There is a most curious and interesting institution, by which the old men of the tribe band
themselves together, and, by working on the superstitions of the rest, secure for themselves a
comfortable old age and unbounded influence. . . . The Dukduk is a spirit, which assumes a visible
and presumably tangible form, and makes its appearance at certain fixed times. Its arrival is
invariably fixed for the day the new moon becomes visible. It is announced a month beforehand by
the old men, and is always said to belong to one of them. During that month great preparations of
food are made, and should any young man have failed to provide an adequate supply on the occasion
of its last appearance, he receives a pretty strong hint to the effect that the Dukduk is displeased with
him, and there is no fear of his offending twice. When it is remembered that the old men, who alone
have the power of summoning the Dukduk from his home at the bottom of the sea, are too weak to
work, and to provide themselves with food or dewarra the reason for this hint seems to me pretty
obvious. The day before the Dukduk's expected arrival the women usually disappear, or at all events
remain in their houses. It is immediate death for a woman to look upon this unquiet spirit. Before
daybreak everyone is assembled on the beach, most of the young men looking a good deal
frightened. They have many unpleasant experiences to go through during the next fortnight, and the
Dukduk is known to possess an extraordinary familiarity with all their shortcomings of the preceding
month. At the first streak of dawn, singing and drum-beating is heard out at sea, and, as soon as
there is enough light to see them, five or six canoes, lashed together with a platform built over them,
are seen to be slowly advancing towards the beach. Two most extraordinary figures appear dancing
on the platform, uttering shrill cries, like a small dog yelping. They seem to be about ten feet high,
but so rapid are their movements that it is difficult to observe them carefully. However, the outward
and visible form assumed by them is intended to represent a gigantic cassowary, with the most
hideous and grotesque of human faces. The dress, which is made of the leaves of the draconaena,
certainly looks much like the body of this bird, but the head is like nothing but the head of a
Dukduk. It is a conical-shaped erection, about five feet high, made of very fine basket work, and
gummed all over to give a surface on which the diabolical countenance is depicted. No arms or
hands are visible, and the dress extends down to the knees. The old men, doubtless, are in the
secret, but by the alarmed look on the faces of the others it is easy to see that they imagine that there
is nothing human about these alarming visitors. As soon as the canoes touch the beach, the two
Dukduks jump out, and at once the natives fall back, so as to avoid touching them. If a Dukduk is
touched, even by accident, he very frequently tomahawks the unfortunate native on the spot. After
landing, the Dukduks dance round each other, imitating the ungainly motion of the cassowary, and
uttering their shrill cries. During the whole of their stay they make no sound but this. It would
never do for them to speak, for in that case they might be recognized by their voices. Nothing more
is to be done now till evening, and they occupy their time running up and down the beach, through
the village, and into the bush, and seem to be very fond of turning up in the most unexpected
manner, and frightening the natives half out of their wits. During the day a little house has been
built in the bush, for the Dukduks' benefit. No one but the old men knows exactly where this house
is, as it is carefully concealed. Here we may suppose the restless spirit unbends to a certain extent,
and has his meals. Certainly no one would venture to disturb him. In the evening a vast pile of food
is collected, and is borne off by the old men into the bush, every man making his contribution to the
meal. The Dukduk, if satisfied, maintains a complete silence; but if be does not think the amount
collected sufficient, he shows his disapprobation by yelping and leaping. When the food has been
carried off, the young men have to go through a very unpleasant ordeal, which is supposed to
prepare their minds for having the mysteries of the Dukduk explained to them at some very distant
period. They stand in rows of six or seven, holding their arms high above their heads. When the
Dukduks appear from their house in the bush, one of them has a bundle of stout canes, about six feet
long, and the other a big club. The Dukduk with the canes selects one of them, and dances up to one
of the young men, and deals him a most tremendous blow, which draws blood all round his body.
There is, however, on the young man's part no flinching or sign of pain. After the blow with the
cane he has to stoop down, on the 'tail,' which must be most unpleasant. Each of these young men
has to go through this performance some twenty times in the course of the evening, and go limping
home to bed. He will nevertheless be ready to place himself in the same position every night for the
next fortnight. The time of a man's initiation may and often does last for about twenty years, and
as the Dukduk usually appears at every town six times in every year, the novice has to submit to a
considerable amount of flogging to purchase his freedom of the guild. Though I have never
witnessed it, the Dukduk has the right, which he frequently exercises, of killing any man on the
spot. He merely dances up to him, and brains him with a tomahawk or club. Not a man would dare
dispute this right, nor would any one venture to touch the body afterwards. The Dukduks in such
a case pick up the body, and carry it into the bush, where it is disposed of, how, one can only
conjecture. Women, if caught suddenly, in the bush, are carried off, and never appear again, nor are
any inquiries made after them. It is no doubt this power the Dukduks possess, of killing either man
or woman with impunity, which makes them so feared. It is, above all things, necessary to preserve
the mystery, and the way in which this is done is very clever. The man personating the Dukduk will
retire to his house, take off his dress, and mingle with the rest of his tribe, so as not to be missed,
and will put his share of food into the general contribution, thus making a present to himself. The
last day on which the moon is visible, the Dukduks disappear, though no one sees them depart; their
house in the bush is burned, and the dresses they have worn are destroyed. Great care is taken to
destroy everything they have touched, the canes and clubs being burned every day by the old men.
