Another Port Moresby character was Weaver, the greengrocer; he has a history, but no man knows it, and it is popularly reported that he has a family in Australia. He has been in New Guinea for some years, and lives quite alone in an isolated district where he built a house and took up some land. He stands 6 feet 2 inches, and is a curious eccentric fellow whom nobody understands. He does not care for visitors, and has even been known to threaten distinguished personages with his gun when they dared to knock at his door! Twice a week Weaver brings in his vegetables, packed on two ponies, and sells them to Europeans at Port Moresby. It is said that he is accumulating money. He is perfectly independent, and quite a character; utterly illiterate, he has the dogged opinions which usually accompany lack of education. He believes in himself, has no one to help him in his work, and tells you quite frankly that he thinks _he_ could run New Guinea better than any one. On all subjects under the sun the opinion of Weaver is absolutely right and that of the world absolutely wrong. As the days dragged on Harry and I thought we would vary the monotony of our life, and obtain a change of diet, by taking a small excursion down to Hula, the great fishing-place. By the courtesy of a trader, who was going down in a whaleboat, we obtained a passage. A voyage of a few hours took us down, and we found the village fairly large, built like Hanuabada, only most of the houses stood in the water on piles. The shore is thickly fringed with cocoanut plantations. The people, who belong to the Motuan tribe, as those of Hanuabada do, live by supplying the inland natives with fish. They go down to the fishing-ground, about two miles from shore, in small dug-out canoes, and this industry affords a very delightful touch of colour to the scenery of this part of the Papuan coast. The fishing is done at night, and just as the sun sinks the canoes come up past Hula in great crowds. In each boat are four or five fishermen, who pole up the shallows and paddle when they come to deeper water. As the darkness deepens the flotilla suddenly bursts into flame, for their method of attracting gare-fish, which is their chief quarry, is by burning huge flares of dried palm leaves. Each of these flares is made up of a considerable bundle of leaves, and the men brandish them about in their hands. The light lasts for a considerable time. The effect of these many fires, reflected in long tracks on the water, is extremely picturesque. The fishing lasts all night, and at dawn the fleet returns with its catch. The work is not unattended with danger, for sometimes the gare-fish, which are armed with a sharp sword-like projection of bone from the front part of the head, will, as they leap in blind terror of the light, strike the fishermen and kill them. The natives set up a stick in the water where any one has been killed by gare-fish.