The majority of the men who trade out there are rough, uncouth beggars, but they have a jovial, devil-may-care way with them, taking both life and death as they come; they rise in the morning, not knowing if they will ever see their beds again in this world, but they don’t mind that. Some of them are as plucky as they are coarse, and as jolly as they are muscular; but it is deplorable to think that they are the men who are civilising and forming the future of the natives, and with such guides it is not surprising that they steal and murder, and that in some parts no trader dare leave his store for a night lest it be sacked by daybreak. A trader’s existence is no life for a peaceful white man; it means, as Louis Beck so aptly puts it, “a pistol in one hand and your life in the other.” Yet there is room for the honest man and plenty of money to be made, for these islands abound in untouched wealth, as the success of Messrs. Burns Philp {73} shows. They have made money, and their advancement shows that with honesty and enterprise there is plenty of room for good men. A few more such firms and the place would soon change and become a prosperous colony, where decent folks could live with some certainty of dying a natural death. [Illustration 23: GOLD MINERS LEAVING A TRADING SHIP, BRITISH NEW GUINEA] There are tales galore, all filled with a grim humour, of the small traders in these islands; many of them are characters in their way, who have drifted over the whole world and finally settled, or become stranded, on these shores. Perhaps one of the best known about New Guinea was Nicolas the Greek, whom Mr. Hardy met at Samarai and describes as a man of medium height and burly build, with a dark complexion and a clean-shaven, Yankee-cut face. He dealt chiefly in pearls, and had come on board the _Titus_ (the boat on which Mr. Hardy was) to sell some. That day he wore a pair of canvas trousers, soiled and very much damaged, a soft hat that had at one time been black, and a dirty white jersey, which was tucked up in a roll at his waist. In this roll he kept his valuable pearls, and to get at them he would unroll a little of the jersey, and then having got hold of his pearl box he would work it up his chest and bring it out below his chin. His life {74} was not a rosy one, as he was wanted in all quarters by white and black men, and several attempts had been made to kill him, but he generally managed to get the first shot home, and so lived on. He was quite used to wrecks, for it almost seems that the sea required his life too, but that also went disappointed, for nothing seemed to be able to kill Nicolas. He was a dangerous man to chaff, even when he was well filled with wine, and most men kept clear of him, or when they did have dealings with him they were very civil and never gave him a chance of picking a quarrel.