there were two long, white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -buildings, a prison and a row of offices, at right -angles to each other. This was the “bad” side. -On the other there had been invalids and invalid -lunatics; here there were only lunatics, and mostly -dangerous at that—men who, after being criminals, -had become madmen; not like the dwellers in -Broadmoor, who are only criminal because they -are mad.</p> - -<p>I once paid a visit to the worst part of the men’s -side at Broadmoor, but I don’t think it was quite -as bad as the long corridor which led through that -gruesome home of madness. On either hand were -heavy black-painted, iron doors, and inside these -a hinged grating through which the prisoner could -be fed.</p> - -<p>The cells were about nine feet by six feet. -They had neither furniture nor bedclothes in them. -The furniture would have been smashed up either -in sheer wanton destruction or for use as missiles -to hurl through the grating, and the bedclothes -would have been torn up into strips for hanging -or strangling purposes.</p> - -<p>It has been my good or bad luck to see poor -humanity in a good many shapes and guises, but -I never saw such a series of pitiful parodies of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -manhood as I saw when those cell doors were -opened.</p> - -<p>Some were crouched down in the corners of -their cells, muttering to themselves and picking -the sacking in which they were clothed to pieces, -thread by thread. It was no use giving them -regular prison clothing, for they would pick themselves -naked in a couple of days. Others were -walking up and down the narrow limits of their -cells, staring with horribly vacant eyes at the -roof or the floor, and not taking the slightest -notice of us.</p> - -<p>One man was lying down scraping with bleeding -fingers at the black asphalted floor under the -impression that he was burrowing his way to -freedom; others were sitting or lying on the floor -motionless as death; and others sprang at the bars -like wild beasts the moment the door was opened.</p> - -<p>But the most horrible sight I saw during that -very bad quarter of an hour was a gaunt-faced, -square-built man of middle-height who got up out -of a corner as his cell door opened, and stood in -the middle facing us.</p> - -<p>He never moved a muscle, or winked an eyelid. -His eyes looked at us with the steady, burning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -stare of hate and ferocity. His lips were drawn -back from his teeth like the lips of an ape in a -rage, and his hands were half clenched like claws. -The man was simply the incarnation of madness, -savagery, and despair. He had gone mad in the -Black Cell, and the form that his madness had -taken was the belief that nothing would nourish -him but human flesh. Of course he had to be -fed by force.</p> - -<p>When we got outside a big warder pulled up -his jumper and showed me the marks of two -rows of human teeth in his side. If another man -hadn’t stunned the poor wretch with the butt of -his revolver he would have bitten the piece clean -out—after which I was glad when the Doctor -suggested that I should go to his quarters and -have a drink with him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_V">V<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A CONVICT ARCADIA</i></span></h3> - -<p>I visited two or three other industrial camps -and the farm-settlements before I left Ile -Nou, but as I had yet to go through the agricultural -portions of the colony it would be no use -taking up space in describing them here.</p> - -<p>There are practically no roads to speak of in -New Caledonia outside a short strip of the south-western -coast. In September, 1863, Napoleon -the Little signed the decree which converted the -virgin paradise of New Caledonia into a hell of -vice and misery—a description which is perhaps -somewhat strong, but which history has amply -justified. In the following year the transport -<i lang="fr">Iphigénie</i> took a cargo of two hundred and forty-eight -galley-slaves from Toulon and landed them -where the town of Noumea now stands. This -consignment was added to by rapidly following -transports, and for thirty years at least the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -administration of New Caledonia has had at its -disposal an average of from seven to ten thousand -able-bodied criminals for purposes of general improvement, -and more especially for the preparation -of the colony for that free colonisation which -has been the dream of so many ministers and -governors.</p> - -<p>Now the area of New Caledonia is, roughly -speaking, between six thousand and seven thousand -square miles, and after an occupation of nearly -forty years it has barely fifty miles of roads over -which a two-wheeled vehicle can be driven, and -these are only on the south-western side of the -island.</p> - -<p>The only one of any consequence is that running -from Noumea to Bouloupari, a distance of about -thirty miles. At Bourail, which is the great -agricultural settlement, there are about twelve miles -of road and a long ago abandoned railway bed. -Between La Foa and Moindou there is another -road about as long; but both are isolated by miles -of mountain and bush from each other and are -therefore of very little general use.</p> - -<p>One has only to contrast them with the -magnificent coach roads made in a much shorter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -space of time through the far more difficult Blue -Mountain district in New South Wales to see -the tremendous difference between the British and -the French ideas of colonisation, to say nothing of -the railways—two thousand seven hundred miles—and -thirty-three thousand miles of telegraph lines.</p> - -<p>The result of this scarcity of roads and absolute -absence of railways is that when you want to go -from anywhere to anywhere else in New Caledonia -you have to take the Service des Côtes, which for -dirt, discomfort, slowness, and total disregard of -the convenience of passengers I can only compare -to the Amalgamated Crawlers presently known as -the South-Eastern and Chatham Railways. Like -them, it is, of course, a monopoly, wherefore if -you don’t like to go by the boats you can either -swim or walk.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus17"> -<img src="images/illus17.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Island of “Le Sphinx,” one of the tying-up places on the south-west coast of New Caledonia.</p> -</div> - -<p>The whole of New Caledonia is surrounded by -a double line of exceedingly dangerous reefs, cut -here and there by “passes,” one of which Captain -Cook failed to find, and so lost us one of the richest -islands in the world. The navigable water both -inside and outside the reefs is plentifully dotted with -tiny coral islands and sunken reefs a yard or so -below the surface and always growing, hence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -navigation is only possible between sunrise and -sunset. There is only one lighthouse in all -Caledonia.</p> - -<p>Thus, when I began to make my arrangements -for going to Bourail, I found that I should have -to be on the wharf at the unholy hour of 4.30 a.m. -I packed my scanty belongings overnight. At 4.15 -the cab was at the door. The <i lang="fr">cochers</i> of Noumea -either work in relays or never go to sleep. I was -just getting awake, and the gorged mosquitoes were -still sleeping. I dressed and drank my coffee to -the accompaniment of considerable language which -greatly amused the copper-skinned damsel who -brought the coffee up. She also never seemed to -sleep.</p> - -<p>Somehow I got down to the wharf, and presented -myself at the <i lang="fr">douannerie</i> with my “<i lang="fr">Certificat de -Santé</i>,” which I had got from the hospital the -previous evening. The doctor in charge gave me -a look over, and countersigned it. Then I went -with my luggage into an outer chamber. My bag -and camera-cases were squirted with phenic acid -from a machine which looked like a cross between -a garden hose and a bicycle foot-pump. Then I -had to unbutton my jacket, and go through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -same process. The rest of the passengers did the -same, and then we started in a strongly smelling -line for the steamer.</p> - -<p>As we went on board we gave up our bills of -health, after which we were not permitted to land -again under penalty of forfeiting the passage and -being disinfected again. Our luggage now bore -yellow labels bearing the legend, “<i lang="fr">colis désinfecté</i>,” -signed by the medical inspector. These were -passed on to the ships by Kanakas, who freely -went and came, and passed things to and from the -ship without hindrance. As Kanakas are generally -supposed to be much better carriers of the plague -than white people, our own examination and -squirting seemed a trifle superfluous.</p> - -<p>The steamer was the <i lang="fr">St. Antoine</i>, which may -be described as the Campania of the Service des -Côtes. Until I made passages on one of her sister-ships—to -be hereafter anathematised—I didn’t know -how bad a French colonial passenger-boat could be. -Afterwards I looked back to her with profound -regret and a certain amount of respect; wherefore -I will not say all that I thought of her during the -eleven hours that she took to struggle over the -sixty-odd miles from Noumea to Bourail.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<p>There is no landing-place at the port of Bourail, -save for boats, so, after the usual medical inspection -was over and I had made myself known to the -doctor, I went ashore in his boat. The Commandant -was waiting on the shore with his carriage. -I presented my credentials, and then came the usual -<i lang="fr">consommations</i>, which, being literally interpreted, -is French for mixed drinks, after which we drove -off to the town of Bourail, eight kilometres away. -As we were driving down the tree-arched road -I noticed half a dozen horsewomen seated astride -<i lang="fr">à la Mexicaine</i>, with gaily coloured skirts flowing -behind.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” I said, “do your ladies here ride South -American fashion?”</p> - -<p>“My dear sir,” he replied, “those are not ladies. -They are daughters of convicts, born here in Bourail, -and reared under the care of our paternal government! -But that is all stopped now, later on you -will see why.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I said, “I have heard that you have -given up trying to make good colonists out of -convict stock.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he replied; “and none too soon, as you -will see.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> - -<p>From which remark I saw that I had to do with -a sensible man, so I straightway began to win his -good graces by telling him stories of distant lands, -for he was more of a Fleming than a Frenchman, -and was therefore able to rise to the conception -that there are other countries in the world besides -France.</p> - -<p>I found Bourail a pretty little township, consisting -of one street and a square, in the midst of which -stood the church, and by dinner-time I found myself -installed in a little hotel which was far cleaner -and more comfortable than anything I had seen in -Noumea, except the club. When I said good-night -to the Commandant, he replied:</p> - -<p>“Good-night, and sleep well. You needn’t -trouble to lock your door. We are all criminals -here, but there is no crime.”</p> - -<p>Which I subsequently found to be perfectly true.</p> - -<p>Everything in New Caledonia begins between -five and half-past, unless you happen to be starting -by a steamer, and then it’s earlier. My visit to -Bourail happened to coincide with a governmental -inspection, and early coffee was ordered for five -o’clock. That meant that one had to get tubbed, -shaved, and dressed, and find one’s boots a little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -before five. Bar the Black Death, I disliked New -Caledonia mostly on account of its early hours. -No civilised persons, with the exception of milkmen -and criminals under sentence of death, ought to -be obliged to get up before nine.</p> - -<p>Still, there was only one bath in the place, and -I wanted to be first at it, so I left my blind up, -and the sun awoke me.</p> - -<p>I got out of bed and went on to the balcony, -and well was I rewarded even for getting up at -such an unrighteous hour. The night before it -had been cloudy and misty, but now I discovered -with my first glance from the verandah that I had -wandered into something very like a paradise.</p> - -<p>I saw that Bourail stood on the slope of a range -of hills, and looked out over a fertile valley which -was dominated by a much higher range to the -north-east. The sun wasn’t quite up, and neither -were the officers of the Commission, so I went for -my bath. There were no mosquitos in Bourail -just then, and I had enjoyed for once the luxury -of an undisturbed sleep. The water, coming from -the hills, was delightfully cool, and I came back -feeling, as they say between New York and San -Francisco, real good.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Commission, for some reason or other, did -not get up before breakfast-time (11.30), and so -we got a good start of them. The Commandant -had the carriage round by six o’clock, and, after -the usual <i lang="fr">consommations</i>, we got away. It was -a lovely morning, the only one of the sort I saw -in Bourail, for the next day the clouds gathered -and the heavens opened, and down came the floods -and made everything but wading and swimming -impossible; but this was a day of sheer delight -and great interest.</p> - -<p>We drove over the scene of a great experiment -which, I fear, is destined to fail badly. The -province of Bourail is the most fertile in all -Caledonia, wherefore in the year 1869 it was -chosen by the paternal French Government as the -Arcadia of the Redeemed Criminal. The Arcadia -is undoubtedly there, the existence of the redeemed -criminal struck me as a little doubtful.</p> - -<p>As soon as we got under way I reverted to -the young ladies we had seen on horseback the -evening before.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus18"> -<img src="images/illus18.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A Native Temple, New Caledonia.</p> -</div> - -<p>“You shall see the houses of their parents,” said -the Commandant; “and afterwards you will see the -school where the younger ones are being educated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -For example,” he went on, pointing down the -street we were just crossing, “all those shops and -little stores are kept by people who have been -convicts, and most of them are doing a thriving -trade. Yonder,” he said, waving his hand to the -right, “is the convicts’ general store, the Syndicat -de Bourail. It was founded by a convict, the staff -are convicts, and the customers must be convicts. -It is what you would call in English a Convict -Co-operative Store. It is managed by scoundrels -of all kinds, assassins, thieves, forgers, and others. -I have to examine the books every three months, -and there is never a centime wrong. That is more -than most of the great establishments in Sydney -could say, is it not?”</p> - -<p>I made a non-committal reply, and said:</p> - -<p>“Set a thief to catch a thief, or watch him.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly! There is no other business concern -in Caledonia which is managed with such absolute -honesty as this is. I should be sorry for the man -who tried to cheat the management.”</p> - -<p>I knew enough of Caledonian society by this -time to see that it would not be good manners to -press the question any further. Afterwards I had -an interview with the manager of the syndicate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -an estimable and excellently conducted forger, who -had gained his <i lang="fr">rémission</i> and was doing exceedingly -well for himself and his wife, who, I believe, had -blinded somebody with vitriol, and was suspected -of dropping her child into the Seine.</p> - -<p>He presented me with a prospectus of the -company, which showed that it had started with a -government loan of a few hundred francs, and now -had a reserve fund of nearly forty thousand francs. -He was a patient, quiet-spoken, hard-working man -who never let a centime go wrong, and increased -his personal profits by selling liquors at the back -door.</p> - -<p>Our route lay across the broad valley which is -watered by the River Nera. On either side the -ground rose gently into little hillocks better -described by the French word <i lang="fr">collines</i> and on each -of these, usually surrounded by a grove of young -palms and a dozen acres or so of vineyards, orchards, -manioc, plantain, or maize, stood a low, broad-verandahed -house, the residence of the redeemed -criminal.</p> - -<p>I could well have imagined myself driving -through a thriving little colony of freemen in some -pleasant tropical island upon which the curse of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -crime had never descended, and I said so to the -Commandant.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said, “it looks so, doesn’t it? Now, -you see that house up there to the left, with the -pretty garden in front. The man who owns that -concession was a hopeless scoundrel in France. He -finished up by murdering his wife after he had -lived for years on the wages of her shame. Of -course, the jury found extenuating circumstances. -He was transported for life, behaved himself -excellently, and in about seven years became a -concessionnaire.</p> - -<p>“He married a woman who had poisoned her -husband. They have lived quite happily together, -and bring up their children most respectably.”</p> - -<p>I was too busy thinking to reply, and he went -on, pointing to the right:</p> - -<p>“Then, again, up there to the right—that pretty -house on the hill surrounded by palms. The man -who owns that was once a cashier at the Bank of -France. He was a ‘<i lang="fr">faussaire de première classe</i>,’ -and he swindled the bank out of three millions of -francs before they found him out. He was sent -here for twenty years. After eight he was given a -concession and his wife and family voluntarily came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -out to him. You see, nothing was possible for -the wife and children of a convict forger in Paris. -Here they live happily on their little estate. No -one can throw stones at them, and when they die -the estate will belong to their children.”</p> - -<p>“That certainly seems an improvement on our -own system,” I said, remembering the piteous -stories I had heard of the wives and families of -English convicts, ruined through no fault of their -own, and with nothing to hope for save the -return of a felon husband and father into a -world where it was almost impossible for him to -live honestly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said; “I think so. Now, as we -turn the corner you will see the house of one of -our most successful colonists. There,” he said, -as the wagonette swung round into a delightful -little valley, “that house on the hillside, with the -white fence round it, and the other buildings to -the side. The owner of that place was a thief, -a forger, and an assassin in Paris. He stole some -bonds, and forged the coupons. He gave some -of the money to his mistress, and found her giving -it to some one else, so he stabbed her, and was -sent here for life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He got his concession, and married a woman -who had been sent out for infanticide, as most -of them are here. If not that, it is generally -poison. Well, now he is a respectable colonist -and a prosperous farmer. He has about forty -acres of ground well cultivated, as you see. He -has thirty head of cattle and a dozen horses, mares, -and foals, to say nothing of his cocks and hens -and pigs. He supplies nearly the whole of the -district with milk, butter, and eggs, and makes -a profit of several thousand francs a year. I wish -they were all like that!” he concluded, with a -little sigh which meant a good deal.</p> - -<p>“I wish we could do something like that with -our hard cases,” I replied, “instead of turning -them out into the streets to commit more crimes -and beget more criminals. We know that crime -is a contagious as well as an hereditary disease, -and we not only allow it to spread, but we even -encourage it as if we liked it.”</p> - -<p>“It is a pity,” he said sympathetically, “for you -have plenty of islands where you might have -colonies like this. You do not need to punish -them. Remove them, as you would remove a -cancer or a tumour, and see that they do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -come back. That is all. Society would be better, -and so would they.”</p> - -<p>I could not but agree with this since every -turn of the road brought us to fresh proofs of -the present success of the system, and then I -asked again:</p> - -<p>“But how do these people get their first start? -One can’t begin farming like this without capital.”</p> - -<p>“Oh no,” he said, “the Government does -that. For the first few years, according to the -industry and ability of the settler, these people -cost us about forty pounds a year each, about what -you told me it costs you to keep a criminal in -prison. We give them materials for building -their houses, tools, and agricultural implements, -six months’ provisions, and seed for their first -harvest. After that they are left to themselves.</p> - -<p>“If they cannot make their farm pay within -five years or so they lose everything; the children -are sent to the convent, and the husband and -wife must hire themselves out as servants either -to other settlers or to free people. If they do -succeed the land becomes absolutely theirs in ten -years. If they have children they can leave it -to them, or, if they prefer, they can sell it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Some, for instance, have got their rehabilitation, -their pardon, and restoration of civil rights. -They have sold their farms and stock and gone -back to France to live comfortably. Their children -are, of course, free, though the parents may not -leave the colony without rehabilitation. After -breakfast I will take you down the street of Bourail, -and introduce you to some who have done well -in trade, and to-morrow or next day you can see -what we do with the children.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_VI">VI<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>SOME HUMAN DOCUMENTS</i></span></h3> - -<p>Society in Bourail, although in one sense -fairly homogeneous, is from another point -of view distinctly mixed. Here, for example, are -a few personal items which I picked up during -our stroll down the main and one street of the -village.</p> - -<p>First we turned into a little saddler’s shop, the -owner of which once boasted the privilege of -making the harness for Victor Emmanuel’s horses. -Unfortunately his exuberant abilities were not content -even with such distinction as this, and so -he deviated into coining, with the result of hard -labour for life. After a few years his good conduct -gained him a remission of his sentence, and in -due course he became a concessionnaire. His wife, -who joined him after his release, is one of the -aristocrats of this stratum of Bourailian society.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus19"> -<img src="images/illus19.jpg" width="700" height="475" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Permit to visit a Prison or Penitentiary Camp <i lang="fr">en détail</i>. This is the ordinary form; but the Author is the only -Englishman for whom the words in the left-hand corner were crossed out.</p> -</div> - -<p>There is quite a little romance connected with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -this estimable family. When Madame came out -she brought her two daughters with her. Now -the elder of these had been engaged to a young -man employed at the Ministry of Colonies, and -he entered the colonial service by accepting a -clerkship at Noumea. The result was naturally a -meeting, and the fulfilment of the proverb which says -that an old coal is easily rekindled. The engagement -broken off by the conviction was renewed, and -the wedding followed in due course. The second -daughter married a prosperous concessionnaire, and -the ex-coiner, well established, and making plenty -of properly minted money, has the satisfaction of -seeing the second generation of his blood growing -up in peace and plenty about him. Imagine such -a story as this being true of an English coiner!</p> - -<p>A little further on, on the left hand side, is -a little lending library, and <i lang="fr">cabinet de lecture</i>. -This is kept by a very grave and dignified-looking -man, clean-shaven, and keen-featured, and with -the manners of a French Chesterfield. “That -man’s a lawyer,” I said to the Commandant, as -we left the library. “What is he doing here?”</p> - -<p>“You are right. At least, he was a lawyer once, -doing well, and married to a very nice woman;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -but he chose to make himself a widower, and that’s -why he’s here. The old story, you know.”</p> - -<p>Next door was a barber’s shop kept by a most -gentle-handed housebreaker. He calls himself a -“capillary artist,” shaves the officials and gendarmerie, -cuts the hair of the concessionnaires, -and sells perfumes and soaps to their wives and -daughters. He also is doing well.</p> - -<p>A few doors away from him a <i lang="fr">liberé</i> has an -establishment which in a way represents the art -and literature of Bourail. He began with ten -years for forgery and embezzlement. Now he -takes photographs and edits, and, I believe, also -writes the <cite lang="fr">Bourail Indépendent</cite>. As a newspaper -for ex-convicts and their keepers, the title struck -me as somewhat humorous.</p> - -<p>Nearly all branches of trade were represented in -that little street. But these may be taken as fairly -representative samples of the life-history of those who -run them. First, crime at home; then transportation -and punishment; and then the effort to redeem, -made in perfect good faith by the Government, -and, so far as these particular camps and settlements -are concerned, with distinct success in the present.</p> - -<p>Unhappily, however, the Government is finding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -out already that free and bond colonists will not -mix. They will not even live side by side, wherefore -either the whole system of concessions must -be given up, or the idea of colonising one of the -richest islands in the world with French peasants, -artisans, and tradesmen must be abandoned.</p> - -<p>Later on in the afternoon we visited the Convent, -which is now simply a girls’-school under the charge -of the Sisters of St. Joseph de Cluny. A few years -ago this convent was perhaps the most extraordinary -matrimonial agency that ever existed on the face -of the earth. In those days it was officially styled, -“House of Correction for Females.” The sisters -had charge of between seventy and eighty female -convicts, to some of whom I shall be able to -introduce you later on in the Isle of Pines, and -from among these the bachelor or widower convict, -who had obtained his provisional release and a -concession, was entitled to choose a bride to be his -helpmeet on his new start in life. The method -of courtship was not exactly what we are accustomed -to consider as the fruition of love’s young or even -middle-aged dream.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus20"> -<img src="images/illus20.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Kiosk in which the Convict Courtships were conducted at Bourail.</p> -</div> - -<p>After Mass on a particular Sunday the prospective -bridegroom was introduced to a selection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -of marriageable ladies, young and otherwise. Of -beauty there was not much, nor did it count for -much. What the convict-cultivator wanted, as a -rule, was someone who could help him to till his -fields, look after live-stock, and get in his harvests.</p> - -<p>When he had made his first selection the lady -was asked if she was agreeable to make his further -acquaintance. As a rule, she consented, because -marriage meant release from durance vile. After -that came the queerest courtship imaginable.</p> - -<p>About fifty feet away from the postern door at -the side of the Convent there still stands a little -octagonal kiosk of open trellis-work, which is -completely overlooked by the window of the -Mother Superior’s room. Here each Sunday -afternoon the pair met to get acquainted with each -other and discuss prospects.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the Mother Superior sat at her -window, too far away to be able to hear the soft -nothings which might or might not pass between the -lovers, but near enough to see that both behaved -themselves. Along a path, which cuts the only -approach to the kiosk, a surveillant marched, revolver -on hip and eye on the kiosk ready to respond to -any warning signal from the Mother Superior.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - -<p>As a rule three Sundays sufficed to bring matters -to a happy consummation. The high contracting -parties declared themselves satisfied with each other, -and the wedding day was fixed, not by themselves, -but by arrangement between those who -had charge of them.</p> - -<p>Sometimes as many as a dozen couples would -be turned off together at the <i lang="fr">mairie</i>, and then in -the little church at the top of the market-place -touching homilies would be delivered by the good -old <i lang="fr">curé</i> on the obvious subject of repentance and -reform. A sort of general wedding feast was -arranged at the expense of the paternal Government, -and then the wedded assassins, forgers, coiners, -poisoners, and child-murderers went to the homes -in which their new life was to begin.</p> - -<p>This is perhaps the most daring experiment -in criminology that has ever been made. The -Administration claimed success for it on the ground -that none of the children of such marriages have -ever been convicted of an offence against the -law. Nevertheless, the Government have most -wisely put a stop to this revolting parody on the -most sacred of human institutions, and now wife-murderers -may no longer marry poisoners or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -infanticides with full liberty to reproduce their -species and have them educated by the State, to afterwards -take their place as free citizens of the colony.</p> - -<p>The next day we drove out to the College of -the Marist Brothers. It is really a sort of agricultural -school, in which from seventy to eighty sons of -convict parents are taught the rudiments of learning -and religion and the elements of agriculture.</p> - -<p>During a conversation with the Brother Superior -I stumbled upon a very curious and entirely -French contradiction. I had noticed that families -in New Caledonia were, as a rule, much larger -than in France, and I asked if these were all the -boys belonging to the concessionnaires of Bourail.</p> - -<p>“Oh no!” he replied; “but, then, you see, -we have no power to compel their attendance -here. We can only persuade the parents to -let them come.”</p> - -<p>“But,” I said, “I understood that primary -education was compulsory here as it is in France.”</p> - -<p>“For the children of free people, yes,” he replied -regretfully, and with a very soft touch of sarcasm, -“but for these, no. The Administration has too -much regard for the sanctity of parental authority.”</p> - -<p>When the boys were lined up before us in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -the playground I saw about seventy-six separate -and distinct reasons for the abolition of convict -marriages. On every face and form were stamped -the unmistakable brands of criminality, imbecility, -moral crookedness, and general degeneration, not all -on each one, but there were none without some.</p> - -<p>Later on I started them racing and wrestling, -scrambling and tree-climbing for pennies. They -behaved just like monkeys with a dash of tiger -in them, and I came away more convinced than -ever that crime is a hereditary disease which can -finally be cured only by the perpetual celibacy of the -criminal. Yet in Bourail it is held for a good thing -and an example of official wisdom that the children -of convicts and of freemen shall sit side by side in -the schools and play together in the playgrounds.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus21"> -<img src="images/illus21.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Berezowski, the Polish Anarchist who attempted to murder Napoleon III. and the Tsar -Alexander II. in the Champs Elysées. All Criminals in New Caledonia are photographed -in every possible hirsute disguise; and finally cropped and clean shaven.</p> -<p class="caption"><i>By permission of C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>On our way home I was introduced to one of -the most picturesque and interesting characters -that I met in the colony. We pulled up at the -top of a hill. On the right hand stood a rude -cabin of mud and wattles thatched with palm-leaves, -and out of this came to greet us a strange, half-savage -figure, long-haired, long-bearded, hairy -almost as a monkey on arms and legs and breast, -but still with mild and intelligent features, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -rather soft brown eyes, in which I soon found the -shifting light of insanity.</p> - -<p>Acting on a hint the Commandant had already -given me, I got out and shook hands with this -ragged, shaggy creature, who looked much more -like a man who had been marooned for years on -a far-away Pacific Island, than an inhabitant of -this trim, orderly Penal Settlement. I introduced -myself as a messenger from the Queen of England, -who had come out for the purpose of presenting -her compliments and inquiring after his health.</p> - -<p>This was the Pole Berezowski, who more than -thirty years ago fired a couple of shots into the -carriage in which Napoleon III. and Alexander II. -were driving up the Champs Elysées. He is -perfectly harmless and well-behaved; quite contented, -too, living on his little patch and in a -world of dreams, believing that every foreigner -who comes to Bourail is a messenger from some -of the crowned heads of Europe, who has crossed -the world to inquire after his welfare. Through -me he sent a most courteous message to the Queen, -which I did not have the honour of delivering.</p> - -<p>That night the storm-clouds came over the -mountains in good earnest, and I was forced to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -abandon my intention of returning to Noumea by -road, since the said road would in a few hours be -for the most part a collection of torrents, practically -impassible, to say nothing of the possibility of a -cyclone. There was nothing more to be seen or -done, so I accepted the Commandant’s offer to -drive me back to the port.</p> - -<p>On the way he told me an interesting fact -and an anecdote, both of which throw considerable -light upon the convict’s opinion of the settlement -of Bourail.</p> - -<p>The fact was this: There are in New Caledonia -a class of convicts who would be hard to find -anywhere else. These are voluntary convicts, and -they are all women. A woman commits a crime -in France and suffers imprisonment for it. On -her release she finds herself, as in England, a social -outcast, with no means of gaining a decent living. -Instead of continuing a career of crime, as is -usually the case here, some of these women will -lay their case before the Correctional Tribunal, and -petition to be transported to New Caledonia, where -they will find themselves in a society which has -no right to point the finger of scorn at them.</p> - -<p>As a rule the petition is granted, plus a free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -passage, unless the woman has friends who can -pay. Generally the experiment turns out a success. -The woman gets into service or a business, or -perhaps marries a <i lang="fr">liberé</i> or concessionnaire, and so -wins her way back not only to respectability as -it goes in Caledonia, but sometimes to comfort and -the possession of property which she can leave to -her children.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, the proprietress of the little -hotel at the port was one of these women. She -had come out with a few hundred francs that her -friends had subscribed. She now owns the hotel, -which does an excellent business, a freehold estate of -thirty or forty acres, and she employs fifteen Kanakas, -half a dozen convicts, and a Chinaman—who is her -husband, and works harder than any of them.</p> - -<p>The anecdote hinged somewhat closely on the -fact, and was itself a fact.</p> - -<p>There is a weekly market at Bourail, to which -the convict farmers bring their produce and such -cows, horses, calves, etc., as they have to sell. -Every two or three years their industry is stimulated -and rewarded by the holding of an agricultural -exhibition, and, as a rule, the Governor goes over -to distribute the prizes. One of these exhibitions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -had been held, I regret to say, a short time before -my arrival, and the Governor who has the work of -colonisation very seriously at heart, made speeches -both appropriate and affecting to the various -winners as they came to receive their prizes.</p> - -<p>At length a hoary old scoundrel, who had -developed into a most successful stock-breeder, and -had become quite a man of means, came up to -receive his prizes from his Excellency’s hands. -M. Feuillet, as usual, made a very nice little -speech, congratulating him on the change in his -fortunes, which, by the help of a paternal government, -had transformed him from a common thief -and vagabond to an honest and prosperous owner -of property.</p> - -<p>So well did his words go home that there were -tears in the eyes of the reformed reprobate when he -had finished, but there were many lips in the -audience trying hard not to smile when he replied:</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Ah, oui, mon Gouverneur!</i> if I had only -known what good chances an unfortunate man has -here I would have been here ten years before.”</p> - -<p>What his Excellency really thought on the subject -is not recorded.</p> - -<p>The hotel was crowded that night for the steamer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -was to sail for Noumea, as usual, at five o’clock in -the morning; but as Madame was busy she was -kind enough to give up her own chamber to me; -and so I slept comfortably to the accompaniment of -a perfect bombardment of water on the corrugated -iron roof. Others spread themselves on tables and -floors as best they could, and paid for accommodation -all the same.</p> - -<p>By four o’clock one of those magical tropic -changes had occurred, and when I turned out the -moon was dropping over the hills to the westward, -and Aurora was hanging like a huge white diamond -in a cloudless eastern sky. The air was sweetly -fresh and cool. There were no mosquitos, and -altogether it was a good thing to be alive, for -the time being at least.</p> - -<p>Soon after the little convict camp at the port -woke up. We had our early coffee, with a dash of -something to keep the cold out, and I made an -early breakfast on tinned beef and bread—convict -rations—and both very good for a hungry man. -Then came the news that the steamboat <i lang="fr">La France</i> -had tied up at another port to the northward -on account of the storm, and would not put in -an appearance until night, which made a day and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -another night to wait, as the coast navigation is -only possible in daylight.</p> - -<p>I naturally said things about getting up at four -o’clock for nothing more than a day’s compulsory -loafing, but I got through the day somehow with the -aid of some fishing and yarning with the surveillants -and the convicts, one of whom, a very intelligent -Arab, told me, with quiet pride, the story of his -escape from New Caledonia twelve years before.</p> - -<p>He had got to Australia in an open boat, with -a pair of oars, the branch of a tree for a mast and -a shirt for a sail. He made his way to Europe, -roamed the Mediterranean as a sailor for nine years, -and then, at Marseilles, he had made friends with -a man who turned out to be a <i lang="fr">mouchard</i>. This -animal, after worming his secret out of him under -pledge of eternal friendship, earned promotion by -giving him away, and so here he was for life.</p> - -<p>He seemed perfectly content, but when I asked -him what he would do with that friend if he had -him in the bush for a few minutes, I was answered -by a gleam of white teeth, a flash of black eyes, -and a shake of the head, which, taken together, -were a good deal more eloquent than words.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus22"> -<img src="images/illus22.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">One of the Lowest Types of Criminal Faces. An illustration of the ease with which -it is possible to disguise the chin, typical of moral weakness, and the wild-beast -mouth, which nearly all Criminals have, by means of moustache and beard.</p> -<p class="caption"><i>By permission of C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.</i></p> -</div> - -<p><i lang="fr">La France</i> turned up that afternoon, so did the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -Commission of Inspection from Bourail with several -other passengers. I was told that we should be -crowded, but until I got on board in the dawn -of the next morning I never knew how crowded -a steamer could be.</p> - -<p>I had travelled by many crafts under sail and -steam from a south sea island canoe to an Atlantic -greyhound, but never had the Fates shipped me -on board such a craft as <i lang="fr">La France</i>. She was an -English-built cargo boat, about a hundred and thirty -feet long, with engines which had developed sixty -horse-power over twenty years ago. She had three -cabins on each side of the dog-kennel that was -called the saloon.</p> - -<p>If she had been allowed to leave an English port at -all she would have been licensed to carry about eight -passengers aft and twenty on deck. On this passage -she had twelve first-class, about fifteen second, and -between fifty and sixty on deck, including twenty -convicts and <i lang="fr">relégués</i> on the forecastle, and a dozen -hard cases in chains on the forehatch.</p> - -<p>She also carried a menagerie of pigs, goats, sheep, -poultry, geese, and ducks, which wandered at their -own will over the deck-cargo which was piled up -to the tops of her bulwarks. Her quarter-deck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -contained about twenty square feet, mostly encumbered -by luggage. The second-class passengers -had to dine here somehow. The first-class dined -in the saloon in relays.</p> - -<p>The food was just what a Frenchman would eat -on a Caledonian coast-boat. It was cooked under -indescribable conditions which you couldn’t help -seeing; but for all that the miserable meals were -studiously divided into courses just as they might -have been in the best restaurant in Paris.</p> - -<p>Everything was dirty and everything smelt. In -fact the whole ship stank so from stem to stern -that even the keenest nose could not have distinguished -between the smell of fried fish and toasted -cheese. The pervading odours were too strong. -Moreover, nearly every passenger was sick in the -most reckless and inconsiderate fashion; so when -it came to the midday meal I got the <i lang="fr">maître d’hôtel</i>, -as they called the greasy youth who acted as chief -steward, to give me a bottle of wine, a little tin of -tongue, and some fairly clean biscuits, and with -these I went for’rard on to the forecastle and dined -among the convicts.</p> - -<p>The forecastle was high out of the water, and -got all the breeze, and the convicts were clean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -because they had to be. I shared my meal and -bread and wine with two or three of them. Then -we had a smoke and a yarn, after which I lay down -among them and went to sleep, and so <i lang="fr">La France</i> -and her unhappy company struggled and perspired -through the long, hot day back into plague-stricken -Noumea. When I left <i lang="fr">La France</i> I cursed her -from stem to stern, and truck to kelson. If -language could have sunk a ship she would have -gone down there and then at her moorings; but -my anathemas came back upon my own head, for -the untoward Fates afterwards doomed me to make -three more passages in her.</p> - -<p>To get clean and eat a decent dinner at the -Cercle was something of a recompense even for -an all-day passage in <i lang="fr">La France</i>. But it is not -a very cheerful place to come back to, for the -shadow of the Black Death was growing deeper -and deeper over the town. The plague was worse -than ever. The microbe had eluded the sentries -and got under or over the iron barriers, and was -striking down whites and blacks indiscriminately, -wherefore I concluded that Noumea was a very -good place to get out of, and, as I thought, made my -arrangements for doing so as quickly as possible.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_VII">VII<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>THE PLACE OF EXILES</i></span></h3> - -<p>My next expedition was to include the forest -camps to the south-west of the island, and -a visit to the Isle of Pines, an ocean paradise of -which I had read much in the days of my youth; -wherefore I looked forward with some anticipation -to seeing it with the eyes of flesh. There would -be no steamer for three or four days, so the next -day I took a trip over to the Peninsula of Ducos, -to the northward of the bay.</p> - -<p>The glory of Ducos as a penal settlement is past. -There are now only a few “politicals,” and traitors, -and convicts condemned a <i lang="fr">perpétuité</i>; that is to -say, prisoners for life, with no hope of remission or -release. A considerable proportion of them are -in hospital, dragging out the remainder of their -hopeless days, waiting until this or the other disease -gives them final release.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus23"> -<img src="images/illus23.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Peninsula of Ducos. In the background is Ile Nou with the Central Criminal Depôt.</p> -</div> - -<p>On another part of the peninsula, in a semi-circular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -valley, hemmed in by precipitous hills, there -is a piteously forlorn colony, that of the <i lang="fr">liberés -collectifs</i>; that is to say, convicts who have been -released from prison, but are compelled to live in -one place under supervision. They are mostly men -whose health has broken down under the work of -the <i lang="fr">bagne</i>, or who have been released on account -of old age.</p> - -<p>They live in wretched little cabins on the allotments, -which it is their business to keep in some -sort of cultivation. They have the poor privileges -of growing beards and moustaches if they like, and -of wearing blue dungaree instead of grey, and of -earning a few pence a week by selling their produce -to the Administration.</p> - -<p>This is not much, but they are extremely proud -of it, and hold themselves much higher than the -common <i lang="fr">forçat</i>. They do not consider themselves -prisoners, but only “in the service of the Administration.” -I have seldom, if ever, seen a more -forlorn and hopeless collection of human beings -in all my wanderings.</p> - -<p>There was, however, a time when Ducos was one -of the busiest and most important of the New -Caledonian Settlements, for it was here that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -most notorious and most dangerous of the <i lang="fr">communards</i> -were imprisoned after their suppression in -1872. Here lived Louise Michel, the high-priestess -of anarchy, devoting herself to the care -of the sick and the sorrowing with a self-sacrifice -which rivalled even that of the Sisters of Mercy, -and here, too, Henri Rochefort lived in a tiny -stone house in the midst of what was once a -garden, and the delight of his days of exile.</p> - -<p>Louise Michel’s house has disappeared in the -course of improvements. Rochefort’s house is a -roofless ruin in the midst of a jungle which takes a -good deal of getting through. It was from here -that he made his escape with Pain and Humbert -and two other <i lang="fr">communards</i> in an English cutter, -which may or may not have been in the harbour -for that particular purpose.</p> - -<p>One night they did not turn up to muster, but -it was explained that Rochefort and Humbert had -gone fishing, and the others were away on a tour -“with permission.” As they did not return during -the night search-parties were sent out for them. -Meanwhile, they had kept a rendezvous at midnight -with the cutter’s boat and got aboard.</p> - -<p>The next day was a dead calm; and, as the cutter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -lay helpless at her anchor, the fugitives concealed -themselves about her cargo as best they could. -The hue and cry was out all over the coast, but the -searchers looked everywhere but just the one place -where they were. If the next day had been calm -they must have been caught, for the authorities had -decided on a thorough search of every vessel in the -harbour. Happily for them a breeze sprang up -towards the next morning, and the cutter slipped -quietly out. Once beyond the outward reef the -fugitives were in neutral water, and, being political -prisoners, they could not be brought back.</p> - -<p>By daylight the truth was discovered, but pursuit -was impossible. The cutter had got too long a start -for any sailing vessel to overtake her in the light -wind, and the only steamer which the administration -then possessed had gone away to Bourail to -fetch back the Governor’s wife. If it had been in -the harbour that morning, at least one picturesque -career might have been very different. MacMahon -was President at the time, and of all men on earth -he had the most deadly fear of Rochefort, so he -took a blind revenge for his escape by ordering -the Governor to expel every one who was even -suspected of assisting in the escape.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<p>The story was told to me by one who suffered -through this edict quite innocently, and to his -utter ruin. He was then one of the most -prosperous men in Noumea. He owned an hotel -and several stores, and had mail and road-making -contracts with the government. Unhappily, one -of his stores was on the Peninsula of Ducos, and -the man who managed it was reputed to be very -friendly with Rochefort.</p> - -<p>This was enough. He was ordered to clear out -to Australia in two months. It was in vain that -he offered himself for trial on the definite charge -of assisting a prisoner to escape. The Governor -and every one else sympathised deeply with him, -but they dare not even be just, and out he had -to go. He is now canteen-keeper on the Isle -of Pines, selling groceries and drink to the officials -and <i lang="fr">relégués</i> at prices fixed by the government. -He told me this story one night at dinner at his -own table.</p> - -<p>The general amnesty of 1880 released Louise -Michel and the rest of those who had survived -the terrible revolt of 1871 from Ducos and the Isle -of Pines.</p> - -<p>There are, however, two other celebrities left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -on Ducos. One of them is a tall, erect, grizzled -Arab, every inch a chieftain, even in his prison -garb. This is Abu-Mezrag-Mokrani, one of the -leaders of the Kabyle insurrection of 1871, a man -who once had fifteen thousand desert horsemen -at his beck and call. Now he rules a little encampment -in one of the valleys of the peninsula, -containing forty or fifty of his old companions-in-arms, -deported with him after the insurrection was -put down.</p> - -<p>When the Kanaka rebellion broke out in New -Caledonia in 1878, Abu-Mezrag volunteered to -lead his men against the rebels in the service of -France. The offer was accepted and the old warriors -of the desert acquitted themselves excellently among -the tree-clad mountains of “La Nouvelle.” When -the rebellion was over a petition for their pardon -was sent to the home government, but the remnant -of them are still cultivating their little patches of -ground on Ducos.</p> - -<p>The other surviving celebrity is known in -Caledonia as the Caledonian Dreyfus, and this is -his story:</p> - -<p>In 1888 Louis Chatelain was a <i lang="fr">sous-officier</i> of -the line stationed in Paris. He was dapper,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -good-looking, and a delightful talker. He engaged -the affections of a lady whose ideas as to expenditure -were far too expansive to be gratified out of the -pay of a <i lang="fr">sous-officier</i>. Poor Chatelain got into debt, -mortgaged or sold everything that he had, and -still the lady was unsatisfied. Finally, after certain -recriminations, and when he had given her everything -but his honour, she suggested a means by -which he could make a fortune with very little -trouble. She had, it appears, made the acquaintance -of a gentleman who knew some one connected -with a foreign army, who would give twenty -thousand francs for one of the then new-pattern -Lebel rifles.</p> - -<p>He entered into correspondence with the foreign -gentleman, addressing him—c/o the —— Embassy, -Paris. His letters were stopped, opened, -photographed, and sent on. So were the replies. -Then the negotiations were suddenly broken off, -Chatelain was summoned before the military -tribunal and confronted with the <i lang="fr">pièces de conviction</i>. -He confessed openly, posing as a martyr -to <i lang="fr">la grande passion</i>—and his sentence was deportation -for life.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;" id="illus24"> -<img src="images/illus24.jpg" width="425" height="325" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The remains of Henri Rochefort’s House.</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;" id="illus25"> -<img src="images/illus25.jpg" width="425" height="325" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Bedroom of Louis Chatelain, “The Caledonian Dreyfus” in Ducos. The -photographs on the wall and the one on the table are those of the woman -who ruined him.</p> -</div> - -<p>When I went into his little sleeping-room at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -Ducos, I found on a little table beside his mosquito-curtained -bed, a photograph of a very good-looking -young woman. On the wall above the table there -were two others of the same enchantress, the evil -genius of his life. The moment he fell she -deserted him. Unlike many another Frenchwoman, -who has done so for lover or husband, she did -not follow him across the world to Caledonia, and -yet every night and morning of his life Louis -Chatelain kneels down in front of that table as he -might before an altar, and says his prayers with -his eyes on those photographs.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_VIII">VIII<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A PARADISE OF KNAVES</i></span></h3> - -<p>For the next three or four days after my visit -to the Peninsula of Ducos there was nothing -definite to be learnt about means of transit. In -fact there was nothing certain except the plague—always -that Spectre which seemed to stand at the -end of every pathway. It was really getting quite -monotonous, and I was beginning to wonder -whether I should ever get out of Noumea at all.</p> - -<p>Then I began making inquiries as to an over-land -journey through the interior. No, that was -impossible, save at great risk and expense. The -Spectre had jumped the mountains. Huge armies -of rats had appeared in the bush, just as though -some Pied Piper of Hamelin had enticed them -away from the towns into the mountains, and they -were spreading the plague in all directions among -the Kanakas.</p> - -<p>It is a curious fact that rats, who of all animals<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -are the most susceptible to the plague, will migrate -from a plague-stricken town just as they will try -to escape from a sinking ship.</p> - -<p>Convicts and Kanakas were dying in unknown -numbers. Camps were being closed, and the rains -were coming on. There was nothing to be seen -or done worth seeing or doing, so I had to content -myself with wandering about Noumea and the -neighbourhood, taking photographs, making acquaintances -with convicts and <i lang="fr">liberés</i> and getting -stories out of them, wondering the while, as every -one else was doing, what the Spectre was going -to do next.</p> - -<p>As far as I was concerned, he did me the unkindest -turn that he could have done, save one. -He infected the only two decent boats on the -Coast Service, and so left me the choice between -voyaging to the Isle of Pines in <i lang="fr">La France</i> or -stopping where I was.</p> - -<p>I had to get to the island somehow, so I chose -<i lang="fr">La France</i>, and at five o’clock one morning, after -being duly inspected and squirted, I once more -boarded the detestable little hooker.</p> - -<p>I thought my first passage in her was bad enough, -but it was nothing to this. She was swarming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -with passengers, bond and free, black, white, and -yellow, from end to end. She was loaded literally -down to the deck, and she smelt, if possible, even -stronger than she did before. The worst of this -was that before we got to the Isle of Pines we -had to get outside the reef and into the open water.</p> - -<p>I have seen too much of seafaring to be easily -frightened on salt water, but I candidly admit that -I was frightened then. In fact, when we got outside -and she began to feel the swell, I took out my -swimming-jacket and put it on, though, of course -this was a pretty forlorn hope, as the water was -swarming with sharks and the shortest swim would -have been a couple of miles. Still, one always -likes to take the last chance.</p> - -<p>Happily, she was English-built, and high in the -bows, so she took nothing but spray over. Two -or three green seas would have swamped her to -a certainty, but they didn’t come, and so in time -we got there.</p> - -<p>On board I renewed the acquaintance of the -Commandant of Ile Nou, who was taking his wife -and family to the Isle of Pines, which is to -Caledonia as the Riviera is to Europe. At midday -we stopped at Prony, the headquarters of the forest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -camps which I was to visit later on my return; -and we lunched in the saloon with six inches of -water on the floor. That was the first time I ever -saw a steamer baled out with buckets. Still, they -managed to get the water under somehow. There -didn’t appear to be a pump on board.</p> - -<p>When we passed the reef, and started on the -sixty-mile run through the open sea, some began -to say their prayers and some said other things, -but in the end we worried through, and just as -the evening star was growing golden in the west -we anchored in the lovely little Bay of Kuto.</p> - -<p>Never before had I heard the anchor chain -rumble through the hawse-hole with greater thankfulness -than I did then, and, judging by the limp -and bedraggled look of every one, bond and free, -who went ashore, I don’t think I was alone -in hoping that I had seen the last of <i lang="fr">La France</i>—which -I hadn’t.</p> - -<p>My friend the Commandant introduced me to -his <i lang="fr">confrère</i> of the Isle of Pines. He was not -particularly sympathetic. I believe I was the only -Englishman who had ever come to the island with -authority to inspect his domains, and he didn’t -take very kindly to the idea. Still, ruler and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -as he was in his own land, the long arm of the -Minister of Colonies reached even to the Isle of -Pines, and, although he did not even offer me -the usual courtesy of a glass of wine, he handed -the credentials back to me, and said:</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Très bien, monsieur!</i> If you will come and -see me at nine o’clock to-morrow morning we -will make arrangements. You will, I think, find -accommodation at the canteen.”</p> - -<p>With that I took my leave, and went out into -the darkness to find the canteen and some one to -carry my luggage there. I found a surveillant, -who found a <i lang="fr">relégué</i>, and he shouldered my bag -and found the canteen, the only semblance of an -hotel on the island.</p> - -<p>There, quite unknowingly, I stumbled upon -excellent friends. The canteen-keeper was the -man whose story I told in the last chapter. I -was a stranger from a very strange land. Their -resources are very limited; for communications -with the <i lang="fr">grand terre</i> were few and far between, -and yet the twenty days that I was compelled -to stop on the Isle of Pines, proved after all -to be the pleasantest time that I had spent in -New Caledonia.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>But there was one exception, happily only a -transient experience, yet bad enough in its way. -If the plague was not on board <i lang="fr">La France</i> it -ought to have been, for never did a fitter nursery -of microbes get afloat, and when I got into the -wretched little bedroom, which was all they could -fix up for me that night, I honestly believed that -the little wriggling devil had got into the white -corpuscles of my blood.</p> - -<p>I had all the symptoms with which the conversation -of the doctors at the Cercle in Noumea -had made me only too familiar—headache, stomachache, -nausea, dizziness, aching under the armpits -and in the groins.</p> - -<p>Of course, I was about as frightened as an -ordinary person could very well be, a great deal -more so in fact than I had been a few years -before when I first experienced the sensation of -being shot at. It may have been the fright or -the fact, but the glands were swelling.</p> - -<p>Then I caught myself repeating fragments of -“Abide with me,” mixed up with Kipling’s “Song -of the Banjo”; and when a lucid interval came -I decided that the case was serious.</p> - -<p>I had three things with me which no traveller<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -in the outlands of the world should be without—quinine, -chlorodyne, and sulpholine lotion. I -took a big dose of quinine, and then one of -chlorodyne. I should be afraid to say how big -they were. Then I soaked four handkerchiefs -in the lotion, put them where they were wanted, -and laid down to speculate as to what would -happen if the microbe had really caught me?</p> - -<p>I had an appointment with the Commandant -at nine o’clock the next morning. His house -was more than a mile away. What would happen -if I couldn’t walk in the morning?</p> - -<p>I should have to explain matters, if I were -still sane, to the people at the canteen. I had -just come from Noumea, the very centre of the -plague. The inference would be instant. The -military doctor in charge of the hospital would -be sent for, and he would say <i lang="fr">la Peste</i>. I -should be taken to the hospital, where, a day or -two after, I saw a man suspected of the plague -die of blood-poisoning, and once there—<i lang="es">quien sabe?</i></p> - -<p>Thinking this and many other incongruously -mixed-up things, I went to sleep. Probably it -was only a matter of a few minutes altogether. -Nine hours after I woke and thought I was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -heaven. The pains and the deadly fear were -gone. I pulled my watch out from under my -pillow. It was ten minutes to seven. The light -was filtering in through the closely shut <i lang="fr">persiennes</i>. -The waves on the silver-sanded beach within a -few yards of my bedroom were saying as plainly -and seductively as waves ever said:</p> - -<p>“Come and have a dip, and wash all that -plague nonsense out of your head.”</p> - -<p>So I got up, opened the window, put on my -deck-shoes, and walked down to the beach.</p> - -<p>I could walk! Out of hell I had come back -to earth. A few hours before I had really believed -that the next dawn would be shadowed by the -presence of the Black Death. Now I looked up -at the sapphire sky, and threw my hands above -my head to make sure that the pains in the -armpits were gone. Then I stepped out to the -full length of my stride along the smooth, hard -coral sand, to see if the groins were right.</p> - -<p>Having reached a decent distance from the -canteen I rolled into the cool, bright, blue water, -and for half an hour I splashed around—not -daring to go much beyond my depth, because -those same blue waters are often cut by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -black triangle of a shark’s dorsal fin—thinking -how good a thing it was to live instead of dying, -especially in such a paradise as this.</p> - -<p>When I paid my official visit after breakfast, -I found M. le Commandant in a more friendly -mood. We exchanged cigarettes and compliments, -and then we had a stroll round the little settlement -of Kuto.</p> - -<p>Kuto is most exquisitely situated on a promontory -between two delicious, white-shored, palm-fringed -bays, broken with fantastic, tree-crowned rocks. -Long ago it was the home of the “politicals” and -those soldiers of the <i lang="fr">Commune</i> who had not been -thought dangerous enough to be put in batches -against a wall and shot. In those days Kuto, so -they told me, might have been taken for a tiny -suburb of Paris. It had a theatre, and a couple -of newspapers, one serious and one humorous. -There were social functions and many gaieties in -the intervals of road-making and barrack-building.</p> - -<p>But nowadays all this is changed. The -<i lang="fr">deportés</i> have gone back to France, and the -<i lang="fr">relégués</i> have come in their place, which is the -same thing as saying that over this lovely scrap -of earth there has descended the moral night of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -incurable crime and hopeless despair. Kuto is -now a silent place of prisons, barracks, and workshops, -inhabited by a few soldiers and officials and -many blue-clad figures with clean-shaven faces, -mostly repulsive to look upon and all stamped -with the seal of stolid despair.</p> - -<p>In order that you may understand what manner -of people these were it is necessary to explain the -meaning of the French legal term <i lang="fr">relégation</i>, since -there is nothing at all corresponding to it in the -English system.</p> - -<p>In France, as in all countries, there are criminals -of many kinds and ranks, and of these the French -<i lang="fr">relégués</i> are the lowest and meanest. I have said -before that in the criminal society of New Caledonia -the assassins, forgers, embezzlers, and what we -should call swell-mobsmen form the aristocracy. -The <i lang="fr">relégués</i> are the lowest class. They are the -gutter-snipes of crime; the hard cases; the human -refuse beyond all hope of social salvation; mental -and moral derelicts, of no use to themselves or -anybody else.</p> - -<p>We have thousands of them in this country, -but we don’t deal as wisely or as humanely with -them as the French do. Our judges and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -magistrates send them to prison again and again, -well knowing that they will only come out to -commit more crimes and be sent again to prison, -becoming in the intervals of liberty the wives and -husbands and parents of other criminals.</p> - -<p>This is one of the social problems which they -deal with better in France. There is no nonsense -there about a criminal “having paid his debt to -society” when he has served his sentence, and -being, therefore, free to go and commit more -crimes. When a man or woman has committed -a certain number of crimes of the minor sort, or -has been convicted of hopeless immorality or -alcoholism—in other words, when there is reason -to believe that he or she is absolutely unfit to -possess the rights of citizenship—such person may -be, in the last resort, sentenced as in England, -say, to twelve or eighteen months’ hard labour as -punishment for that particular crime.</p> - -<p>Now in an English police-court the habitual -criminal might possibly thank the magistrate and -go away to “do it on his head,” but in France -he may hear the fatal words:</p> - -<p>“At the expiration of your sentence you will -be placed in <i lang="fr">relégation</i>.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus26"> -<img src="images/illus26.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The “Market” in the Convent, Isle of Pines. The Female <i lang="fr">Réliqués</i> are drawn -up before one of the Prison Buildings. In the foreground are the Kanakas -waiting to sell their fruit and vegetables.</p> -<p class="caption"><i>Drawn by Harold Piffard from a photograph.</i></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of this the meaning is: “You have proved -yourself unfit to live in the society of your fellow-citizens. -Punishment is no warning to you. You -will neither reform yourself nor be reformed; therefore -Society has done with you: you are banished! -You will be fed and clothed and attended when -you are sick. You will have work found for you, -and you will be paid for it. But if you won’t -work there will be the prison and the cell for -you. Now go, and make the best of it.”</p> - -<p>The banishment is practically for life. There -are circumstances under which a <i lang="fr">relégué</i> can win -his release, but there are two things that he can -never do: he can never gain a concession and -marry and settle down on his own property; and -he can never gain restoration of the full rights of -citizenship—both of which, as I have shown, the -<i lang="fr">forçat</i> can do.</p> - -<p>As we drove out through the big gate in the -wall which had been built across the neck of the -peninsula to keep revolting Kanakas out, I remarked -what a pity it was that such a lovely land should -be nothing better than the habitation of scoundrels, -to which the Commandant replied that the island -served the purposes of the Administration very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -well, and if the <i lang="fr">relégués</i> were not there it would -have to be given over to the Kanakas, for free -colonists would not come.</p> - -<p>I thought—but, of course, I didn’t say—what -British colonists would have made of such a -paradise—fertile, well-watered, and blest with an -absolutely perfect climate.</p> - -<p>The first thing I noticed in the Isle of Pines -was the excellence and extent of the roads. They -are broad, level, and beautifully kept, and, tiny -as the island is, there are many more miles of -them than there are in all New Caledonia. They -were mostly made by the deported <i lang="fr">communards</i>, -who also built the solid stone prisons, barracks, -hospitals, chapels, and official residences which -seemed to me to be ample for about twice the -present white population of the island, which is -under two thousand, bond and free.</p> - -<p>I found very little difference between the -treatment of the <i lang="fr">relégués</i> and the best class of -convicts, save that they were rather better fed, -and lived in open camps. They slept in hammocks -in common dormitories, and were permitted to -have any little luxuries that they could buy with -their earnings. There were no plank-beds or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -chains to be seen in the camps. In fact, they -might just have been ordinary industrial settlements, -save for the blue cotton livery, the bandless -straw hats, and the hang-dog, hopeless faces which -looked out under the brims.</p> - -<p>But before our first drive was half over we -passed a big quadrangle of high, white walls, and -over the little black door in front was the word -“Prison” in big black letters.</p> - -<p>“That’s for the hard cases, I suppose?” I said -to the Commandant as we passed.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said; “we will visit it another day, -and you shall see. This is worse than Ile Nou, -you know. There they have the aristocrats. -Here we have the canaille, the sweepings of the -streets. Any one of these animals here would -cut your throat for a few francs if he dare.”</p> - -<p>Then I told him what the Commandant of -Bourail had said about locking doors.</p> - -<p>He laughed, and said:</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Parfaitement</i>, but you had better lock your -door here, and if you have a revolver put it -under your pillow.”</p> - -<p>The advice was well-meant but somewhat superfluous. -The faces I had seen were quite enough.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -I soon found that my friend was somewhat of a -cynic and a humorist in his way, for when I -asked him what was the greatest punishment he -could inflict on a recalcitrant <i lang="fr">relégué</i>, he said:</p> - -<p>“Make him work. Look at that gang of men -yonder,” he went on, pointing to the hillside, -which a long row of blue-clad figures was breaking -up with picks and spades. “Every stroke of -the pick is a punishment to those men. They -are wretches whose only idea of life is to get -through it without working. They have been -thieves and swindlers, beggars and <i lang="fr">souteneurs</i>—everything -that is useless and vile. There is -nothing they have not done to save themselves -from working. Now, you see, we make them -work.”</p> - -<p>“And if they won’t?”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Eh bien!</i> They have stomachs—and soup -and fish and meat and coffee and a drink of -wine now and then, with a cigarette or a pipe, -are better than bread and water, and the open -air in a country like this is better than the black -cell or the <i lang="fr">quartier disciplinaire</i>, which you will -see later on.”</p> - -<p>“In other words,” I said, “you have gone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -back to the good old law: If a man will not -work, neither shall he eat. Well, I must admit -that you deal more sensibly with your hopeless -vagabonds than we do with ours.”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Bien possible</i>,” he said, with some justification, -“you will see that at least we make some use -of them, more than they would in Paris or -London, I think. For instance, this is our farm.”</p> - -<p>As he said this we pulled up opposite to a -rustic arch, over which were the words <i lang="fr">Ferme -Uro</i>.</p> - -<p>We went down through a flowery avenue to a -pretty verandahed house almost buried in greenery -and flowers—the home of the Farm Superintendent. -He came out and greeted his territorial lord, and -then we went over the farm.</p> - -<p>It was as perfect a specimen of what the French -call <i lang="fr">petit culture</i> as could be imagined. It was, -in fact, rather a collection of exquisitely kept -vegetable gardens than a farm. Every patch was -irrigated by water from the low hills which run -across the centre of the island. Every kind of -vegetable, tropical and temperate, was under cultivation, -and outside the gardens there were broad -fields of maize and grass pasture.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> - -<p>In one of the fields I saw a long line of women -hoeing the ridges for corn, and at one end of -the line stood a white-clad surveillant, revolver on -hip. For the fiftieth time my English prejudices -were shocked when I learnt that these were a -detachment of the female <i lang="fr">relégués</i>; and I wondered -what would be thought at home if the lady-guests -at Aylesbury were turned out to work in the -fields under the charge of a male warder. Here -it was quite a matter of course.</p> - -<p>“Wait till you have made the acquaintance of -the ladies,” laughed the Commandant, in reply -to a rather injudicious question, “and you will -see that they want some watching.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_IX">IX<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>USE FOR THE USELESS</i></span></h3> - -<p>From the farm of Uro, after a drink of -delicious milk, which, for some reason or -other, took me back instantly to far-away England, -we went on a few miles along the road to the -ateliers, or workshops, where all kinds of industries, -from boot-making to waggon-building, were being -carried on in a somewhat leisurely style, and under -what seemed to me very slight supervision.</p> - -<p>“This is a hard school for them to learn and -us to teach in,” said the Commandant. “The -<i lang="fr">forçats</i> generally know a trade and are accustomed -to work, if they have not been gentlemen; but -these have been brought up to hate the name of -work. Yet you see we have made something of -them. Everything that is used on the island is -made here. In fact, we make something which -will be used a long way from here.”</p> - -<p>I saw this later on during our visit to the prison,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -which was too similar to the others to need any -description. About a score of the occupants of -a big shed within the walls were busy plaiting a -long, reedy grass which others, squatted about the -yard, were stripping and preparing for them. They -had to get through so much a day or their rations -were docked. The unhappy wastrels didn’t seem -to like the regime at all, but they worked, if only -for their stomachs’ sake.</p> - -<p>When we left the prison we went to a long -shed, where the plaits were being worked up into -matting—miles of it there appeared to be—and -when I asked what it was all for, I learnt that it -was destined to be trodden by the millions of careless -feet which would saunter through the halls -and corridors of the Paris Exhibition.</p> - -<p>This was the contribution of this far-away spot -to the great show. Of course, those who were -making it knew what it was for. Perhaps their -thoughts—if they had any by this time, beyond -their daily meat and drink, or any dreams of -delight, beyond the little luxuries that their hard-earned -pence could buy them at the canteen—were -travelling even as they stitched back to the elysium -of crime and idleness which they would never see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -again. From what I saw and heard I doubt not -that many a bitter thought was woven in with -the miles of matting which afterwards covered the -exhibition floors.</p> - -<p>The next day we went to make the acquaintance -of the lady <i lang="fr">reléguées</i>, who are accommodated in -the Convent, as it is called, under the charge of -a Mother Superior and six Sisters of St. Joseph, -among whom I was a little surprised to find one -who, learning that I was English, came and greeted -me in a deliciously delicate Irish brogue. She -was an Irish lady who had taken the vows in a -French Convent, and had voluntarily exiled herself -to this far-away foreign land to spend the rest -of her days in a prison. Still, she and her -French sisters appeared to be most cheerfully -contented with their lot.</p> - -<p>They had, however, one little trace of feminine -vanity left. They sorely wanted their photographs -taken, and my Irish compatriot wanted it most -of all. It was against the rules not only of the -Administration, but of their order, wherefore the -photographs which I did take of the convent and -its occupants did not turn out successes.</p> - -<p>There were one hundred and seventy-six female<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -<i lang="fr">reléguées</i> in the Convent just then, mostly healthy, -hearty-looking women of all ages, from twenty -to sixty. Their faces were, if anything, more -repulsive than the men’s. They had committed -almost every possible crime, but most of them -were there for infanticide. I was the first man—not -an official—that they had seen, perhaps, for -a good many years, for there are few visitors -to the Isles of Pines, and fewer still to the -jealously guarded Convent.</p> - -<p>A little before dinner that evening I was sitting -under the trees in front of the canteen jotting -down some notes when I heard a voice, with a -suspicion of tears in it, asking whether “monsieur -would speak for a minute with an unfortunate -woman.”</p> - -<p>I turned round, and saw the gaunt figure and -unlovely face of Marie, the <i lang="fr">reléguée</i> housemaid of -the canteen. Here was another human document, -I thought, so I told her to go on.</p> - -<p>She was in great trouble, she told me, and as -I was a friend of the Government and of the -Administration I could help her if I would. She -had been released from the Convent to take service -at the canteen, but though she was comfortable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -and had a good master and mistress, her heart was -pining for the society of her husband, who was -working in enforced celibacy in far-away Bourail. -They had been parted for a trifle, and she was sure -that if “Milor” interceded for her with the Director -she would be restored to his longing arms.</p> - -<p>When she had finished, I said:</p> - -<p>“And what was your husband sent out here -for?”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">Il a éventré un homme</i>,” she murmured.</p> - -<p>“And what are you here for?” I continued.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr">J’ai tué mon enfant</i>,” she murmured again -as softly as before.</p> - -<p>I did not think the reunion desirable, and so -the petition was not presented. Nevertheless, it -would have probably been a very difficult matter -to have convinced that woman that she hadn’t a -perfect right to rejoin her husband, raise a -family, and become with him a landed proprietor. -I learnt afterwards that she had been relegated -to the Isle of Pines for theft aggravated by -assault with a hatchet.</p> - -<p>Somehow the food that she handed round the -table at the canteen that night didn’t taste quite -as nice as usual, in spite of the conversation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -Madame Blaise and her two charming daughters, -the elder of whom, though she had never been -farther into the world than Noumea, might, as -far as grace of speech and action went, have just -come out from Paris.</p> - -<p>In the course of the next few days I wandered, -sometimes in the Commandant’s carriage and -sometimes afoot, all over the island, and ascended -its only mountain, the Pic ’Nga, on the top of -which there are the foundations of an old fort and -look-out tower, dating back, so they say, to the -old days of the pirates of the southern seas. From -here you can see every bay and inlet round the -coast, and a very lovely picture the verdant island -made, fringed by its circlet of reefs and coral -islets, with their emerald lagoons and white breakers, -and the deep blue of the open ocean beyond.</p> - -<p>Another day I went through the native reserve, -and visited the settlement of the Marist Brothers, -a most delightful little nook where the good -brothers lead a contented existence, teaching their -bronze scholars the beauties of the Catholic Faith, -and the beneficence of the good French Government, -which graciously permits them to live in a part -of their own country, and sell their produce to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -the officials and such of their prisoners as have -money <i lang="fr">à prix fixe</i>.</p> - -<p>After this I visited the coffee plantation—the -only actually profitable industry in which prisoners -are employed in New Caledonia—the hospitals -and the disciplinary camps, which I found practically -the same as those which I had already seen on the -mainland.</p> - -<p>The hospital was, however, an even more delightful -abode of disease and crime than the one -on Ile Nou. It stands well up the hillside behind -the Convent, and the view from its terraces is -one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. With -the exception of the man who died of blood-poisoning -under suspicion of the plague, the -principal disease seemed general decay and old -age. In fact, out of a criminal population of -over twelve hundred, there were only thirty -patients, for which reason the Isle of Pines, with -its perfect climate, reminded me of Mark Twain’s -Californian health resort, which was so healthy that -the inhabitants had to go somewhere else to die.</p> - -<p>Later on I saw a much more mournful place than -the hospital. This was the Camp des Impotents.</p> - -<p>I don’t think I ever saw a more miserable,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -forlorn-looking collection of human beings than I -found here. They were not suffering from any -specific disease, or else, of course, they would -have been in the hospital. They are just mental -and physical derelicts, harmless imbeciles, cripples -incapable of work, and men dying quietly of -old age.</p> - -<p>Of course, the camp was exquisitely situated, -and their lot struck me as being, after all, not -a very bad ending to a useless, hopeless life—to -dream away the last years under that lovely sun, -breathing that delicious air, and waiting quietly -for the end without anxiety or care.</p> - -<p>The poor wretches looked at me somewhat as -they might have looked at a visitor from some -other world. They had ceased to be criminals -or prisoners. They had no more crime left in -them, and they would not have escaped if they -could, so in their case discipline was relaxed and -I spent a few francs in buying some of the rude -carvings and a few walking-sticks which they had -made out of lianes, the only work with which -they whiled away the long sunny hours. It was -worth twenty times the money to see their feeble, -almost pitiful, delight as they looked at the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -silver coins in their brown, shrivelled hands, and -I really think that some at least of the blessings -which followed me out of the camp were sincere. -But when I said this to the Commandant he only -smiled, and said:</p> - -<p>“Perhaps! But no doubt they would like a -visitor from England every day.”</p> - -<p>A few days after I had finished my round of -visits to the prison camps I had the privilege -of assisting at a session of the Disciplinary -Commission, a court whose function it is to hear -complaints, grant redresses and privileges, try -offences against the penal regulations, and inflict -punishment. The Commandant is President, <i lang="la">ex -officio</i>, and he is assisted by an officer of the -Administration, who is a sort of civil magistrate -and the Conductor of Works. These functionaries -sit at a curved desk on a platform, and here, for -the first time, I took my seat on a judicial bench.</p> - -<p>There was a space of about twelve feet between -the end of the platform and the railing which -divided off the rest of the hall. Here the Principal -Surveillant sat at one desk, and opposite to him -on the other side of the room the <i lang="fr">Greffier</i> or -Clerk of the Court.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> - -<p>The court being a French one, precedence was, -of course, given to the ladies. They were brought -in one by one through a side door between the -railings and the platform. The triviality of their -complaints testified eloquently to the narrowness -of the little lives they led.</p> - -<p>One woman accused another of stealing her -needle and thread so as to get her into trouble. -Another wanted three halfpence of her savings, -which she said the Mother Superior was unjustly -keeping from her. A third wanted to know why -she hadn’t had a letter from a friend of hers in -service in Noumea, and was gravely informed that -the plague had seriously interrupted communications -and the letter would probably arrive as soon as -possible. Another had rheumatism, and wanted -to be taken off the field-work; besides, she was -getting too old, she was nearly seventy—and her -request was promptly granted.</p> - -<p>Then a few were accused of little acts of idleness -or insubordination or wastefulness. These were -either fined a penny or so, according to the magnitude -of the offence, or dismissed with a caution.</p> - -<p>It must not, however, be imagined from this -that the ladies of the <i lang="fr">relégation</i> at the Isle of Pines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -are exactly models of female deportment, for, as -the Commandant told me afterwards, they once -revolted, and before help could be got they had -caught two surveillants, stripped them stark naked, -and made them run the gauntlet of the Convent -between two rows of beautiful palms, after -which they douched them well in a muddy duck-pond. -They were proceeding to treat the good -sisters in the same way when rescue arrived from -Kuto and the other camps.</p> - -<p>The male prisoners were a terribly hard-looking -lot. They were brought up in twos and threes—plaintiff, -defendant, and witnesses—and they -accused each other of every sort of crime, from -stealing a bit of bread to attempted murder.</p> - -<p>The English axiom about dog eating dog does -not hold good among <i lang="fr">relégués</i>. They will steal -from each other just as cheerfully as they will -from anybody else, and will descend to any little -meanness to spite each other. Most of the offences -were of the pettiest and meanest kind, such as -stealing each other’s clothes, or food, or tools -and selling them for a penny or so to some one -else who had lost his.</p> - -<p>Others were up for being out of bounds after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -hours, and I noticed that these nearly all said -they’d been fishing, which was not inappropriate.</p> - -<p>During the proceedings I was very much struck -by the appearance of an Arab in the grey uniform -of the <i lang="fr">quartier disciplinaire</i>. He was a tall, well-built, -handsome fellow of about thirty, with a frank, -open expression and an ever-smiling mouth which -continually showed a magnificent set of teeth. -There was a wonderful difference between him -and his fellow-scoundrels, but I learned afterwards -that he was the biggest scoundrel of the whole lot.</p> - -<p>Two or three hundred years ago he would -probably have commanded a fleet of Corsairs, and -made his name a terror from one end of the -Mediterranean to the other. Now, thanks to -changed environment, he was only a deserter and -a common thief who could not even keep his -hands off the property of his fellow-thieves.</p> - -<p>The procedure of the Court was quite different -to anything we have in England. The prisoners -were all, as I say, brought up and examined individually -with accusers and witnesses. Then they were -taken away what time the Court deliberated -and fixed the sentence. Then the whole lot were -brought in and ranged up along the two sides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -of the room. The <i lang="fr">greffier</i> called out the names, -and each man stepped forward, heard his sentence, -and was marched out. The Arab took his fifteen -days’ prison with an even jauntier smile than usual.</p> - -<p>While this was going on I had been making -a study in criminal physiognomy, and I came to -the conclusion that if forty criminals were taken -at random from English prisons, dressed exactly as -these forty French criminals were, and mixed up -with them, it would be absolutely impossible to -tell which were French and which were English. -There is no nationality in crime. Criminals belong -to a distinct branch of the human family, and the -family likeness among them is unmistakable.</p> - -<p>As we were driving back that morning the -Commandant invited me to a picnic which he was -giving in honour of the Commandant of Ile Nou -and myself. Naturally I accepted, and, being on -the subject of pleasure excursions, I said:</p> - -<p>“Of course you must have some delightful -yachting and fishing about these lovely bays. I -have been wondering why I haven’t seen any -sailing craft about.”</p> - -<p>“That is forbidden,” he said. “No one may -own even a rowing boat without the licence of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -the Administration in Noumea, and even then he -would have to give guarantees for its safety. You -see these fellows would think nothing of stealing -a boat and trying to escape in it, and the owner -of the boat would be responsible for any escapes. -Twenty-five of the politicals once managed to make -a big canoe and got away in it, but they were all -drowned or eaten by the sharks. Now all boats, -even the Kanakas’ canoes, have to be kept locked -and chained and guarded from sunset to sunrise.”</p> - -<p>This, then, was why these smooth, sunlit waters -were sailless and deserted—another effect of the -curse of Crime on Paradise.</p> - -<p>The picnic was a great success, and the Commandant -proved a most excellent host. There -were four wagonette loads of us, with a fair -sprinkling of pretty girls, among whom, of course, -were my host’s daughters. Everybody seemed to -have forgotten for the time that I was an -Englishman, and so I passed a very jolly day.</p> - -<p>We camped in a big white stone building which -had once been a <i lang="fr">gendarmerie</i> barracks, standing -in a delightful valley near to the entrance of -a magnificent limestone cavern. We lunched -sumptuously under the verandah, and I think I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -prattled French more volubly than I had ever -done before. Then we went and shot pigeons, -quite half as big again as the English variety, and -splendid eating. The woods of the Isle of Pines -swarmed with them and other feathered game -whose names I don’t remember.</p> - -<p>Of course, we wound up with a dance, and -this was the queerest dance I had ever seen. Our -drivers and attendants were, of course, all <i lang="fr">relégués</i>, -and so were the musicians. One ingenious -scoundrel led the orchestra with a fiddle that he -had made himself, even to the strings and the -bow. It had an excellent tone, and he played it -very well. I wanted to buy it, but he loved it -and wouldn’t sell.</p> - -<p>I must say that I pitied these musicians not -a little as I watched them standing in a corner -looking with hungry eyes upon the Forbidden and -the Unattainable as it floated about the room in -dainty light draperies with the arms of other men -about its waist—for the <i lang="fr">relégué</i> is not like the -<i lang="fr">forçat</i>. He has no hope of marriage, even with -the meanest of his kind. His sentence includes, -and very wisely too, perpetual celibacy.</p> - -<p>All the same, I tried to picture to myself a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -picnic, say, at Dartmoor, with a company of English -men and maidens dancing in one of the prison -halls to music made by a convict band!</p> - -<p>When the feast was over every bottle, full and -empty, every knife, fork, spoon, plate, cup, and -dish was counted over. The remnants were given -away, but everything else was packed under the -official eye. If the slightest trifle had been overlooked -it would have been immediately stolen. -This is one of the peculiarities of picnicing in -Prisonland.</p> - -<p>A few days afterwards my pleasant exile came -to an end. The ungainly form of <i lang="fr">La France</i> -waddled into the bay, bringing news of the outside -world. The principal items were to the effect -that the plague was increasing merrily in Noumea, -and that the victorious Boers were driving the -British into the sea.</p> - -<p>We had quite a sad little supper that night at -the canteen, for I was rapidly becoming quite one -of the family. Still this was the turning-point in -my thirty-thousand-mile journey. At daybreak -the snub nose of <i lang="fr">La France</i> would point toward -home, and so when I had said good-bye for the -third or fourth time I pulled out across the bay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -which lay like a sheet of shimmering silver under -the glorious tropic moon, and boarded the wretched -little hooker for the last time with feelings something -akin to thankfulness.</p> - -<p>When many days afterwards, I got back to -Noumea the Director asked me what I thought -of the Isle of Pines.</p> - -<p>“If you want my candid opinion,” I said, “I -think it is an earthly paradise which you have -used as a dust-heap to shoot your rubbish on. -If the French Government would give me a -hundred years’ lease of it, with power to do as -I liked as long as I didn’t break the law, I would -find capital enough in England and Australia to -make it the Monte Carlo of the South Pacific. -I’d have everything there that there is at Monte -Carlo, and a couple of fast boats to bring the -people over from Sydney in two days. I’d have -all the wealth and fashion of Australia and a -good many people from Europe there every year. -In fact, your paradise should pay you a million -francs a year and me twenty millions.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!” he said, after a few moments of silence. -“That is just like you English. That is enterprise. -Here we only have government.”</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_X">X<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A LAND OF WOOD AND IRON</i></span></h3> - -<p>New Caledonia is essentially a land of -contrasts, both in scenery and climate, and -when I had left the sunny hills and plains and -the silver-sanded, palm-fringed bays of the Isle -of Pines some fifty miles behind me, I found -myself in a region of enormous forests, clothing -the slopes of rugged mountains running sheer -down to the sea from the clouds which rarely -broke above them.</p> - -<p>There were no white beaches here, only boulder-strewn -shores, which were literally, as well as in -the metaphorical sense, iron-bound. Not only the -rocks and the boulders, but the very sands of -the shore themselves were of iron, sometimes pure, -but, as a rule, containing from eighty-five to -ninety per cent. of the metal.</p> - -<p>This was Prony, the chief of a cluster of convict -camps scattered about what is literally a land of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -wood and iron. The wood is used, the iron is -not. Millions of tons of it are lying round the -shores of one of the finest and safest natural -harbours in the world. A thousand miles away -are the coal-fields of New South Wales. Since -it pays to ship copper and iron from Spain and -even South America to Swansea, one would think -it would pay to ship this to Newcastle. However, -there it lies, waiting, I suppose for some one to -make fortunes out of it, and the energies of the -eight hundred or one thousand <i lang="fr">relégués</i> are devoted -to hewing timber in the forests, bringing it down -to the shore, and floating it in big barges to -Prony, where there is a finely equipped saw and -planing mill.</p> - -<p>The dressed timber is, of course, the property -of the Administration, and is used for building -wharves and jetties. A good deal of it is sold -to the public for building purposes. Some day, -too, there is going to be a real railway in Caledonia, -and then the forest camps of the Baie du Sud -will furnish the sleepers, signal-posts, and platforms.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Prony has a railway all to itself, of -which I shall here give some account.</p> - -<p>I was fortunate in making two very pleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -acquaintances in this out-of-the-way corner of the -world. One was the Commandant, who was quite -the most intelligent and broad-minded man of -his class that I met in Caledonia, and the other -was the Doctor of the port. He was, of course, -a military Doctor, and held the rank of lieutenant -in the army. His official title was “Le Médecin -Major!” He had seen a good deal of the world, -and had visited the United States on a French -warship, and from him I heard the first words of -English that I had heard for nearly three weeks. -The dear little Doctor was proud of his English, -and he had a right to be. Although it was not -very extensive, it was distinctly select. One day -the Commandant referred somewhat slightingly to -it as “<i lang="fr">son peu d’Anglais</i>”; but perhaps that was -because he couldn’t speak a single word himself. -At any rate, he never tried to.</p> - -<p>At Prony, too, I renewed my acquaintance with -the microbe. In fact, the Doctor was there -because of him. One day a coast steamer had -brought some tons of flour for the station, which -depended entirely for its food on Noumea and -Australia. The sacks were stacked under cover -in the Commissariat Department. The little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -daughter of the Chief Surveillant got playing -about among these sacks. Some infected rats -had been doing the same a short time before, -and so she got the plague.</p> - -<p>The Doctor was telegraphed for to Noumea, -and he came and saved her, and, thanks to his -skill and precautions, that was the only case in -Prony, although we actually had the infection in -the midst of us, and for the fifteen days that I -was tied up there we ate bread made from that -flour!</p> - -<p>I often had to pass the sacks, but I did so -at a respectful distance. One morning, however, -I had a bit of a fright. There had been a deluge -of rain all night, and, when I woke, I found a -dead and very wet mouse on my bedroom floor.</p> - -<p>What if it had come from those sacks?</p> - -<p>I drenched it with corrosive sublimate, and -pitched it carefully out of doors with a stick. -Then I poured petroleum over it and burnt it -and the stick, and there the incident closed.</p> - -<p>It always struck me as somewhat of a miracle -that rats did not find those sacks out and spread -the plague broadcast among us. It would have -been a terrible thing in that isolated camp, cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -off from all communication with the world except -the telegraph. Perhaps there were no rats. At -any rate, I never saw any, and felt duly thankful.</p> - -<p>There are no roads about Prony, only footpaths, -and not many of these, so we paid our -visits to the camps in steam launches. When it -was fine it was very pleasant work cruising about -the picturesque bays, discoursing the while on -crime, criminals, and colonisation with the intelligent -Commandant, or swopping Anglo-French -jokes and stories with the Doctor, who had a -very pretty wit of his own.</p> - -<p>The Commandant was a firm believer in -relegation and transportation generally, but like -every one else, he looked down upon the <i lang="fr">liberé</i> -and the <i lang="fr">relégué</i>. According to him a <i lang="fr">forçat</i> was -worth two <i lang="fr">liberés</i>, and a <i lang="fr">liberé</i> was worth a <i lang="fr">relégué</i> -and a half, if not more. Nevertheless, during my -stay at Prony I saw a squad of <i lang="fr">relégués</i> working -about as hard as I have ever seen men work. -This was on the railway aforesaid.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus27"> -<img src="images/illus27.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Convict Railway at Prony.</p> -<p class="caption"><i>Drawn by Harold Piffard from a photograph.</i></p> -</div> - -<p>We started one morning, as usual, about five -o’clock, and steamed across two or three bays to -the Camp du Nord. In all the other camps -the timber is got down from the hills to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -sea by means of wood-paved slides, which are -quite as much a feature of this part of Caledonia -as the ice-slides are in Norway, but the Camp -du Nord rises to the dignity of a railway on -which that morning I did the most curious bit -of railroading I have ever done.</p> - -<p>When we had inspected the camp at the -terminus and, for the Commandant’s sake, I had -duly admired the landing-stage, the trim buildings, -and the gardens in which the flowers and vegetables -were struggling for existence in the burning iron -soil, the State car was brought out for us.</p> - -<p>It was a platform on wheels, with four sloping -seats facing backwards. I could see the line twining -away up through the forest, but there was no -engine.</p> - -<p>Presently it, or, rather, they, materialised at the -summons of the Chief Surveillant. Fifteen blue-clad -figures, each with a halter and hook-rope -over his shoulder, came out of one of the -dormitories. There was a long chain shackled to -the front of the car. At an order the human -beasts of draught passed the halters over their -heads and hooked on to the chain, seven on each -side and one ahead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the Commandant invited the company -to mount. There were seven of us. The Commandant -had brought his two little girls, and -there were four besides: the Chief Surveillant, -who weighed fifteen stone if he weighed a pound, -the Chief Forester, who weighed a good twelve -stone, and the Doctor and myself, who were comparatively -light weights.</p> - -<p>I had often seen convicts harnessed to carts in -England, and, of course, I had ridden many -miles in rickshaws in the East, but this was the -first time I had ever travelled in a car drawn -by human beings who did it because they had -to, and who would have had their food docked -if they had refused to do it, and I confess that I -didn’t exactly like it. Still, I took my place, and -the strange journey began.</p> - -<p>At first it didn’t seem very bad, for the line -was almost level, but when we got into the hills -the collar-work began, and our human cattle had -to bend their necks and their backs to it.</p> - -<p>The line wound up through cuttings and over -bridges at what seemed to me an ever-increasing -gradient. It was a damp, muggy, tropical morning. -It was not exactly raining, but the moisture soaked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -you to the bones for all that, and the leaves and -branches of the vast virgin forest on either hand -shone and dripped as the moisture condensed -on them.</p> - -<p>We perspired sitting still and making no more -exertion than was necessary for breathing, so you -can imagine how those poor wretches tugging -at the chains sweated—and, great heavens, how -they stank!—though the most fastidious, under -the circumstances, could hardly blame them for this.</p> - -<p>For very shame’s sake I got off and walked -whenever there was an excuse. It made breathing -pleasanter. So did the Doctor, who was a botanist -and found us Venus’ Fly-Traps and other weird -vegetable monsters. The Forester also got off -now and then, not from motives of mercy, but to -point out varieties of timber to the Commandant. -The Chief Surveillant sat tight, probably on account -of his weight, until I wanted to put him into -one of the halters.</p> - -<p>But what, though I hardly like to say so, disgusted -me most was the absolute callousness, as it -seemed to me, of the two little girls. Perhaps the -worst of it was that it was absolutely innocent. -They had been born and bred in Prisonland, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -I don’t suppose they really saw any difference -between that sweating, straining, panting team of -human cattle and a team of mules or donkeys.</p> - -<p>At last, to my own infinite relief, the journey -was over. What it must have been like to our -team I can only guess from the fact that in a -distance of a little over four miles they had dragged -us up one thousand five hundred feet! It took -an hour and three-quarters to do it. They were -dismissed when we got to the top and allowed -to have a drink—of water.</p> - -<p>The Doctor took us back. He understood -the brake, and in consideration for the young -ladies he kept the speed moderate. We got back -in twelve minutes and a half. He said he had -done it in six; but I wasn’t with him then, -and didn’t want to be.</p> - -<p>Although forestry is, of course, the same all -the world over, and, therefore, not the sort of -thing to describe here in detail, there were two -other camps that I visited which had interesting -peculiarities of their own. One of these was the -Camp of Bonne Anse, a pretty little spot whence -a very steep and stony path led over a little range -to a promontory called Cap Ndoua, which is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -telegraph station for the Isle of Pines. I don’t -know whether there are any other telegraphic -stations which have neither cables nor wires and -make no use of electricity, but this and the one -on the Isle of Pines were the only ones I have -ever seen.</p> - -<p>When I was taken into the operating-room at -Cap Ndoua I saw an apparatus which looked to -me like a gigantic magic-lantern with a telescope -fixed to its side. In the front of the big iron box -there was a huge lens about eighteen inches across, -behind this was another smaller one, and behind -this again a powerful oil lamp, with a movable -screen in front of it, worked with a sort of trigger; -on a table in the corner of the room were the -usual telegraphic transmitters and receivers in connection -with the general telegraphic system to -Noumea and the cable to Sydney.</p> - -<p>Every evening at seven, when it is of course -quite dark, the operators go on duty until nine. -If Ndoua has a message to send to the island -the lamp is lit, and the man at the telescope in the -observatory above the hospital on the island sees -a gleam of white light across the forty-six miles -of sea. He lights his lamp, and the preliminary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -signal twinkles through the darkness. Then the -shutter begins to work. Short and long flashes -gleam out in quick succession, the dots and dashes -of the Morse system in fact; and so the words -which have come over the wire from Noumea, -or, perhaps, from the uttermost ends of the earth, -are translated into light, and sent through the -darkness with even more than electrical speed.</p> - -<p>Saving only fogs, which are not very frequent -in those latitudes, the optic telegraph is just as -reliable as the cable and the wire, and they are -good for any distance up to the range of the -telescope. The apparatus cost about £50 apiece, -while a cable would cost several thousands; and it -struck me that for quick communication between -the mainland and islands or distant light-houses, -the optic telegraph is worthy of a wider use than -it seems to have.</p> - -<p>The other visit was to Port Boisé, near to -Cape Queen Charlotte, which is the extreme -north-western point of Caledonia. Port Boisé is, -like so many other of the Caledonian convict -camps, a most beautiful spot. It is fertile, too, -thanks to the existence of ancient bog lands, which -make it possible to temper the heat of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -ferruginous soil, and so skill and patience have -made it a delightful oasis in the midst of the -vast forest and jungle which surround it on all -sides save the one opening to the sea.</p> - -<p>These forests and jungles, by the way, are of -somewhat peculiar growth; the timber is mostly -what is called <i lang="fr">chêne-gomme</i>, and is an apparent -combination of oak- and gum-tree. It is almost -as hard as the iron which is the chief ingredient -in the soil from which it derives its sap, and it -is practically indestructible. As for the jungle, it is -composed of brush and creepers which have the -consistency of wire ropes—a sort of vegetable steel -cable, in fact.</p> - -<p>But for me, as an Englishman, the chief interest -in Port Boisé was connected with Cape Queen -Charlotte, and a little island lying about five miles -out to sea, which is called Le Mouillage de Cook—the -Anchorage of Captain Cook. It was here -that the great navigator made perhaps the greatest -mistake of his life. As every one knows, he -discovered and named New Caledonia. He sailed -along its shores, and contented himself with -describing it as an island of lofty mountains -surrounded by reefs which made it inaccessible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> - -<p>He anchored at a little island, and named the -bold promontory in front of him Cape Queen -Charlotte. He landed here, and, as he says, found -the natives very civil and obliging. It is a million -pities that he did not cultivate their friendship -further, and learn something about their country. -He would not then have described it as “inaccessible” -and “unapproachable.”</p> - -<p>Beyond the bay in which his boats landed he -would have found a stretch of open country under -the hills across which his men could have marched -till they discovered what is now the Baie du Sud—another -Sydney Cove in miniature. If he -had only done this, Caledonia, with its enormous -mineral wealth and its magnificent harbours, would -have been British instead of French, a worthy -appanage to that other Empire of the future, the -new-born Commonwealth of Australia.</p> - -<p>I discussed this with the Commandant as we -walked back to Bonne Anse, and he told me the -story of how on a much later occasion we also -lost Caledonia.</p> - -<p>Once upon a time, a little more than fifty -years ago, there were two frigates lying in Sydney -Harbour—one British and one French. We will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -call the British ship H.M.S. <i>Dodderer</i>. She was -commanded by an old woman in naval uniform -who ought to have been superannuated years -before. The Frenchman, as events proved, was -a man of a very different sort.</p> - -<p>New Caledonia in those days was a sort of -No-Man’s Land, but there were both Catholic -and Protestant European missionaries working -among the natives. The two warships received -almost simultaneous orders to go and annex the -island. They started the same day. The British -frigate out-sailed the Frenchman, but her captain -had got those fatal words of Captain Cook’s -deep-rooted in his mind, and when he got near -the dreaded reefs he began to take soundings. -The Frenchman went ahead, neck or nothing. -He gambled his ship to win a colony, and, taking -only the most ordinary precautions, he kept on -his course.</p> - -<p>By great good luck he struck the broad passage -through the reef which leads to the harbour of -Noumea, and when H.M.S. <i>Dodderer</i> eventually -groped her way in she found the French frigate -at anchor, and the Tricolour flying from a flagstaff -on one of the hills, after which the French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -captain politely invited him and his officers to -lunch and to an excursion on French soil; and -here ends a short but exasperating chapter in -our colonial history.</p> - -<p>I had been ten days in Prony when we visited -Port Boisé, and each day we had been looking -anxiously for the coming of the steamer which -was to bring us food and me release. Morning -after morning we looked out across the bay to -the two islands which guarded the channel through -which she had to come, but for six more days -never a whiff of smoke drifted across the clear-cut -horizon. Meanwhile, food was running very low, -and we were getting decidedly <i lang="fr">ennuyés</i>. So one -day, by way of a diversion, the Doctor proposed -that we should break the law and go dynamite-fishing -and shark-slaying.</p> - -<p>The fresh meat had given out. Vegetables—far -more important to a Frenchman than to an -Englishman—were nearly a memory. The fruit -supply of the camp was represented by a lime-tree -in the Doctor’s garden, and that grew in imported -soil. No fruit would grow in the iron soil of -Prony. The preserved Australian meat was getting -very low. In short, in a few more days we should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -have got within measurable distance of starvation, -and then mutiny; and it was with an idea of -deferring such unpleasant contingencies that the -doctor suggested we should go fishing.</p> - -<p>Any change from the monotony of wandering -about the little area walled in by jungle and forest, -impassable by any save those who knew the -Kanaka paths, was welcome, and I began to talk -gladly about rods and line and bait, to which the -doctor replied:</p> - -<p>“Oh no, we must work quicker than that. -We shall fish with dynamite! You will see them -come to the bait, and then—<i lang="fr">pouf!</i>—there breaks -out the waterquake, not earthquake, as you say, -and they are all dead—hundreds! You shall -see sharks, too. Dynamite is good medicine for -them.”</p> - -<p>This sounded interesting, and I got up the -next morning about half-past four, more cheerfully -than usual, because, of course, we were going -to start at five o’clock. It was a dull, cloudy, -steamy morning when I went down to the jetty, -and found the big whale-boat manned by six -stalwart Kanakas armed with their throwing-spears, -and the Doctor with a little saloon rifle, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -Director of Works—the biggest and most English-looking -Frenchman that I met in the colony—with -his pockets full of dynamite.</p> - -<p>We first paid a visit to a camp about eight -miles away, taking a contribution of meat and -bread, and the news that the long-expected supplies -had not yet come. Then we shaped our course -for Sharks’ Bay, which proved to be a most -characteristically tropical piece of water. The -dense vegetation not only came down to the -water’s edge, but threw out long, snaky-looking -roots a couple of yards from the shore. It was -among these that the first sport began, because -it was in these oily-looking shallows that the flat -fish were wont to take refuge from the wolves -of the sea.</p> - -<p>This was the Kanakas’ part of the sport. We -ran the boat in quietly and four of them went -ashore with their spears. The Director of Works -did the same, and when he had landed I felt -that the Doctor and I were a little farther off -from the razor-edged brink of eternity than when -he was sitting beside us with enough dynamite -in his pockets to blow the boat to matchwood -and ourselves beyond the confines of time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span></p> - -<p>We amused ourselves by taking potshots at -the black triangles which keenly cut the unrippled -surface of the brown water. As far as -my own experience goes, I don’t think there’s -another piece of water in the world that possesses -as many sharks to the acre as that well-named -bay. Wherever you looked you could see a -black fin cutting the water, and every minute or -so you would see a swirling eddy which meant -that one of the sea-wolves had made a dash at -something, and had either got an instalment of -his breakfast or missed it.</p> - -<p>When I was talking this over afterwards with -the Doctor, who was a bit of a naturalist, I -learnt a little more about the doctrine of evolution -and the survival of the fittest than I knew -before. Sharks swarm in the New Caledonian -waters, and the only chance for their victims is -flight; wherefore about the shores of New -Caledonia you find the fastest swimming fish in -the world.</p> - -<p>After we had had a few ineffective shots at -dorsal fins, one of our crew said “Ough!” and -pointed to the shore. We pulled in, it being -evident that there was sport afoot. The Kanakas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -ashore had been climbing with marvellous agility -over the snaky water-roots of the trees until they -had come to a tiny little cove.</p> - -<p>They were leaning over the roots peering down -into the water, motionless as bronze images. -Then one swiftly and silently shinned up a tree -with his spear in his mouth. He got a foot- and -hand-hold. Then with his right hand he -took the spear out of his teeth, balanced it for -a moment, and then down it went like a flash -of lightning.</p> - -<p>The next instant there was a terrific commotion -in the water below. Three other spears went -down, and our men laid to their oars and rushed -the boat in. Two of the others jumped into -the water, and the crowd began struggling with -a huge flat-fish, something like an exaggerated -flounder, which was nailed to the bottom by a -couple of spears. When we got him into the -boat, I thought he would have knocked the side -out of it. Subsequently he made good eating -for many hungry convicts.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the Director had been wandering -about with a cigarette in his mouth and a dynamite -cartridge in his hand, looking for his prey,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -which, unobligingly, kept too far out. His turn -was to come later on, when we had pulled across -past the sulphur stream to the mouth of the -river which flows into Sharks’ Bay.</p> - -<p>It is a rather curious fact that the waters of -this bay are strongly impregnated with sulphur, -and yet, as I have said, they are literally swarming -with fish. They evidently seemed to like it, -for both the sharks and their victims were thicker -in the neighbourhood of the submarine springs -than they were anywhere else. Wherefore it was -here that we made the best bags.</p> - -<p>Our Kanakas seemed to have a faculty of seeing -through the brown water which none of us -possessed. Again and again they located swarms -of fish that we had no notion of. One of them -lay in the bows with his big black eyes seeing -things where we could see nothing, and directing -our course by moving his right or left hand.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the dynamiter stood on the seat -with one foot on the gunwale, puffing at his -cigarette, keeping it in a glow so that he might -light the fuse of his cartridge at it. Presently -there came from the bows a low intense whisper, -“Stop!” The Kanakas use a good deal more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -English than French when they’re out sporting. -He got up and pointed to the water about ten -yards ahead, and hissed:</p> - -<p>“There, <i lang="fr">là</i>! plenty! <i lang="fr">beaucoup!</i>”</p> - -<p>The dynamiter took his cigarette from his lips, -blew the ash away, and touched the end of the -fuse with it. Then he pitched his cartridge into -the water about ten yards from the boat. Ten -seconds later a volcano seemed to burst up from -the bottom of the bay, and the boat jumped as -if a whale’s flipper had struck her. The water -ahead boiled up into a little hillock of foam and -dropped again.</p> - -<p>Then all about us I saw the water sprinkled -with the white bellies of fish, some quite dead, -and others swimming in a feeble, purposeless sort -of way with their tails. The next moment there -were six big splashes, and I saw six pairs of -brown legs disappearing into the water, after -which heads and arms bobbed up, and it began -to rain fish into the boat.</p> - -<p>They ran from eight to eighteen inches in -length, and from two to six pounds in weight, -and so I took some pains to dodge them as -they came flying up out of the water. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -were something like bass, but they had the heads -and tails of mackerel, and they swam like lightning—of -course, before they struck the dynamite.</p> - -<p>I have often watched, in clearer waters, the -sharks hunting shoals of them. The Caledonian -shark can get a tremendous speed on him. I -have seen a twelve-footer carried clean out of the -water by the impetus of his rush. But the way -these things dodged them just at the moment that -they turned over to make their grab was simply -marvellous. You would see a shark plunge into -the midst of a swarm of them. The long, blue-grey -body would turn over, the mouth—the -ugliest mouth in all creation—would open, and -the tripled-armed jaws would clash together on -a mouthful of empty water. Every fish had -vanished, and brother shark would give a disgusted -wriggle, and go on the prowl again.</p> - -<p>Escapes of this kind were, of course, due to -inherited wisdom, but dynamite was a recent experience, -and the fish fell victims to it through -sheer curiosity. When the cartridge dropped into -the middle of the shoal they naturally scattered -in all directions. Then they came back to see -what had fallen into the water, and after that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -came the catastrophe. Those who died were -victims to curiosity. Those who escaped would -probably be about the most scared fish that ever -wagged a fin.</p> - -<p>The effect of the dynamite on those who did -not escape was most extraordinary. In every case -the vertebral column was broken just behind the -head, and the heart was as cleanly divided as if -it had been cut with a razor.</p> - -<p>When we had our boat about half full we -started in pursuit of bigger game. The shock -of the explosion had startled the sharks, who, -like all bullies, are mostly cowards, and the -Kanakas had kept them away by beating the water -every now and then with their hands in their usual -fashion. So our dripping, laughing crew, sure now -of a splendid feed, pulled merrily down the bay -to a point on which we landed two of them and -the dynamiter. They crept stealthily along the -tangled shore till one of the Kanakas stopped and -pointed to three little black spots on the surface -of a tiny jungle-fringed bay.</p> - -<p>The dynamiter took out a cigarette and lit it, -watching the three points the while as they moved -along the oily surface through little eddies made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -by the great bodies underneath. Presently they -formed a triangle not many feet apart. Two or -three vigorous whiffs of his cigarette, a touch to -the fuse, and a motion of the hand, a scurry -in the water—and then a muffled bang and an -uprising of muddy water.</p> - -<p>We waited a moment or two, and then we could -see something white—three streaks of it—gleaming -through the water, and three livid shapes rose -slowly to the surface, wagging the great tails -which would never send them through the water -again. Their horrible mouths were a little open, -but they would never close fish or man again.</p> - -<p>I took the Doctor’s word for it that their necks, -so to speak, were broken, and their hearts split -as those of the smaller fry were; but I didn’t make -any personal investigations, for soon after the -troubling of the waters had subsided there came -swift, swirling rushes from all sides; black fins -cut the water, white bellies gleamed under it, -and then came a clashing of cannibal jaws, a -tugging and a tearing, a silent, horrible contest, -and presently all that was left of those three -sharks was a blood-reddened scum on the surface -of the little leaf-fringed bay.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<p>Our morning’s fishing closed with the slaying -of a shark who fell a victim to his insatiable appetite -just as the smaller fry had done to their curiosity. -When the tragedy was over we pulled out into -the middle of the outer bay and waited until quiet -and confidence was restored among our friends -below. Meanwhile, one of the Kanakas had cut -one of our biggest fish open. The Director put -a dynamite cartridge into it, and then it was tied -up, after which the end of a line was passed through -its gills. When one of the black triangles came -within a few yards of us the Director touched -the end of about six inches of fuse with his cigarette -and dropped it quietly overboard.</p> - -<p>Brother Shark didn’t seem to notice the little -fizzy splutter which made this fish different from -all others that he had eaten, or, if he did, he took -no notice of it. He turned over on his side, the -jaws opened, and the fish vanished.</p> - -<p>In a few moments and for just an immeasurable -fraction of a second he was the most astounded -shark in the Pacific Ocean. After which came -chaos for him, and a breakfast for his brethren. -The pieces weren’t very big, with the exception -of the head, which, after a bit of a scrimmage,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -was carried off by a monster who might have been -his mother-in-law. The rest of the fragments -disappeared in a swirl of bloody froth, and we -went home to breakfast to learn the glad news that -the long-awaited <i>Emily</i> had really left Noumea -at last.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_II_XI">XI<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>MOSTLY MOSQUITOS AND MICROBES</i></span></h3> - -<p>The <i>Emily</i> arrived that evening, and we fed -royally on good fresh Australian beef, fried -fish, and potatoes, and <i lang="fr">compôte</i> of fruit, followed -by fresh cream cheese, with bread and tinned -butter—as usual, from Australia. In fact, if it -wasn’t for Australia I believe that New Caledonia -would either live on tinned everything or starve, -which is of course a good thing for Sydney and -Newcastle.</p> - -<p>The Doctor produced a couple of bottles of -excellent Burgundy from his private cellar, and altogether -we did ourselves exceeding well. The next -morning the <i>Emily</i> sailed, of course, at five o’clock; -but I turned out of bed in the moonlight well -contented, for my last journey but one was over. -The Commandant invited me on to his verandah -for a farewell consommation. After which I went -with the Doctor and the Dynamiter for another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -one or two at the canteen. Then we parted -in as friendly a fashion as English and French -ever did.</p> - -<p>I was glad to get away, yet I left some regrets -behind me. Though I had come under unpromising -circumstances, every one had made me -welcome, and although my stay had lengthened -into something like a little exile, my visit to the -Land of Wood and Iron had been both pleasant -and profitable.</p> - -<p>The Doctor I parted from with real regret. -He was one of the best types of the travelled -French officer and gentleman that I have ever -met. At first his ideas about the Boers were -hopelessly wrong, and that was all there was the -matter with him; but I was the first man he -had ever met who had actually lived among -them, and when I left his views were considerably -altered.</p> - -<p>Just before I left, the Director of Posts and -Telegraphs—every official seems to be a director -of something in Caledonia—brought me the first -letters that I had received in Prisonland. They -had been carried by a Kanaka over the mountains -from Noumea, through fifty miles of jungle-paths.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -These bush-postmen have never yet been known -to lose a letter. When I asked how much extra -they were paid for work like this I was told -that they were made to do it as a punishment—which -struck me as being entirely French.</p> - -<p>The <i>Emily</i>—may her name be blessed!—was -only a steam launch multiplied by two, but she -was clean and sweet, and her nose was pointed -towards home. She towed two lighters loaded -with dressed timber, and she took something like -fifteen hours to do forty-five miles. But that -mattered little. It was a delicious day, and the -scenery along the coast was lovely. Moreover, -you could lie down on her decks without having -to change afterwards and throw your clothes overboard, -and so the long hours passed pleasantly -under the awning.</p> - -<p>When at length she had puffed and panted -her way into Noumea, I looked about the harbour -and saw that Yellow Jack was flying more -numerously than ever. The first news I learnt -when I landed was that the plague was a great -deal worse than the papers were allowed to say. -It had begun to jump about all over the town, -just as it did later on in Sydney. The Chief<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -of the Sanitary Commission had just been struck -down by it.</p> - -<p>The first thing I noticed as I drove from the -wharf to my old quarters was the number of -people in mourning. My landlady, who—I dare -say under compulsion—had had her premises -cleaned and disinfected, greeted me with even -more than French effusion. I owed her a long -bill, and she thought I was dead of the plague -in some out-of-the-way spot. She nearly cried for -joy when she saw me. Poor old lady, she was -to be one of the next of the microbe’s victims!</p> - -<p>At dinner that night I learnt, to my intense -disgust, that the Messagerie Company and the -Government had established a twelve-days’ quarantine -on a mosquito-haunted islet in the bay for -any one who wanted to travel by the monthly -mail to Sydney. The principal reason for this -was that the Governor was going home and -wanted to be quite certain that no microbes got -on board concealed about the persons of his -fellow-passengers.</p> - -<p>From my point of view it amounted to this: -Twelve days on <i lang="fr">Ile Freycinet</i>, four days’ passage, -and from eight to ten days’ quarantine in Sydney—total<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -at least twenty-six days for a trip of a -little over a thousand miles.</p> - -<p>It had to be avoided somehow, and at the -same time Noumea was getting every day a better -place to get out of. Even Lord Dunmore, who -had stuck to his offices down near the wharves -while his neighbours were running away, and -while the rats, driven out of destroyed buildings, -were coming under his floors to die, at last admitted -that things were serious, and advised me to “get” -as soon as I could.</p> - -<p>Fortunately one of the larger coast-boats had -been disinfected and was put on the line again, -and in her I took passage to Pam, at the north-eastern -extremity of the island.</p> - -<p>Pam is the port and headquarters of an -immensely rich mining district, the property of -the International Copper Company, of which his -lordship is Administrator. It has been said that -when Nature made New Caledonia she set herself -to dump down as many ores and minerals in as -small a space as possible.</p> - -<p>She has certainly succeeded, for there is scarcely a -mineral known to science that is not represented in -greater or less quantities in this wonderful island.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;" id="illus28"> -<img src="images/illus28.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Mines of the International Copper Co., Pilou, New Caledonia. There is a -greater variety of Metallic Ores within the area shown here than in any -other region in the world.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p> - -<p>A very clever and experienced mining expert -once went over from Australia to make a survey -for the International, and after an exhaustive -examination he was shipped to London to make -a personal report to the Board. He knew as -much about mining as any one in the Southern -Hemisphere, but his language and deportment -were those of the bush and the mining camp. -A noble lord asked him if he could give any -estimate of the amount of copper, nickel, cobalt, -iron, silver, gold, etc., that might be found in the -Central Chain, and this was his answer:</p> - -<p>“My lord, if you were to take all the —— -minerals there are out of those —— mountains -the —— island would —— well fall to pieces.”</p> - -<p>The report was taken as satisfactory.</p> - -<p>I brought some specimens away with me which -certainly seem to bear out his estimate. They -were the wonder and envy of several mining -experts in Australia. One of the specimens -weighs about three pounds, and I am told that it -contains about a dozen distinct kinds of minerals. -It didn’t come out of the mine. It was just -chopped off the surface for me with a pickaxe.</p> - -<p>The mines are not at Pam. They are at Pilou,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -about seven miles up the river. Here, connecting -the principal mining station with the wharf, is -the only other railway in Caledonia, which is -run by steam. It is a narrow gauge and about -five miles long.</p> - -<p>That five miles is a journey through purgatory. -The attendant demons are little black and devilishly -businesslike mosquitos. Now, I thought I knew -something about mosquitos. They had lived off -me in many parts of the world from Delagoa -Bay to Panama, and Honolulu to Guayaquil, but -when I got to Pilou I found I hadn’t begun to -learn about them.</p> - -<p>The air above the swamp over which the railway -ran was black with them, and their song made -the whole atmosphere vocal. They were all over -us in a moment. They even settled on the boiler -of the engine, and bit it until it whistled in its -agony. We were black with them from head -to foot. Clothing was no protection; and, of -course, ours was pretty thin. They just stood -on their heads and rammed their probosces down -into our flesh, usually along the line of a vein, -and sucked in our life-blood until they were too -gorged to get their blood-pumps out again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p> - -<p>By constant sweeping with green branches we -managed to keep our faces fairly clear, and do -our breathing without swallowing more than a -dozen at a time. Even the Kanakas, who are -not as a rule a favourite article of food with -mosquitos, had to go on swishing themselves with -boughs to keep the little black demons out of -their eyes and nose and mouth and ears.</p> - -<p>As for me, I visited the camps and the mines, -and then I fled. I was a sight which my worst -enemy, if I have one, might well have looked -upon with eyes of pity. I had got a touch of -fever, too, in the swamp, and an illness in Pilou -was too terrible for contemplation. I would not -live in the place, rent free and with nothing to do -but fight mosquitos, for a hundred pounds a week.</p> - -<p>The unhappy convicts who work the mines -were the most miserable lot I had seen in all -Caledonia. Neither by day nor night have they -any protection from the swarming pests, which, -as one or two of them told me, made their lives -one long misery. They sleep in open barracks -without mosquito curtains over their hammocks, -and by day their tormentors pursue them even -down the shafts of the mine.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was the same with the officials and their -wives and children. They all looked anæmic, as -though most of the blood had been sucked out -of them. They were worried and nervous. Their -hands had got into a way of moving mechanically -towards their cheeks and necks and foreheads, -the result of long and mostly vain efforts to -squash mosquitos.</p> - -<p>When we were going to have a meal a couple -of fire-pots, covered with green boughs, had to -be put into the room until it was full of smoke -and comparatively empty of mosquitos. Then -we went into the smoke, and the fire-pots were -put in the doorway. I wasn’t at Pilou long -enough to get used to being half-cooked myself -while I was eating my dinner, but even the smoke -in your eyes and lungs was a more bearable -affliction than the winged tormentors who seemed -to be a sort of punitive discount on the vast -mineral wealth of Pilou.</p> - -<p>No one but very wicked people ought to live -there, and when they die their accounts ought -to be considered squared.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus29"> -<img src="images/illus29.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Saloon of the Ballande liner <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>.</p> -</div> - -<p>With eyes puffed up and almost closed; with -nose and ears and lips about twice their normal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -size; with knuckles and wrists swollen and stiff—to -say nothing of a skinful of itching bumps—I -got back to Pam, and on board the cargo boat -on which I had booked a passage in Noumea.</p> - -<p>We called her afterwards the Ballande liner -<i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>. She was an exaggeration of <i lang="fr">La France</i>, -and belonged to the same distinguished firm. -She was bigger and, if possible, dirtier. She also -smelt more, because there was a larger area for -the smells to spread themselves over.</p> - -<p>No provision had been made for the eight -passengers who were doomed to travel by her. -The captain had no money or credit to buy -stores, and when I offered to lend him some, -he declined, in case his owners should hold him -responsible. The result was that the food we -ate on that miserable voyage made me look back -longingly to the days when I had eaten salt -horse and pickled pork in the forecastle of a -black-birder.</p> - -<p>The decks were not washed down till the fifth -morning, when we reached Sydney Heads. Then -there was a general clean-up before the Medical -Superintendent came on board, in case a worse -fate than quarantine might await us. Up went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -Yellow Jack again, and that afternoon saw us -anchored off the quarantine station at North Head.</p> - -<p>I have been in prisons of many sorts, but that -quarantine taught me for the first time what -imprisonment really means. The penalty for -leaving the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i> without authority was £300 -fine <em>and</em> six months’ hard labour—so there we -were for eight days and nights of about one -hundred and fifty hours each.</p> - -<p>On one side there was the quarantine station—about -as beautiful a land and seascape as those -about to die ever took a last look from at earth -and sea and sky.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the varied beauties of -“Our Harbour,” with Manly Beach to the northward, -North Shore with its red-roofed villas -sprinkled among the trees; and, away in the -dim distance, the spires and chimneys of Sydney. -A couple of hours would have taken us to it, -but as we looked at it with longing eyes, -thinking of what a cocktail at the bar of the -Australia Hotel would taste like, it might just -as well have been twenty thousand miles away.</p> - -<p>It was during those eight days of mingled -dirt and discomfort, cursing, and cribbage that I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -saw as curious a contrast between life and death -as you might search the wide world over for.</p> - -<p>On the starboard side, which is the right-hand -side looking forward, lay the route of the -excursion steamers running between Sydney and -Manly Beach.</p> - -<p>They came past at all hours of the day, and -they came near enough for us to hear strains -of stringed and wind instruments, which brought -back memories of the dear old Thames with -painful distinctness.</p> - -<p>On the port side, with almost equal frequency, -there came a green-painted, white-awninged launch, -flying the Yellow Flag and carrying corpses, “cases,” -and “contacts” from the depôt at Wooloomooloo. -As she rounded into the jetty she whistled. Day -and night for eight days and nights we heard -that whistle—and the meaning of it was usually -death. But you get hardened to all things in -time, and before our durance vile ended we had -got to call her the Cold Meat Boat.</p> - -<p>One day the Medical Superintendent of the -station acceded to an urgent request made by -myself and a fellow-passenger. Neither of us -had washed properly for six days, and so, after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -a little discussion and many promises, he let us -go ashore that we might enjoy ourselves under -a hose. We douched each other for more than -half an hour, and then we went to stretch ourselves -on the beach—a silver-sanded rock-walled curve, -trodden by many feet which will never tread -earth again.</p> - -<p>As we were coming back to the quay to go -on board we heard that never-to-be-forgotten -whistle again, and the green Death Boat swung -round the corner. One of the sanitary police -on the wharf put his hand up and waved us back.</p> - -<p>In the stern there were about a dozen people -sitting. Forward there was a long shapeless -bundle lying on a stretcher. It was a case. The -others were “contacts,” friends, lodgers, and -relations who had lived in the same house with -the case. They had come to be isolated for ten -days, so that the microbe of the Black Death -might show whether or not it was in their blood.</p> - -<p>They were taken out of the boat first. Their -own feelings didn’t matter, for the Black Spectre -takes no account of human affections, and permits -no other to do so. They were marched away -to the quarters set apart for contacts. No farewells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -were permitted, just a look that might be -the last, and that was all.</p> - -<p>Then the stretcher with the long bundle on -it was lifted and carried on to the wharf. Meanwhile -the ambulance backed down to the shore-end, -the stretcher was put into it, and it drove away -up through the trees to the hospital. The next -journey of that particular “case” was to the -cemetery four days afterwards.</p> - -<p>When we got back to our floating prison I told -the chief engineer what we had seen on shore, and -he said in very epigrammatic French:</p> - -<p>“Quite so! What would you? You are a -human being till you take the plague; after that -you are an outcast, a thing separate. You live -and get better; you die and are buried that’s all.”</p> - -<p>And, as it happened, the very next day brought -an all-too vivid illustration of the truth of this -saying. About ten in the morning we heard the -“woo-hoo” of the Death Boat’s whistle.</p> - -<p>There was only one passenger this time, and -he travelled in a coffin. A common two-wheeled -cart backed down to where the ambulance had -been the day before. The coffin was carried to it -and put in just like any other sort of packing-case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -might have been. The driver whipped up his -horse, and we watched the cart with its load -of coffin, corpse, and quicklime, trotting up the -winding road which leads to the burying-ground -of North Head.</p> - -<p>I have seen many funerals in a good many places -from Westminster Abbey to Wooloomooloo, but -this one was the simplest and the saddest of -them all.</p> - -<p>Away on the other side of the bay, wife and -children, brothers and sisters and friends were -mourning—and there was the indescribable Thing, -which two or three days ago had been a man, -being carted away to be dropped into a twelve-foot -hole in the ground—buried like a dead dog, -because it had died of the Black Death instead of -something else. From which you will see that -the Black Death has terrors for the living even -after it has claimed its dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="Part_III"><span class="gothic larger">Part III</span><br /> -<i>HOMEWARD BOUND</i></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_III_I">I<br /> -<span class="smaller">“<i>TWENTY YEARS AFTER</i>”</span></h3> - -<p>Everything, even quarantine, comes to -an end in time; and so on the morning -of the eighth day at anchor, and the thirteenth out -from Pam, the sanitary policeman who formed -our sole connection with the outside world brought -with our morning letters and newspapers the joyful -news that our imprisonment was to end at noon -that day. Never did convicts hail the hour of -their release more gladly than the passengers on -board the Ballande liner <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>.</p> - -<p>We had managed to make our durance vile -tolerable by means of yarning by day, and cribbage -by night. In the after saloon, an apartment -measuring about sixteen feet by eight, there were -four of us—three men and the wife of a mining -superintendent in Pam. The miner was one of the -good old colonial hard-shell type, a man of vast and -varied experience, and the possessor of one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -most luxuriant vocabularies I have ever had reason -to admire in the course of many wanderings. One -night, I remember, we all woke up wondering -whether the ship had broken from her moorings -and gone ashore or whether the Kanaka crew had -mutinied. It turned out that our shipmate had -discovered a rat in his bunk, and was giving his -opinion as to the chances of our all dying of -plague before the quarantine was over. He knew -that there had been fourteen deaths from plague -only a month before on the miserable old hooker, -and he was considerably scared. When he told us -that the rat was alive I began to laugh, whereupon -he turned the stream of his eloquence upon me. -He literally coruscated with profanity, and the -more his adjectives multiplied the louder I laughed, -and only the influence of my stable companion, -a pearl-sheller and diver from Thursday Island, -who had been exploring the ocean floor round -New Caledonia, prevented a breach of our -harmonious relations.</p> - -<p>When I got my breath and the miner lost his, -I explained that the fact of the rat being alive -proved it to be absolutely harmless. It was indeed -a guarantee that there was no plague on the ship.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -If it had been dead and the sanitary authorities -had got to know of it, it might have got us -another twenty days’ quarantine. Finally, it came -out that the rat had bitten the miner’s toe, and, as -he believed, inoculated him with the plague. I -suggested that whiskey was the best antidote for -anything of that sort and so the proceedings -terminated amicably.</p> - -<p>My friend the diver was also a man who could -tell you tales of land and sea and under-sea in -language which was unhappily sometimes too picturesque -to be printable. We had travelled together -all the way from Noumea, and made friends before -the <i lang="fr">St. Antoine</i> had left the wharf. We had both -been rope-haulers and climbers before the mast, -and the freemasonry of the sea made us chums -at once. I never travelled with a better shipmate, -and if this book ever reaches him across the world -I hope that it will remind him of many hours that -he made pleasant during that evil time.</p> - -<p>I have brought two somewhat curious memories -out of our brief friendship.</p> - -<p>I had not been talking to him for an hour -before twenty years of hard-won education and -culture of a sort disappeared, and I found myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -thinking the thoughts and speaking the speech -of the forecastle and the sailors’ boarding-house: -thoughts direct and absolutely honest; and speech -terse, blunt, and equally honest, for among the -toilers of the sea it is not permitted to use language -to conceal one’s thoughts. The man who is found -out doing that hears himself dissected and discussed -with blistering irony garnished with epithets which -stick like barbed arrows, and of such was our -conversation on the <i lang="fr">St. Antoine</i> and the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>; -not exactly drawing-room-talk, but of marvellous -adaptability to the true description of men and -things.</p> - -<p>On the morning of our release as we were -taking our after-breakfast walk and looking for -the last time on that hatefully beautiful little cove -at North Head, I said to him:</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll have to stop being a shell-back -to-night, and get into civilisation again.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose you will,” he said; and then he -proceeded to describe civilisation generally in a -way that would have healthily shocked many most -excellent persons. I thoroughly agreed with him, -and, curiously enough, although our experiences -had been none of the most pleasant, and I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -had anything but a succession of picnics during -my stay in New Caledonia, I was already beginning -to feel sorry that I had to go back to -civilisation and dine in dress-clothes and a hard-boiled -shirt—which brings me to my second -memory.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus30"> -<img src="images/illus30.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Quarantine Station, North Head, Sydney.</p> -</div> - -<p>For nearly a month we had been living on -food that a Kaffir in the Kimberley compounds -would turn his nose up at, and for fourteen days -on board the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i> we had eaten dirt of many -French descriptions. Everything was dirty. Not -even the insides of the loaves were clean. The -galley, where the disguised abominations were -cooked, was so foul that a whiff of its atmosphere -on passing was enough to spoil the appetite of -a starving man. The cook was to match. The -steward who waited on us was willing and obliging, -but remiss in the matter of washing both himself -and his crockery. The chief steward on French -ships is called <i lang="fr">maître d’hôtel</i>, and by this title -we addressed him. On shore we should have -said “here, you,” or something of that sort, but -on the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i> he was a person of importance, -for he had the key of the store-room and was -open to judicious bribery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> - -<p>We had worried through our last dirty <i lang="fr">déjeûner</i> -on board, and preparations were being made for -getting the anchors up. The captain and the mate -had each put on a clean collar, and the chief -engineer was wringing his hands and dancing -about the forecastle because the donkey-engine -had gone wrong and only fizzed feebly when it -should have been getting the cable in.</p> - -<p>“Well, thank God,” I said to my diver friend, -“we shall have a decent dinner to-night! You -are going to dine with me at the Australia. -We’ll have a real cocktail at the bar, only one, -for it won’t do to spoil a precious appetite, then -we’ll eat our way through the menu and drink -champagne. Looks like heaven, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>This is of course only an expurgated version -of what I really said. His reply consisted of a -finely embroidered comparison between the Australia -Hotel and the <i lang="fr">St. Louis</i>, calculated to start -every rivet in her hull.</p> - -<p>Well, we got away from our anchorage and -were towed up to Sydney. We took two of -the finest appetites on the Australian continent -up with us. We had that cocktail. We sat -down in the dining-room of the Australia at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -table covered with the first clean table-cloth we -had seen for a month and glittering with polished -glass and shining silver. The dinner was as good -a one as you will get anywhere between Sydney -Harbour and King George’s Sound—and we -couldn’t eat it! We fooled about with the -courses, trying to believe that we were hungry -and having a real treat, but it was no good. We -had lost our taste for clean, well-cooked food, -and our palates and digestions were hopelessly -vitiated. Course after course went away hardly -touched. We said many things to each other -across the table in decently lowered tones, and -ended by satisfying our hunger and thirst with -bread and butter and champagne!</p> - -<p>After dinner I renewed my acquaintance with -the Doctor and the purser of the steam-roller -<i>Alameda</i>, and they imparted the unwelcome information -that the regular liners were not booking -any passengers from Sydney lest Melbourne and -Adelaide, Albany and Perth might refuse them -admittance, or, at any rate, decline to take passage -in a ship from a plague port. Moreover, it was possible -that Sydney passengers might be quarantined -at every port. Personally, I had had all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -quarantine I wanted, and so I was not sorry to -accept the other alternative which was to go -across to Melbourne and Adelaide by train, and -thence by a boat to Freemantle. This would -give me time to have a glimpse at Western -Australia before picking up the Messagerie liner -at Albany. Unhappily, as I have said, we ran -up against the plague again at Freemantle, and -the inevitable delay, combined with the very -leisurely gait of the West Australian trains, made -it just impossible for me to visit the gold-fields -without missing my steamer.</p> - -<p>One of the first people to welcome me back -to Sydney was my very good friend and fellow-voyager -from Honolulu, the Accidental American, -and with him and his wife I travelled to Melbourne.</p> - -<p>After we had passed the customs and changed -trains and gauges at Albury the journey began -to take on a new, or, rather, an old interest for -me. Twenty years before I had tramped up -through the bush from Melbourne to the Murray -after taking French leave of the lime-juicer in -which I had made my first miserable voyage -from Liverpool to Australia. I had halved the -fifteen shillings, with which I started, with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -penniless “old chum” in exchange for his company -and experience, and then turned the other -seven and sixpence into about seventy pounds, -and, on the strength of my wealth, travelled -back to Melbourne first-class.</p> - -<p>Now I was doing it again, and as the express -swung past the little station, which I had reached -after an all-night tramp across the ranges, I found -it to be a good deal less changed than I was. -Indeed, save for a few new houses scattered -about the clearing, it was just as it was when -I pitched my swag down on a bench before the -hotel, put my blackened billy beside it, and -ordered my last breakfast in the bush.</p> - -<p>At Melbourne we put up at Menzies, and -one afternoon I took my friend down to Spencer -Street to pay a visit to the hotel that I had -last stayed in—the Sailors’ Home. Here again -nothing was altered. The very cubicle I slept -in twenty years before looked as though I had -only just turned out of the little blue-and-white -counterpaned bed, and outside my yester-self, -to coin the only word that seems to fit, was -loafing about in beerless and penniless idleness -“waiting for a ship.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There I am as I was,” I said; “how do you -like me?”</p> - -<p>“Not a little bit, Griff,” he replied in the -terse speech of his fortuitously native land. “I -guess if you were to come like that among the -friends you have now you’d look mighty like -a dirty deuce in a new deck of cards.”</p> - -<p>The next morning I went over to Williamstown -to have a look at the scene of my old escapade, -the only one, by the way, which ever brought -me into unpleasant relations with the police, for -in those days breaking your indentures was a -matter of imprisonment. Happily they did not -catch me. I found the old Railway Hotel, known, -aforetime to officers and apprentices as the Hen -and Chickens, since it was kept by a dear old -Scotchwoman assisted by four charming daughters -with one or all of whom every apprentice in -port was supposed to be in love. It was through -the kindly offices of one of them that I had -saved my kit and dodged the police.</p> - -<p>I sat in the little parlour on the same sofa I -had sat on that memorable night; opposite was -the same old piano on which one or other of -our charmers used to accompany our shouting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -sea-songs, and there beside it was the little -cupboard in the wall in which my superfluous -wardrobe had been stowed away. Not a thing -was altered, I believe the very table-cloth was the -same, and the patch of vacant ground opposite, -across which I had bolted at the penultimate -moment to catch the last train to Melbourne, -was still unbuilt on; and there was I, still a -wanderer, though of a different sort, wanting -only the old faces and the old voices to be able -to persuade myself that the twenty changing years -had begun with the last night’s dream and ended -with the morning’s awaking.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_III_II">II<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>DEMOS AND DEAR MONEY</i></span></h3> - -<p>No doubt it was due to the very wide difference -between the two points of view from -which I had seen Australia and the Australians, -but I must confess that my first impressions -were more pleasant than my second. Naturally -the happy-go-lucky-sailor lad who thought that -the earth was his and the fulness thereof as long -as he had a shilling in his pocket and a square -meal ahead of him, would not look upon things -in general with the same eyes that I did after -twenty years of changing fortunes and the gradual -fading of the “golden dreams of trustful twenty,”—or -eighteen, to be more exact.</p> - -<p>In those days I was, almost of necessity, a -practical democrat living in a democracy which -neither had the time nor the inclination to bother -about politics; but now many experiences in -many lands had taught me that democracy of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -the political sort is more pleasant to read about -than to rub shoulders with!</p> - -<p>America has an aristocracy of blood, brains, and -money which looks with open contempt upon -politics, and has no more connection with politicians -than is involved in the payment of bribes by its -agents. Australia has no such aristocracy, and -everybody apparently goes into politics. In -America democracy is a political fiction, and the -person whom political advocates and managers -call the working man is kept in his place by -methods more or less moral but still effective. -The real rulers of the United States believe, with -Bismarck, that popular government of a country -resembles control of a household by the nursery.</p> - -<p>In Australia the democracy really does rule. -It is the worst-mannered country that I have -ever travelled through, I mean, of course, as -regards the people you are brought into contact -with in the ordinary course of travel. Every -man is as good as another unless he happens -to be an official, and then he is a good deal better—in -his own opinion, and much worse in that -of the wanderer from other lands.</p> - -<p>Of course one meets, as I did, just as charming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -people in Australia as you do anywhere else, -but these are the exceptions. The American, as -I found him, no matter what his rank in life, -was a born gentleman, kindly and courteous, yet -prompt and practical, and just as nice a fellow -whether he was inviting you to a banquet or -giving you a shave.</p> - -<p>Now, with all due deference to Miss Australia’s -many physical and mental charms and her rapidly -increasing stature, I venture to suggest that she -would not be the worse for a few lessons in -social deportment. At present she appears to be -rather in danger of becoming the tomboy of the -international nursery. The chief trouble with -her seems to be that she is so desperately anxious -not to appear servile that she forgets to be civil.</p> - -<p>One cause of this singular lack of manners in -the conduct of every-day affairs may be found -in the fact that the vast majority of parents—and -particularly those belonging to the so-called working-class—consider -that the end and aim of their -children’s education should be the obtaining of -“a good government billet.” The natural result -is the creation of a huge army of officials who -have never had any training in the social ways<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -of the world, who know little or nothing of -business in the wider sense of the term, and whose -education compels them either to do everything -according to official routine or to leave it undone.</p> - -<p>The fact is that Australia is beginning to suffer -from too much government. It is the most over-governed -commonwealth in the world. As every -old Colonial knows, it is the interest of a large -majority of the voters to have a governmental -machine with as many wheels in it as possible. -There is a curious likeness here between the middle- -and lower-class Australian, if I may be pardoned -for using such a heretical word as class in such a -connection, and the Frenchman of the same social -grade. To both the highest ideal of personal -ambition is well-paid employment under government -with a pension to follow; whence it comes -that both these utterly dissimilar nations are -cursed with an ever-increasing generation of office-seekers -whose only object in life is to live as -well as possible out of the taxes.</p> - -<p>The Australian Commonwealth is composed of -young and lusty nations which have bred a -magnificent race of men and women; but they -have also developed a form of government which is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -far too broadly based upon that specious absurdity, -the equality of man. In fact, in Australia, they have -gone farther, for another tenet of their political -creed is the equality of women with each other -and with men. One of the natural results of this -is that, although the best sort of Australian wife -is almost invariably the political ally of her husband, -her housemaid and her cook and washer-woman, -who of course greatly outnumber her and are -much more receptive of the wild-cat theories of -the demagogue, have votes also, and use them—frequently -with weird effect. Education, experience, -social standing, and personal character go for -nothing. A vote is a vote, no matter who gives it. -In fact this fundamentally hopeless system is worked -out to such a deplorably logical extremity that -those women who, through misfortune or intent, -have crossed the borders of what we call here -respectable society have the lodger-vote in Australia. -This fact is, I believe, unique in the records of -democracy from the days of Cleon until now.</p> - -<p>It is, of course, only in the ordinary development -of human affairs that such a system of election -should not produce the best of all possible rulers.</p> - -<p>Some time after my return to England I wanted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -to write an article for an English daily newspaper -on the subject of Australian Politics. The editor -declined to have anything to do with it. He thought -I was, as they say, talking through the back of -my hat, until I asked him whether he thought the -Australian politician was anything like the men -whom he associated with Downing Street? He -seemed to think that they were about on the -same level, I then asked him whether he could -conceive Lord Salisbury, Lord Rosebery, and -Mr. Joseph Chamberlain playing poker with -travellers and strangers in a London club, and then -having to be telegraphed to by the said strangers -for the money they had lost to them? He said -he couldn’t. I said it was a fact, and so it is. -That is the difference between Imperial and Colonial -politics and politicians—from which it will be seen -that there is no comparison to be drawn between -the more or less efficient statesmen whom we manage -somehow to get into power in this country, and -the person whom the male and female votes of -the Australian Commonwealth puts into office -over there.</p> - -<p>Some one once said that any government is good -enough for the people who can stand it. That is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -true of all countries, and it is so in a peculiar -sense of the empire which all good Englishmen -hope will some day develop out of the newly-made -Australian Commonwealth. But before that happens -Australia will have to evolve an aristocracy of some -sort. The old territorial magnates of twenty-five -and thirty years ago have been gradually squeezed -out. Some of them, the fortunate ones who located -themselves on well-watered territories, and others -who found minerals under their sheep pastures -are still the highest class of Australian society. -The rest have seen their estates eaten into by -the cockatoo selector and the person who went out -with an assisted passage to a free grant of land -in the hope of being bought off or selling his -“improvements.” This process almost destroyed -the best aristocracy that Australia could have -possessed, and the democratic vote finally wrecked -it, for your true democrat never sees further than -the day after to-morrow.</p> - -<p>In fact, his political horizon is usually bounded -by the next sunset, and the natural result has been -that the balance of political power in Australia -has been transferred from those who have put -brains, capital, and enterprise into the country,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -to those who had nothing but votes to invest—and -votes to-day are very cheap in Australia.</p> - -<p>The logical outcome of such a condition of -affairs is that what the uneducated and irresponsible -majority want they get. It is not a question -of general utility or national prosperity. If the -government of a colony does not do what the -more ignorant mass of voters want, that government -has either to give in or get out. As a rule -ministers give in that they may stop in, because -places are snug and salaries liberally proportioned -to the labours which earn them.</p> - -<p>The observant wanderer picks up proofs of this -all the time that he is travelling, and the most -significant of these is found in the very thinly -veiled hostility of the various colonies towards -each other. If you are in Sydney you must not -say too much in praise of Melbourne; just as, -when you are in New York it isn’t wise to say -too much about Chicago; or, if you happen to -be the guest of a club in San Francisco, you had -better not descant too eloquently on the culture -of Boston. Still, in the United States there is a -healthy and unrestrained rivalry between these and -many other cities. There is free trade from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -Maine to Mexico, and from New Orleans to -Talama. In fact, as an American Senator once -said in defence of the first tariff, America within -its own borders is the biggest free-trading country -in the world. For instance, throughout the length -and breadth of the United States you can communicate -with other people by letter or telegram -on the same rate. Now, when I got to Albany, -Western Australia, I found that I owed a small -account of one and sixpence to a firm in Sydney. -The money order cost me two and ninepence. -Again, all over the civilised world, saving Australia, -a Bank of England note is worth either its face -value or little more. It happened that when I -landed in Sydney I had £80 in £10 Bank of -England notes. I went to two or three banks -to get them changed, and I found that I could -only get gold for them at a discount of two and -sixpence on the £5, or £2 in all. I then went -to the Comptoire d’Escompt, in Pitt Street, and got -my £80 changed into English gold for five -shillings.</p> - -<p>When I came to inquire into the matter further -I found that the Australian banks had entered -into a sort of conspiracy to defraud the unsuspecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -traveller who ventures to bring the best paper -currency in the world into the Australian colonies. -For instance, you pay a deposit into the Sydney -branch of an Australian bank, you take its notes -for the amount that you may need in travelling, -say, from Sydney to Melbourne, and when you -present those notes at a branch <em>of the same bank</em> -you are charged two and a half per cent. for -cashing them. In other words, the bank goes -back on its own paper to the extent of five shillings -on the £10-note. This seems bad enough, but -my friend the Accidental American told me of -something even worse. He was representing one -of the biggest manufacturing firms in the United -States. Their credit was as good as gold anywhere. -He paid a deposit in Auckland into the -Bank of New Zealand, believing that his cheque -would be good for its face value throughout the -colonies, but when he tried to draw cheques on -the branches of the Bank of New Zealand in -Australia he was charged two and a half per cent. -discount!</p> - -<p>I once had a similar experience in the Transvaal, -but that was only what one might have expected -under the then governmental conditions, I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -in a hostile country and I didn’t look for anything -better, but to run up against the same swindle -in a British colony was somewhat of a shock. -After that, when I wanted any money on my -letter of credit, I took gold because I didn’t see -the force of giving English paper at par for -colonial paper at two and a half per cent. discount.</p> - -<p>I also noticed that if you complain about this -sort of thing in Sydney they put the blame on -Melbourne, and if you are travelling further, -Melbourne puts the blame on Adelaide, and so -on, and from Adelaide they will refer you back -to Auckland, while Perth will tell you that it -is the only really honest city in all Australasia.</p> - -<p>There is, however, one subject upon which all -the Australian colonies appear to be absolutely -agreed. This is the relative importance of work -and play. They mostly play at work and work -at play, especially the officials. Australia seems -to me to have almost as many legal holidays as -you find feast-days in Spain, and an Australian -would as soon go to work on a holiday as a -member of the Lord’s Day Observance Society -would go to a music-hall on a Sunday, unless, -of course, he happened to be on the Continent.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -Still there is a considerable difference between the -amount of work which you can get done in the -several capitals of the Commonwealth.</p> - -<p>I came home with a man who might be described -as the Universal Provider of Australia, and he -told me that he could do more business in -Melbourne in a day than he could in a week in -Sydney, or in a fortnight in Adelaide or Perth. -My American friend told me that he could do -more business in the States in an hour than he -could do in a day anywhere in Australia.</p> - -<p>One reason for this, no doubt, is the climate. -“That tired feeling” is very prevalent, and it -affects the native-born much more than the home-born. -In fact, British-born parents at fifty and -sixty have more energy than their sons and -daughters have at thirty and forty. All the -conditions in Australia are against indoor work, -and in favour of outdoor play. Hence the new -Commonwealth’s physical vigour is considerably in -excess of its mental energy.</p> - -<p>Another very serious feature in present-day -Australian life is the craze for gambling. Of -course most of us would like to make money -without working for it if we could, but with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -Australian this desire amounts to a perfect passion. -Almost every other tobacconist’s shop is the -branch office of a bookmaker, and you can go -in and plank your money and take your ticket -without the slightest fear of legal consequences. -As for mining stocks, you scarcely hear anything -else talked about unless there happens to be a -horse race, a cycle meeting, or a cricket match on. -This is, of course, only one of the failings of -youth, and in some respects Miss Australia is very -young. Still, now that she is growing up into -a nation, she would do well to put something of -a curb on her youthful ardour for playing. Sport -of some sort is an essential both of individual -and national manhood, but colonies don’t grow -into nations on race-courses and cricket-fields any -more than men can become permanently wealthy -by laying and taking odds, or speculating in -futures.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Part_III_III">III<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A COSMOPOLITAN COLONY</i></span></h3> - -<p>It must not be gathered from what I have -said in the last two chapters that it is all -play and no work in Australia. There is a great -deal too much play, and far too keen an interest -in winning money instead of making real wealth; -but still Australia boasts of splendid industries -which she is working to real and lasting profit.</p> - -<p>While I was in Adelaide I renewed my acquaintance -with a lady and gentleman with whom -I had come into contact by a lucky chance during -a coaching trip through the Blue Mountains and -New South Wales, while I was waiting for the -steamer from Sydney to Noumea. During that -trip which, by the way, is one of the most -delightful that you can take in any of the Five -Continents, I made the interesting discovery that -they not only knew me much better than I knew -them, but that they had even named their house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -after their favourite character in one of my stories. -It was through their kindness that I had an -opportunity of realising by personal experience -the wonderful development of what bids fair -to be Australia’s greatest and, in the best sense, -most profitable industry. The commercial fabric -of Australia rests upon wool, wine, wheat, and -gold, and not the least of these is wine.</p> - -<p>One day I received an invitation to go and -spend three days at Seppeltsfield, which is the -centre of one of the largest and most flourishing -wine districts in Australia. Here I became the -guest of Mr. Benno Seppelt, whose father was -the pioneer of wine-growing in South Australia. -It was here, too, that I found the most brilliant -triumph in cosmopolitan colonisation that I had -seen in the course of many wanderings.</p> - -<p>We went partly by train and partly by a coach, -which landed us after dark on a desperately -wet night at a little township about eight miles -from the vineyard. Here, owing to a telegraphic -mistake, we found no conveyance to take us on -to Seppeltsfield, so we put up at just such a bush -hotel as I had been wont to sleep at twenty years -before when I happened to have the money for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -bed and breakfast. The principal attraction of the -hostelry was a bagatelle-table on which Shem, -Ham, and Japheth might have practised. The -bagatelle-room was evidently the favourite lounge -of the youth of the township, and the Accidental -American and I passed a most enjoyable hour -playing under the instruction of these gentle -youths who would have been considerably astonished -if they had seen some of my friend’s performances -on a billiard-table. Everybody’s business -in Australia is also everybody else’s, wherein -Australia does not differ very much from other -parts of the world, and the interest that our -audience took in us was almost as flattering as their -absolutely unrestrained remarks on our play were -occasionally the reverse. We began as novices, -and gratefully accepted the very freely given hints -as to our shortcomings and the way to improve -our game. No game, played on that ancient -gambling machine, ever improved so quickly, and -the talk among our instructors, when they realised -that we had been fooling them, gave me the impression -that they really regarded us as a couple -of sharps who had come down from Adelaide -with the intention of cleaning the country-side out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next morning the wagonette came over -from Seppeltsfield and I began to have my object-lesson -in colonisation. The country here was -very different to what I had seen in the bush -at other times and other places. In fact the bush -was bush no longer; all was rolling farmland, -cleanly cleared and well fenced, arable land -alternating with orchards, vegetable-gardens, and -tree-belts disposed so as to give due protection -to the young crops and fruit-trees. Everything -was trim, neat, and prosperous-looking. The -white houses, surrounded by their broad verandahs, -were very different to the selectors’ cabins which -I had seen up country on my last visit to Australia, -and their surroundings were rather those of an -English country house hundreds of years old, -than of a country which forty years ago was uninhabited -scrub.</p> - -<p>Then came the vineyards. There are between -two and three thousand acres of them round -Seppeltsfield, and every acre seemed to me to -be as well kept as an English nursery garden.</p> - -<p>This is the history of them, and incidentally -of the other wine-growing districts in South -Australia.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> - -<p>As long ago as 1829, which, for Australia, is -quite ancient history, a Mr. Robert Gouger began -the colonisation of South Australia. His idea -was to parcel out the land into small lots and -offer government assistance to people who were -ready to tackle the task of subduing the wilderness. -He failed to get the amount of capital -to carry his ideas into practice; the government, -as governments did in those days, gave him the -cold shoulder, and, for the time being, his projects -fell to the ground. Five years later the South -Australian Association was formed. Mr. Gouger -was the principal organiser of it. Then followed -more correspondence with the government, and -more of the usual trouble with the circumlocutary -departments, and finally the South Australian Bill -was brought before the British Parliament. One -of the chief supporters of the Bill in the House -of Lords was the Victor of Waterloo, and the -first ship which landed a company of emigrants -on the shores of South Australia was named the -<i>Duke of York</i>. As these lines are being written, -the Duke of Cornwall and York is travelling -through the new-born Commonwealth of Australia, -as the representative of the Emperor-King to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -give the Royal and Imperial sanction to the -youngest, and by no means the least vigorous of -the daughter-nations of the Empire. Curiously -enough, too, it happened that in 1838 Mr. George -Fife Angus, Chairman of the South Australian -Company, brought out a company of two hundred -German emigrants in a ship named the <i>Prince -George</i>.</p> - -<p>After them came more Germans, then Frenchmen -and Italians, Austrians, Hungarians, Swedes and -Norwegians, English, Scotch, and Irish; the scrub -began to disappear, and the wilderness to blossom, -not exactly as the rose, but as tobacco plantations. -The tobacco was a rank failure in more senses -than one. It grew luxuriantly, but its flavour -was such that it was very much more fitted for -poisoning the insects which settled on the vines -which succeeded it than for filling those functions -which Calverley has so exquisitely described.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus31"> -<img src="images/illus31.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Storage House at Seppeltsfield, forty years ago.</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus32"> -<img src="images/illus32.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">The Present Storage House through which nearly a million gallons pass every year.</p> -</div> - -<p>In ’51, when the tidings of the great gold -discoveries in Victoria were drawing fortune-seekers -to Australian shores from the uttermost -ends of the earth, the father of my host at -Seppeltsfield came into the Collingrove district -and planted a vineyard which was about an acre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -in extent. Not even the luckiest of all the -argonauts of the fifties ever pegged out a claim -that yielded as much solid and ever-increasing -profit as that little patch of land in the South -Australian scrub. In those days Adelaide was a -pleasant little town of about fifteen thousand -inhabitants; the capital of a province containing -sixty-six thousand souls. Now it is a stately -city with between forty and fifty thousand inhabitants, -the capital of a colony with a population -of four hundred thousand.</p> - -<p>Mr. Seppelt’s acre of vineyard has grown into -more than two thousand, and its produce has -increased to eight hundred thousand gallons of -matured wine, to say nothing of vinegar and -brandy. Every year two thousand tons of grapes -come in from the vinelands which lie for eight -miles round Seppeltsfield, to pass through the -crushers and the winery into the great vats of the -cellars, and thence into the casks in which their -juice is shipped to lands which have never seen -the Southern Cross.</p> - -<p>After I had been through the whole process of -Australian wine-making from the grape-crushers—Australian -wine is not trodden out of the grape<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -by the same process that still obtains in France, -Spain, and Portugal—to the laboratory in which -samples of every kind of wine are tested in order -to make sure that the process of sterilisation is -perfect; and after I had tasted ports and sherries, -Madeiras, Hocks, Moselles, and certain specialities -native to the vineyard, I said to my host the evening -before we had to start away in the grey dawn to -catch the train at Freeling:</p> - -<p>“I have learnt a good deal in the last week, -but I want you to tell me now how you managed -to put your wines on to the European market and -get a sale for them against the competition of the -French, German, and Spanish wines which had -had the vogue for centuries, their vineyards are all -within five hundred miles of London, for instance, -and here you’re ten thousand miles away. How -did you manage it?”</p> - -<p>This chapter is not an advertisement of Australian -wines in general or of the products of Seppeltsfield -in particular, and therefore I shall not say everything -that he told me, but the nett result came -to this: When the wine-growing industry of -Australia began to get a bit too big for Australia’s -consumption, and when it was found that varieties<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -of European vines produced wines of delicately -differentiated flavours, it became a question where -markets were to be found for the products of an -industry which was growing much more rapidly -than the native consumption.</p> - -<p>When they found the solution of this problem -the Australian wine-growers did one of the best -strokes of business that ever was done within the -confines of real business. By real business, I mean -honest business. Those who know a great deal -more about the subject than I will see much more -meaning in those two words than perhaps I do. -If Australian wine was going to make its way in -the markets of the world it had to be wine; in -other words, those who made it had to rely for -their success and for the interest on the capital -and the brains that they had put into the work -upon a reversion to principles as old as the days -of Solomon. They had to make wine from grapes -and nothing else. Their rivals in the European -markets had already learnt everything there was -to be known about fortifying and flavouring and -chemical essences. They knew how, for instance, -German potato spirit could be turned into seven-year-old -brandy in a few weeks, and how sherry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -which had never been within a hundred miles -of a vineyard could be made such a perfect -counterfeit of the original fluid that a custom’s -expert couldn’t tell the difference between a cask -worth sixty pounds and one worth six. They -made many failures, but in the end they not only -got into the European markets, but actually out-sold -the home wine-growers who had had hundreds -of years start of them.</p> - -<p>The Australian grape goes into the crusher as -grape it comes out as grape-juice, and as grape-juice -it crosses the seas and makes its appearance -in bottles and flagons on our tables. It has been -fermented and sterilised and that is all, and it is -not too much to say that, saving these two necessary -processes, when you drink a glass of Australian -wine, red or white, still or sparkling, you are actually -drinking the juice of the grape and nothing else; -wherefore it may be fairly said that the development -of the Australian wine industry from very small -beginnings, as, for instance, from that one acre first -planted with vines at Seppeltsfield into the two -thousand odd acres of to-day yielding two thousand -tons of grapes and eight hundred thousand gallons -of wine a year, is just about as good a proof as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -one can get that honesty is sometimes the best -policy even in business.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus33"> -<img src="images/illus33.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">Grape-crushing by machinery at Seppeltsfield. The Grapes from which Australian Wine is made are never touched by hand (or -foot) after the process of Wine-making has begun.</p> -</div> - -<p>Happily there was no speculation about the wine -industry in Australia. If this were also true of her -gold-mines and her wool-crops she would be a good -deal richer and more honestly wealthy than she is.</p> - -<p>I have seen French colonists in French colonies, -Germans in German colonies, and colonists of many -nationalities under the alien flags of the South -American Republics, where, as a rule, they do a -great deal better than in their own colonies, if they -have any, but never have I seen such a perfect -realisation of the ideal of cosmopolitan colonisation -as I saw during my stay at Seppeltsfield.</p> - -<p>Day after day we drove out along broad roads -through the pleasant vineyards and farmlands which -lay under the ranges that shielded them from the -hot north winds, and every hour or so we pulled -up in a village which might have been picked up -by superhuman hands out of Germany, or France, -or Holland, Ireland, Scotland, or England, and just -put down there in the midst of what forty years -ago was the South Australian Wilderness.</p> - -<p>My host was a German and the son of a German, -and he has nine sons, all good Australians, true<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -sons of the soil, worthy citizens of the empire -who have found all that men seek to find within -the wide confines of the Pax Britannica.</p> - -<p>I have a certain reason for using that phrase. -I had just come from a French colony which, in -the national sense, could only be described as a -house divided against itself. There was the conflict -between bond and free, between French and English, -Australians, Germans, Jews, naturalised foreigners, -and those who were still wondering which side -of the international fence it would pay them best -to sit on, but in the pleasant country about -Seppeltsfield I found all the elements of international -unity and none of discord.</p> - -<p>Within that eight-mile radius there was an -epitome of Europe. In one township you might -have closed your eyes for a moment of forgetfulness, -opened them again and seen yourself in a German -town not very far from the banks of the Rhine. -Having a little German at my disposal, I accepted -the illusion and found myself drinking good -lager beer out of the same old glasses that I had -drunk it ten years before in the Fatherland, and -listening to just the same quaintly turned conversation -that I had listened to and joined in during<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -a walking tour down the Valley of the Weser -and over the Hartz Mountains. The houses -were built in the same way, the same beer was -drunk to the same toasts and with the same old-world -choruses, and I and the Accidental American -played a game for the championship of England -and America on just such a kegel-bahn as you -could find behind any country hotel in Germany. -I won because I didn’t laugh quite as much as -my opponent did.</p> - -<p>At the end of another drive I found myself -in France listening to the soft speech of the Côte -d’Or and drinking the wine of the country which -might have been sent that day by telegraph. A -few miles farther on we were in Ireland. I -am not prepared to say that the mountain dew -was actually distilled on Irish hillsides, but it was -very like the original brew, and the brogue was -as rich and pure as any that you would hear -between Dublin and Dingle Bay.</p> - -<p>Men and women of many nationalities were there, -founding their own fortunes and helping to found -those of an Empire of To-morrow, but everywhere -you heard the English speech, and recognised the -self-restraint and the quiet orderly manners of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -Anglo-Saxon, for though these colonists had come -from many lands and had known many different -governments they had all come under the influence -of that magical power which the Anglo-Saxon -alone seems to possess, the power of making all -men his fellow-citizens and friends if he can -once get them on his own land and under his -own flag. In Europe these people would have -been enemies, actual or potential; in their own -colonies they would have been discontented and -home-sick, longing only for the day of their return -with a trifling competence; here they were just -neighbours working out their destinies side by side -on a soil that was common to all, and under a -rule which is perhaps the most perfect that the -wit of man has yet devised for the welding together -of conflicting human interests. If I could only -have brought my good friend the Director of the -Administration of New Caledonia to Seppeltsfield, -and taken him for a six days’ driving tour through -that cosmopolitan collection of townships, I think -he would have understood more completely than -he did what I meant when I said to him on the -verandah of his house in Noumea the day before -I sailed:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The Latin nations have colonies, but they -have not yet learnt how to colonise.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;" id="illus34"> -<img src="images/illus34.jpg" width="700" height="425" alt="" /> -<p class="caption">A Vineyard at Seppeltsfield, South Australia.</p> -</div> - -<p>I left South Australia with a regret that was -fully equalled by the pleasure with which I had -taken leave of Noumea, and that is saying a good -deal. From Port Adelaide we trundled round -the coast in an exaggerated edition of the old -steam-roller that had brought us across the Pacific. -The only interesting event on the six days’ passage -was a scare which the Accidental American innocently -raised by developing a sore throat and -a little swelling of the glands of the neck. Of -course the rumour that he had brought the plague -from Sydney went like wildfire through the ship, -and I, as his nurse, was looked upon with undisguised -suspicion. When I brought him up -for a stroll on deck just before we reached Albany -our fellow-passengers very kindly gave us half -the deck to ourselves. I had tried to explain that -the period of incubation was twelve days at the -outside, and that hence, as we were nearly a month -out from Sydney, we could no more have brought -the plague from Port Jackson than we could have -done from San Francisco; but it was no good, -and when the sanitary officers came on board at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -Freemantle with the news that the dreaded visitor -had got there before us, I think nine-tenths of -the passengers would have been well content to -see us walked off to quarantine.</p> - -<p>In the end the doctor passed us without a stain -upon our sanitary character, and our baggage was -put into a lighter, tightly sealed up and battened -down, and then fumigated. One of our lady-passengers -had a pet canary in a cage and there -was much discussion as to what should be done -with it. Its constitution would not stand fumigation, -and yet the law said that nothing was to -go into the colony without either medical examination -or disinfection. I presume the Doctor -must have compromised either with his conscience -or with the lady, for the last I saw of the -suspected bird was on the quay, where it was -chirping a merry defiance of sanitary regulations, -on the top of a truck load of baggage which -had neither been inspected nor disinfected.</p> - -<p>Sanitary officials seem to have the same kind -of ideas all over the world. In Noumea they -burnt down the house of the first white man -who died of the plague, but they allowed his -furniture to be sold by auction and spread over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -the town. At Freemantle they fumigated your -steamer trunk and your Gladstone-bag, but they -allowed steerage passengers to walk off with swags -and bundles which might have held any number -of millions of microbes for all they knew.</p> - -<p>Western Australia is a very wonderful young -country, and when it settles down to real business -and discovers that it is better to get gold than -to gamble in gold shares, it will do great things. -It will also be the better for the abolition of its -ridiculous system of protection. Some parts of it -will one day be great fruit-growing districts and -by way of developing these the government -impose a big duty on fruit from other colonies, -for instance, Tasmanian apples were selling in -Perth and Freemantle at a shilling a pound, -although they can be brought across the world -and sold in London for fivepence. Meanwhile, -the Westralian sells his fruit at artificial prices, -having no competition to worry about. While -the import duty enables him to put his prices -up fifty per cent. he is quite content to produce -half what he could have done. In fact it was -this problem of protection which kept Western -Australia aloof from federation for such a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -time. Some day, when intercolonial free trade -follows after federation, the Westralian will find his -new conditions not quite so pleasant, but a good -deal more healthily stimulating.</p> - -<p>Westralia is popularly described in other colonies -as the land of sin, sand, sore eyes, sorrow, and -Sir John Forrest. Sir John Forrest was one of -the men who discovered it. He is now its -premier. He also discovered the gold-fields; and -he has the loudest voice I ever heard even on -a politician. What his connection with his other -alliterative titles of his adopted land have been -I could not discover. They are most probably -creations of the luxuriant fancy of other politicians -who would be very glad to have made as much -out of the country as he has done.</p> - -<p>Westralians are called by other colonials “sand-gropers,” -and to this they reply with fine irony -by describing all other Australians as, “T’other-Siders,” -or “dwellers on the other side of Nowhere.” -Young nations are after all very like -young children, they all possess the finest countries -on earth and it is only right that they should do so, -if they didn’t think so they would go somewhere -else, and so new nations would never get made.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the whole I am afraid I must say that -the new Australia did not quite come up to the -expectations that I had based on my memories -of the old; but I don’t suppose that fact will -trouble Australia any more than the lack of -appreciation of a once distinguished poet and -dramatist troubled the Atlantic Ocean. One thing -is certain, no country which breeds such men -and women as you find from Brisbane to -Freemantle can help being great some day; and -when Miss Australia settles down a little more -seriously to work she will begin to grow very -great indeed.</p> - -<p>At Albany I found the long, white, graceful shape -of the Messagerie liner <i lang="fr">Australien</i> lying on the -smooth waters of St. George’s Sound, and in her -I made as pleasant a homeward trip as the most -fastidious of globe-trotters could wish for. I -have often been amused by the pathetic appeals -of untravelled Englishmen on behalf of British -steamer lines. Such an appeal usually ends with -reflections on the patriotism of British travellers -who patronise foreign ships. The fact is that the -boot is on the other leg. Why are not the -British companies patriotic enough to make their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -boats as pleasant to travel in as French, and German, -and American boats are? Travellers whose journeys -are counted by tens of thousands of miles want -to do their travelling as pleasantly as possible, -and the pleasantest ship to journey in, is the one -that has the fewest regulations. On the Messagerie -boats you will find none that are not absolutely -essential to the proper discipline of the ship and -the comfort of your fellow-passengers. While -you are on board you are treated as a welcome -guest, and not as an intruder whose presence is -tolerated because your passage money is necessary -to make dividends. You are also looked upon -as a reasonable being, capable of taking care of -yourself and ordering your comings and goings -within decent limits, not as a child who mustn’t -sit up playing cards after a certain hour, and who -is not to be trusted with the management of an -electric light in the small hours of the tropical -night when you can’t sleep and want to read. -In short, the principal reason why experienced -travellers prefer foreign lines to British is simply -the fact that they like to be treated as grown -men and women, and not as children or irresponsible -lunatics. It is not a question of patriotism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -at all, it is one of commercial consideration on -the one side and comfort and convenience on -the other.</p> - -<p>The first thing we heard when we reached -Marseilles was the welcome news that the tide -of war had turned, and Mafeking was relieved.</p> - -<p>Our company in the saloon was about half -French and half English and Australian, and a -more friendly crowd it would have been difficult -to find afloat. We had had the usual concert the -night before, and wound up with the Marseillaise -and God Save the Queen, and when we set up -the champagne for the last time in the smoking-room -and drank to B.P. and his merry men, -the only man who declined to join in was, I -regret to say, an Irishman. He was as jolly a -<i lang="fr">compagnon de voyage</i> and as good-hearted a man -as you would wish to meet in a ten-thousand-mile -trip; but on that particular subject he was a -trifle eccentric.</p> - -<p>When I left the <i lang="fr">Australien</i> I looked upon -Yellow Jack, as I hope, for the last time, for it -ever a man was heart-sick of the sight of a piece -of bunting I was of that miserable little yellow -oblong.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next morning we took our places in the -P.L.M. <i lang="fr">Rapide</i> and went whirling away over -the pleasant lands of Southern France, through -Lyons, Dijon, and Maçon, to Paris and thence -to Calais in trains that were well worthy to run -over the same metals as the “South Western -Limited,” and the “Overland.”</p> - -<p>Then came the usual bucketing across the -Channel, and after that a crawl of seventy-six -miles in two hours and thirty-five minutes in a -dirty, rickety, first-class compartment on one of -the alleged expresses of the Amalgamated Crawlers. -The splendid corridor train of the Nord had -covered the hundred and eighty-five miles between -Paris and Calais inside four hours; but that was -in France. Still the “boat-express” did at last -manage to struggle into Charing Cross, and I -found myself standing in the familiar Strand once -more. The thirty-thousand-mile trip was finished, -and Prisonland with all its new experiences and -varied memories was itself now only a memory.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Since my return, I find that there has been a recrudescence of -this fiscal foolishness in New York with an addition of personal -persecution. By the time these pages are in my readers’ hands -the autocrats of the inquisition will probably have heard something -drop. To bully the American Woman is too large an order even -for the Great Republic.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> With true French economy the price of the chain is charged -against the convict’s “Succession”—<i>i.e.</i> any deferred savings that -he may leave behind him.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i lang="fr">Les Sœurs de St. Joseph de Cluny.</i></p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.</i></p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's In an Unknown Prison Land, by George Griffith - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN AN UNKNOWN PRISON LAND *** - -***** This file should be named 60960-h.htm or 60960-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/9/6/60960/ - -Produced by deaurider and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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