eamers and schooners ply at irregular
intervals between Noumea and the New Hebrides.

The English steamers fly the flag of Burns, Philp & Company, the
great Australian firm which trades with numerous island groups of the
South Seas. Their steamers touch the Lord Howe and Norfolk Islands,
stop for a few days at Vila, then call in a four weeks' cruise at
nearly all the plantations in the islands. They carry the mail and
ply a profitable trade with the planters; they also do errands for
the colonists in Sydney, procuring anything from a needle to a horse
or a house. Being practically without serious competitors they can set
any price they please on commodities, so that they are a power in the
islands and control the trade of the group; all the more so as many
planters are dependent on them for large loans. To me, Burns, Philp &
Company were extremely useful, as on board their ships I could always
find money, provisions and articles for barter, send my collections
to Vila, and occasionally travel from one island to another.

The French line is run by the Messageries Maritimes, on quite a
different plan: it is merely for mail-service and does not do any
trading. Its handsome steamer travels in three weeks from Sydney
to Noumea and Port Vila, visits about three plantations and leaves
the islands after one week. This line offers the shortest and most
comfortable connection with Sydney, taking eight days for the trip,
while the English steamers take eleven.

The port of entrance to the group is Port Vila, chosen for its
proximity to New Caledonia and Sydney; it is a good harbour, though
somewhat narrow.

CHAPTER I

NOUMEA AND PORT VILA

On April 26, 1910, I arrived at Noumea by the large and very old
mail-steamer of the Messageries Maritimes, plying between Marseilles
and Noumea, which I had boarded at Sydney.

Noumea impresses one very unfavourably. A time of rapid development has
been followed by a period of stagnation, increased by the suppression
of the penitentiary, the principal source of income to the town. The
latter has never grown to the size originally planned and laid out, and
its desolate squares and decayed houses are a depressing sight. Two or
three steamers and a few sailing-vessels are all the craft the harbour
contains; a few customs officers and discharged convicts loaf on the
pier, where some natives from the Loyalty Islands sleep or shout.

Parallel streets lead from the harbour to the h