On the wreck—Efforts to kindle a fire—My flagstaff—Clothing impossible—Growing corn in turtles’ blood—My house of pearl shells—How the pelicans fished for me—Stung by a “sting-rae”—My amusements—A peculiar clock—Threatened madness—I begin to build a boat—An appalling blunder—Riding on turtles—Preaching to Bruno—Canine sympathy—A sail—How I got fresh water—Sending messages by the pelicans—A wonderful almanac—A mysterious voice of hope—Human beings at last.
That morning I made my breakfast off raw sea-gulls’ eggs, but was unable to get anything to drink. Between nine and ten o’clock, as the tide was then very low, I was delighted to find that it was possible to reach the wreck by walking along the rocks. So, scrambling aboard, I collected as many things as I could possibly transfer ashore. I had to take dangerous headers into the cabin, as the whole ship’s interior was now full of water, but all I could manage to secure were a tomahawk and my bow and arrows, which had been given me by the Papuans. I had always taken a keen interest in archery, by the way, and had made quite a name for myself in this direction long before I left Switzerland. I also took out a cooking-kettle. All these seemingly unimportant finds were of vital importance in the most literal sense of the phrase, particularly the tomahawk and the bow, which were in after years my very salvation time after time.
I was very delighted when I secured my bow and arrows, for I knew that with them I could always be certain of killing sea-fowl for food. There was a stock of gunpowder on board and a number of rifles and shot-guns, but as the former was hopelessly spoiled, I did not trouble about either. With my tomahawk I cut away some of the ship’s woodwork, which I threw overboard and let drift to land to serve as fuel. When I did eventually return to my little island, I unravelled a piece of rope, and then tried to produce fire by rubbing two pieces of wood smartly together amidst the inflammable material. It was a hopeless business, however; a full half-hour’s friction only made the sticks hot, and rub as hard as I would I could not produce the faintest suspicion of a spark. I sat down helplessly, and wondered how the savages I had read of ever got fire in this way.
Up to this time I had not built myself a shelter of any kind. At night I simply slept in the open air on the sand, with only my blankets round me. One morning I was able to get out of the vessel some kegs of precious water, a small barrel of flour, and a quantity of tinned foods. All these, together with some sails, spars, and ropes, I got safely ashore, and in the afternoon I rigged myself up a sort of canvas awning as a sleeping-place, using only some sails and spars.
Among the things I brought from the ship on a subsequent visit were a stiletto that had originally been given to me by my mother. It was an old family relic with a black ebony handle and a finely tempered steel blade four or five inches in length. I also got a stone tomahawk—a mere curio, obtained from the Papuans; and a quantity of a special kind of wood, also taken on board at New Guinea. This wood possessed the peculiar property of smouldering for hours when once ignited, without actually bursting into flame. We took it on board because it made such good fuel.
As the most urgent matter was to kindle a fire, I began experiments with my two weapons, striking the steel tomahawk against the stone one over a heap of fluffy material made by unravelling and teasing out a piece of blanket. Success attended my patient efforts this time, and to my inexpressible relief and joy I soon had a cheerful fire blazing alongside my improvised shelter—and, what is more, I took good carenever to let it go out during the whole lime I remained a prisoner on the island. The fire was always my first thought, and night and day it was kept at least smouldering by means of the New Guinea wood I have already mentioned, and of which I found a large stock on board. The ship itself, I should mention, provided me with all the fuel that was required in the ordinary way, and, moreover, I was constantly finding pieces of wreckage along the shore that had been gathered in by the restless waves. Often—oh! often—I reflected with a shudder what my fate would have been had the ship gone down in deep water, leaving me safe, but deprived of all the stores she contained. The long, lingering agony, the starvation, the madness of thirst, and finally a horrible death on that far-away strip of sand, and another skeleton added to that grisly pile!
The days passed slowly by. In what part of the world I was located I had not the remotest idea. I felt that I was altogether out of the beaten track of ships because of the reefs that studded these seas, and therefore the prospect of my being rescued was very remote indeed—a thought that often caused me a kind of dull agony, more terrible than any mere physical pain.
However, I fixed up a flagstaff on the highest point of the island—(poor “island,”—thatwas not many inches)—and floated an ensignupside downfrom it, in the hope that this signal of distress might be sighted by some stray vessel, and indicate the presence of a castaway to those on board. Every morning I made my way to the flagstaff, and scanned the horizon for a possible sail, but I always had to come away disappointed. This became a habit; yet, so eternal is hope, that day by day, week by week, and month by month the bitter disappointment was always a keen torture. By the way, the very reefs that made those seas so dangerous served completely to protect my little island in stormy weather. The fury of the billows lost itself upon them, so that even the surf very rarely reached me. I was usually astir about sunrise. I knew that the sun rose about 6 A.M. in those tropical seas and set at 6 P.M.; there was very little variation all the year round. A heavy dew descended at night, which made the air delightfully cool; but in the day it was so frightfully hot that I could not bear the weight of ordinary clothes upon my person, so I took to wearing a silk shawl instead, hung loosely round my waist.
Another reason why I abandoned clothes was because I found that when a rent appeared the sun blazed down through it and raised a painful blister. On the other hand, by merely wearing a waist-cloth, and taking constant sea baths, I suffered scarcely at all from the scorching tropical sun. I now devoted all my energies to the wreck of theVeielland, lest anything should happen to it, and worked with feverish energy to get everything I possibly could out of the ship. It took me some months to accomplish this, but eventually I had removed everything—even the greater part of the cargo of pearl shells. The work was rendered particularly arduous in consequence of the decks being so frequently under water; and I found it was only at the full and new moons that I could actuallywalkround on the rocks to the wreck. In course of time the ship began to break up, and I materially assisted the operation with an axe. I wanted her timbers to build a boat in which to escape.
The casks of flour I floated ashore were very little the worse for their immersion; in fact, the water had only soaked through to the depth of a couple of inches, forming a kind of protecting wet crust, and leaving the inner part perfectly dry and good. Much of this flour, however, was afterwards spoiled by weevils; nor did my spreading out the precious grain in the sunlight on tarpaulins and sails save it from at least partial destruction. I also brought ashore bags of beans, rice, and maize; cases of preserved milk and vegetables, and innumerable other articles of food, besides some small casks of oil and rum. In fact, I stripped the ship’s interior of everything, and at the end of nine months very little remained of her on the rocks but the bare skeleton of the hull. I moved all the things out day by day according to the tides.
In a large chest that came ashore from the captain’s cabin I found a stock of all kinds of seeds, and I resolved to see whether I could grow a little corn. Jensen himself had put the seeds aboard in order to plant them on some of the islands near which we might be compelled to anchor for some length of time. Another object was to grow plants on board for the amusement of the Malays. The seeds included vegetables, flowers, and Indian corn, the last named being in the cob. The Malays are very fond of flowers, and the captain told them that they might try and cultivate some in boxes on board; but when he saw that this would mean an additional drain upon his supply of fresh water he withdrew the permission. I knew that salt water would not nourish plants, and I was equally certain I could not spare fresh water from my own stock for this purpose.
Nevertheless, I set my wits to work, and at length decided upon an interesting experiment. I filled a large turtle shell with sand and a little clay, and thoroughly wetted the mixture with turtle’s blood, then stirring the mass into a puddle and planting corn in it.
The grain quickly sprouted, and flourished so rapidly, that within a very short time I was able to transplant it—always, however, nourishing it with the blood of turtles. This most satisfactory result induced me to extend my operation, and I soon had quaint little crops of maize and wheat growing in huge turtle shells; the wheat-plants, however, did not reach maturity.
For a long time I was content with the simple awning I have described as a place of shelter, but when I began to recover the pearl shells from the ship, it occurred to me that I might use them as material with which to build some kind of a hut. Altogether there were about thirty tons of pearl shells on board, and at first I took to diving for them merely as a sort of pastime.
I spent many weeks getting enough shells ashore to build a couple of parallel walls, each about seven feet high, three feet thick, and ten feet in length. The breeze blew gratefully through them. I filled the interstices of these walls with a puddle of clayey sand and water, covered in the top with canvas, and made quite a comfortable living-place out of it. The walls at any rate had a high commercial value! When the wet season set in I built a third wall at one end, and erected a sort of double awning in front, under which I always kept my fire burning. I also put a straw thatch over the hut, proudly using my own straw which I had grown with blood.
In course of time I made myself crude articles of furniture, including a table, some chairs, a bed, &c. My bedding at first consisted of sails, but afterwards I was able to have a mattress filled with straw from my corn patch. The kettle I had saved from the wreck was for a long time my only cooking utensil, so when I had anything to prepare I generally made an oven in the sand, after the manner of the natives I had met on the New Guinea main. I could always catch plenty of fish—principally mullet; and as for sea-fowls, all that I had to do was walk over to that part of the island where they were feeding and breeding, and knock them over with a stick. I made dough-cakes from the flour whilst it lasted; and I had deputies to fish for me—I mean the hundreds of pelicans. The birds who had little ones to feed went out in the morning, and returned in the afternoon, with from three to ten pounds of delicious fresh fish in their curious pouches.
On alighting on the island they emptied their pouches on the sand—too often, I must confess, solely for my benefit. Selfish bachelor birds on returning with full pouches jerked their catch into the air, and so swallowed it. It used to amuse me, however, to watch a robber gull, perched on their back, cleverly and neatly intercepting the fish as it ascended. These fish, with broiled turtle meat and tinned fruits, made quite a sumptuous repast.
After breakfast I would have a swim when the tide was low and there was no likelihood of sharks being about. A run along the beach in the sun until I was dry followed, and then I returned to my awning and read aloud to myself in English, from my medical books and my English-French Testament, simply for the pleasure of hearing my own voice. I was a very good linguist in those days, and spoke English particularly well long before I left Switzerland. After breakfast, my dog and I would go out to catch a peculiar sort of fish called the “sting-rae.” These curious creatures have a sharp bony spike about two inches in length near the tail and this I found admirably adapted for arrow-heads. The body of the fish resembled a huge flounder, but the tail was long and tapering. They would come close in-shore, and I would spear them from the rocks with a Papuan fishing-spear. The smallest I ever caught weighed fifteen pounds, and I could never carry home more than a couple of average weight. They have the power of stinging, I believe, electrically, hence their name. At all events, I was once stung by one of these fish, and it was an experience I shall never forget. It fortunately happened at a time when some friendly blacks were at hand, otherwise I question very much whether I should be alive to-day.
I was wading slowly along the beach in rather deep water, when I suddenly felt a most excruciating pain in my left ankle. It seemed as though I had just received a paralysing shock from a powerful battery, and down I fell in a state of absolute collapse, unable to stir a finger to save myself, although I knew I was rapidly drowning. Fortunately the blacks who were with me came and pulled me ashore, where I slowly recovered. There was only a slight scratch on my ankle, but for a long time my whole body was racked with pain, and when the natives got to know of the symptoms they told me that I had been attacked by a “sting-rae.” The spike or sting measures from two to six inches in length according to the size of the fish.
But to return to my solitary life on the island. The flesh of the sting-rae was not pleasant to eat, being rather tough and tasteless, so I used it as a bait for sharks. Turtles visited the island in great numbers, and deposited their eggs in holes made in the sand above high-water mark. They only came on land during the night, at high tide; and whenever I wanted a special delicacy, I turned one over on its back till morning, when I despatched it leisurely with my tomahawk. The creatures’ shells I always devoted to the extension of my garden, which became very large, and eventually covered fully two-thirds of the island. The maize and cob-corn flourished remarkably well, and I generally managed to get three crops in the course of a year. The straw came in useful for bedding purposes, but as I found the sand-flies and other insects becoming more and more troublesome whilst I lay on the ground, I decided to try a hammock. I made one out of shark’s hide, and slung it in my hut, when I found that it answered my purpose splendidly.
The great thing was to ward off the dull agony, the killing depression, and manias generally. Fortunately I was of a very active disposition, and as a pastime I took to gymnastics, even as I had at Montreux. I became a most proficient tumbler and acrobat, and could turn two or three somersaults on dashing down from the sloping roof of my pearl-shell hut; besides, I became a splendid high jumper, with and without the pole. Another thing I interested myself in was the construction of a sun-dial.
Indeed, I spent many hours devising some means whereby I could fashion a reliable “clock,” and at last I worked out the principle of the sun-dial on the sand. I fixed a long stick perfectly upright in the ground, and then marked off certain spaces round it by means of pegs and pearl shells. I calculated the hours according to the length of the shadows cast by the sun.
But, in spite of all that I could do to interest or amuse myself, I was frequently overwhelmed with fits of depression and despair, and more than once I feared I should lose my mental balance and become a maniac. A religious craze took possession of me, and, strive as I might, I could not keep my mind from dwelling upon certain apparent discrepancies in the various apostles’ versions of the Gospel!
I found myself constantly brooding over statements made in one form by St. Matthew, and in another by St. Luke; and I conjured up endless theological arguments and theories, until I was driven nearly frantic. Much as I regretted it, I was compelled at last to give up reading my New Testament, and by the exercise of a strong will I forced myself to think about something totally different.
It took me a long time to overcome this religious melancholia, but I mastered it in the long run, and was greatly delighted when I found I could once more read without being hypercritical and doubtful of everything. Had I been cast on a luxuriant island, growing fruits and flowers, and inhabited at least by animals—how different would it have been! But here there was nothing to save the mind from madness—merely a tiny strip of sand, invisible a few hundred yards out at sea.
When the fits of depression came upon me I invariably concluded that life was unbearable, and would actually rush into the sea, with the deliberate object of putting an end to myself. At these times my agony of mind was far more dreadful that any degree of physical suffering could have been, and death seemed to have a fascination for me that I could not resist. Yet when I found myself up to my neck in water, a sudden revulsion of feeling would come over me, and instead of drowning myself I would indulge in a swim or a ride on a turtle’s back by way of diverting my thoughts into different channels.
Bruno always seemed to understand when I had an attack of melancholia, and he would watch my every movement. When he saw me rushing into the water, he would follow at my side barking and yelling like a mad thing, until he actually made me forget the dreadful object I had in view. And we would perhaps conclude by having a swimming race. These fits of depression always came upon me towards evening, and generally about the same hour.
In spite of the apparent hopelessness of my position, I never relinquished the idea of escaping from the island some day, and accordingly I started building a boat within a month of my shipwreck.
Not that I knew anything whatever about boat-building; but I was convinced that I could at least make a craft of some sort that would float. I set to work with a light heart, but later on paid dearly for my ignorance in bitter, bitter disappointment and impotent regrets. For one thing, I made the keel too heavy; then, again, I used planks that were absurdly thick for the shell, though, of course, I was not aware of these things at the time. The wreck, of course, provided me with all the woodwork I required. In order to make the staves pliable, I soaked them in water for a week, and then heated them over a fire, afterwards bending them to the required shape. At the end of nine months of unremitting labour, to which, latterly, considerable anxiety—glorious hopes and sickening fears—was added, I had built what I considered a substantial and sea-worthy sailing boat, fully fifteen feet long by four feet wide. It was a heavy ungainly looking object when finished, and it required much ingenuity on my part to launch it. This I eventually managed, however, by means of rollers and levers; but the boat was frightfully low in the water at the stern. It was quite watertight though, having an outer covering of sharks’ green hide, well smeared with Stockholm tar, and an inside lining of stout canvas. I also rigged up a mast, and made a sail. When my boat floated I fairly screamed aloud with wild delight, and sympathetic Bruno jumped and yelped in unison.
But when all my preparations were complete, and I had rowed out a little way, I made a discovery that nearly drove me crazy. I found I had launched the boat in a sort of lagoon several miles in extent, barred by a crescent of coral rocks, over whichI could not possibly drag my craft into the open sea. Although the water covered the reefs at high tide it was never of sufficient depth to allow me to sail the boat over them. I tried every possible opening, but was always arrested at some point or other. After the first acute paroxysm of despair—beating my head with my clenched fists—I consoled myself with the thought that when the high tides came, they would perhaps lift the boat over that terrible barrier. I waited, and waited, and waited, but alas! only to be disappointed. My nine weary months of arduous travail and half-frantic anticipation were cruelly wasted. At no time could I get the boat out into the open sea in consequence of the rocks, and it was equally impossible for me unaided to drag her back up the steep slope again and across the island, where she could be launched opposite an opening in the encircling reefs. So there my darling boat lay idly in the lagoon—a useless thing, whose sight filled me with heartache and despair. And yet, in this very lagoon I soon found amusement and pleasure. When I had in some measure got over the disappointment about the boat, I took to sailing her about in the lagoon. I also played the part of Neptune in the very extraordinary way I have already indicated. I used to wade out to where the turtles were, and on catching a big six-hundred-pounder, I would calmly sit astride on his back.
Away would swim the startled creature, mostly a foot or so below the surface. When he dived deeper I simply sat far back on the shell, and then he was forced to come up. I steered my queer steeds in a curious way. When I wanted my turtle to turn to the left, I simply thrust my foot into his right eye, andvice versafor the contrary direction. My two big toes placed simultaneously over both his optics caused a halt so abrupt as almost to unseat me. Sometimes I would go fully a mile out to sea on one of these strange steeds. It always frightened them to have me astride, and in their terror they swam at a tremendous pace until compelled to desist through sheer exhaustion.
Before the wet season commenced I put a straw thatch on the roof of my hut, as before stated, and made my quarters as snug as possible. And it was a very necessary precaution, too, for sometimes it rained for days at a stretch. The rain never kept me indoors, however, and I took exercise just the same, as I didn’t bother about clothes, and rather enjoyed the shower bath. I was always devising means of making life more tolerable, and amongst other things I made a sort of swing, which I found extremely useful in beguiling time. I would also practise jumping with long poles. One day I captured a young pelican, and trained him to accompany me in my walks and assist me in my fishing operations. He also acted as a decoy. Frequently I would hide myself in some grass, whilst my pet bird walked a few yards away to attract his fellows. Presently he would be joined by a whole flock, many of which I lassoed, or shot with my bow and arrows.
But for my dog—my almost human Bruno—I think I must have died. I used to talk to him precisely as though he were a human being. We were absolutely inseparable. I preached long sermons to him from Gospel texts. I told him in a loud voice all about my early life and school-days at Montreux; I recounted to him all my adventures, from the fatal meeting with poor Peter Jensen in Singapore, right up to the present; I sang littlechansonsto him, and among these he had his favourites as well as those he disliked cordially. If he did not care for a song, he would set up a pitiful howl. I feel convinced that this constant communing aloud with my dog saved my reason. Bruno seemed always to be in such good spirits that I never dreamed of anything happening to him; and his quiet, sympathetic companionship was one of the greatest blessings I knew throughout many weird and terrible years. As I talked to him he would sit at my feet, looking so intelligently at me that I fancied he understood every word of what I was saying.
When the religious mania was upon me, I talked over all sorts of theological subjects with my Bruno, and it seemed to relieve me, even though I never received any enlightenment from him upon the knotty point that would be puzzling me at that particular time. What delighted him most of all was for me to tell him that I loved him very dearly, and that he was even more valuable to me than the famous dogs of St. Bernard were to benighted travellers in the snow.
I knew very little about musical instruments, but as I had often longed for something to make a noise with, if only to drown the maddening crash of the eternal surf, I fashioned a drum out of a small barrel, with sharks’ skin stretched tightly over the open ends. This I beat with a couple of sticks as an accompaniment to my singing, and as Bruno occasionally joined in with a howl of disapproval or a yell of joy, the effect must have been picturesque if not musical. I was ready to do almost anything to drown that ceaseless cr-ash, cr-ash of the breakers on the beach, from whose melancholy and monotonous roar I could never escape for a single moment throughout the whole of the long day. However, I escaped its sound when I lay down to sleep at night by a very simple plan. As I was stone-deaf in the right ear I always slept on the left side.
Seven weary months had passed away, when one morning, on scanning the horizon, I suddenly leaped into the air and screamed: “My God! A sail! A sail!” I nearly became delirious with excitement, but, alas! the ship was too far out to sea to notice my frantic signals. My island lay very low, and all that I could make out of the vessel in the distance was her sails. She must have been fully five miles away, yet, in my excitement, I ran up and down the miserable beach, shouting in a frenzy and waving my arms in the hope of attracting the attention of some one on board; but it was all in vain. The ship, which I concluded was a pearler, kept steadily on her way, and eventually disappeared below the horizon.
Never can I hope to describe the gnawing pain at my heart as, hoarse and half mad, I sank exhausted on the sand, watching the last vestige of the ship disappearing. Altogether, I saw five ships pass in this way during my sojourn on the island, but they were always too far out at sea to notice my signals. One of these vessels I knew to be a man-o’-war flying the British ensign. I tried to rig up a longer flag-staff, as I thought the original one not high enough for its purpose. Accordingly I spliced a couple of long poles together, but to my disappointment found them too heavy to raise in the air. Bruno always joined in my enthusiasm when a sail was in sight; in fact, he was generally the first to detect it, and he would bark and drag at me until he had drawn my attention to the new hope. And I loved him for his tender sympathy in my paroxysms of regret and disappointment. The hairy head would rub coaxingly against my arm, the warm tongue licking my hand, and the faithful brown eyes gazing at me with a knowledge and sympathy that were more than human—these I feel sure saved me again and again. I might mention that, although my boat was absolutely useless for the purpose of escape, I did not neglect her altogether, but sailed her about the enclosed lagoon by way of practice in the handling of her sails. This was also a welcome recreation.
I never feared a lack of fresh water, for when, in the dry season, the ship’s stock and my reserve from the wet season were exhausted, I busied myself with the condensing of sea water in my kettle, adding to my store literally drop by drop. Water was the only liquid I drank, all the tea and coffee carried on board having been rendered utterly useless.
The powerful winged birds that abounded on the island one day gave me an idea: Why not hang a message around their necks and send them forth into the unknown? Possibly they might bring help—who knows? And with me to conceive was to act. I got a number of empty condensed-milk tins, and, by means of fire, separated from the cylinder the tin disc that formed the bottom. On this disc I scratched a message with a sharp nail. In a few words I conveyed information about the wreck and my deplorable condition. I also gave the approximate bearings—latitude fifteen to thirteen degrees, not far from the Australian main.
These discs—I prepared several in English, French, bad Dutch, German, and Italian—I then fastened round the necks of the pelicans, by means of fish-gut, and away across the ocean sped the affrighted birds, so scared by the mysterious encumbrance thatthey never returned to the island.
I may say here that more than twenty years later, when I returned to civilisation, I chanced to mention the story about my messenger-birds to some old inhabitants at Fremantle, Western Australia, when, to my amazement, they told me that a pelican carrying a tin disc round its neck, bearing a message in French from a castaway,hadbeen found many years previously by an old boatman on the beach near the mouth of the Swan River. But it was not mine.
So appalling was the monotony, and so limited my resources, that I welcomed with childish glee any trifling little incident that happened. For example, one lovely night in June I was amazed to hear a tremendous commotion outside, and on getting up to see what was the matter, I beheld dimly countless thousands of birds—Java sparrows I believe them to be. I went back to bed again, and in the morning was a little dismayed to find that my pretty visitors had eaten up nearly all my green corn. And the birds were still there when I went forth in the morning. They made the air ring with their lively chatter, but the uproar they made was as music to me. The majority of them had greyish-yellow bodies, with yellow beaks and pink ruffs, and they were not at all afraid of me. I moved about freely among them, and did not attempt to drive them out of my corn patch, being only too grateful to see so much life about me. They rose, however, in great clouds the next day, much to my regret, and as they soared heavenwards I could not help envying them their blessed freedom.
I kept count of the long days by means of pearl shells, for I had not used up the whole cargo in the walls of my hut. I put shells side by side in a row, one for each day, until the number reached seven, and then I transferred one shell to another place, representing the weeks. Another pile of shells represented the months; and as for the years, I kept count of those by making notches on my bow. My peculiar calendar was always checked by the moon.
Now, I am not a superstitious man, so I relate the following extraordinary occurrence merely as it happened, and without advancing any theory of my own to account for it. I had been many, many months—perhaps more than a year—on that terrible little sand-spit, and on the night I am describing I went to bed as usual, feeling very despondent. As I lay asleep in my hammock, I dreamed a beautiful dream. Some spiritual being seemed to come and bend over me, smiling pityingly. So extraordinarily vivid was the apparition, that I suddenly woke, tumbled out of my hammock, and went outside on a vague search. In a few minutes, however, I laughed at my own folly and turned in again.
I lay there for some little time longer, thinking about the past—for I dared not dwell on the future—when suddenly the intense stillness of the night was broken by a strangely familiar voice, which said, distinctly and encouragingly, “Je suis avec toi. Soit sans peur.Tu reviendras.” I can never hope to describe my feelings at that moment.
It was not the voice of my father nor of my mother, yet it was certainly the voice of some one I knew and loved, yet was unable to identify. The night was strangely calm, and so startling was this mysterious message that instinctively I leaped out of my hammock again, went outside and called out several times, but, of course, nothing happened. From that night, however, I never absolutely despaired, even when things looked their very worst.
Two interminable years had passed away, when one day the weather suddenly changed, and a terrible gale commenced to blow, which threatened almost to wreck my little hut. One morning, a few days later, when the storm had abated somewhat, I heard Bruno barking wildly on the beach. A few seconds afterwards he came rushing into the hut, and would not rest until I prepared to follow him outside. Before doing so, however, I picked up an oar—I knew not why. I then followed my dog down to the beach, wondering what could possibly have caused him to make such a fuss. The sea was somewhat agitated, and as it was not yet very light, I could not clearly distinguish things in the distance.
On peering seawards for the third or fourth time, however, I fancied I could make out a long, black object, which I concluded must be some kind of a boat, tossing up and down on the billows. Then I must confess I began to share Bruno’s excitement,—particularly when a few minutes later I discerned a well-made catamaran,with several human figures lying prostrate upon it!
I try to revive my visitors—Demonstrations of amazement—A variety entertainment—Evil spirits in the mirror—“The star above my home”—“Preliminary canter” with the boat—A joyful procession—“Good-bye to my island home”—Nearing the main—Among the cannibals—Smoke telegraphy—A weird audience—A nation meets me—My first palace.
My state of mind was perfectly indescribable. Here, I thought, are some poor shipwrecked creatures like myself; and I prayed to God that I might be the means of saving them. The prospect of having at length some one to converse with filled me with unutterable joy, and I could hardly restrain myself from rushing into the water and swimming out to the catamaran, which was still several hundred yards away from me. Would itneverdraw near? I thought, wild with impatience. And then, to my horror, I saw that it was closely followed by a number of sharks, which swam round and round it expectantly. Seeing this, I could contain myself no longer. Sternly commanding my dog not to follow me, I waded into the waves and then swam boldly out to the catamaran, taking good care, however, to make a great noise as I swam, by shouting and splashing in order to frighten away the sharks. When eventually I did come up to the floating platform of logs, I found that there were four blacks upon it—a man, a woman, and two boys. All were lying quite prostrate through exhaustion, apparently more dead than alive. The sharks still hung on persistently, but at length I drove them away by beating the water with my oar, with which I then proceeded to paddle the catamaran ashore. You see, the oar I grasped when Bruno came to give the alarm proved of inestimable value; and so all through my marvellous years of sojourn among the cannibals an undeniable Providence guided my every action. But this will be seen from my narrative in a hundred amazing instances. I climbed aboard the catamaran and paddled it into shallow water; and then, jumping overboard again I pulled it right up on to the beach, and carried the four blacks one by one into my hut. They were in a most pitiable state of collapse. Their tongues were swollen and protruding out of their mouths, and for a long time I could get nothing down their throats. First of all I tried to revive them with cold water, but found they could not swallow.
Then I remembered the rum I had saved from the wreck all this time, and procuring some I rubbed their bodies with it, tied wet bandages round their necks, and rolled them about in wet sails, in the hope that in this way their bodies might absorb the necessary liquid. You see I had an idea that they were dying from want of water. All four were terribly emaciated, and in the last stages of exhaustion. After two or three hours’ treatment, the two boys recovered consciousness, and some little time later the man also showed signs of reviving, but the woman did not come to until the afternoon. None of them, of course, were able to walk; and in the meantime they did nothing but drink water. They seemed not to realise what had happened or where they were until the following day, and then their surprise—mainly at the sight of me—was beyond all description. Their first symptom was one of extreme terror, and in spite of every kind action I could think of, they held out for a long time against my advances—although I signed to them that I was their friend, patting them on the shoulders to inspire confidence, and trying to make them understand that I had saved them from a terrible death. I fancy they all thought they had died and were now in the presence of the mysterious Great Spirit! At any rate, it was not until they began to eat freely that they grew in some measure accustomed to me. Then an ungovernable curiosity manifested itself. From gazing at me unceasingly, they took to feeling me and patting my skin. They made queer, guttural sounds with their mouths, evidently expressive of amazement; they slapped their thighs, and cracked their fingers.
Next, my belongings came in for inspection, and everything excited wonderment and delight to such a degree, that I blessed Providence for sending me so much entertaining society. My hut, with its curious thatched roof, excited vast interest; and it was amusing to see the two boys, aged respectively about twelve and fourteen, following their parents about, jabbering incessantly, and giving me sly, half-terrified glances as they examined my implements and utensils. The woman was the first to get over her fear of me, and she soon grew to trust me implicitly; whereas her husband never ceased to view me with inexplicable suspicion until we regained his own country. He was a big, repulsive-looking savage, with a morose and sullen temper; and although he never showed signs of open antagonism, yet I never trusted him for a moment during the six long months he was my “guest” on the little sand-bank! It seems I unwittingly offended him, and infringed the courtesy common among his people by declining to take advantage of a certain embarrassing offer which he made me soon after his recovery.
It may not be anticipating too much to say here that the woman was destined to play a vitally important part in the whole of my life, and with her I went through adventures and saw sights more weird and wonderful than anything I had ever read of, even in the wildest extravagances of sensational fiction. But the ruling passion was very strong, and one of the first things I did was to take my black friends down to the beach and show them my precious boat floating idly in the lagoon. Oddly enough, I had in the meantime always taken the greatest care of the boat, keeping her bottom clean and generally furbishing her up—having, however, no particular object in view in doing this, except perhaps that it gave me something to do. The poor little “home-made” boat threw the blacks into a perfect frenzy of astonishment, and they concluded that I must have come from a very distant part of the world in so enormous a “catamaran.” As a matter of fact, from that moment they looked upon me as most certainly a kind of Supreme Spirit from another world; they may have had doubts before. Next I showed them the wreck, which was now only a bare skeleton of rotting woodwork, but still plainly discernible among the coral rocks. I tried to explain to them that it was in the larger boat that I had come, but they failed to understand me.
On returning to the hut I put on my clothes for their benefit, whereupon their amazement was so great that I seriously contemplated discontinuing my list of wonders, lest they should become absolutely afraid to remain with me. The clothes they considered part of myself—in fact, a kind of secondary skin! They were terribly frightened and distressed, and not one of the four dared approach me.
The blacks did not build themselves any place of shelter, but merely slept in the open air at night, under the lee of my hut, with a large fire always burning at their feet. I offered them both blankets and sails by way of covering, but they refused them, preferring to lie huddled close together for warmth. In the morning the woman would prepare breakfast for them, consisting of fish (mainly mullet), birds’ and turtles’ eggs, and sea-fowl; to which would perhaps be added some little luxury from my own stock. They only had two meals a day—one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. Their favourite food was turtle, of which they could eat enormous quantities, especially the fat. Bruno was a long time before he took kindly to the new arrivals, probably because they manifested such extraordinary emotion whenever he lifted up his voice and barked.
I think the only thing that roused the father of the family from his sullen moods was my extraordinary acrobatic performances, which also threw the two little nigger boys into hysterics of delight. Father, mother, and children tried to imitate my somersaults, “wheels,” and contortions, but came to grief so desperately (once the morose man nearly broke his neck) that they soon gave it up. The man would sit and watch our gambols for hours without moving a muscle. I was never actually afraid of him, but took good care not to let him get possession of any of my weapons; and as I had also taken the precaution to break up and throw into the sea the spears he had brought with him on his catamaran, I felt pretty sure he could not do much mischief even if he were so disposed. After seeing me bring down birds with my bow and arrow he began to hold me in absolute fear, probably because he had some idea that his own skin might be jeopardised if he did not accommodate himself to circumstances. I repeatedly told him that with my boat I might perhaps some day help him to get back to his own country, and I must say that this suggestion roused him somewhat from his lethargy, and he appeared profoundly grateful.
Gradually I acquired a slight acquaintance with the extraordinary language of the blacks, and had many a chat with the woman, who also picked up a few words of comical English from me. She was a woman of average height, lithe and supple, with an intelligent face and sparkling eyes. She was a very interesting companion, and as I grew more proficient in her queer language of signs, and slaps, and clicks, I learnt from her many wonderful things about the habits and customs of the Australian aborigines, which proved extremely useful to me in after years. Yamba—for that was her name—told me that when I rescued them they had been blown miles and miles out of their course and away from their own country by the terrible gale that had been raging about a fortnight previously. It seems that they had originally started out on an expedition to catch turtles on a little island between Cambridge Gulf and Queen’s Channel, but the storm carried them out to sea. They drifted about for many days, until at length they reached my little island. The only food they had during the whole of this time was turtle, but they were entirely without water. One would think that they must inevitably have died of thirst, but the blacks are wonderful people for going without water for prolonged periods. Moreover, they find a mouthful of salt water occasionally quite sustaining.
One of my most amusing experiences with the blacks was one day when, quite accidentally, Yamba caught sight of herself for the first time in the little oval looking-glass I had hanging up in the hut near my hammock. She thoughtlessly took it down and held it close up to her face. She trembled, felt the surface of the glass, and then looked hurriedly on the back. One long, last, lingering look she gave, and then flew screaming out of the hut.
Oddly enough, she overcame her fears later, and, woman-like, would come and look in the mirror for an hour at a stretch, smacking her lips all the while in wonderment, and making most comical grimaces and contortions to try various effects. Her husband, however (Gunda, as I called him), was very differently affected, for the moment his wife showed him his own reflection in the glass he gave a terrific yell and bolted to the other end of the little island, in a state of the most abject terror. He never quite overcame his terror and distrust of the mirror, which he evidently considered possessed of life, and in reality a kind of spirit to be feared and avoided.
But, of course, the two boys found the glass a never-ending source of amazement and wonder, and were not in the least afraid of it after the first natural shock of surprise. Altogether, I thanked God for sending me my new companions; and, as you may suppose, they afforded me as much entertainment and gratification as I and my belongings did them.
Every evening, before retiring to rest, the family squatted round the fire and indulged in a mournful kind of chant—singing, as I afterwards learnt, the wonders they had seen on the white man’s island; my mirror coming in for special mention. This was the only approach to a “religious service” I ever saw, and was partly intended to propitiate or frighten away the spirits of the departed, of whom the Australian blacks have a great horror.
The blacks had been with me two or three weeks, when one evening the man approached and intimated in unmistakable terms that he wanted to get away from the island and return to his own land. He said he thought he and his family could easily return to their friends on the mainland by means of the catamaran that had brought them.
And Yamba, that devoted and mysterious creature, solemnly pointed out to me a glowing star far away on the horizon. There, she said, lay the home of her people. After this I was convinced that the mainland could not be more than a couple of hundred miles or so away, and I determined to accompany them on the journey thither, in the hope that this might form one of the stepping-stones to civilisation and my own kind. We lost no time. One glorious morning we three—Yamba, her husband, and myself—repaired to the fatal lagoon that hemmed in my precious boat, and without more ado dragged it up the steep bank by means of rollers run on planks across the sand-spit, and then finally, with a tremendous splash and an excited hurrah from myself, it glided out into the water, a thing of meaning, of escape, and of freedom. The boat, notwithstanding its long period of uselessness, was perfectly water-tight and thoroughly seaworthy, although still unpleasantly low at the stern. Gunda was impatient to be off, but I pointed out to him that, as the wind persistently blew in the wrong direction day after day, we should be compelled perforce to delay our departure perhaps for some months. You see, Gunda was not a man who required to make much preparation: he thought all we should have to do was to tumble into the boat and set sail across the sunlit sea. “I can paddle my catamaran against both wind and tide; why cannot you do the same?” he would say. He did not understand the advantage or uses of sails. He had lost his own paddles in the storm, otherwise he would in all probability have left the island on his own account. He was like a fish out of water when the novelty of his situation wore off. On the other hand, I thought of water, provisions, and other equally vital necessaries. So Gunda had to rest content for a time, and he grew, if possible, more morose and sullen than ever.
During this period of impatient waiting, we made many experimental voyages out to sea, and generally got the boat into capital trim for the great and eventful journey. I saw to it that she was thoroughly well provisioned with tinned stuffs—long put on one side for the purpose; and I may say here that at the last moment before starting I placed on board three large live turtles, which supplied us with meat until we reached the Australian main. I also took a plentiful supply of water, in bags made from the intestines of birds and fishes; also a small cask containing about ten gallons of the precious fluid, which was placed near the mast. In short, as far I was able, I provided everything that was necessary for this most important journey. But consider for a moment the horrible doubts and fears that racked me. Ifanciedthe mainland was not very far away, but you must remember I was not at all certain how long it would take us to reach it; nor could I be sure, therefore, whether I had taken a sufficient supply of food and water. Our provisions, which included tinned meats, corn in the cob and loose, turtles’ flesh and intestines, flour, rice, beans, &c., would, however, on a fairly liberal allowance, last a little over three weeks. We also carried some blankets, nails, tar, and other requisites. Of my books I only took my Bible with me. This I wrapped up in parchment made from pelican skin, together with four photographs of a certain young lady which I carried about with me throughout the whole of my wanderings. The propulsive power was, of course, the big lug-sail, which was always held loosely in the hand, and never made fast, for fear of a sudden capsize.
Six months had passed away since the advent of my visitors, when one morning we all marched out from the hut and down to the beach; the two boys fairly yelling with joy, and waving bunches of green corn plucked from my garden. Their mother skipped gaily hither and thither, and I myself was hardly able to control my transports of excitement and exhilaration. Even Gunda beamed upon the preparations for our release. I did not demolish my hut of pearl shells, but left it standing exactly as it had been during the past two and a half years. Nor must I omit to mention that I buried my treasure of pearls deep in the sand at one end of the island, and in all human probability it is there at this moment, for I have never returned for them, as I fondly hoped to be able to do so at some future date. It is, of course, possible that the precious box has been washed away in a storm, but more probably the contrary is the case, and still deeper layers of sand have been silted over this great treasure. I dared not carry anything oversea that was not vitally necessary, and what good were pearls to me on my fearful journey, convoying four other people out into the unknown in a crazy, home-made boat? Even masses of virgin gold were of very little use to me in the years that followed; but of this more anon. My condition, by the way, at this time was one of robust health; indeed, I was getting quite stout owing to the quantity of turtle I had been eating, whilst Yamba’s husband was positively corpulent from the same reason.
That glorious morning in the last week of May 1866 will ever be graven in my memory. As I cast off from that saving but cruel shore, I thanked my Maker for having preserved me so long and brought me through such awful perils, as well as for the good health I had always enjoyed. As the boat began to ripple through the inclosed waters of the lagoon, the spirits of the four blacks rose so high that I was afraid they would capsize the little craft in their excitement.
There was a strong, warm breeze blowing in our favour, and soon my island home was receding swiftly from our view. The last thing to remain in sight was the shell hut, but this, too, disappeared before we had covered three miles. It would have been visible from a big ship at a much greater distance, but no one would ever imagine what it really was. Yamba sat near me in the stern, but her husband curled himself up at the opposite end of the boat; and from the time we reached the open sea practically until we gained the main, he did not relax his attitude of reserve and dogged silence. He ate and drank enormously, however. You would have thought we were in a land flowing with milk and honey, instead of an open boat with limited provisions and an unknown journey in front of us. He did exert himself sufficiently on one occasion, however, to dive overboard and capture a turtle. He was sitting moodily in the prow of the boat as usual one afternoon, when suddenly he jumped up, and with a yell took a header overboard, almost capsizing our heavily laden boat. At first I thought he must have gone mad, but on heaving to, I saw him some little distance away in the water struggling with a turtle. He managed to get it on its back after a time, and though I felt annoyed at his recklessness, I could not help laughing at his antics and the comical efforts made by the turtle to escape. The turtle was duly hauled aboard, and we then continued our voyage without delay. I was dreadfully afraid of being caught in a storm. Our boat must inevitably have foundered had the seas been at all rough.
Fortunately never once did the wind change, so that we were able to sail on steadily and safely night and day, without deviating in the least from our course. We travelled fully four knots an hour, the wind and current being nearly always in our favour. It was, however, a painfully monotonous and trying experience to sit thus in the boat, cramped up as we were, day after day and night after night. About the fifth day we sighted a small island—probably Barker Island, in the vicinity of Admiralty Gulf—and landed upon it at once solely for the purpose of stretching our aching limbs. This little island was uninhabited, and covered to the very water’s edge with dense tropical vegetation. It was a perfectly exhilarating experience to walk about on real earth once more. We cooked some turtle meat and stayed a few hours on the island, after which we entered the boat and put off on our journey again. Just before leaving I stored a quantity of corn, cobs, seeds, &c., in a little cairn in case we might be compelled to return. I always steered, keeping east by north, but Yamba relieved me for a few hours each evening—generally between six and nine o’clock, when I enjoyed a brief but sound sleep. Gunda never offered to take a spell, and I did not think it worth while to trouble him.
Thus night and day we sailed steadily on, occasionally sighting sharks and even whales. We passed a great number of islands, some of them wooded and covered with beautiful jungle growths, whilst others were nothing but rock and sand. None of them seemed to be inhabited. The sea was smooth all the time, but occasionally the currents carried us out of our course among the islands, and then we had to land and wait till the tide turned. No matter how the wind was, if the tide was not also in our favour we had to land. We cruised in and out among the islands for ten days or more, when we rounded Cape Londonderry and then steered S. by E. The current, however, carried us straight for Cambridge Gulf. One little island I sighted between Cambridge Gulf and Queen’s Channel had a curious house-like structure built in one of the trees on the coast. The trunk of this tree was very large and tapering, and the platform arrangement was built amongst the branches at the top, after the manner adopted by the natives of New Guinea.
You may imagine my feelings when, early one morning, Yamba suddenly gripped my arm and murmured, “We are nearing my home at last.” I leaped to my feet, and a few minutes afterwards the mainland came hazily into view. Instead of heading straight for it, however, we made for a beautiful island that stood in the mouth of a large bay, and here we landed to recuperate for a day or so. Immediately on our arrival, Yamba and her husband lit some fires, and made what were apparently smoke-signals to their friends on the main. They first cut down a quantity of green wood with my tomahawk and arranged it in the form of a pyramid. Next they obtained fire by rubbing together two pieces of a certain kind of wood; and as the smoke ascended we saw answering smoke-signals from the opposite shore. The smoke was allowed to ascend in puffs which were regulated by the manipulation of boughs. Not long after this curious exchange of signals (and the practice is virtually universal throughout the whole of aboriginal Australia), we saw three catamarans, or floats, each carrying a man, shooting across towards our island. These catamarans merely consisted of a broad plank with a stick placed transversely at the prow, on which the black placed his feet. He squatted down on the plank and then paddled forward. I viewed their approach with mixed sensations of alarm and hope. I was in the power of these people, I thought. They could tear me limb from limb, torture me, kill and eat me, if they so pleased; I was absolutely helpless. These fears, however, were but momentary, and back upon my mind rushed the calm assurances I had obtained from my clear-eyed mentor, Yamba, to say nothing about the mysterious message of hope and consolation that had startled the solemn stillness of that tropical night. I knew these people to be cannibals, for, during the long talks we used to have on the island, Yamba had described to me their horrid feasts after a successful war. Nevertheless, I awaited the arrival of the little flotilla with all the complacency I could muster, but at the same time I was careful to let Yamba’s husband be the first to receive them.
And he advanced to meet them. The newcomers, having landed, squatted down some little distance away from the man they had come to meet, and then Gunda and they gradually edged forwards towards one another, until at length each placed his nose upon the other’s shoulder. This was apparently the native method of embracing. Later Gunda brought his friends to be introduced to me, and to the best of my ability I went through the same ridiculous ceremony. I must say my new friends evinced an almost uncontrollable terror at the sight of me. Gunda, however, made it clear that I wasnota returned spirit, but a man like themselves—a great man certainly, and a mysterious man, but a man all the same. Although by this time my skin had become tanned and dark, there was seemingly no end to the amazement it caused the blacks. They timidly touched and felt my body, legs, and arms, and were vastly anxious to know what the covering was I had round my body. In due time, however, the excitement subsided somewhat, and then the newcomers prepared more smoke-signals to their friends on the mainland—this time building five separate fires in the form of a circle.
It was interesting to watch this remarkable method of communication. Each fire was set smoking fiercely a few seconds after its neighbour had started. Finally, the columns of smoke united, and ascended together in the form of a huge pyramid, going up a tremendous height into the still, hot air. The meaning of these signals was explained to me. They indicated to the people on the mainland that the advance guard had found Gunda and his family; that they had a great man with them; and that, furthermore, they might expect us to return all together almost immediately. By this time, thanks to Yamba’s able and intelligent lessons, I was able to speak the queer language of the blacks with some show of fluency, and I could understand them well enough when they did not jabber too quickly.
The next phase of our arrival was that “smokes” were ascending in all directions on the mainland, evidently calling the tribes from far and near. How these smoke-signals gave an idea of the white man and his wonders I am utterly at a loss to imagine. In the meantime Yamba had prepared a great feast for the visitors, the principal dish being our remaining big turtle, of which the blacks ate a prodigious quantity. I afterwards told them that I was in need of a prolonged rest, my long journey having wearied me, and after this explanation I retired, and slung my hammock in a shady nook, where I slept undisturbed from shortly before noon until late in the day, when my ever-faithful Yamba, who had been keeping a careful watch, woke me and said that the festivities prior to our departure were about to take place.
Much refreshed, I rejoined the blacks, and, to their unbounded delight and amazement, entertained them for a few minutes with some of my acrobatic tricks and contortions. Some of the more emulous among them tried to imitate my feats of agility, but always came dismally to grief—a performance that created even more frantic merriment than my own. After a little while the blacks disappeared, only to come forth a few minutes later with their bodies gorgeously decorated with stripes of yellow ochre and red and white pigments. These startling preparations preceded a greatcorroboreein honour of my arrival, and in this embarrassing function I was, of course, expected to join. The ceremony was kept up with extraordinary vigour the whole night long, but all I was required to do was to sit beating sticks together, and join in the general uproar. This was all very well for a little while, but the monotony of the affair was terrible, and I withdrew to my hammock before midnight.
In the morning I saw a great fleet of catamarans putting off from the mainland, and in a very short time between fifty and sixty natives joined our party on the island. Then followed the usual greetings and comical expressions of amazement—of course, at the sight of me, my boat, and everything in it. A few hours later the whole crowd left the island, led by me in the big boat—which, by the way, attracted as much interest as I did myself. The natives forced their catamarans through the water at great speed, using only one paddle, which was dipped first on one side and then on the other in rapid succession, without, however, causing the apparently frail craft to swerve in the slightest degree.
As we approached the new country, I beheld a vast surging crowd of excited blacks—men, women, and children, all perfectly naked—standing on the beach. The moment we landed there was a most extraordinary rush for my boat, and everything on board her was there and then subjected to the closest scrutiny.
The people seemed to be divided into clans, and when one clan was busy inspecting my implements and utensils, another was patiently waiting its turn to examine the white man’s wonders. I sat in the boat for some time, fairly bewildered and deafened by the uproarious jabberings and shrill, excited cries of amazement and wonder that filled the air all round me. At last, however, the blacks who had come out to meet us on the island came to my rescue, and escorted me through the crowd, with visible pride, to an eminence overlooking the native camping-ground. I then learnt that the news of my coming had been smoke-signalled in every direction for many miles; hence the enormous gathering of clans on the beach.
The camping-ground I now found myself upon consisted of about thirty primitive shelters, built of boughs in the most flimsy manner, and only intended to break the force of the wind. These shelters, or “break-winds,” were crescent-shaped, had ho roof, and were not in any way closed in in front. There were, however, two or three grass huts of beehive shape, about seven feet high and ten feet in diameter, with a queer little hole at the base through which the occupier had to crawl. The inside was perfectly dark.
I was told I could have either a break-wind of boughs or a beehive hut, and on consideration I chose the latter. It would, I reflected, ensure something approaching privacy. My indefatigable Yamba and a few of her women friends set to work then and there, and positively in less than an hour the grass hut was ready for occupation! I did not, however, stay to witness the completion of the building operations, but went off with some self-appointed cicerones to see the different camps; everywhere I was received with the greatest enthusiasm and manifestations of respect and friendship. My simple loin-cloth of crimson Japanese silk occasioned much astonishment among the blacks, but curiously enough the men were far more astonished at myfootprintsthan any other attribute I possessed. It seems that when they themselves walk they turn their feet sideways, so that they only make a half impression, so to speak, instead of a full footprint. On the other hand, I of course planted my feet squarely down, and this imprint in the sand was followed by a crowd of blacks, who gravely peered at every footprint, slapping themselves and clicking in amazement at the wonderful thing!
Some queer dishes—Water wizards—A mysterious deputation—I protest against cannibalism—My marriage ceremony—A startling proposition—Daily routine—A diet of worms—I proceed cautiously—The cannibal poet sells his wares—Fishing extraordinary—How emus were caught—Eternal fires—A coming horror—The first cannibal feast.
I saw very little of Gunda from the moment of landing. I feel sure that the fact of his having seen so much of the world, and travelled such a long distance—to say nothing about bringing back so wonderful a creature as myself—had rendered him a very great man indeed in the estimation of his friends; and in consequence of this so much honour was paid him that he became puffed up with pride, and neglected his faithful wife.
Everywhere I went the natives were absolutely overwhelming in their hospitality, and presents of food of all kinds were fairly showered upon me, including such delicacies as kangaroo and opossum meat, rats, snakes, tree-worms, fish, &c., which were always left outside my hut. Baked snake, I ought to mention, was a very pleasant dish indeed, but as there was no salt forthcoming, and the flesh was very tasteless, I cannot say I enjoyed this particular native dainty. The snakes were invariably baked whole in their skins, and the meat was very tender and juicy, though a little insipid as to flavour. The native method of cooking is to scoop out a hole in the sand with the hands, and then place the article to be cooked at the bottom. Some loose stones would then be thrown over the “joint.” Next would come a layer of sand, and the fire was built on the top of all. Rats were always plentiful—often so much so as to become a serious nuisance. They were of the large brown variety, and were not at all bad eating. I may say here that the women-folk were responsible for the catching of the rats, the method usually adopted being to poke in their holes with sticks, and then kill them as they rushed out. The women, by the way, were responsible for a good many things. They were their masters’ dressers, so to speak, in that they were required to carry supplies of the greasy clay or earth with which the blacks anoint their bodies to ward off the sun’s rays and insect bites; and beside this, woe betide the wives ifcorroboreetime found them without an ample supply of coloured pigments for the decoration of their masters’ bodies. One of the principal duties of the women-folk, however, was the provision of roots for the family’s dinner. The most important among these necessaries—besides fine yams—were the root and bud of a kind of water-lily, which when roasted tasted not unlike a sweet potato.
There was usually a good water supply in the neighbourhood of these camps, and if it failed (as it very frequently did), the whole tribe simply moved its quarters elsewhere—perhaps a hundred miles off.
The instinct of these people for finding water, however, was nothing short of miraculous. No one would think of going down to the seashore to look for fresh water, yet they often showed me the purest and most refreshing of liquids oozing up out of the sand on the beach after the tide had receded.
All this time, and for many months afterwards, my boat and everything it contained were saved from molestation and theft by a curious device on the part of Yamba. She simply placed a couple of crossed sticks on the sand near the bows, this being evidently a kind of Masonic sign to all beholders that they were to respect the property of the stranger among them; and I verily believe that the boat and its contents might have remained there until they fell to pieces before any one of those cannibal blacks would have dreamed of touching anything that belonged to me.
After a time the natives began pointedly to suggest that I should stay with them. They had probably heard from Yamba about the strange things I possessed, and the occult powers I was supposed to be gifted with. A day or two after my landing, a curious thing happened—nothing more or less than the celebration of my marriage! I was standing near my boat, still full of thoughts of escape, when two magnificent naked chiefs, decked with gaudy pigments and feather head-dresses, advanced towards me, leading between them a young, dusky maiden of comparatively pleasing appearance.
The three were followed by an immense crowd of natives, and were within a few feet of me, when they halted suddenly. One of the chiefs then stepped out and offered me a murderous-looking club, with a big knob at one end, which ugly weapon was known as a “waddy.” As he presented this club the chief made signs that I was to knock the maiden on the head with it. Now, on this I confess I was struck with horror and dismay at my position, for, instantly recalling what Yamba had told me, I concludedthat a cannibal feast was about to be given in my honour, and that—worst horror of all—I might have to lead off with the first mouthful of that smiling girl. Of course, I reflected they had brought the helpless victim to me, the distinguished stranger, to kill with my own hands. At that critical moment, however, I resolved to be absolutely firm, even if it cost me my life.
While I hesitated, the chief remained absolutely motionless, holding out the murderous-looking club, and looking at me interrogatively, as though unable to understand why I did not avail myself of his offer. Still more extraordinary, the crowd behind observed a solemn and disconcerting silence. I looked at the girl; to my amazement she appeared delighted with things generally—a poor, merry little creature, not more than fifteen or sixteen years of age. I decided to harangue the chiefs, and as a preliminary I gave them the universal sign to sit down and parley. They did so, but did not seem pleased at what they doubtless considered an unlooked-for hitch in an interesting ceremony.
Then in hesitating signs, slaps, clicks, and guttural utterances, I gave them to understand that it was against my faith to have anything whatever to do with the horrid orgy they contemplated. The Great Spirit they dreaded so much yet so vaguely, I went on to say, had revealed to me that it was wrong to kill any one in cold blood, and still more loathsome and horrible to eat the flesh of a murdered fellow-creature. I was very much in earnest, and I waited with nervous trepidation to see the effect of my peroration. Under the circumstances, you may judge of my astonishment when not only the chiefs, but the whole “nation” assembled, suddenly burst into roars of eerie laughter.
Then came Yamba to the rescue. Ah! noble and devoted creature! The bare mention of her name stirs every fibre of my being with love and wonder. Greater love than hers no creature ever knew, and not once but a thousand times did she save my wretched life at the risk of her own.
Well, Yamba, I say, came up and whispered to me. She had been studying my face quietly and eagerly, and had gradually come to see what was passing in my mind. She whispered that the chiefs, far from desiring me to kill the girl for a cannibal feast, wereoffering her to me as a wife, and that I was merely expected to tap her on the head with the stick, in token of her subjection to her new spouse! In short, this blow on the head was the legal marriage ceremonytout simple. I maintained my dignity as far as possible, and proceeded to carry out my part of the curious ceremony.
I tapped the bright-eyed girl on the head, and she immediately fell prostrate at my feet, in token of her wifely submission. I then raised her up gently, and all the people came dancing round us, uttering weird cries of satisfaction and delight. Oddly enough, Yamba, far from manifesting any jealousy, seemed to take as much interest as any one in the proceedings, and after everything was over she led my new wife away to the little “humpy,” or hut, that had been built for me by the women. That night an indescribably weirdcorroboreewas held in my honour, and I thought it advisable, since so much was being made of me, to remain there all night and acknowledge the impromptu songs that were composed and sung in my honour by the native bards. I am afraid I felt utterly lost without Yamba, who was, in the most literal sense, my right hand.
By this time she could speak a little English, and was so marvellously intelligent that she seemed to discover things by sheer intuition or instinct. I think she never let a day go by without favourably impressing the chiefs concerning me, my prowess and my powers; and without her help I simply could not have lived through the long and weary years, nor should I ever have returned to civilisation.
The very next day after my “marriage,” having been still further enlightened as to the manners and customs of the natives, I waited upon Gunda, and calmly made to him the proposition that we should exchange wives. This suggestion he received with a kind of subdued satisfaction, or holy joy, and very few further negotiations were needed to make the transaction complete; and, be it said, it was an every-day transaction, perfectly legal and recognised by all the clans. Yamba was full of vigour and resource, while the only phrase that fitly describes her bush lore is absolutely miraculous. This will be evinced in a hundred extraordinary instances in this narrative.
But you may be asking, What of my dog, Bruno? Well, I am thankful to say, he was still with me, but it took him a long time to accustom himself to his new surroundings; he particularly objected to associating with the miserable pariah curs that prowled about the encampment. They would take sly bites out of him when he was not looking, but on the whole, he was well able to hold his own, being much more powerful than they.
I settled down to my new life in the course of a few days, but I need hardly remark I did not propose staying in that forlorn spot longer than I could help. This was my plan. I would, first of all, make myself acquainted with the habits and customs of the blacks, and pick up as much bushmanship and knowledge of the country as it was possible to acquire, in case I should have to travel inland in search of civilisation instead of oversea. I knew that it would be folly on my part to attempt to leave those hospitable regions without knowing more of the geography of the country and its people. There was always, however, the hope that some day I might be able either to get away by sea in my boat, or else hail some passing vessel. The blacks told me they had seen many pass at a distance.