[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

144 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

bracelets, and wear the curved tusks of pigs on their
wrists. There is just time before nightfall to take
their measures and photographs, then I retire into
the gamal for my supper, during which I am closely
observed by the entire male population. They make
remarks about the spoons and the Worcester sauce,
and when I put sugar into my tea, they whisper to
each other, “Salt!” which idea is almost enough to
spoil one’s appetite, only the delicious roast sucking-
pig is too tempting.

My toilet for the night is watched with the same
attention; then, while I am still reading on my bed,
the men seek their couches in the long, low house.
They stir up all the fires, which smoke terribly, then
they lie down on their bamboo beds, my boys among
them, and talk and talk till they fall asleep,—a house-
ful of leprous and consumptive men, who cough and
groan all night.

In front of me, near the entrance, is the chief’s
place. He spends a long time in preparing his kava,
and drinks it noisily. Kava is a root which is
ground with a piece of sharp coral; the fibres are
then mixed with water, which is contained in a long
bamboo, and mashed to a soft pulp; the liquid is
then squeezed out, strained through a piece of cocoa-
nut bark into a cocoa-nut bowl and drunk. The
liquid has a muddy, thick appearance, tastes like
soapy water, stings like peppermint and acts as a
sleeping-draught. In Santo only chiefs are allowed
to drink kava.

At first, innumerable dogs disturbed my sleep,