THE WHITE WITCH

Manawatu Standard, Volume LVII, Issue 51, 30 January 1937, Page 11

THE WHITE WITCH

By Son 4. Sdriess

AUSTRALIA’S MOST POPULAR WRITER

An actual story from the swamps and jungles of Papua, New Guinea. Names and locality described are authentic.

JUST eighteen months ago, Rothschild cabled le Strange. A German had staggered into Port Moresby dying of fever complicated by arrow-wounds. He raved of a wonderful orchid growing in the seven-thousand-foot level up in the Owen Stanley range, above Dinawa, but down in the valley death swamps. Hence the cable: £IOOO if we brought in one specimen, £SOO for each additional prize, with a fancy prize for anything else new we might stumble across.

We started inland from Delana, le Strange, the leader; Long Harry, a sunburned northern Queenslander; young Matkins, just an ordinary Australian lad; and myself. Eight of le Strange’s proved “boys” for armed guard, interpreters, and part carriers. For other help we must, as usual, hire carriers from village to village. Le Strange had worked the outskirts of this particular orchid region before, but no one had dreamt of wonder blossoms in the death swamps. Those morasses are the breeding grounds of the malarial mosquito, of ague and fevers in virulent forms. So, while in Moresby, le Strange had done some hard thinking—as a man would preparatory to dropping into a valley of death.

We trailed first through low lands until the climb began up through the eucalypt belt. In sight of Biota- Creek, meandering. like a silver wire between its dense mangroves, we glimpsed the Nicoro niggers watching from their hill of bright, red clay. At a thousand feet we struck Epa surrounded by forest and tangled undergrowth. The village trails closed in about here, wandering downhill and across valley and uphill again interminably, with the towering form of Mount Yule in the Papuan Alps mistily ahead. We had a palaver at Epa with Mavai, before he would supply us with carriers to go ahead. The old ex-cannibal is the usual Papuan sorcerer, and, as he has widespread influence over the local tribes, le Strange wished to keep sweet with him, if only for the safeguard of leaving our line of retreat open. Mavai is an over-broad sixfooter, carrying a cicatrized chest and a war-club like a tree-butt. He had

only ten wives, and was touchy for his dignity, explaining almost tearfully that hut for a setback in a recent raid he’d have had at least fifteen.

However, we squared the crafty heathen with an extra ration of trade, secured thirty fresh carriers, and moved on again. The carrier trouble became worse as we passed through tribe after tribe.

AA’e climbed steadily to Ekeiki, then through Dinawa, slowly hacking through the jungle when the native paths petered out. As usual, it rained almost daily, and the scrub-itch got in its burning work as we brushed among the dripping leaves. Presently we were struggling among the Papuan razorbacks—climbing precariously along the humped spur tops, which are often a bare three feet wide, with precipices falling sheer from each side, and growing deeper, darker, and nastier the higher we climbed. The brooding silence was accentuated by the “drip, drip, drip, drip,” from the foliage, and the occasional “wank, wauk,” of the bird of paradise. After skirting the Delana precipice, we still climbed, now winding in and out between overhanging boulders of enormous size, like warts clinging to a giant’s nose. AA 7 liat mysterious torce glued them to the mountain side, the good Lord only knows. After climbing Madui we passed by the Aculama. hurrying in frothing foam far below. The nigger villages we passed through treated us to a sulky neutrality, for our well-armed party commanded respect. After Dinawa we still climbed and climbed. Day after day. Often at starting we would mark a point a stone’s throw across a valley; it meant a solid day’s walking, hacking, slipping, sliding, climbing, before we camped there. Finally, we rose to the seven-thousand-foot level, a moonlight-like country of mist-wreathed mountaincaps above, and deep, mist-wraithed valleys below. A sea of peaks; its spray the mist-clouds which rose and floated above and below and all around. AA’e built a permanent camp close by a stockaded village. The natives were a good-looking class of nigger; lithe and straight, bronze-coloured; the men clad in less than seemed necessary, tlie women with a cheerfully inquisitive smile and the short grass rami. They built us a house on piles about twelve feet above the ground, get-at-able only by shinning up a shaky ladderway. Fukn-lala was the chief wizard of this village. He was a withered bundle of wickedness, but knew his business; so le Strange was quick to square him. It was while tlie bucks were shoving up the house frame-work, and the women carrying along the palmsheaves, that we got the shock of our lives By Caesar! She was a lovely girl, enhanced by such a setting Her skin was lily-white and seductively warm-looking ; her figure slim and curving ■ her hair the usual Papuan mop, only less of it, the colour a glinting brown. Her cheeks were pink, and the little bow lips just crying to be kissed; her eyes blue and innocently miscliiev-

ous. A dog’s tooth necklace, stained crimson, looked startling against her milk-white flesh.

We stared. She dropped her palm bundle, gazed wonderingly at the first white men she had ever seen, and smiled in shy fear. Then her eyes challenged Matkins’s. He flushed, and slowly she followed suit; an entrancing blush, the first of her life, I’ll swear. Then she turned and hurried away, a little white queen in niggerland. Long Harry drew a lonp’Cr breath. “Am I in dreamland?” he demanded. “Who is she?” asked Matkins, eagerly. .. ...

“Gin, of course,” said Long Harry Then he looked at the boy curiously “albino,” he saicl.

Matkins was puzzled, so Harry explained : . . “A Papuan girl in a white skin. An albino. A freak of nature.” “A white girl who’ll have black babies,” broke in le Strange abruptly, and we went on with our unpacking. That night there was a pow-pow in the village. The albino girl handled the star act, and immediately that we learned she was “Fi-fi,” we understood things. A very occasional tribe among some mountain tribes have a girl witch-doctor, but she is strictly limited to one branch of the business. Fi-fi had the power of receiving messages from the god of war. Thus, on the night in question, the bucks were much disturbed by a rumoured raid from their fightable neighbours. Fi-fi was isolated in a little “charm house” to commune with the spirit warriors while outside, old Fuk.a-lala _ danced himself into hysterics, imploring the war-spirit to give Fi-fi a message ; the complete tribe, in a frightened circle, awaited the message of goed or evil import. ’When Fuka-lala had just about winded himself and was getting mad about it, Fi-fi spoke I grinned at the mysteriously assumed voice. It appears that the war-spirit told her the raiders would not dare to attack while the white men were living by the village. At which the tribe grew cheerful, and looked on us with a much more friendly eye. Some of those Fi-fis . grow verv cunning, and, like the big witch-doc-tors, use the natives’ credulity to fea-

ther their own nests. AVe learned later that our Fi-fi had already padded herself a nest of eiderdown.

Days passed by while we located likely swamps in the valleys, several so dizzily far down that the nigger guides refused to venture. Not even Papuans could live there, they swore. The fevers and malarial mosquitoes would quickly kill anything living. Besides, the most implacable devil-spirits of all Papua dwelt there.

AVo weren’t scared of spooks, but didn’t like the other tilings; so looked to le Strange, as the thinker. He set the whole tribe to making long coils of strong fibre.rope, at which the natives are experts. He picked out the most promising swamp area within reach of the camp. Along a ticklish razor-back overlooking it, a track was cut —the only possible approach. The rope coils and needful things were carried there.

So one fairly bright day, leaving Long Harry and a guard at the camp, we took Matkins and two “boys” with us to the point of the descent. AVe didn’t want the quick-witted niggers pelting arrows and rocks from above. Papua is a land of opportunity. Indistinctly below floated the un-healthy-looking, cloud mist over the big swamp. We halted and peered down at a devil’s scenery. An unguessable depth of green gloom, a scent of damp vegetation, jungle upon jagged razor-backs, and crags and peaks peeping from veils of mist. Hitching one end of the rope to a tree we slithered tlie big coil down until it caught against a bush. Le Strange and I stripped, then laced ourselves into the “armour-plate.” This was a loosely-fitting suit of waterproof canvas with glove-like arm-pieces. Over the head was a canvas helmet with a broad glass eye-piece and an arrangement for breathing-purposes. We pulled on boots, slung a bandolier over our shoulders containing automatic, sheath-knife, and small steel tomahawk. Le Strange had a compass. We were taking as few risks as possible.

Le Strange went first. AA’e clambered down clinging to rope and bushes for close on a thousand feet before penetrating the cloud-mist. Then it was like crawling through muggy steam. Couldn’t see each other five yards away. I had an anxious feeling that I didn’t want to lose sight of le Strange, although he looked a magnified goblin dropping into the nether regions. AVe crawled through the cloud, and craning necks over shoulders saw three hundred feet below a broad table of palm-tops, swamp trees, and clinging vegetation molting into further mists. The cap of the swamp ! Just above us swayed the vapour cloud. Around ns a death-like silence. AVe floundered down and squashed the voggy mosses at the* swamp edge. AA’orking to arrangement, we walked a short distance apart. Not far 1 AA’e were in a dull twilight, and each must be on hand to hurry to the other’s assistance should anything unforeseen

occur. Being separated a little made our field of vision all the wider, and thus we could cover more ground. Le Strange set his compass for a shadowy tree ahead. Then we waded in. We could distinguish half the water surface. Stagnant pools, black from vegetable acids. In reality all was water and tree-trunks. The green patches floating between black pools were leaves of water-plants. Immediately we touched water billions of mosquitoes rose in one vibrating cloud and 1 blessed le Strange’s foresight, and wondered that the German had not left his picked hones in his swamp. He must have anticipated le Strange’s idea, for a rhinoceros could not have lived in that blood-sucking inferno. We carried on. I was watching le Strange, ho closely watching his compass bearings, for, although going very slowly the vapour mist soon shut us out of sight of the “land,” down which we had come. To be lost in that swamp! Ugh! A man’s brain wouldn’t stand it long, anyway. We stared up at the curious-looking trees, quite unlike the sun-kissed trees on dry land. Somehow they reminded me of a fungus growth in a misty, closed-in pickle-bottle. But palms there were in plenty; and ‘now and again I glimpsed the slender beauty that le Strange had carefully pointed out to me in lesser swamps. Soon the water oozed above our knees. Somehow this water wasn’t liko other water; it didn’t chuckle and gurgle and sparkle and swirl as we lifted our feet; it just filled silently in, and the decayed vegetation slowly waved together in inky masses that wouldn’t sink. When up to our waists, the water felt much heavier, and a clammy gloom shut us in. I waded closer towards le Strange as the slimy tree-trunks grew thicker; mazes of water vines sucked at our legs. 1 was wondering apprehensively whether crocodiles could possibly be so high up until I remembered that there was no game for them to live on. It was the sort of place where one would expect to meet lizards of the pterodactyl age. Presently the water grew thin sheets of iridescent oily stuff that seemed to suck upwards as we moved. The feeling of everything was beastly. The roar of the mosquitoes, though dimmed by the headpiece, was nerveracking. And the humming masses against the eye-glass made me ward off, again and again, with quick, jerking arm the low-hanging tree cables that 1 momentarily imagined were snakes. Le Strange appeared a monstrosity as ho cautiously waded on.

And yet in that festering unhealthiness there were beautiful things that grew on the tree-tops in riotous colours and festooned the crooked branches like rainbow garlands. Flowers of purple and gold, scarlet and yellow, and chains of waxy white blossoms. We kept wading slowly on, with a tingling foot out-thrust for invisible holes. Silent hours passed, and it was time for us to tarn back.

We waded off at an angle, and shortly after turned sir right again so as not to cover the same ground. It was getting loweringly dark away down there in the belly of the world. AVe tried to push on faster, but couldn’t. I wondered what would happen if le Strange dropped the compass into this black corruption. It would necessitate tree to tree sighting then, with a chance of having to camp in a tree until daylight. Ugh! How the black waters clung to our legs! I saw it! Its dream-like beauty dazzled me. In a muffled shout I attracted le Strange. He ploughed through the water-vines, and together we gazed up the tapering, palm. Clinging to its tip among a blotch of milkygreen leaves was the orchid. Four whip-like stems looped gracefully down, each tip flourishing a cup-like flower with gloaming petals of orange and black. From each cream heart floated a tendril of pure white, taselled with gold. Its loveliness gave a compensating thrill for such a life as ours. As we returned le Strange blazed the trees. AVe were taking no chances of being unable to re-locate the flower. It was too late to attempt reaching it now.

We had gone barely twenty yards when le Strange exultantly shouted, with up-pointed arm. There trailed another of those wonderful flowers. Their beauty so fascinated us that we never thought of the £ISOO we had earned that day until hours later just as we were turning into bunk. Even then le Strange was only planning how he could get the flowers out ol the swamp. Back at the swamp’s edge, there floated down to us the ghostly eelu of our boys far up on to]). The mountain Papuans have a remarkable power of throwing their voices. These ceased as we jerked the rope. It was quite dark when we reached the top. Matkins looked happily sheepish. Beside him sat Ei-tii. She smiled very friendly at me, and a little appealingly at le Strange. He was the one she was frightened of, though he was the very one she had no occasion to fear. Matkins had been teaching her English, he volunteered.

We spelled a few days before going down after the orchids; so as to give the fever as little chance as possible we saturated ourselves with pure, germ-killing fresh air. It meant long hours of ticklish work in that slimy

water before we would get the delicate flowers to the top. And we would I secure others if we possibly could. Le | Strange always gave his Vankee employer a fair deal. That’s why he got such good prices when he did succeed, I suppose. Meanwhile Matkins had developed a theory. He delivered it one night at the camp, while the niggers were all sitting round laughing and joking with our interpreters, and Fuka-lala squatting silent and wise-looking. We listened to Matkins. He was in deadly earnest. He spoke in that decided sulky tone a boy uses when lie’s certain of a thing and knows you. will contradict, but intends to be as stubborn as he can. Lovely Fi-fi sat very close, gazing pleadingly at us in turn because she knew Romeo was barracking for her, and she badly wanted our sympathy. I wondered how the village bucks took her plainly shown preference for the white man; no doubt she had bluffed them with her spirit powers. Matkins declared Fi-fi was a white girl. He was certain of' it. He waited for the contradiction that did not come, then went on all the more doggedly because of the speaking silence. He didn’t know anything about albinos, he said, and didn’t care. Fi-fi was a white girl. She’d been captured when a baby from the white settlers during a raid on the cpast, and had afterwards grown up with the tribe. Or else she’d been captured from shipwrecked people, and h*er friends before. He didn’t know which, and didn’t care. He was going to take Fifi back with him. She was his orchid. AVe could have the rest. He didn’t care a damn: he was going tp marry her. AVe looked at Fi-fi with an added interest. Of course, we were positive thq girl was an albino, even though old Fuka-lala refused to point us out her parents. Matkins was only a boy in violent love. With this tropical setting, where everything that lives is passionate, we could easily understand it. As the girl flushed under our searching gaze, we felt a bit puzzled. •Her skin was absolutely cleanly white. There was not the slightest trace of blotches as on most albinos, not even freckles. Her hair, too was of a

golden brown that any white girl might envy. And her eyes—there was not the slightest trace of pink about them; they were blue. Albinos occasionally have blue eyes, but a sort of dead blue had to describe. Fi-fi’s eyes were an orchid blue, merry and bright. At last le Strange spoke. Quite nicely he explained to the boy all that it meant. Matkins stared at the fire. The girl put an arm around him and smiled up into his sullen eyes. Le Strange ceased speaking. It was no useThree days afterwards we secured the orchids. Handled them for what they were—flowers that men had had to 'risk their lives to get. A week later wo found another one. That was all. It was too much like tempting providence. The mother swamp guards her gems with ghastly care. That particular country on tho higher ground is splendid orchid country. We got some great flowers, and could have collected more. ' But wo were anxious to get our three beauties > Port Moresby; besides, le Strange scented trouble over Fi-fi.

The 'boy was determined. So was she. He'd offered Fuka-lala all his earthly possessions, even to his share in the three orchids. Fuka-lala had contemptuously waved the orchid offer aside, but had accepted the rest on strict condition that he took the girl away. Guess Matkins’s delight I In surprise, le Strange questioned the old devil. He came back looking much relieved.

“It appears,” he explained in his sober way, “old Fuka-lala is jealous. Fi-fi’s influence i 6 growing with the tribe. She’s jolly shrewd, and has been using this spirit business very much to her own advantage. It’s a godsend to Fuka-lala to get rid of her. He’s not quite game to poison her, because she’s worked her way in too well with the tribe. So he told them the Great Spirit says Fi-fi must go away w'ith the white men. Of course, Fi-fi acted up to this. Last night, the war-spirit spoke to her, and said she must go with the white men, else the pigmy tribes will hop down and slaughter the lot, not to mention a disastrous disease breaking out among the crops. The tribe are sullen, but resigned. I’m glad. I thought we were in for a brawl through that little white devil.”

A few days later we broke camp. Matkins had handed over all his earthly possessions, except his rifle, to Bukalala. Le Strange would not allow him to part with the rifle. The tribe, after sorting out the carriers, bade us a morose good-bye. The three priceless orchids, trussed carefully up in palm-iibre from their own swamp, we would trust only our own boys to carry. Then we commenced the long climb down. It was going to take many days, but we were a highly successful expedition, and success is the breath of life. Nothing punctures a man when he is successful. In three hours we peered over the steep banks of a tearing river. At its shallow crossing-place, which was the boundary-line of the next tribe, their promised carriers were not waiting to meet us. Le Strange, always cautions, halted. It was the searching eyes of our head boy who twigged the raft on the opposite bank. “Bushes close up longa fighting men,” he excitedly pointed, “plenty bow an’ arrerl”

Fuka-lala’s carriers stealthily ( tried the disappearing trick. Lo Strange just as quietly halted them. “Shout out and asks what this means,” he ordered our head boy. A derisive yell answered. In unashamed nakedness, two hundred warriors sprang from the opposite bushes, menacingly waving spears and bows. They looked decidedly nasty, and smelt worse, having greased themselves with the fat of a dead man’s body, to give them extra courage and strength. Their dress was circlets of parrot plumage, dog’s-tooth necklaces,, and nosebones.

In the following haughty palaver they demanded Fi-fi. unconditionally. She was to be their war-interpreting doctor. Hand hi-fi over and they’d give us carriers to the next village. Otherwise they’d give us carriage to Paradise.

Which meant that Papua was out after our hides, and this tribe had been picked on to deliver the goods. There was no turning back, no dodging. You can’t dodge on the mountain razor-backs unless you can fly down precipices. The problem was simple: win forward or perish. Cutting out le Strange’s pidgin-English, this is what h© said to our own trained boys: _ , , , , “Sham to walk back to Fuka-lala’s village. When the fools behind jump from their shelter I’ll give the word. Then put down your orchids very carefully, and we’ll all run back to the river-bank, and open fire. Remember each man must shoot straight. We will win easily.” . The boys grinned appreciatively. When carrying a gun, the one thing in the world the Papuan desires is to shoot somebody. We turned our backs to the enemy. They howled in exultant triumph and rushed down from the opposite bank, not intending to allow such an easily bluffed prey to sneak back to Fukalala and be eaten up by him. The village carriers dropped their packs and bolted, followed by the contemptuous grins of our own boys. “Put down the orchids, said le Strange, quietly. “Carefully, now!” The thirteen of us, Fi-fi’s eyes sparkling with excitement, spread out slightly and ran straight back to the bank. We were quite an army against niggers. Even if our number, thirteen was ominous, if was offset by Fi-fi’being a spirit of war and on our side.

The would-be man-eaters were running in full view across the river. We let them have it. Their triumphant yells were instantly silenced in the echoing reports. Men spun backwards, and, like crumped bundles, were swept away by the stream and dashed against the rocks. For a second they wavered; then, as one man turned and ran. And how they ran! We whites, got in some good shooting before their befeathcred bodies disappeared into the jungle. But pur boys were so excited after the first volley that their guns made tremendous noise but little damage. “Pick up the packs!” ordered Ie Strange. “We’ll cross straightway.” Long Harry glanced soberly at all the fine orchids left strewn about by Fuka-lala’s cold-footed boys. They’d have to be left behind. “Can’t be helped now,” said le Strange; “but i believe we can save them.” We crossed, glancing curiously at the bronze-black forms that were now the play of the tumbling waters. Some of the boulders were sprayed with crimson drops that looked curiously warm. We filed up the track leading to their main village. The throb of wardrums reverberated over the valleys. The peculiar, long-thrown voices of their "criers wirelessed the news from mountain crag to mountain crag. Our head boy interpreted. “They are calling all the tribes to ambush, and will pick us off one by one along the jungle. They swear wo will never reach the coast.” From their .biggest village, stockaded as usual," the women had already

set up the hideous mourning wail. It ceased abruptly as, to our surprise, le Strange swung towards the stockade. There was not a soul among the big grass houses as we strolled cautiously through. Again le Strange gave orders to our head boy: “Go,” he 6aid, “and cry to these men that if they don’t come straight to council we will put a firestick to the village and destroy the crops and gardens. Tell them that we are invincible, for the war-spirit has told lu-ii that he is with us and will kill every enemy until we reach the coast. tell them to cry the news to all the villages that they must also give, us carriers, otherwise we’ll magic their crops and the spirit-god oi Fi-fi will spread many terribles diseases amongst them.’ Well, that about ended it. They had taken their lesson; we had potent witchcraft with us. To the superstitious Papuan we were invulnerable. They sent back and picked up the orchids on the river-bank. F rom village to village we got all the carriers we wanted and finally hit the coast intact, our boys boastfully triumphant, ourselves very much relieved. And Fi-fi —she was like a lovely child that has been given the first toy of its mischievous life and to whom a wondeihil new world is waiting with welcoming arms. As I said, that was just eighteen months ago. We quietly smuggled Fi-fi across to the Australian coast. Matkins married her there, and is now a sugar-grower in the Cairns district. The rest of us are in Sydney—and are wondering. We are sure Fi-fi is [an albino—and yet. . . We are going to know very soon. | (Copyright.) -