imperfect implements at the natives' disposal are taken into
consideration. In the first place, his missile must be perfectly
straight, and of the hardest wood; and no bough, however large, would
fulfil these requirements, so it must be cut out bodily from the stem
of an iron-bark tree, and the nearer the heart he can manage to get,
the better will be his weapon. His sole tool with which to attack a
giant iron-bark is a miserable tomahawk, or hatchet, made of stone, but
little superior to the rude Celtic flint axe-heads, that may be seen in
any antiquarian's collection. These are of a very hard stone,
frequently of a greenish hue, and resembling jade; and, having been
rubbed smooth, are fitted with a handle on the same principle that a
blacksmith in England twists a hazel wand round a cold chisel. The
head, and the portion of the handle which embraces it, then receive a
plentiful coating of bees'-wax, and the weapon is ready for use. Fancy
having to chop out a solid piece of wood, nine feet long, and of
considerable depth, from a standing tree, with an instrument such as I
have described, which can never, by any possibility be brought to take
an edge! I have frequently examined the trees from which spears have
been thus excised, and the smallness of the chips testified to the
length of the tedious operation; indeed, it would be more correct to
say the segment had been bruised out than excised. Having so far
achieved his task, there is still a great deal before the black can
boast of a complete spear, for the bar is several inches in diameter,
and has to be fitted down to less than one inch. Of the use of wedges
he knows nothing, so is compelled to work away with the tomahawk, and
to call in the aid of fire; and when he has managed to reduce the spear
to something approaching its proper size, he gets a lot of
oyster-shells, and with them completes the scraping, and puts on the
finishing touches. It may easily be imagined what a boon glass must be
to the savage, enabling him to do the latter part of the operation in a
tithe of the time.
I am afraid that it is often the habit with us Australians to either
destroy or carry away as curiosities, the weapons and other little
things that the blacks manufacture, utterly regardless of the loss we
thus inflict upon them; for without his weapons the wretched native is
not only defenceless against neighbouring tribes, who would not scruple
to attack him when unarmed, but he is also literally deprived of the
means of subsistence. Without his spear, he is unable to transfix the
kangaroos and wallabies on which he so much depends for his daily food,
and, robbed of his boomerangs and nullah-nullahs, the wild duck can
pass him scatheless, and the cockatoo can scream defiance from the
lofty trees. I know that this practice of returning laden with native
spoil is more frequently the result of thoughtlessness or curiosity
than anything else. The implements appear so trumpery, that the
European thinks they can be of little use to anybody, but the bad blood
thus engendered between the aborigines and the settlers is greater than
would be easily credited. Another reason, I would venture to submit,
in opposition to this custom is, that in the case of the blacks doing
any mischief, no method of punishing them can possibly be devised equal
in severity to the destruction of their weapons. A tribe is rendered
more helpless and more innocuous by this than by shooting down half the
males, and I am sure that if they once found that only in case of
mischief was this punishment resorted to, we should hear infinitely
less of cattle-spearing and shepherd-murdering than at present obtains.
I mention this, not from any good-will towards the blacks, who have
been causes of much sorrow to me and mine, but because I am sure that a
discontinuance of this idle habit would tend to lessen the existing
causes of friction between the two races.
In one of the camps we found a blanket--not, O reader, made of the
finest wool, deftly woven at the looms of Witney, but a blanket of Dame
Nature's own contrivance, stripped by the aboriginal from the bark of
the Australian tea-tree ('Melaleuca squarrosa'), no small shrub, but a
noble fellow standing from 150 to 200 feet high, and generally found in
the neighbourhood of fresh water, or in the beds of creeks. The bark
of this tree is of great thickness, and composed of a series of layers,
each of which can be easily separated from its neighbours, and, in
fact, much resembling a new book, just issued from the hot-press of the
binder. From a portion of this--the inner skins, I imagine--the blacks
manage to make a flexible, though not over warm, covering for the
winter nights, or for the newly-born piccaninnies. The whole of the
process I am not acquainted with, but from all I could gather from
Lizzie, the bark is stripped in a large sheet at the end of the rainy
season, the inner cuticle of several leaves carefully separated from
the remainder, and placed in fresh water, weighted with heavy stones to
retain it in its position. After the lapse of a certain time, known
only to the initiated, it is taken out, hung up to dry, and at a
peculiar stage, before all the moisture has evaporated, it is laid on a
flat rock, and cautiously beaten with smooth round stones, which
operation opens out the web sufficiently to make it quite pliant, after
which it is allowed to dry thoroughly, and is then ready for use.
These vegetable blankets are very strong, and must be a great
protection to the naked savages, but, despite the ease with which they
can be obtained, and the small time and labour occupied in their
preparation, but few of the gins have them, and none of the men.
We also found several fish-hooks of a most peculiar shape, and made out
of a curious material. In shape they were like a circular key-ring,
with a segment of exactly one-third cut out. One end was ground sharp,
and to the other was attached the line, cleverly spun from the tea-tree
bark. Now, of all shapes to drive a Limerick hook-maker to despair,
none, one would think, could have been invented better than this, for
the odds are certainly ten to one against its penetrating any portion
of a fish, even though he should have gorged it. The material of which
these quaint hooks are made is tortoise or turtle shell, for both
tortoises and turtles abound on this coast, the former frequenting the
fresh-water creeks and lagoons, and the latter the sea. Whether they
were cut out of the solid, or whether a strip was soaked, bent, and
then dried in the sun until it became firmly set in the required shape,
I never could ascertain, but most probably the former plan was adopted.
The whole island seemed to teem with game, and had we been able to
fire, we should speedily have made a good bag, but this we dared not
do, so I made a mental resolve to return at some future time and make
amends for this enforced restraint. At nearly every step, we put up
some bird or beast strange to European eyes.
I have no doubt it is known to most of my readers that Australia is
destitute of 'Ferae' proper, and that elephants, lions, tigers, etc.,
are unknown. They will also know that the kangaroos are marsupial
animals; that is to say, the females have a peculiar pouch for their
young, which are born in a far less advanced state than the young of
other animals. But perhaps it is not so generally known that, with two
or three exceptions, such as the dingo or native dog, the platypus, and
several species of bats, the 'whole' of the animals on the continent
are marsupial. The brains of this species are very small, and they
sadly lack intelligence, in which respect they exhibit a wonderful
affinity to the aboriginals who live by their capture.
[ILLUSTRATION--GROUP OF KANGAROOS.]
Of kangaroos there are more than thirty different kinds, but the
English are now so well acquainted with this curious animal that it
needs no description. There are two things about it, however, that I
may with propriety here point out--viz., the use of the pouch, and the
various ways in which the kangaroo is serviceable to the settler. The
average size of the ordinary female kangaroo is about six feet,
counting from the nose to the tip of the tail; and, marvellous though
it may appear, the young kangaroo, at its birth, is but little over an
inch in length, having a vague kind of shape, certainly, but otherwise
soft, semi-transparent, and completely helpless. Now the pouch comes
into use. The little creature is conveyed there by the mother's lips,
and immediately attaches itself to one of the nipples, which are
retractile, and capable of being drawn out to a considerable length.
Thus constantly attached to its parent, it waxes bigger daily. From
two to eight months of age it still continues an inhabitant of its
curious cradle, but now often protrudes its little head to take an
observation of the world at large, and to nibble the grass amongst
which its mother is feeding. Sometimes it has a little run by itself,
but seeks the maternal bosom at the slightest intimation of danger. It
quits the pouch for good when it can crop the herbage freely; but even
now it will often poke its head into its early home and get a little
refreshment on the sly, even though a new-comer may have succeeded to
its place.
AN AUSTRALIAN SEARCH PARTY--III.
BY CHARLES H. EDEN.
A FULL-GROWN "paddy melon," a small and beautiful species of kangaroo,
bearing the same resemblance to the "boomer" that a Cingalese
mouse-deer does to an elk, was once given to me as a pet, and we became
great friends. Whenever I went into the room and opened my shirt or
coat, the little fellow would bound in and coil himself snugly away for
hours, if permitted; thus showing, I think that he still retained a
recollection of the snug abode of his childhood. Like most pets, he
came to an untimely end--in fact, met with the fate that ultimately
befalls all the members of his tribe who are domesticated and allowed
to run about the bush huts in Australia. The fireplaces are large
recesses in the wall, and on the same level as the floor. Wood only is
burnt, and large heaps of glowing ashes accumulate, for the fire never
really goes out, by night or day. As long as it is blazing, the pet
kangaroo will keep his distance, but when it has sunk down to living
coals, his foolish curiosity is sure to impel him, sooner or later, to
jump right into the thick of it; and then--and here his want of brains
is painfully shown--instead of jumping out again at once, he commences
fighting and spurring the burning embers with his hind feet, and, as a
natural sequence, is either found half roasted, or so injured that his
death is inevitable.
The uses to which the settler puts this animal are many. He has to
take the place of the stag when any hunting is going on (as the dingo
has to act for the fox); and most remarkably good sport an "old man" or
"boomer"--as the full-grown males are called--will afford; and most
kangaroo dogs bear witness, by cruel scars, how keen a gash he can
inflict with his sharp hind claw when brought to bay. From ten to
twelve miles is by no means an unusual run, and when thoroughly
exhausted he makes a stand, either with his back against a tree, or in
the water. In both of these positions he is no despicable adversary,
and will do much damage to a pack of hounds, by grasping them in his
short fore arms and ripping them open, if on land; or by seizing and
holding them under, if in the water. Instances are on record of a
despairing kangaroo dashing through the dogs on the approach of a
dismounted hunter, and severely wounding him. The common practice when
the animal is brought to bay is to ride up and pistol him. But,
however he may be killed, his useful qualities have by no means
departed with his breath. His skin, properly cured, will make good
door-mats, boots, saddle-cloths, stock-whips, gaiters, and numberless
other useful articles. His long and heavy tail is much valued for the
soup it yields; and the hams can be cured, and, thus preserved, find
many admirers. The hind-quarters of a large "boomer" will run little
short of seventy pounds; and, with the tail, form the only parts
commonly eaten by Europeans.
The birds that we encountered were of every form and size; pigeons,
some coloured like parrots, others diminutive as sparrows, and of the
same sombre hue: pheasants, quail, every kind of feathered fowl that
could gladden the heart of the sportsman, were found in abundance, and
amongst these the scrub turkey and its nest. This latter bird is so
little known, that I am tempted to give a short account of it.
The Australian scrub turkey ('Tallegalla Lathami') is common in all the
thick jungles in the north of Queensland, and, though smaller than the
domestic bird, is sufficiently like it to be easily recognised, having
the same wattle, and neck denuded of feathers. The most remarkable
feature about this turkey is its nest, which is composed of sand,
leaves, and sticks, piled up into a great mound three feet or so in
height, and ten or more in diameter. This enormous mass is not the
unaided work of one pair, but of a whole colony, and the material is
got together by the bird grasping a quantity in its foot, and throwing
it behind him; the ground in the immediate vicinity of the mound is
thus entirely stripped of every blade of grass, or fallen leaf. In
process of time, the heap partially decomposes, and when the female
judges that enough heat has been engendered to serve her purpose, she
proceeds to lay her eggs. These are enormous when compared with the
size of the bird, and are not simply deposited and covered over, but
buried at a depth of eighteen or twenty inches, each egg nearly a foot
from its neighbour, and standing on end, with the larger half
uppermost. Thus they remain until hatched, though how the bird manages
to plant them with such dexterity has, I believe, never been
ascertained; no one yet having been sufficiently lucky to witness the
proceeding. Directly the little birds chip the shell, they run about
with the greatest agility, and their capture is exceedingly difficult.
A nest with freshly-laid eggs is a glorious find, for several dozen are
frequently extracted, and are most delicious eating.
The evening was fast approaching, when we camped for the night by the
side of a nice clear water-hole in a sequestered valley, and, after
bathing and having tea, we tried our luck at fishing, for these holes
are sometimes full of eels. We prospered, and soon had several fine
fellows on the bank, from whence they were speedily transferred to the
hot ashes, and roasted in their integrity; they were thus spared the
skinning, to which, it is averred, custom has habituated them.
Ferdinand and Cato were collecting firewood for the night, for, in the
position we had selected, we were not afraid of making a good blaze,
and we were sitting and lounging round the fire, conjecturing what had
become of all the blacks, and how soon we should fall in with the other
party, when Lizzie--who had accompanied the troopers--came rushing
back, and said:--
"One fellow snake been bit 'em Cato; plenty that fellow go bong (dead)
by-and-by, mine believe."
We all jumped up, and sure enough, poor Cato came slowly towards us,
looking the ashy-grey colour to which fear turns the black, and
followed by Ferdinand, who dragged after him a large black snake, the
author of the mischief.
If Australia is exempt from wild beasts, the number of venomous
reptiles with which it is cursed make it as dangerous to the traveller
as other tropical countries in which ferocious animals abound. Hardly
a tree or a shrub can be found that does not contain or conceal some
stinging abomination. The whole of these are not, of course, deadly,
but a tarantula bite, or a centipede sting, will cripple a strong man
for weeks, while a feeble constitution stands a fair chance of
succumbing. But of all these pests, none can equal the snakes, which
not only swarm, but seem to have no fear of man, selecting dwellings by
choice for an abode. These horrible reptiles are of all sizes, from
the large carpet snake of twenty feet, to the little rock viper of
scarcely half a dozen inches. The great majority of these are
venomous, and are of too many different kinds for me to attempt their
enumeration here. The most common with us were the brown, black, and
whip snakes, and the death-adder, all poisonous; and the carpet-snake,
harmless. The brown and black snakes run from two to eight feet in
length, frequent the long grass, chiefly in the neighbourhood of
swamps, and from the snug way in which they coil up, and their
disinclination to move, are highly dangerous. The latter is very
handsome, the back of a brilliant black, and the under portion of a
sea-shell pink. Their skin is sometimes used by bushmen as a cover to
their waistbelts, which are much beautified thereby. The whip-snakes
are of all sizes and of all colours; in fact, under this name the
colonists include all the slender climbing snakes, so many of which
inhabit Australia. In my opinion, these are the worst; for they come
boldly into your room in search of warmth, and may be found stowed away
in a boot, or under the pillow, or in any place where they are least
expected. Last and worst of our venomous snakes comes the death, or
deaf, adder, for it is called indiscriminately by both names, and amply
justifies either prefix. The hideous reptile is very thick and stumpy
in proportion to its length, which rarely exceeds two feet, whilst its
circumference may be put down at one-fifth of its total measurement.
The tail is terminated by a small curved spike, which is commonly
regarded as the sting; but though when touched it doubles up, and
strikes with this horn, as well as bites, I do not think the tail does
any material damage, but this opinion one would find it difficult to
make a bushman credit. I once saw a man take a death-adder up--quite
unintentionally, you may be sure--between two shingles, and it
immediately struck backwards with both head and tail, the two
extremities luckily meeting above his hand. From the sluggish habits
of this reptile, it is popularly accounted deaf, and it seems quite
unalarmed even by the report of a gun. You may walk over it a dozen
times, as it lies basking in the sun, usually in the most frequented
part of the road, and it will take not the slightest notice, but if
touched, however gently, it bites at once.
When I first went to Cardwell, I was talking about death-adders, and
the naive remark made by one of the inhabitants amused and at the same
time rather terrified me, for the perfect knowledge he exhibited of the
reptiles showed plainly how common they were there.
"Nasty things," he said, "but Lord, they won't hurt you. Best not try
to get one alive into a bottle, though. I tried that little game on,
with a pickle-jar and a stick, but I couldn't get him in, and he
doubled up and very nearly bit me; his tail just grazed my hand as it
was."
I thanked my informant, and assured him from the bottom of my heart,
that whenever I 'did' try to coax a death-adder into a bottle, I would
benefit by his experience and use the greatest caution.
The eye of this snake is remarkable for its vivid yellow, crossed by a
black longitudinal pupil. The colour of the body is a mixture of dull
hues, and the abdomen pinkish; the head broad, thick, flattened, and
its 'tout ensemble' hideously repulsive. But I am digressing, and
leaving poor Cato still uncared for.
The snake, which was a very large one, had been laid hold of by the boy
in the imperfect light, and had instantly bitten him in the wrist, on
which the punctures of the fangs were plainly visible. A handkerchief
was at once tied round the wounded limb, with a small pebble so placed
as to compress the brachial artery inside the forearm, and with the
iron ramrod from a carbine as a lever, we screwed this rough tourniquet
up until the circulation was in great measure cut off. Luckily Dunmore
had a pocket-knife with him, for the sheath-knives we carried were but
rude instruments for surgery, and with the small blade he slashed the
bitten part freely, while Lizzie, applying her lips to the wound, did
her best to draw out the subtle venom. Some of us carried flasks,
containing various spirits, and the contents of these were at once
mixed--brandy, rum, hollands, all indiscriminately--in a quart pot, and
tossed off by the sufferer, without the slightest visible effect. Had
the spirit taken the smallest hold upon him, we should have felt hope,
for if a man suffering from snake-bite can be made intoxicated, he is
safe. But the poison neutralised the potent draught, and poor Cato
showed no indication of having swallowed anything stronger than water.
With the superstition inherent in the blacks, he had made up his mind
to die, and his broken English, as he moaned out, "Plenty soon this
fellow go bong," was painful in the extreme.
"It's no use," said Dunmore. "I know these fellows better than any of
you, and Cato will never recover. I had a boy down on the Mary River,
who was knocked down with low fever. Half a pennyweight of quinine
would have put him to rights, but he had made up his mind to die, and
when once they have done that, all the drugs in a doctor's shop won't
do them any good."
Everything we could think of was proposed, but speedily rejected as
useless.
"Pour a charge of powder on the wound," said Jack Clarke, "and then
fire it, that will take the part out clean enough;" but we agreed that
it would be putting the boy to unnecessary pain, for the poison must be
already in the system and beyond the reach of local remedy; and the
patient had become drowsy, and repeatedly begged to be left alone and
allowed to go to sleep.
"We must walk him about," said Dunmore, "it is the only chance, and
painful as it is, I must have it done. Remember, I'm responsible for
the boy, and no means must be left untried."
I had withdrawn a little from the group, and as I stood some distance
off, outside the circle of light thrown by the fire, I could not help
thinking what a scene for the painter's brush was here presented. The
dark outline of the lofty gums looked black and forbidding as funeral
plumes, against the leaden sky. The rugged range starting up in the
rear, cast a threatening gloom over the little valley in which we were
encamped, and the distant thunder of a falling torrent could, with
little effort, be interpreted as a dull voice of warning from the
mountain. The fitful glare of the fire, now sinking, now rising as a
fresh brand was added, threw a ruddy glare over the actors in this
strange scene; showing the hopeless face of the poor patient, the
undemonstrative countenances of his sable companions, and the anxious
air apparent in the white men, more particularly in Dunmore, as he
knelt over his follower, and tried to inspirit a little hope by
dwelling on the chances of recovery. The fantastic dresses, and the
wildness of the spot, all combined to add a weird aspect to the group;
and recalled forcibly to the mind those scenes of Pyrenean robber-life,
so faithfully portrayed by the magic pencil of Salvator Rosa.
But drowsiness was fast closing the eyes of poor Cato, and, as the last
chance, we compelled him to walk about, despite his piteous prayers for
repose. It soon became evident that our labour was thrown away, for he
dropped heavily down from between the two men who were supporting him,
and no power could induce him to rise. A heavy stertorous sleep
overwhelmed him, his breath came gradually slower and slower, and about
two hours from the time of the accident, poor Cato passed away,
peacefully and without pain.