Maurice Kinane by Louis Becke
Eastward, from the coast of New Guinea, there lies a large island called,
on the maps, New Britain, the native name of which is Berara. It is nearly
three hundred miles in length and, in parts, almost sixty in width, and
excepting the north-eastern portion, now settled by German colonists, is
inhabited by a race of dangerous and treacherous cannibals, who are
continually at war among themselves, for there are many hundred tribes
living on the coast as well as in the interior. Although there have been
white people living on the north-east coast for over thirty years—for
there were adventurous American and English traders living in this wild
island long before the natives ever saw a German—not one of them
knew then, or knows now, much of the strange black tribes who dwell in the
interior of the centre and western part of the island, save that they were
then, as they are in this present year, always at enmity with the coast
tribes, and are, like them, more or less addicted to cannibalism.
Sixty miles from the western end of the island is the mountainous land of
German New Guinea; and sometimes, when the air is clear and the south-east
trade wind blows, the savages on Berara can see across the deep, wide
strait the grey loom of the great range that fringes the north-eastern
coast of New Guinea for many hundred miles. Once, indeed, when the writer
of this true story lived in New Britain, he saw this sight for a whole
week, for there, in those beautiful islands, the air is very clear at
certain seasons of the year.
From Matupi, where the principal settlement in New Britain is situated, to
the deep bay at Kabaira, fifty miles away, the coast is very beautiful.
And, indeed, no one who looks at the lovely grassy downs that here and
there show through the groves of waving palm trees stretching from the
beach away up to the rising land of the interior could think that such a
fair country was the home of a deadly fever; and that in the waters of the
bright limpid streams that ran gently down from the forest-clad hills to
meet the blue waters of the Pacific there lurked disease and death to him
who drank thereof.
At the time of my story (except for the adventurous American whalemen from
Nantucket and New Bedford, and the sandal-wood cutters from New South
Wales, who sometimes touched there) white men were unknown to the people
of New Britain. Sometimes when the sperm-whaling fleet was cruising
northwards and westward to the Moluccas, a ship would sail along the coast
in the daytime, but always anchored at night, for it was dreaded for the
many dangerous reefs that surround it. And once the anchor was down a
strict watch was kept on board, for the natives were known to be fierce
Between where is now the German settlement and the great native town at
Kabaira Bay there is an island called Mano, which stands five miles off
from the mainland. Early one morning, when the wild people of the villages
among the palm-groves which lined the long winding beach came out of their
thatched huts for their morning bathe they gave a great cry, for a large
full-rigged ship was standing in close under the lee of Mano, and clewing
up her sails before she came to an anchor.
Now the natives who lived on the mainland of New Britain were the
hereditary enemies of those who dwelt on Mano Island, and it was hateful
for them to see a ship anchor there, for then the Mano Islanders would get
axes and muskets and hoop-iron.
So, with Baringa, the chief, at their head, they all ran to the summit of
a high, grassy hill (known, by reason of a terrible deed once done there
in the olden times, as the Hill of Old Men's Groans), and sat down to
watch if the ship would send her boats ashore.
'Look!' said Baringa, fiercely, striking the ground with his heavy
jade-headed club, 'look, I see a boat putting out from the side. Who among
ye will come with me to the ship, so that I may sell my turtle shell and
pearl shell to the captain for muskets and powder and bullets? Are these
dogs of Mano to get such things from the ship, and then come over here at
night and slay and then cook us in their ovens? Hungry am I for revenge;
for 'tis now twelve moons since they stole my son from me, and not one
life have I had in return for his.'
But no one answered. Of what use was it, they thought, for Baringa to
think of his little son? He was but a boy after all, and had long since
gone down the throats of the men of Mano. Besides, the Mano people were
very strong and already had many guns.
So for an hour Baringa sat and chafed and watched; and then suddenly he
and those with him sprang up, for a sound like thunder came over to them,
and a cloud of white smoke curled up from the ship's side; she had fired
one of her big guns. Presently Baringa and his people saw that the boat
which had gone ashore was pulling back fast, and that some of the crew who
were sitting in the stern were firing their muskets at the Mano people,
who were pursuing the boat in six canoes. Twice again the ship fired a big
gun, and then the boat was safe, for the two twenty-four pounders, loaded
with grape-shot, smashed two of them to pieces when they were less than a
hundred yards from the ship.
Baringa shouted with savage joy. 'Come,' he cried, 'let us hasten to the
beach, and get quickly to the ship in our canoes; for now that the white
men have fought with these Mano dogs, the ship will come here to us and
anchor; for I, Baringa, am known to many white men.'
The name of the ship was the Boadicea. She was of about seven
hundred tons, and was bound to China from Port Jackson, but for four
months had remained among the islands of the New Hebrides group, where the
crew had been cutting sandal-wood, which in those days was very plentiful
there. Her captain, who was a very skilful navigator, instead of going
through Torres Straits, had sailed between New Ireland and New Britain, so
that he might learn the truth of some tales he had heard about the
richness of those islands in sandal-wood and pearl shell. So he had
cruised slowly along till he sighted Mano Island, and here he decided to
water the ship; for from the deck was visible a fine stream of water,
running from the forest-clad mountains down to the white sands of the
As soon as possible a boat was lowered and manned and armed; for although
he could not see a native anywhere on the beach, nor any signs of human
occupation elsewhere on the island, the captain was a very cautious man. A
little further back from the beach was a very dense grove of coco-nut
trees laden with fruit, and at these the crew of the Boadicea looked with
'We must water the ship first, my lads,' said Captain Williams, 'and then
we'll spend the rest of the day among the coco-nut trees, and fill our
boats with them.'
Just then as the bronze-faced captain was ascending to the poop from his
cabin; a small barefooted boy came aft, and, touching his hat, said,—
'Av ye plaze, sor, won't ye let me go in the boat, sor?'
'Why, Maurice, my boy, there's quite enough of us going in her as it is,'
said the captain, kindly, for the dirty-faced but bright-eyed Maurice
Kinane was a favourite with everyone on board.
'Ah, but shure, sor,' pleaded the boy, 'av yer honour would just let me
go, av it was only to pluck a blade av the foine green grass, and lave me
face in the swate clane wather I'll be beholden—'
'Well, well, my lad, jump in then,' said Captain Williams, with a smile,
and buckling his cutlass belt around his waist he sent the lad down the
ladder before him and the boat pushed off.
Ten months before, this poor Irish lad, who was but thirteen years of age,
had lost both his parents through the upsetting of a boat in Sydney
Harbour. His father was a sergeant in the 77th Regiment, and had only
arrived in the colony a few months previous to the accident, and the boy
was left without a relative in the world. But the captain of his father's
company and the other officers of the regiment were very kind to him, and
the colonel said he would get him enlisted as a drummer.
And so for a time Maurice lived in the barracks under the care of Sergeant
MacDougall, a crusty old warrior, who proved a hard master and made the
boy's life anything but a happy one. And Maurice, though he was proud of
the colonel's kind words and of serving with the regiment, fretted greatly
at the harsh manner of the old sergeant.
One morning he was reported as missing. Little did those who looked for
him all the next day think that the boy was far out at sea, for he had
stowed away on board the Boadicea; and although Captain Williams
was very angry with him when he was discovered and led aft, the lad's
genial temper and bright, honest face soon won him over, as, indeed, it
did everyone else on board.
For nearly an hour after the boat had landed at the mouth of the little
stream the seamen were busily-engaged in filling the water casks. Not a
sign of a native could be seen, and then, regardful of the longing looks
that the sailors cast at the grove of coco-nuts, the captain, taking with
him Maurice and four hands, set out along the beach for the purpose of
gathering a few score of the young nuts to give to his men to drink.
One of the four seamen was a Kanaka named 'Tommy Sandwich.' He was a
native of Sandwich or Vaté Island in the New Hebrides. In a very short
time this man had ascended a lofty palm-tree, and was throwing down the
coco-nuts to the others, who for some minutes were busily engaged tying
them together to carry them to the boat.
'That will do, Tommy,' cried the captain, presently. 'Come down now and
help the others to carry.' He did not see that Maurice, boy-like and
adventurous, had managed to ascend a less lofty tree some little distance
away, out of sight of his shipmates, and at that moment was already
ensconced in the leafy crown, gazing with rapture at the lovely scene that
lay before him.
It took the men but another ten minutes to tie up the coco-nuts into
bunches of ten, and then each of them drank copiously of the sweet milk of
half a dozen which Tommy had husked for them.
'Come, lads,' said Captain Williams, 'back to the boat now. By-and-by—'
A dreadful chorus of savage yells interrupted him, and he and the men
seized their muskets and sprang to their feet. The sounds seemed to come
from where the boat was watering; in a few seconds more four musket shots
'Run, run for your lives,' cried the captain, drawing his pistol. 'The
savages are attacking the boat.' And the seamen, throwing down the
coco-nuts, rushed out of the palm grove to rescue their shipmates.
They were only just in time, for the banks of the little stream were
covered with naked savages, who had sprung out of the thick undergrowth
upon the watering party, and ere the boat could be pushed off two of the
poor sailors had been savagely slaughtered. Fortunately for the captain
and his party, they were nearer to the boat, when they made their
appearance, than were the natives, and, plunging into the water, and
holding their muskets over their heads, they reached her in safety, and at
once opened fire, whilst the rest of the crew bent to the oars.
But the danger was not yet over, for as soon as the boat was out of reach
of the showers of spears sent at her from the shore, a number of canoes
appeared round a bend of the mountainous coast. They had evidently been
sent to cut off the white men's retreat. And then began the race for life
to the ship which had been witnessed by Baringa and his people from the
Maurice, from his tree, had heard the yells of the savages and the
gunshots, and was about to descend and follow the captain and his
shipmates, when he heard a rush of bodies through the palm grove, and saw
beneath him forty or fifty natives, all armed with clubs and spears. They
were a horrible-looking lot, for they were quite naked and the lips of all
were stained a deep red from the juice of the betel-nut, and their dull
reddish-brown bodies were daubed over with yellow and white stripes. This
party had perhaps meant to surprise the captain and his men as they were
getting the coco-nuts, for, finding them gone, they at once rushed out of
the grove in pursuit. Fortunately for Maurice they were too excited to
think of looking about them, else his end would have come very quickly.
For nearly ten minutes the lad remained quiet, listening to the sounds of
the fighting, and in fearful doubt as to his best course of action—whether
to make a bold dash and try to find his way to the boat, or remain in the
tree till a rescue party was sent from the ship. Suddenly the thundering
report of one of the ship's guns made him peer seaward through the
branches of his retreat; and there, to his delight, he caught a brief view
of the boat. Again the report of another gun pealed out, and a wild
screaming cry from the natives told him that the shot had done some
'I must get out of this,' he thought, 'and make a bolt along the beach in
the other direction, till I get into the hills. I can see better from
there, and perhaps make a signal to the ship.' Maurice got quietly down
from the tree, and after looking cautiously about him, was about to set
off at a run, when he found himself face to face with a young native boy,
who, running quickly forward, grasped him by the hands, and began to talk
volubly, at the same time trying to drag him towards the beach. The boy,
save for a girdle of ti leaves, was naked, and Maurice, anxious and
alarmed as he was for his own safety, could not but notice that the young
savage seemed terribly excited.
'Let me go, ye black naygur,' said Maurice, freeing his hands and striking
him in the chest.
In an instant the native boy fell upon his knees, and held up his hands,
palms outward, in a supplicating gesture.
Puzzled at this, but still dreading treachery, Maurice turned away and
again sought to make his way to the hills; but again the boy caught his
hands, and with gentle force, and eyes filled with tears, tried to push or
lead him to the beach. At last, apparently as if in despair of making the
white lad understand him by words, he made signs of deadly combat, and
ended by pointing over to where the boat had been attacked. Then, touching
Maurice on the chest, and then himself, he pointed to the sea, and lying
on the ground worked his arms and legs as if swimming.
'Sure, perhaps he's a friend,' thought Maurice, 'an' wants me to swim off
to the ship. But perhaps he's a thraitor and only manes to entice me away
to be murdered. Anyway, it's not much of a choice I've got at all. So come
on, blackamoor, I'm wid ye.'
Although not understanding a word that Maurice said, the native boy smiled
when he saw that the white lad was willing to come with him at last. Then,
hand-in-hand, they ran quietly along till they reached the beach; and here
the native, motioning Maurice to keep out of view, crept on his hands and
knees till he reached a rock, and then slowly raised his head above it and
peered cautiously ahead.
Whatever it was he saw evidently satisfied him, for he crawled back to
Maurice, and again taking his hand broke into a run, but instead of going
in the direction of the river, he led the way along the beach in the
opposite direction. Feeling confident now that he had found a friend,
Maurice's spirits began to rise, and he went along with the boy
At last they rounded a sandy point, covered with a dense growth of
coco-nut trees and pandanus palms; this point formed the southern horn of
a small deep bay, in the centre of which stood an island, warded by a
snow-white beach, and on the nearmost shore Maurice saw a canoe drawn up.
The island beach was quite three hundred yards away, but Maurice was a
good swimmer, and although he shuddered at the thought of sharks, he
plunged in the water after his dark-skinned companion and soon reached the
islet, which was but a tiny spot, containing some two or three score of
coco-palms, and three untenanted native huts. It was used by the natives
as a fishing station, and the canoe, which was a very small one, had
evidently been in use that day. Close by were the marks in the sand where
a larger one had been carried down. In one of the huts smoke was arising
from a native ground-oven, which showed that the fishermen had not long
gone; doubtless they would return when the food was cooked, for the native
boy pointed out the oven to Maurice with a look of alarm.
The two boys soon launched the canoe, and each seizing a paddle, at once
struck out in the direction of the ship. The native lad sat aft, Maurice
for'ard, and clumsy as was the latter with the long and narrow canoe
paddle, he yet managed to keep his seat and not capsize the frail little
'Hurroo!' cried foolish Maurice, turning to his companion, 'we're all
right now, I'm thinkin'. There's the ship!'
There she was sure enough, and there also were four canoes, paddling along
close in-shore, returning from their chase of the captain's boat. They
heard Maurice's loud shout of triumph, at once altered their course, and
sped swiftly towards the two boys.
Scarcely had Captain Williams and his exhausted crew gained the ship when
the mate reported that a fleet of canoes was coming across from the
mainland of New Britain, and orders were at once given to load the ship's
eight guns with grape and canister. (In those days of Chinese and Malay
pirates and dangerous natives of the South Seas, all merchants ships,
particularly those engaged in the sandal-wood trade, were well armed, and
almost man-of-war discipline observed.)
'We'll give them something to remember us by, Hodgson,' said Captain
Williams, grimly. 'That poor lad! To think I never noticed he was not in
the boat till too late! I expect he's murdered by now; but I shall take a
bloody vengeance for the poor boy's death. Serve out some grog to the
hands, steward; and some of you fellows stand by with some shot to dump
into the canoes if we should miss them with the guns and they get
But just as he spoke the mate called out, 'The canoes have stopped
paddling, sir, all except one, which is coming right on.'
'All right, I see it. Let them come and have a look at us. As soon as it
gets close enough, I'll sink it.'
For some minutes the canoe, which contained seven men, continued to
advance with great swiftness; then she ceased paddling, and the steersman
stood up and called out something to the ship, just as she was well
covered by two of the guns on the port side. In another minute she would
have been blown out of the water, when Tommy Sandwich ran aft and said,—
'I think, cap'n, that fellow he no want fight ship; I think he want talk
'Perhaps so, Tommy; so we'll let him come a bit closer.'
Again the native paddles sent the canoe inward till she was well within
easy hailing distance of the ship, and the same native again stood up and
'Hi, cap'n. No you shoot me. Me Baringa. Me like come 'board.'
'All right,' answered Captain Williams, 'come alongside.'
The moment the canoe ranged alongside, Baringa clambered up the side, and
advanced fearlessly toward the poop. 'Where cap'n?' he asked, pushing
unceremoniously aside those who stood in his way; and mounting the ladder
at the break of the poop he walked up to the master of the Boadicea
and held out his hand.
In a very short time, by the aid of Tommy Sandwich, whose language was
allied to that of the natives of New Britain, Captain Williams learnt how
matters stood. His visitor was anxious to help him, and volunteered to
join the white man in an attack on the treacherous people of Mano, though
he gave but little hope of their finding Maurice alive. They had, he said,
stolen his own son twelve months before, and eaten him, and he wanted his
revenge. Presently, as a proof of his integrity, he produced from a dirty
leather cartridge pouch, that was strapped around his waist, a soiled
piece of paper, and handed it to the captain. It read as follows:—
'The bearer, Baringa, is the chief of Kabaira Coast. He is a
thorough old cannibal, but, as far as I know, may be trusted
by white men. He supplied my ship with fresh provisions, and
seems a friendly old cut-throat.
'Master, ship Algerine of New Bedford.
'October 2 st, 1839.'
'Well, that's satisfactory,' said Captain Williams, turning to Tommy.
'Tell him that I am going to land and try and find Maurice, and he can
help me with his people. Mr Hodgson, man and arm the boats again.'
In a moment all was bustle and excitement, in the midst of which a loud
'hurrah' came from aloft from a sailor who was on the fore-yard watching
the remaining canoes of Baringa's fleet. 'Hurrah! Here's Maurice, sir,
coming off in a canoe with a nigger, an' a lot of other niggers in four
canoes a-chasin' him.'
Springing to the taffrail, Captain Williams saw the canoe, which had just
rounded the point and was now well in view. The two boys were paddling for
their lives; behind them were the four canoes filled with yelling savages.
'Into the boats, men, for God's sake!' roared the captain. Had a greater
distance separated Maurice from his pursuers the master of the Boadicea
would have endeavoured to have sunk the four canoes with the ship's guns;
but the risk was too great to attempt it as they were. However, the gunner
and carpenter were sent into the fore-top to try and pick off some of the
natives by firing over Maurice's canoe.
Five minutes later the ship's three boats were pulling swiftly to the
rescue, and Baringa, jumping into his own canoe, beckoned to the rest of
his flotilla to follow him, and six natives urged the light craft
furiously along after the boats.
On, on, came the two poor boys, straining every nerve; but every moment
their pursuers gained on them; and on, on dashed the heavy, cumbersome
boats. Already the nearest canoe was within fifty feet of Maurice and his
black friend, the savage paddlers undaunted by the fire from the muskets
of the gunner and carpenter, when Captain Williams saw a native rise up
and hurl a club at the two boys. Quick as lightning the captain picked up
his musket and fired, and the savage fell forward with a bullet through
his chest. But quick as he was he was too late, for the club whizzed
through the air and struck the native boy on his right arm.
A savage yell of triumph came from the pursuing canoes as their occupants
saw the boy go down and the canoe broach-to, and then the leading canoe
dashed up alongside that of Maurice and his companion.
'Pull, men, pull, for God's sake!' cried the captain, frantically, as he
saw the Irish lad, paddle in hand, standing up over the body of the fallen
boy, and strike wildly at his murderous pursuers.
With heaving bosoms and set teeth the seamen urged the boats along, and
they and the four canoes crashed together in deadly conflict. But as they
met, a huge savage stood up and, poising a spear, darted it at the prone
figure of the native boy; it did not reach him, for Maurice, wounded and
bleeding as he was with a spear wound through his thigh, flung himself in
front of the weapon to save his friend. It struck him in the shoulder and
came out a full foot at his back.
'You dog,' said Williams, raising his pistol, and the native went down
with a crash.
And then ensued a scene of slaughter, as the seamen of the Boadicea
got to work with their cutlasses. It did not take long to end the fight,
and not one of the Mano men escaped, for now Baringa's canoes had come up,
and with their heavy jade clubs dashed out the brains of those of their
enemies who sought to swim ashore. It was in truth a hideous sight, and
even the hardy sailors shuddered when they saw the merciless manner in
which wounded and dying men were massacred by their naked allies.
As quickly as possible, the two boys were lifted out of the little canoe
and placed in the captain's boat, where their wounds were examined. The
native boy's arm was broken, and his back badly hurt, but he was quite
conscious. As for Maurice, he was in a bad state, and Captain Williams
decided not to pull out the spear till the ship was reached.
Just as he had given orders to pull for the ship, Baringa's canoe returned
from the slaughter of the remaining fugitives, and drew up alongside the
captain's boat, and the moment the chief saw the native boy lying in the
stern sheets of the boat he sprang out of the canoe and embraced him.
'It is my boy, my Lokolol—he whom I thought was dead.'
Little remains to be told. The two boys were carefully attended to as soon
as they reached the ship, and to the joy of everyone the spear, when
extracted from Maurice's body, was pronounced by Baringa not to be a
poisoned one. As for Lokolol, the chief's son, his arm was put in splints,
but during the time that was occupied in doing this his hand was clasped
around that of the brave young sailor lad who had saved his life, and his
big, black eyes never left Maurice's pallid face.
For three days the Boadicea remained at anchor opposite the village—she
had sailed there the morning after the fight—and the chief showed
his gratitude by every possible means. On the morning of the day on which
the ship sailed he came on board, attended by thirty canoes, every one of
which was laden deep down with pearl shell. It was passed up on deck, and
stacked in a heap, and then Baringa asked for the captain and the white
boy who had saved his son. Beside him stood Lokolol, his arm in a sling,
and tears running down his cheeks, for he knew he would see Maurice no
Then Captain Williams came on deck and showed the chief the little cabin
boy, lying in a hammock under the poop awning. The burly savage came over
to him, and taking Maurice's hand in his, placed it tenderly upon his
huge, hairy bosom in token of gratitude. Then he spoke to the captain
through Tommy Sandwich.
'Tell this good captain that I, Baringa, am for ever the white man's
friend. And tell him, too, that all this pearl shell here is my gift to
him and the boy who helped my son to escape from captivity. Half is for
the good captain; half is for the brave white boy.'
Then, after remaining on board till the ship was many miles away from the
land, the chief and his son bade the wounded boy farewell and went back to
Maurice soon recovered, and when the Boadicea arrived at Hong Kong,
and Captain Williams had sold the pearl shell, he said to his cabin boy,—
'Maurice, my lad, I've sold the pearl shell, and what do you think I've
been paid for it? Well, just eight thousand dollars—£1600 in English
money. You're quite a rich boy now, Maurice. It's not every lad that gets
four thousand dollars for saving a nigger's life.'
Maurice's bright blue eyes filled with honest tears. 'Shure, sor, he was a
naygur, thrue enough. But thin, yere honour, he had a foine bould heart to
do what he did for Maurice Kinane.'
And, as I have said, this is a true story, and old Maurice Kinane, who is
alive now, himself told it to me.