turned by man into food by such simple and direct methods. The sago produced and eaten by the natives is a tough, starchy stuff, of dirty white colour, very unpalatable. It has the consistency of rubber, and the taste of very poor, unleavened bread. It is not clear, like the article which is sold under the name of sago in our groceries, but is mealy, tough, and almost elastic. The natives consider it a great delicacy, and bake it into little cakes, or boil it into dumplings.
The main fleet of the Dobuans started some time in the second half of March from their villages, and went first to the beach of Sarubwoyna, where they held a ceremonial distribution of food, eguya’i, as it is called in Dobu. Then, offering the pokala to Aturamo’a and Atu’a’ine, they sailed by way of Sanaroa and Tewara, passing the tabooed rock of Gurewaya to the Amphletts. The wind was light and changeable, weak S.W. breezes prevailing. The progress of this stage of the journey must have been very slow. The natives must have spent a few nights on the intermediate islands and sandbanks, a few canoes’ crews camping at one spot.
At that time I had already succeeded in reaching the Amphletts, and had been busy for two or three weeks doing ethnographic work, though not very successfully; for, as I have already once or twice remarked, the natives here are very bad informants. I knew of course that the Dobuan fleet was soon to come, but as my experience had taught me to mistrust native time-tables and fixtures of date, I did not expect them to be punctual. In this, however, I was mistaken. On a Kula expedition, when the dates are once fixed, the natives make real and strenuous efforts to keep to them. In the Amphletts the people were busy preparing for the expedition, because they had the intention of joining the Dobuans and proceeding with them to the Trobriands. A few canoes went to the mainland to fetch sago, pots were being mustered and made ready for stowing away, canoes were overhauled. When the small expedition returned from the mainland with sago, after a week or so, a sagali (in Amphlettan: madare), that is, a ceremonial distribution of food was held on the neighbouring island, Nabwageta.
My arrival was a very untoward event to the natives, and complicated matters, causing great annoyance to Tovasana, the main headman. I had landed in his own little village, Nu’agasi, on the island of Gumasila, for it was impossible to anchor near the big village, nor would there have been room for pitching a tent. Now, in the Amphletts, a white man is an exceedingly rare occurrence, and to my knowledge, only once before, a white trader remained there for a few weeks. To leave me alone with the women and one or two old men was impossible, according to their ideas and fears, and none of the younger men wanted to forgo the privilege and pleasure of taking part in the expedition. At last, I promised them to move to the neighbouring island of Nabwageta, as soon as the men were gone, and with this they were satisfied.
As the date fixed for the arrival of the Dobuans approached, the excitement grew. Little by little the news arrived, and was eagerly received and conveyed to me: “Some sixty canoes of the Dobuans are coming,” “the fleet is anchored off Tewara,” “each canoe is heavily laden with food and gifts,” “Kauyaporu sails in his canoe, he is toli’uvalaku, and has a big pandanus streamer attached to the prow.” A string of other names followed which had very little meaning for me, since I was not acquainted with the Dobuan natives. From another part of the world, from the Trobriands, the goal of the whole expedition, news reached us again: “To’uluwa, the chief of Kiriwina has gone to Kitava—he will soon come back, bringing plenty of mwali.” “The Sinaketans are going there to fetch some of the mwali.” “The Vakutans have been in Kitava and brought back great numbers of mwali.” It was astonishing to hear all this news, arriving at a small island, apparently completely isolated with its tiny population, within these savage and little navigated seas; news only a few days old, yet reporting events which had occurred at a travelling distance of some hundred miles.