Nciu Gitinea Villages. 



55 



with the first row of aerial dwellings. It must be a ticklish thing to walk to church bj' such a road. 

 There is no communication between the other rows except by canoes or swimming. 



We entered one or two curious dwellings. Their valuables consisted of grass petticoats, arm- 

 lets, spears, clubs, axes and nets, with a few earthenware pots for cooking. The only reason 

 assigned for erecting these marine villages is fear of their inland foes, and that their fathers did so 

 before them. The church, like all other dwellings at Kaili, is a frail construction of sticks, sides and 

 roof thatched with sago palm leaf. It is spacious, but has neither pulpit nor seats. As we paced 

 up and down inside, it gently swayed to and fro in the breeze. These sea-villages have one obvious 

 advantage over those built ashore — they are free from mosquitoes. 



Passing on our way eastward, we saw a number of old piles, indicating the original site of 

 Kaili before they were driven away by the Manukolo. L,ater on we anchored at the village of Kapa- 

 kapa, consisting in truth of two hamlets half a mile apart, thirty-three miles east of Port Moresby. 



FIG. 48. HOUSE IN MILNE BAY. 



This is my third Swiss-lake-like village in New Guinea. It has a population of 450. loane, a native 

 of Savage Island (Nine), is their teacher. I was struck with a hut standing apart from all others in 

 the middle of the bay, and learned that it was built by a man who had quarrelled with all his friends! 

 Fowls and hogs are fed and evidently thrive, in these remarkable dwellings. Our boat was pulled 

 between the rows of dwellings, Mr. Chalmers occasionally throwing a handful of small pieces of 

 tobacco into the sea. Men, women and children all dived down for that coveted prize, and in a 

 friendly way contended for it. After dark on the same eventful day. Captain Liljeblad succeeded in 

 making Hula, a distance of fifty-two miles from Port Moresby. 



Hula, like Tupuselei, Kaili, and Kapakapa, is built in the sea. It contains about 600 people. 

 With our clerical friend I went in a canoe, through this long village, or rather two villages. Wish- 

 ing to look at some of their houses, we climbed — not without some difficulty — up onto a platform ten 

 feet above the sea. On this wretchedly insecure place they dance every night by torchlight. By 

 day the younger members of the family sit and smoke there, regardless of the hot sun. Beyond is a 

 shaded place for the parents. Climbing up a short ladder, you enter by a small door into their only 

 sleeping apartment, which is very dark. A portion of it, however, is marked off; here the daily 



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