The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, No. 05, May 1891: An Illustrated MonthlyVarious
General
The Strand Magazine, Vol. 01, No. 05, May 1891: An Illustrated Monthly
Various
English literature -- Periodicals; Short stories, English -- Periodicals
My arrival was the signal for a general rush from the huts of crowds
of natives--men, women, and children. They pressed forward with eager
curiosity, examined me from head to foot, made remarks one to the
other, and yelled in a perfectly diabolical manner. But presently the
king seemed to get angry, and he uttered a sort of war-whoop, while his
suite, with a sweep of the heavy sticks they carried, scattered the
crowd and made a passage through them. I was then led to a large shed
or hut, which I gathered was the Grand Council Chamber, where weighty
social and political matters were discussed and the head-hunting
expeditions planned. The roof of this building was composed of palm
leaves and some species of grass dyed various colours. It was supported
by stems of young palm-trees, also ornamented with coloured grasses,
which had a most pleasing effect. The walls were composed of sticks and
flag-leaves, thickly plastered with mud on the outside. The floor was
covered with matting, dyed yellow, and worked into a striking pattern
by means of different coloured feathers. At the main entrance was a
tall bamboo pole crowned with a human head. The head had belonged to a
powerful chief who had been killed in battle, and the victors preserved
his skull as a trophy. A little later, during an investigation I
made, I found, in a heap at the back of the Council House, a large
number of skulls and human bones. Many of the skulls were marked with
dints of the tomahawk, thus showing how the victims had been slain.
That their bodies had also been eaten there can be little doubt.
And in this connection I may mention that, in 1882, New Britain was
visited officially by Captain C. Bridge, R.N., and he reports that the
inhabitants of that island are the only cannibals he knows of who are
not ashamed of their taste for human flesh.
When the king and I and his suite had crossed the portal of the
Council Chamber, I was glad to see that a number of men were stationed
outside armed with clubs to keep the crowd off. The air was thick with
mosquitoes, gnats, sandflies, and other insects. Seeing that they
annoyed me, my host ordered one of his attendants to wave over my head
a fan made of a palm-leaf attached to a long handle. The chief then
squatted on his haunches on a raised platform which ran half-way round
the building, and he invited me to do the same, placing me on his
right, which I understood was the position of honour. Then he made a
speech, though what it was all about I could form but little idea, but
two or three times, from the way his followers eyed me, I thought he
was telling them that I was in excellent condition for cooking.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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