So much of our time during the holidays is spent in catching up with friends, family, and others who have traveled, it made us wonder about how Christmas was celebrated long ago to those who could by no means return home. Australian writer George Louis Becke traveled so much, he could realistically call the road his home. Born in Port Macquarie, New South Wales, Australia, Becke wandered the beaches and was friends with the Aborigines there. Sailing was his schooling. As he traveled, Becke learned far more about culture, language, and customs than most explorers.
At 16, Becke was a stowaway on a ship bound for Samoa. At 19, Becke was shipwrecked for seven months and finally rescued by the H.M.S.Rosario. Arrested for piracy following that incident, Becke tried to live landlocked as a bank teller and chasing gold in the nearby Palmer River Goldrush. However, neither domesticity nor the possibility of overnight riches appealed to Becke, so he set out for the South Seas traveling to nearly every locale and documenting his journey in print.
In 1899’s “Ridan the Devil and Others,” Becke chronicles nearly a year of adventure from Sydney well into Micronesia. His time in native villages and even an earlier shipwreck are all woven into the fabric of his storytelling. As he travels these islands, Becke documents the changes in culture and language between them. As distant as they may be, Becke also figures out how they fish for survival and stay united as a microcosm of society.
“A Christmas Eve In The Far South Seas” is a short enough story to read to everyone (and easily found on the modern Internet as it exists mostly royalty-free.) The initial reading hits upon this band of peripatetic travelers of different backgrounds all living the best lives they can around a lagoon in the sunny South Seas. As Becke describes everyday life there, the implication is that the Germans, English, and Americans are all in a small struggle for the profits derived from this miniature island paradise. Like “Survivor” or even William Goldman’s “Lord of The Flies,” knowledge is the key to living here, and what even bears the slightest resemblance to “ordinary life” back home is paramount.
Becke and his fellow Britisher Donald MacBride (actually a Scot) start out with the notion to celebrate Christmas in the most English way possible as both a remembrance of life at home and a slight to the Americans, the German, and the Dutch rivals across the lagoon. MacBride has already taken the giant leap of acclimating himself to life there, a half-caste wife, Sera, a native of Pelews. Becke implies that Donald may be the most civilized person Sera has ever encountered - yet she is strong and well-versed.
As MacBride wishes to make a “hakkise” or haggis for the holiday celebration, they must purchase a “nanny-goat” from the German trader Ludwig Wolfen. Naturally, Wolfen and his neighbor, the Dutch trader Peter Huysmans are competition for the British pair - but voice the opinion that they would feel “very much hurt if they were not invited.” We discover that Wolfen once served as a sailor on a British ship, so he has an appreciation and could help out with their English observance. Wolfen is also quick to ask the Britishers to include Tom Devine and Charley Du Buis, the two more “reckless” Americans across the lagoon. While Wolfen is helping plan how the women will bake the important Christmas Cake, Becke sends his boat across the lagoon to Devine and Du Buis with a written invitation to their gathering.
Upon RSVPing, Charley informs the party that Mrs. Charlie, his half Samoan girlfriend is skilled in cake baking and would gladly lend “Mesdames MacBride, Wolfen, and Huysmans her assistance in baking a Christmas cake, the size of which should cause the native population to sit up and respect us as men of more than ordinary intelligence and patriotism.” Suddenly, the holiday has incorporated the essence of cooperation as these disparate families will join together to celebrate.
On the evening of the 24th, the boats arrive with three families including wives and children from financial rivals who are all surviving in this faraway place. Immediately, Becke is taken with elements of friendship that are offered. The women are dressed for the party and “excessively anointed with scented coco-nut oil.” Wolfen has even brought his accordion, which he quickly sits down to play “The Star Spangled Banner” (and after a small misunderstanding) and other national anthems. While this is again an English Christmas, they accompany the planting of a Union Jack in the soil with three cheers for all their governments.
A small bout of disharmony strikes every celebration, but Becke documents how quickly all parties recover and refocus on the tasks at hand. Before you know it, glasses are clinking, toasts are being passed, and the natives “wondered why we grew merry so suddenly.” As the fellowship draws them closer together, MacBride’s wife Sera plays guitar while they sing and dance around a roughly-constructed table. Then, the thoughts they are all trying to keep as far away as possible during a Christmas feast make Tom McBride, the American stop the music. “Let us drink to the memory of the far-off faces of those dear ones whom we never may see again!” The pause following this pronouncement shows the reverence each participant has for those they miss across cultures, heritages, and thousands of miles of water separating this merry band from the rest of the world. And with that, the women went off to the cook-house to make the spectacular Christmas cake.
In a comic turn (completely covered by Becke in a Dutch/pidgin English vernacular,) Peter Huysmans steps up. He makes a slightly inebriated but passionate speech where they will no longer quarrel over “dirty dollars” (as there is enough room for them to all make “decent livings”) and “let us bromise one another not to haf no more angry vorts.” While the whole declaration is funny to read with its v’s and Teutonic words, for most of the story Huysmans has said nothing up to this point. It is enough to make all the male characters think, and leave you with the same ponderous thought about those across your lagoon.
Christmas Day arrives in the most beautiful and simple prose from Becke as “the quick red sun had turned the long, black line of palms on Karolyne to purple, and then to shining green.” All of this while torches light up the night and the water around them becomes more smooth.
We do not know what happens next. In your mind, you can conceive that Sera plays more romantic songs on her guitar and families fall into the tired but satisfied embrace following a night of festivity that they all never want to end. It feels certain that the Christmas cake was a huge success, even if the haggis was not (“it smelt good, but was not at all juicy.”) The postscript does thankfully imply that this celebration was the beginning of a period of peace and prosperity for all involved.
As Becke reflects upon this night of bliss in the islands from his quiet English village later in life, we learn how these intrepid souls went on hopping across the South Seas. While Becke writes about these events in his most factual prose, the counterpoint of his verbiage alerts you to what you already knew merely from reading the title. Thankfully, Peter Huysmans also lived on.
“And then again, in a garish and tinseled City bar, we raised our glasses and drank to the memory of those who had gone before.”
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Mik Davis is the record store manager at T-Bones Records & Cafe in Hattiesburg.
