There is a safety in an outrigger canoe that one cannot feel in ordinary native boats. There is not the same swift movement that one experiences when skimming through the water rowed by a half-dozen muscular Maoris in their light-built canoes, or flying down rapids in a Canadian canoe, but in {59} place of it there is the calm repose of absolute security, and at times this latter condition is not to be scorned, especially when every moment you can see the fin of a shark rise out of the water. Clumsy looking as these boats are, it is wonderful what complete control the natives have over them, how swiftly they swing them round or skim them between dangerous rocks, and dash over the surf through waves that would swamp and capsize an average lifeboat. These irresponsible creatures paddle on through the worst of waters, laughing at the spray as it breaks over them, and shouting with glee as they mount the great waves, which carry them high and dry on to the shore. Then the stately Lakatois with their queer-shaped sails, looking as unlike sails as the body of a boat is unlike a canoe. They resemble an elongated kite with a semicircle cut out of the top, and if you saw one for the first time coming towards you on a dark night, it would give you a fright, so grotesque and weird is it. In daylight, however, its horrors disappear and the ingeniousness of its construction appeals to you; after watching it sailing placidly out to sea, steered as easily as any yacht, a feeling of admiration for the savage inventor of it comes over you. {60} To explain its construction would be a task too difficult for me, but, roughly, it consists of two or three large canoes lashed together and boarded over. On these boards is a kind of barn cut down and spread out considerably. This is used both for shelter and for carrying the pots and articles of barter. From the centre of this raft-like barge the two enormous sails project straight into the air; the two horn-like points of the top are decorated with long streamers; whilst others ornament the sails, making it look like a carnival barge. How the wind is caught or how the boats are moved about is a mystery to any but those who work them; if you ask a native he will explain it all to you: “He good fellow belong salt water, go easy.” And that is as much information as I can give. So with this vivid, though somewhat technical description of how the boat travels, you too must be satisfied, and look rather at its beauty than its ways of working. [Illustration 19: OLD WOMEN MAKING POTTERY, BRITISH NEW GUINEA]