[ HOME ]

Explanatory - Interview with the Governor of New Zealand - Accredited to Samoa-Arrive in Auckland - Awful Tales of Samoa - Sydney, N.S.W - The John Wesley - The Loafer Brigade - Unemployed in Botanical - Scene in Hyde Park.

AT the outset of my narrative, I wish it to be understood that it was not intended as a personal biography, but only as an account of my four years' official life amongst the Samoans, which I thought might prove acceptable to my friends at home. I did not even contemplate putting these recollections into print until I perceived the public attention Samoa had attracted within the last two years, and the misstatements made and inaccurate descriptions given with reference to its social and political condition.

Seeing that the subject was one of increasing interest and importance, especially in connection with the progress which it is understood is now being made with the Panama Canal, I determined to collate ray notes, and, with the assistance of my diary of events, give to the public my record of actual experience amongst the Samoans. Should I succeed in drawing sympathetic regard to this amiable and intelligent people, I shall be amply rewarded for my pains.

Although the first two chapters do not treat of subjects actually Samoan, yet I trust their introduction will be excused on account of the story they tell being inseparable from my whole experience.

I arrived at my first notion of going to Samoa after an interview at Wellington, New Zealand, with Sir A. Gordon, then Governor of New Zealand, also Consul-General and High Commissioner for the Western Pacific, with whom I had been in correspondence with the view of obtaining some Government employment. His Excellency informed me, at our meeting, that the only billet he had in view was that of Deputy-Commissioner at the New Hebrides but the appointment was as yet only in contemplation, and he could give me no idea how long I should have to wait before a decision would be arrived at. At the same time, he said that if I desired immediate employment, he would recommend me for the position of Adviser and Chief Secretary to King Malietoa of Samoa. He had been requested by the Samoans, when on a visit to them, to send some reliable man to act as their adviser in forming a proper Government. His Excellency offered me the post on its merits, which were small, it being, as he said, held at the caprice of semi-savages, with no guarantee or even mention of emolument. I shall not readily forget the significant manner in which Sir Arthur closed the conversation on the secretaryship. It was thus: 'In taking over this duty, I must tell you that you will be in a position to do an immense deal of good -' A long pause ensued here, and, thinking the interview was finished, I was about, to reply, when he added, in a severe tone, 'and a great deal of harm' I did not quite like the prospect laid before me, but, being assured by his Excellency that when the Consul at Samoa went on leave, for which he had already applied, I could take over the vacant office with his approval, I accepted the mission.

I was forced to find my own way to the islands as best I could; so, on receiving my credentials, I took the first steamer for Auckland, in search of a ship. There I could hear of nothing going to Samoa, so I determined to go on to Sydney, New South Wales, in search of the means for continuing my travels.

Whilst wandering about making inquiries, I heard the most awful tales of my land of promise, being told on every hand that life there was one continued orgie, and decency very much at a discount. To be thoroughly respected there, it seemed that one must oppose the Consuls in all their efforts to establish law and order, and that no Britisher was worth his salt who did not of stringent necessity defy the High Commissioner and devote to perdition the Deputy and all his works.

All this was so pleasant to hear that I did not think it advisable to disclose my identity, nor the errand I was bent upon, but had serious thoughts of casting about for some more happily reported country to pass a year or two in, rather than proceeding to a place which some undoubtedly respectable people informed me was the headquarters of all the bad characters of the Pacific who could scrape up dollars enough to get a passage, and whose ranks had been lately reinforced largely by hordes of scamps from Fiji.

The 19th of July, 1881, again found me on board ship en route to Sydney, seeking a chance to get to my destination, which was soon found in a smart1 looking brig--- the John Wesley, formerly, as will be suggested by the name, in the Wesleyan Mission service, but now the favourite trader in the South Seas.

The vessel not sailing for a fortnight, I was of necessity reduced to loafing about the town and suburbs, a by no means enjoyable occupation, and a forced amusement in which I very soon discovered I had many companions. I may say, without fear of contradiction, that in their varied ranks could be found representatives of every known profession under the sun, ministers and army men galore, backed up by a large phalanx of gentlemen of no occupation, and sad to say, in some cases, of less principle. It must not be supposed that this army of martyrs is composed entirely of recruits from the Old Country, for there are to be found many unlucky ones from the adjacent colonies, not to mention a fair sprinkling of enforced or voluntary idlers from the place itself. Although this very plump brigade of impecunious and unemployed was visibly strong in numbers, yet I was assured that I only saw it in a most attenuated condition, in fact a mere skeleton of its ordinary self. This was owing to a great many of the rank and file being employed temporarily by the New South Wales Government in the census-taking for the Colony. The headquarters of these gentlemen in the evening is at the Cafe Francais, in George Street, where, however dismal may be their prospects, brooding over them is never indulged in. Many of them are men of good family, most of them have respectable connections, and a very decent proportion are known to possess professional or mental talent. They invariably appear to be in good spirits, are well dressed, and don't seem to have any coin. A great many of them sing the old hackneyed 'waiting for remittance' song, and all say they are on the look-out for some appointment. Now and then one will tell you in confidence what he expects to get next week through the instrumentality of Mr. Blank, M.L.C., C.M.G., etc.

But, alas ! the wished-for never comes, for in the Colonies there is a poor chance of anyone who has not some relation or friend in the Government ring ever drawing colonial pay. Jobbery and nepotism carry off all the plums; an outsider stands no chance whatever. Nor are the colonists to be blamed for reserving all benefices for their own people. They are increasing in numbers in the most rapid manner, and soon there will be the same question as exists at home of what to do with the younger sons, who now are, as a rule, equally well educated and capable of supplying the demand for qualified candidates for all the Civil Service billets.

A most interesting study of another class of unemployed, the serious, may-be-despondent class, is to be found by anyone paying a morning visit to the Botanical Gardens, a practice of mine to help kill the time before lunch. Standing apart on the rising ground, and casting an eye over the many seats and benches within view, it will generally be seen that they are all occupied; and what makes it strange, is that a seat is very rarely occupied by more than one person. There is no attempt at sociability, but very much the other way. A pair may be seated on the same small bench, but there they will sit moodily, with as much of their backs towards one another as it is possible to present when seated facing in the same direction. All seem to be deeply plunged in thought of the most serious nature, and each no doubt is resolved into a personal internal committee of ways and means, without being able to solve the knotty question of how to provide the necessary sinews of war with which to fight the battle for independent existence. Every now and then one will start up and walk a few paces, but never far, and will either return to his old seat, or sink down in a listless fashion on the nearest one. About mid-day the Gardens become too thronged for these loungers to indulge further, privately, in their woes, so they one by one gradually fade away, goodness only knows where to, and do not reappear until the next morning, which is passed in a precisely similar manner. Poor fellows I suppose that the early afternoon company, consisting chiefly of nursemaids and children, with their joyous shouts, laughter, and gambols, but poorly chime in with their own heavy cogitations.

Another equally interesting experience, but with reference to a lower class of life, is to be found in Hyde Park, Sydney. Here, however, it will be seen that there is little or no struggle to keep up appearances, nor is there so great a disposition to brood over misery in solitude. The descent, if there is one, from the Botanical Gardens level is accepted as un fait accompli, and the struggle is over; while the ordinary street loafer, whose class greatly preponderates in this locality, has perhaps never known any other method of passing his almost worthless life than lolling about and begging, no doubt varied with periodical retirements to the gaol. As in the Gardens, every seat will be seen occupied; if by only one, he will most likely be stretched out at full length upon it; but generally there will be three or four on the same bench. Judging from the personal appearance of these Hyde Park tenants, inquiry would elicit that they had passed the night there 'sub Jove frigida' so far as such a thing is possible in this climate. Scattered by twos, threes or more, or singly, will be seen at times more than a hundred men, women and children, who, from the want of a better resting-place, or perhaps from choice, have camped there the whole previous night. Some, however, are most certainly not there for want of money, as occasionally a single man, or perhaps a group, will rise and sluggishly move off to the nearest grog-shop, where having refreshed themselves, they will slope back again to their favourite spot, and swinishly take another forty winks or so. Here these people stay from day to day, and apparently from week to week -for there always seems to be the same number about.

How they live is a mystery to most people, for they never appear to do anything but loll about on the grass; and when tired of lying on their backs, seek grateful relief in turning over on their faces.

It was quite a month before I was enabled, by the John Wesley being declared ready for sea, to bid adieu to 'our harbour,' and take my joyful discharge from the noble army of loafers I had unwillingly made one of for so long.