Produced by Col Choat colc@gutenberg.org.au
The Confessions of a Beachcomber by E J Banfield
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he
hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears."
THOREAU
To the Honourable Robert Philp, M.L.A.
"Exact in his life,
Extensive in his charity,
Exemplary in everything he does,"
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY ONE WHO OWES
TO HIM MUCH OF HIS LOVE FOR TROPICAL QUEENSLAND.
CONTENTS
PART I
INTRODUCTION
CHAPTER I
THE BEACHCOMBER'S DOMAIN
OFFICIAL LANDING
OUR ISLAND
EARLY HISTORY
SATELLITES AND NEIGHBOURS
PLANS AND PERFORMANCES
CHAPTER II
BEACHCOMBING
TROPICAL INDUSTRIES
SOME DIFFRENCES
ISLAND FAUNA
CHAPTER III
BIRDS AND THEIR RIGHTS
A CENSUS
THE DAYBREAK FUGUE
THE MEGAPODE
SWAMP PHEASANT
"GO-BIDGER-ROO"
BULLY, SWAGGERER, SWASHBUCKLER
EYES AFLAME
THE NESTFUL TREE
"STATELY FACE AND MAGNANIMOUS MINDE"
WHITE NUTMEG PIGEON
FRUIT EATERS
AUSTRALIA'S HUMMING BIRD
"MOOR-GOODY"
THE FLAME-TREE'S VISITORS
RED LETTER BIRDS
CASUAL AND UNPRECISE
CHAPTER IV
GARDEN OF CORAL
QUEER FISH
THE WARTY GHOUL
"BURRA-REE"
FOUR THOUSAND LIKE ONE
THE BAILER SHELL
A RIVAL TO THE OYSTER
SHARKS AND SKIPPERS
GORGEOUS AND CURIOUS
TURTLE GENERALLY
THE MERMAID OF TO-DAY
BECHE-DE-MER
CHAPTER V
THE TYRANNY OF CLOTHES
SINGLE-HANDEDNESS
A BUTTERFLY REVERIE
THE SERPENT BEGUILED
ADVENTURE WITH A CROCODILE
THE ARAB'S PRECEPT
CHAPTER VI
IN PRAISE OF THE PAPAW
THE CONQUERING TREE
THE UMBRELLA-TREE
THE GENUINE UPAS-TREE
THE CREEPING PALM
MAUVE, GREEN AND GREY
STEALTHY MURDERERS
TREE GROG
CHAPTER VII
"THE LORD AND MASTER OF FLIES"
A TRAGEDY IN YELLOW
COLOUR EFFECTS
MUSICAL FROGS
ACTS WELL ITS PART
GREEN ANT CORDIAL
WOOING WITH WINGS
THE GREED OF THE SNAKE
A SWALLOWING FEAT
PART II
STONE AGE FOLKS
CHAPTER I
PASSING AWAY
TURTLE AND SUCKERS
A "KUMMAORIE"
WEATHER DISTURBERS
A DINNER-PARTY
BLACK ART
A POISONOUS FOOD
MESSAGE STICKS
HOOKS OF PEARL
"WILD" DYNAMITE
A CAVERN AND ITS LEGEND
A SOULFUL DANCE
A SONG WITHOUT WORDS
ORIGIN OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS
CROCODILE CATCHING
SUICIDE BY CROCODILE
DISAPPEARANCE OF BLACKS
CHAPTER II
GRORGE: A MIXED CHARACTER
YAB-OO-RAGOO: OTHERWISE "MICKIE"
TOM: HIS WIVES: HIS BATTLES
"LITTLE JINNY": IN LIFE AND IN DEATH
THE LANGUAGE TEST
LAST OF THE LINE
CHAPTER III
ATTRIBUTES AND ANECDOTES
COMMON AND INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS
THE "DEBIL-DEBIL"
CLOTHING SUPERFLUOUS
BROTHER AND SISTER
THE RAINBOW
SWIMMING FEATS
SMOKE SIGNALS
THUNDER FACTORY
THE ORACLE
A REAL LETTER
A BLACK DEGENERATE
JUMPED AT A CONCLUSION
PRIDE OF RACE
"YANKEE CHARLEY"
MYALL'S BAKING
EVERYTHING FOR A NAME
THE KNIGHTLY GROWTH
HONOUR AND GLORY
FIRE JUMP UP
SLOP TEETH
A FASCINATED BOY
AWKWARD CROSS-EXAMINATION
THE ONLY ROCK
SAW THE JOKE
ZEBRA'S VANITY
LAURA'S TRAITS
ROYAL BLANKETS
HIS DAILY BREAD
HUMAN NATURE
AN APT RETORT
MISSIS'S TROUSERS
DULL-WITTED
STRATEGY
LITERAL TRUTH
MAGIC THAT DID NOT WORK
ANTI-CLIMAX
LITTLE FELLA CREEK SAILOR
A FATEFUL BARGAIN
EXCUSABLE BIAS
THE TRIAL SCENE
A REFLECTION ON THE HORSE
TRIUMPH OF MATTER OVER MIND
THE RUSE THAT FAILED
THE BIG WORD
MICKIE'S VERSION
HONOURABLE JOHNNY
THE TRANSFORMATION
MONEY-MAKING TRICK
HONOURABLE CHASTISEMENT
"AND YOU TOO"
PARADISE
CHAPTER IV
AND THIS OUR LIFE
* * * * *
PART I
THE CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER
INTRODUCTION
Does the fact that a weak mortal sought an unprofaned sanctuary--an
island removed from the haunts of men--and there dwelt in tranquillity,
happiness and security, represent any just occasion for the relation of
his experiences--experiences necessarily out of the common? To this
proposition it will be for these pages to find answer.
Few men of their own free will seek seclusion, for does not man belong to
the social vertebrates, and do not the instincts of the many rule? And
when an individual is fain to acknowledge himself a variant from the
type, and his characteristics or idiosyncrasies (as you will) to be so
marked as to impel him to deem them sound and reasonable; when, after
sedate and temperate ponderings upon all the aspects of voluntary exile
as affecting his lifetime partner as well as himself, he deliberately
puts himself out of communion with his fellows, does the experiment
constitute him a messenger? Can there be aught of entertainment or
instruction in the message he may fancy himself called upon to deliver?
or, is the fancy merely another phase of the tyranny of temperament?
We cannot always trust in ourselves and in the boldest of our illusions.
There must be trial. Then, if success be achieved and the illusion
becomes real and transcendental, and other things and conditions merely
"innutritious phantoms," were it not wise, indeed essential, to tell of
it all, so that mayhap the illusions of others may be put to the test?
Not that it is good or becoming that many should attempt the part of the
Beachcomber. All cannot play it who would. Few can be indifferent to that
which men commonly prize. All are not free to test touchy problems with
the acid of experience. Besides, there are not enough thoughtful islands
to go round. Only for the few are there ideal or even convenient scenes
for those who, while perceiving some of the charms of solitude, are at
the same time compelled by circumstances ever and anon to administer to
their favourite theories resounding smacks, making them jump to the
practical necessities of the case.
Here then I come to a point at which frankness is necessary. In these
pages there will be an endeavour to refrain from egotism, and yet how may
one who lives a lonesome life on an island and who presumes to write its
history evade that duty? My chief desire is to set down in plain language
the sobrieties of everyday occurrences--the unpretentious homilies of an
unpretentious man--one whose mental bent enabled him to take but a
superficial view of most of the large, heavy and important aspects of
life, but who has found light in things and subjects homely, slight and
casual; who perhaps has queer views on the pursuit of happiness, and who
above all has an inordinate passion for freedom and fresh air.
Moreover, these chronicles really have to do with the lives of two
people--not youthful enthusiasts, but beings who had arrived at an age
when many of the minor romances are of the past. Whosoever looks for the
relation of sensational adventures, exciting situations, or even humorous
predicaments, will assuredly be disappointed. Possibly there may be
something to interest those who wish to learn a few of the details of the
foundation of a home in tropical Australia; and to understand the
conditions of life here, not as they affect the man of independence who
seeks to enlarge his fortune, nor the settler who in the sweat of his
face has to eat bread, but as they affect one to whom has been given
neither poverty nor riches, and who has proved (to his own satisfaction
at least) the wisdom of the sage who wrote--"If you wish to increase a
man's happiness seek not to increase his possessions, but to decrease his
desires." Success will have been achieved if these pages reveal candour
and truthfulness, and if thereby proof is given that in North Queensland
one "can draw nearer to nature, and though the advantages of civilisation
remain unforfeited, to the happy condition of the simple, uncomplicated
man!"
In furtherance of the desire that light may shine upon certain phases of
the character of the Australian aboriginal, space is allotted in this
book to selected anecdotes. Some are original; a few have been previously
honoured by print. Others have wandered, unlettered vagrants, so far and
wide as to have lost all record of legitimacy. To these houseless
strangers I gladly offer hospitality, and acknowledge with thankfulness
their cheerful presence.
Grateful acknowledgments are due to Mr F. Manson Bailey, F.L.S., the
official botanist of Queensland, for the scientific nomenclature of trees
and plants referred to in a general way.
E. J. BANFIELD.
BRAMMO BAY, DUNK ISLAND,
November, 1906.
CHAPTER I
THE BEACHCOMBER'S DOMAIN
Two and a half miles off the north-eastern coast of Australia--midway,
roughly speaking, between the southern and the northern limits of the
Great Barrier Reef, that low rampart of coral which is one of the wonders
of the world--is an island bearing the old English name of Dunk.
Other islands and islets are in close proximity, a dozen or so within a
radius of as many miles, but this Dunk Island is the chief of its group,
the largest in area, the highest in altitude, the nearest the mainland,
the fairest, the best. It possesses a well-sheltered haven (herein to be
known as Brammo Bay), and three perennially running creeks mark a further
splendid distinction. It has a superficial area of over three square
miles. Its topography is diversified--hill and valley, forest and jungle,
grassy combes and bare rocky shoulders, gloomy pockets and hollows,
cliffs and precipices, bold promontories and bluffs, sandy beaches, quiet
coves and mangrove flats. A long V-shaped valley opens to the south-east
between steep spurs of a double-peaked range. Four satellites stand in
attendance, enhancing charms superior to their own.
This island is our home. He who would see the most picturesque portions
of the whole of the 2000 miles of the east coast of Australia must pass
within a few yards of our domain.
In years gone by, Dunk Island, "Coonanglebah" of the blacks, had an evil
repute. Fertile and fruitful, set in the shining sea abounding with
dugong, turtle and all manner of fish; girt with rocks rough-cast with
oysters; teeming with bird life, and but little more than half an hour's
canoe trip from the mainland, the dusky denizens were fat, proud,
high-spirited, resentful and treacherous, far from friendly or polite to
strangers. One sea-captain was maimed for life in our quiet little bay
during a misunderstanding with a hasty black possessed of a new bright
tomahawk, a rare prize in those days. This was the most trivial of the
many incidents by which the natives expressed their character.
Inhospitable acts were common when the white folks first began to pay the
island visits, for they found the blacks hostile and daring. Why invoke
those long-silent spectres, white as well as black, when all active
boorishness is of the past? Civilisation has almost fulfilled its
inexorable law; but four out of a considerable population remain, and
they remember naught of the bad old times when the humanising processes,
or rather the results of them, began to be felt. They must have been a
fine race, fine for Australian aboriginals at least, judging by the stamp
of two of those who survive; and perhaps that is why they resented
interference, and consequently soon began to give way before the
irresistible pressure of the whites. Possibly, had they been more docile
and placid, the remnants would have been more numerous though less
flattering representatives of the race. You shall judge of the type by
what is related of some of the habits and customs of the semi-civilised
survivors.
Dunk Island is well within the tropical zone, its true bearings being 146
deg. 11 min. 20 sec. E. long., and 17 deg. 55 min. 25 sec. S. lat. It is
but 30 miles south of the port of Geraldton, the wettest place in
Australia, as well as the centre of the chief sugar-producing district of
the State of Queensland. There the rainfall averages about 140 inches per
annum. Geraldton has in its immediate background two of the highest
mountains in Australia (5,400 feet), and on these the monsoons buffet and
break their moisture-laden clouds, affording the district much
meteorological fame. Again, 20 miles to the south lies Hinchinbrook
Island, 28 miles long, 12 miles broad, and mountainous from end to end:
there also the rain-clouds revel. The long and picturesque channel which
divides Hinchinbrook from the mainland, and the complicated ranges of
mountains away to the west, participate in phenomenal rain.
Opposite Dunk Island the coastal range recedes and is of much lower
elevation, and to these facts perhaps is to be attributed our modified
rainfall compared with the plethora of the immediate North; but we get
our share, and when people deplore the droughts which devastate
Australia, let it be remembered that Australia is huge, and the most
rigorous of Australian droughts merely partial. This country has never
known drought. During the partial drought which ended with 1905, and
which occasioned great losses throughout the pastoral tracts of
Queensland, grass and herbage here were perennially green and
succulent--the creeks never ceased running.
Within the tropics heat is inevitable, but our island enjoys several
climatic advantages. The temperature is equable. Blow the wind
whithersoever it listeth, and it comes to us cooled by contact with the
sea. Here may we drink oft and deep at the never-failing font of pure,
soft, beneficent air. We have all the advantages which residence at the
happy mean from the Equator bestows, and few of the drawbacks. By its
fruits ye shall know the fertility of the soil.
Birds are numerous, from the "scrub fowl" which dwells in the dim jungle
and constructs of decaying leaves and wood and light loam the most
trustworthy of incubators, and wastes no valuable time in the
dead-and-alive duty of sitting, to the tiny sun-bird of yellow and
purple, which flits all day among scarlet hibiscus blooms, sips nectar
from the flame-tree, and rifles the dull red studs of the umbrella tree
of their sweetness.
The stalled ox is not here, nor the fatted calf, nor any of the mere
advantages of the table; but there is the varied harvest of the sea, and
all the freshness of an isle clean and green. The heat, the clatter, the
stuffy odours, the toilsomeness, the fatigue of town life are abandoned;
the careless quiet, the calm, the refreshment of the whole air, the tonic
of the wide sea are gained. From the moment the sun illumines our hills
and isles with glowing yellow until it drops in fiery splendour suddenly
out of sight leaving a band of gleaming red above the purple western
range, and a rippling red path across to Australia, the whole realm of
nature seems ours to command.
OFFICIAL LANDING
Dunk Island was not selected haphazard as an abiding place. By
camping-out expeditions and the cautious gleaning of facts from those who
had the repute of knowing the country, useful information had been
acquired unobtrusively. We were determined to have the best obtainable
isle. More than one locality was favourably considered ere good fortune
decided to send us hither to spy out the land. A camp-out on the shore of
then unnamed Brammo Bay--a holiday-making party--and the result of the
first day's exploration decided a revolutionary change in the lives of two
seriously-minded persons. A year after, a lease of the best portion of
the island having been obtained in the meanwhile, we came for good.
Wholly uninhabited, entirely free from traces of the mauling paws of
humanity, lovely in its mantle of varied foliage, what better sphere for
the exercise of benign autocracy could be desired? Here was virgin
country, 20 miles from the nearest port--sad and neglected Cardwell cut
off from the mainland by more than 2 miles of estranging ocean, and yet
lying in the track of small coastal steamers--here all our pet theories
might serenely develop.
But it was an inauspicious landing. With September begin the north-east
winds, and we had an average experience that afternoon. Was it not a
farce--a great deal more than a farce: a saucy, flippant imposition on the
tender mercies of Providence--for an individual who could not endure a few
hours of tossing on the bosom of the ocean without becoming deadly sick,
to imagine that he possessed the hardihood to establish a home even in
this lovely wilderness? We had tents and equipment and a boat of our own,
a workman to help us at the start, and two faithful black servants.
The year before, we had made the acquaintance of one of the few survivors
of the native population of the island--stalwart Tom. Although our project
and preparations had been kept fairly secret, he had overheard a casual
reference to them; had made a canoe, and paddling from island to island
with his gin, an infant and mother-in-law, had preceded our advent by a
week. His duties began with the discharging of the first boatload of
portable property. He comes and goes now after the lapse of years.
They spread out tents and rugs for the weak mortal who had greatly dared,
but who, thus early, was ready to faint from weariness and sickness. They
made comforting and soothing drinks, and spoke of cheery things in cheery
tones; but the sick man refused to be comforted. He wished himself back,
a participator in the conflicts of civilisation, and was fain to cover
his face--there was no wall to which to turn--and fancy that the most
dismal sound in the universe was the surly monotone the north-easter
harped on the beach. We reposed that night among the camp equipment, the
sick man caring for naught in his physical collapse and disconsolation.
But the first morning of the new life! A perfect combination of
invigorating elements. The cloudless sky, the clear air, the shining sea,
the green folded slopes of Tam o' Shanter Point opposite, the
cleanliness of the sand, the sweet odours from the eucalypts and the
dew-laden grass, the luminous purple of the islands to the south-east;
the range of mountains to the west and north-west, and our own fair
tract-awaiting and inviting, and all the mystery of petted illusions
about to be solved! Physic was never so eagerly swallowed nor wrought a
speedier or surer cure.
Feebleness and dismay vanished with the first plunge into the still
sleepy sea, and alertness and vigour returned, as the incense of the
first morning's sacrifice went straight as a column to the sky.
Over half a century before, Edmund B. Kennedy, the explorer, landed on
the opposite shore, on his ill-fated expedition up Cape York, to find the
country inland from Tam o' Shanter Point altogether different from any
previously-examined part of Australia. We gave no thought to the gallant
explorer, near as we were to the scenes of his desperate struggle in the
entanglements of the jungle.
The island was all before us, where to choose our place of rest, and the
bustle of the transport of goods and chattels to the site in the thick
forest invisible from the sea began at once. Before sunset, tents were
pitched among the trees, and a few yards of bush surrounding then
cleared, and we were at home.
Prior to departing from civilisation we had arranged for the construction
of a hut of cedar, so contrived with nicely adjusting parts and bolts,
and all its members numbered, that a mere amateur could put it together.
If at the end of six months' trial the life was found to be unendurable,
or serious objection not dreamt of in our salad philosophy became
apparent, then our dwelling could be packed up again. All would not be
lost.
The clearing of a sufficient space for the accommodation of the hut was
no light task for unaccustomed hands, for the bloodwood trees were mighty
and tough, and the dubious work of burning up the trunks and branches
while yet green, in our eagerness for free air and tidiness, was
undertaken. It was also accomplished.
For several weeks there was little done save to build a kitchen and shed
and widen the clearing in the forest. Inspection of the details of our
domain was reserved as a sort of reward for present task and toil.
According to the formula neatly printed in official journals, the
building of a slab hut is absurdly easy--quite a pastime for the settler
eager to get a roof of bark or thatch over his head. The frame, of
course, goes up without assistance, and then the principal item is the
slabs for walls. When you have fallen your tree and sawn off a block of
the required length, you have only to split off the slab. Ah! but suppose
the timber does not split freely, and your heavy maul does; and the
wedges instead of entering have the habit of bouncing out as if they were
fitted with internal springs, and your maul wants renewal several times,
until you find that the timber prescribed is of no account for such
tools; and at best your slabs run off to nothing at half length, and
several trees have to be cut down before you get a single decent slab,
and everybody is peevish with weariness and disappointment, the rudest
house in the bush will be a long time in the building. "Experience is a
hard mistress, yet she teacheth as none other." We came to be more
indebted to the hard mistress--she gave us blistering palms and aching
muscles--than to all the directions and prescriptions of men who claim to
have climbed to the top of the tree in the profession of the "bush." A
"bush" carpenter is a very admirable person, when he is not also a bush
lawyer. Mere amateurs would be wise if they held their enthusiasm in
check when they read the recipe--pat as the recipe for the making of a
rice-pudding--for the construction of even a bark hut. It is so very easy
to write it all down; but if you have had no actual experience in
bark-cutting, and your trees are not in the right condition, you will put
your elation to a shockingly severe test, harden the epidermis of your
hands, and the whole of your heart, and go to bed many nights sadly ere
you get one decent sheet for your roof.
We do not all belong to the ancient and honourable family of the Swiss
Robinsons, who performed a series of unassuming miracles on their island.
There was no practical dispensation of providential favours on our
behalf. Trees that had the reputation of providing splendid splitting
timber defiantly slandered themselves, and others that should have almost
flayed themselves at the first tap of the tomahawk had not the slightest
regard for the reputation vouched for in serious publications.
But why "burden our remembrance with a heaviness that's gone?" Why recall
the memory of those acheful days, when all the pleasant and restful
features of the island are uncatalogued? Before the rains began we had
comfortable if circumscribed shelter. Does not that suffice? Our dwelling
consisted of one room and a kitchen. Perforce the greater part of our
time was spent out of doors. Isolation kept us moderately free from
visitors. Those who did violate our seclusion had to put up with the
consequences. We had purchased liberty. Large liberties are the
birthright of the English. We had acquired most of the small liberties,
and the ransom paid was the abandonment of many things hitherto deemed to
form an integral part of existence.
Had we not cast aside all traditions, revolting from the uniformity of
life, from the rules of the bush as well as from the conventionalities of
society? Here we were to indulge our caprices, work out our own
salvation, live in accordance with our own primitive notions, and, if
possible, find pleasure in haunts which it is not popularly supposed to
frequent.
Others may point to higher ideals and tell of exciting experiences, of
success achieved, and glory and honour won. Ours not to envy superior
qualifications and victories which call for strife and struggle, but to
submit ourselves joyfully to the charms of the "simple life."
OUR ISLAND
"Awake, O North Wind, and come, thou South,
Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out."
Our Island! What was it when we came into possession? From the sea,
merely a range displaying the varied leafage of jungle and forest. A
steep headland springing from a ledge of rock on the north, and a broad,
embayed-based flat converging into an obtruding sand-spit to the west,
enclose a bay scarcely half a mile from one horn to the other, the sheet
of water almost a perfect crescent, with the rocky islet of Purtaboi,
plumed with trees, to indicate the circumference of a circle. Trees come
to the water's edge from the abutment of the bold eminence. Dome-shaped
shrubs of glossy green (native cabbage--SCAEVOLA KOENIGII), with groups
of pandanus palms bearing massive orange-coloured fruits; and here and
there graceful umbrella trees, with deep-red decorations, hibiscus bushes
hung with yellow funnells, and a thin line of ever-sighing beech oaks
(CASUARINA) fringe the clean untrodden sand. Behind is the vistaless
forest of the flat.
Run the boat on the sand at high-water, and the first step is planted in
primitive bush--fragrant, clean and undefiled. An empty jam tin or a
broken bottle, spoors of the rude hoofs of civilisation, you might search
for in vain. As difficult would it be to find either as a fellow to the
nugget of gold which legend tells was used by a naked black as a sinker
when he fished with hook of pearl shell out there on the edge of the
coral reef,
One superficial feature of our domain is distinct and peculiar, giving to
it an admirable character. From the landing-place--rather more up towards
the north-east cusp than the exact middle of the crescent bay--extends a
flat of black sand on which grows a dense bush of wattles, cockatoo
apple-trees, pandanus palms, Moreton Bay ash and other eucalypts, and the
shapely melaleuca. This flat, here about 150 yards in breadth, ends
abruptly at a steep bank which gives access to a plateau 60 feet above
sea-level. The regularity of the outline of this bank is remarkable.
Running in a more or less correct curve for a mile and a half, it
indicates a clear-cut difference between the flat and the plateau. The
toe of the bank rests upon sand, while the plateau is of
chocolate-coloured soil intermixed on the surface with flakes of slate;
and from this sure foundation springs the backbone of the island. On the
flat, the plateau, and the hillsides, the forest consists of similar
trees--alike in age and character for all the difference in soil--the one
tree that does not leave the flat being the tea or melaleuca. In some
places the jungle comes down to the water's edge, the long antennae of
the lawyer vine toying with the rod-like aerial roots of the mangrove.
The plateau is the park of the island, half a mile broad, and a mile and
more long. Upon it grows the best of the bloodwoods (EUCALYPTUS
CORYNBOSA), the red stringy bark (E. ROBUSTA), Moreton Bay ash (E.
TESSALARIS), various wattles, the gin-gee of the blacks (DIPLANTHERA
TETRAPHYLLA). PANDANUS AQUATICUS marks the courses and curves of some of
the gullies. A creek, hidden in a broad ribbon of jungle and running from
a ravine in the range to the sea, divides our park in fairly equal
portions.
Most part of the range is heavily draped with jungle--that is, on the
western aspect. Just above the splash of the Pacific surges on the
weather or eastern side, low-growing scrub and restricted areas of
forest, with expansive patches of jungle, plentifully intermixed with
palms and bananas, creep up the precipitous ascent to the summit of the
range--870 feet above the sea. So steep is the Pacific slope that,
standing on the top of the ridge and looking down, you catch mosaic
gleams of the sea among the brown and grey tree-trunks. But for the
prodigality of the vegetation, one slide might take you from the cool
mountain-top to the cooler sea. The highest peak, which presents a
buttressed face to the north, and overlooks our peaceful bay, is crowned
with a forest of bloodwoods, upon which the jungle steadily encroaches.
The swaying fronds of aspiring palms, adorned in due season with masses
of straw-coloured inflorescence, to be succeeded by loose bunches of red,
bead-like berries, shoot out from the pall of leafage. In the gloomy
gullies are slender-shafted palms and tree-ferns, while ferns and mosses
cover the soil with living tapestry, and strange, snake-like epiphytes
cling in sinuous curves to the larger trees. The trail of the lawyer vine
(CALAMUS OBSTRUENS), with its leaf sheath and long tentacles bristling
with incurved hooks, is over it all. Huge cables of vines trail from tree
to tree, hanging in loops and knots and festoons, the largest (ENTADA
SCANDENS) bearing pods 4 feet long and 4 inches broad, containing a dozen
or so brown hard beans used for match-boxes. Along the edge of the
jungle, the climbing fern (LYNGODIUM) grows in tangled masses sending its
slender wire-like lengths up among the trees--the most attractive of all
the ferns, and glorified by some with the title of "the Fern of God," so
surpassing its grace and beauty.
September is the prime month of the year in tropical Queensland. Many of
the trees are then in blossom and most of the orchids. Nocturnal showers
occur fairly regularly in normal seasons, and every sort of vegetable is
rampant with the lust of life. It was September when our isolation began.
And what a plenteous realisation it all was that the artificial emotions
of the town had been, haply, abandoned! The blood tingled with keen
appreciation of the crispness, the cleanliness of the air. We had won
disregard of all the bother and contradictions, the vanities and
absurdities of the toilful, wayward, human world, and had acquired a
glorious sense of irresponsibleness and independence.
This--this was our life we were beginning to live--our very own life; not
life hampered and restricted by the wills, wishes and whims of others;
unencumbered by the domineering wisdom, unembarrassed by the formal
courtesies of the crowd.
September and the gin-gee, the quaint, grey-barked, soft-wooded tree with
broad, rough, sage-green leaves, and florets massed in clumps to resemble
sunflowers, was in all its pride, attracting relays of honey-imbibing
birds during the day, and at night dozens of squeaking flying-foxes.
Within a few yards of high-water stands a flame-tree (ERYTHRINA INDICA)
the "bingum" of the blacks. Devoid of leaves in this leafy month, the
bingum arrays itself in a robe of royal red. All birds and manner of
birds, and butterflies and bees and beetles, which have regard for colour
and sweetness come hither to feast. Sulphur-crested cockatoos sail down
upon the red raiment of the tree, and tear from it shreds until all the
grass is ruddy with refuse, and their snowy breasts stained as though
their feast was of blood instead of colourless nectar. For many days here
is a scene of a perpetual banquet--a noisy, cheerful, frolicsome revel.
Cockatoos scream with excitement and gladness; honey-eaters whistle and
call; drongos chatter and scold the rest of the banqueters; the tiny
sun-bird twitters feeble protests; bees and beetles maintain a murmurous
soothful sound, a drowsy blending of hum and buzz from the rising of the
sun until the going down thereof.
The dark compactness of the jungle, the steadfast but disorderly array of
the forest, the blotches of verdant grass, the fringe of yellow-flowered
hibiscus and the sapful native cabbage, give way in turn to the greys and
yellows of the sand in alternate bands. The slowly-heaving sea trailing
the narrowest flounce of lace on the beach, the dainty form of Purtaboi,
and the varying tones of great Australia beyond combine to complete the
scene, and to confirm the thought that here is the ideal spot, the freest
spot, the spot where dreams may harden into realities, where unvexed
peace may smile.
There is naught to remind of the foetidness, the blare and glare of the
streets. None of
"The weariness, the fever and the fret,
There, where men sit and hear each other groan."
You may follow up the creeks until they become miniature ravines, or
broaden out into pockets with precipitous sides, where twilight reigns
perpetually, and where sweet soft gases are generated by innumerable
plants, and distilled from the warm moist soil. How grateful and
revivifying! Among the half-lit crowded groves might not another Medea
gather enchanted herbs such as "did renew old Aeson."
Past the rocky horn of Brammo Bay, another crescent indents the base of
the hill. Exposed to the north-east breeze, the turmoil of innumerable
gales has torn tons upon tons of coral from the out-lying reef, and cast
up the debris, with tinkling chips and fragments of shells, on the sand
for the sun and the tepid rains to bleach into dazzling whiteness. The
coral drift has swept up among the dull grey rocks and made a ridge
beneath the pendant branches of the trees, as if to establish a contrast
between the sombre tints of the jungle and the blueness of the sea.
Midway along the curve of vegetation a bingum flaunts its mantle--a
single daub of demonstrative colouring. Away to the north stand out the
Barnard Islands, and the island-like headland of Double-Point.
Rocky walls and ledges intersected by narrow clefts in which the sea
boils, gigantic masses of detached granite split and weathered into
strange shapes and corniced and bridged at high water-mark by oysters,
bold escarpments and medleys of huge boulders, extend along the weather
side. No landing, except in the calmest weather, is possible. To gain a
sandy beach, the south-east end of the island, passing through a deep
channel separating the rocky islet of Wooln-garin, must be turned.
Although there are no great cliffs, no awesome precipices on the weather
side, the bluff rocks present many grotesque features, and the foliage is
for the most part wildly luxuriant.
From what has been already said, it may be gleaned that in the opinion of
the most interested person the island is gilt-edged. So indeed it is, in
fact, when certain natural conditions consequent on the presence of coral
are fulfilled. A phenomenally high tide deposited upon the rocks a slimy,
fragile organism of the sea, in incomprehensible myriads which, drying,
adhered smoothly in true alignment. With the sun at the proper angle
there appeared, as far as the irregularity of the coast line permitted, a
shining band, broken only where the face of the rock was uneven and
detached--a zone of gold bestowed upon the island by the amorous sea. But
on the beach the slime which transformed the grey and brown rocks was
nothing but an inconsistent, dirty, grey-green, crisp, ill-smelling
streak, that haply vanished in a couple of days. As I see less of the
weather side than I do of the beach, I argue to myself that it is nearer
perfection to be minus a streak of dirt than plus a golden edge.
At no season of the year is the island fragrantless. The prevailing
perception may be of lush grasses mingled with the soft odour of their
frail flowers; or the resin and honey of blossoming bloodwoods; or the
essence from myriads of other eucalyptus leaves massaged by the winds.
The incomparable beach-loving calophyllums yield a profuse but tender
fragrance reminiscent of English meadow-sweet, and the flowers of a
vigorous trailer (CANAVILA OBTUSIFOLIA), for ever exploring the bare sand
at high-water mark, resembles the sweet-pea in form and perfume. The
white cedar (MELIA COMPOSITA) is a welcome and not unworthy substitute in
appearance and perfume for English lilac. The aromatic pandanus and many
varieties of acacia, each has its appointed time and season; while at odd
intervals the air is saturated with the rich and far-spreading incense of
the melaleuca, and for many weeks together with the honeyed excellence of
the swamp mahogany (TRISTANIA SUAVOSLENS) and the over-rich cloyness of
the cockatoo apple (CAREYA AUSTRALIS). Strong and spicy are the odours of
the plants and trees that gather on the edge of and crowd in the jungle,
the so-called native ginger, nutmeg, quandong, milkwood, bean-tree, the
kirri-cue of the blacks (EUPOMATIA LAURINA), koie-yan (FARADAYA
SPLENDIDA), with its great white flowers and snowy fruit, and many
others. Hoya, heavy and indolent, trails across and dangles from the
rocks; the river mangrove dispenses its sweetness in an unexpected
locality; and from the heart of the jungle come wafts of warm breath,
which, mingling with exhalation from foliage and flower, is diffused
broadcast. The odour of the jungle is definite--earthy somewhat, but of
earth clean, wholesome and moist--the smell of moss, fern and fungus
blended with balsam, spice and sweetness.
Many a time, home-returning at night--when the black contours of the
island loomed up in the distance against the pure tropic sky tremulous
with myriads of unsullied stars--has its tepid fragrance drifted across
the water as a salutation and a greeting. It has long been a fancy of
mine that the island has a distinctive odour, soft and pliant, rich and
vigorous. Other mixtures of forest and jungle may smell as strong, but
none has the rare blend which I recognise and gloat over whensoever,
after infrequent absences for a day or two, I return to accept of it in
grateful sniffs. In such a fervid and encouraging clime distillation is
continuous and prodigious. Heat and moisture and a plethora of raw
material, leaves, flowers, soft, sappy and fragrant woods, growing grass
and moist earth, these are the essential elements for the manufacture of
ethereal and soul-soothing odours suggestive of tangible flavours.
I know of but one particular plant that is absolutely repellent. Its
large flowers are of vivid gold, pure and refined; the unmixed odour is
obscene. A creeper of the jungle bears small yellow flowers (slightly
resembling those of the mango, save that they are produced in frail loose
cymes instead of on vigorous panicles), the excessive sweetness of which
approaches nauseousness. But its essence mingles with the rest, and the
compound is singularly rich and acceptable.
On sandy stretches and along the deltas of the creeks are fragrant,
gigantic "spider lilies" (CRINIUM). I do not pretend to catalogue
botanically all the plants that contribute to the specific odour of the
island. I cannot address them individually in scientific phraseology,
though with all I am on terms of easy familiarity, the outcome of
seasoned admiration. They please by the form and colour of their
blossoms, and ring ever-recurring and timeful changes, so that month by
month we enjoy the progress of the perfumes, the blending of some, the
individual excellence of others. In endeavouring to convey to the unelect
an impression of their variety and acceptableness, am I not but
discharging a debt of gratitude?
As far as I am aware, but four or five epiphytal orchids add to the
scents of the island; and as they have not Christian names, their pagan
titles must suffice--CYMBIDIUM SUAVE, ERIA FITZALANI, BULBOPHYLLUM
BAILEYI, DENDROBIUM TERETIFOLIUM and D. UNDULATUM. The latter is not
commonly credited with perfume; but when it grows in great unmolested
masses its contribution is pleasant, if not very decided. The pretty
terrestrial orchid (CYRTOSTYLIS RENIFORMIS) is delicately fragrant, but
the great showy PHAIUS GRANDIFOLIUS (the tropical foxglove) and the meek
GEODORUM PICTUM (Queensland's lily of the valley) are denied the gift.
The forest, the jungle, the grassy spots, the hot rocks (with hoya and
orchids), and even the sands, with the native sweet-pea, are fragrant. A
lowly creeping plant (VITEX TRIFOLIA), with small spikes of
lavender-coloured flowers, and grey-green silvery leaves, mingles with
the coarse grasses of the sandy flats, and usurping broad areas forms an
aromatic carpet from which every footstep expresses a homely pungency as
of marjoram and sage. The odour of the island may be specific, and
therefore to be prized, yet it gladdens also because it awakens happy and
all too fleeting reminiscences. English fields and hedges cannot be
forgotten when one of our trees diffuses the scent of meadow-sweet, and
one of the orchids that of hawthorn. "Scent and silence" is the phrase
which expresses the individuality of our island, and better "scented
silence" than all the noisy odours of the town.
However showy the flora of the island, the existence of kindly fruits
must be deplored. Immense quantities, alluring in colour and form, are
produced; but not a single variety of real excellence. The raspberries
(two kinds) have but little flavour; the native "Cape gooseberry"
(PHYSALIS MIMIS), which appears like magic when the jungle is felled and
burnt off, is regarded with hostility, though unworthily, even by the
blacks; the" wild" grapes are sour and fiery, and among the many figs
only two or three are pleasant, and but one good. "Bedyewrie" (XIMENIA
AMERICANA) has a sweetish flavour, with a speedy after-taste of bitter
almonds, and generally refreshing and thirst-allaying qualities; the
shiny blue quandong (ELAEOCARPUS GRANDIS), misleading and insipid; the
Herbert River cherry (ANTIDESMA DALLACHYANUM), agreeable certainly, but
not high class; the finger cherry "Pool-boo-nong" of the blacks
(RHODOMYRTUS MACROCARPA), possesses the flavour of the cherry guava, but
has a most evil reputation. Some assert that this fruit is subject to a
certain disease (a kind of vegetable smallpox), and that if eaten when so
affected is liable to induce paralysis of the optic nerves and cause
blindness and even death. Blacks, however, partake of the fruit
unrestrictedly and declare it good, on the authority of tradition as well
as by present appreciation. They do not pay the slightest respect to the
injurious repute current among some white folks. Perhaps some trick of
constitution or some singularity of the nervous system renders them immune
to the poison, as the orange pigment said to reside in their epidermis
protects them from the actinic rays of the sun. Does not Darwin assert
that while white sheep and pigs are upset by certain plants dark-coloured
individuals escape. At any rate blacks are not affected by the fruit,
though large consumers of it, and many whites also eat of it raw and
preserved, without fear and without untoward effects. Some of the Eugenias
produce passable fruits, and one of the palms (CARYOTA) bears huge
bunches of yellow dates, the attractiveness of which lies solely in
appearance.
Quite a long list of pretty fruits might be compiled, and yet not more
than half a dozen are edible, and only half that number nice. The
majority are bitter and acrid, some merely insipid, and of the various
nuts not one is satisfactory.
Why all this profuse vegetation and the anomaly of tempting fruits and
nuts cram-full of meat and yet no real food--that is, food for man? Is it
that man was an after-thought of Nature, or did Nature fulfil herself in
his splendid purpose and capacities? She supplies abundantly food
convenient for birds and other animals lower in the scale of life, but
man is left to master his fate. Even when uncivilised he is called upon
to exercise more or less wit before he may eat, and the higher his grade
the more stress upon his intelligence.
When one contemplates the unpromising origin of the apple of today, and
the rich assortment of fruits here higher in the scale of progression
than it, imagination delights to dwell upon the wonders which await the
skill of a horticultural genius. The crude beginnings of scores of
pomological novelties are flaunted on every side. The patient man has to
come.
EARLY HISTORY
To that grand old mariner, Captain Cook, belongs the honour of the
discovery of the island. The names that he bestowed--judicious and
expressive--are among the most precious historic possessions of Australia.
They remind us that Cook formed the official bond between Britain and
this great Southern land, and bear witness to the splendid feats of quiet
heroism that he performed, the privations that he and his ship's company
endured, and the patience and perseverance with which difficulties were
faced and overcome.
In his journal, on 8th June 1770, Cook writes--"At noon we were by
observation in the lat. of 17 degrees 59 minutes and abreast of the N.
point of Rockingham Bay which bore from us N. 2 miles. This boundary of
the Bay is formed by a tolerable high island known in the chart by the
name of Dunk Isle; it lay so near the shore as not to be distinguished
from it unless you are well in with the land... At this time we were in
the long. of 213 degrees 57 minutes, Cape Sandwich bore S. by E. 1/2 E.
distant 19 miles, and the northernmost land in sight N. 1/2 W. Our depth
of water in the course of this one day's sail was not more than 16 nor
less than 17 fathoms."
In those history-making days the First Lord of the Admiralty was George
Montagu Dunk, First Earl of Sandwich, Second Baron and First Earl of
Halifax, and Captain Cook took several opportunities of preserving his
patron's name. Halifax Bay (immediately to the north of Cleveland Bay)
perpetuates the title; "Mount" Hinchinbrook (from his course Cook could
not see the channel and did not realise that he was bestowing a name upon
an island) commemorates the family seat of the Montagus; Cape Sandwich
(the north-east point of Hinchinbrook) the older title, and Dunk Isle the
family name of the distinguished friend of the great discoverer of lands.
From this remote and unheard of spot may, accordingly, be traced
association with a contemporary of Robert Walpole, of Pitt and Fox, of
Edmund Burke, of John Wilkes (of the NORTH BRITON), of the author of THE
LETTERS OF JUNIUS and of JOHN GILPIN, and many others of credit and
renown. The First Earl Sandwich of Hinchinbrook was the "my lord" of the
gossiping Pepys. Through him Dunk Island possesses another strand in the
bond with the immortals, and is ensured connection with remote posterity.
He gambled so passionately that he invented as a means of hasty
refreshment the immemorial "sandwich," that the fascination of basset,
ombre or quadrille should not be dispelled by the intrusion of a meal.
He, too, was the owner of Montagu House, behind which "every morning saw
steel glitter and blood flow," for the age was that of the duellist as
well as the gambler.
Rockingham Bay was so named in honour of the marquis of that title, the
wise Whig premier who held that while the British Parliament had an
undoubted right to tax the American colonies, the notorious Stamp Act was
unjust and impolitic, "sterile of revenue, and fertile of discontent!"
Cook and his day and generation passed, and then for many years history
is silent respecting Dunk Island. The original inhabitants remained in
undisturbed possession; nor do they seem to have had more than one
passing visitor until Lieutenant Jeffereys, of the armed transport
Kangaroo, on his passage from Sydney to Ceylon in 1815, communicated with
the natives on then unnamed Goold Island. Captain Philip P. King,
afterwards Rear-Admiral, who made in the cutter MERMAID a running survey
of these coasts between the year 1818 and 1822, and who was the first to
indicate that "Mount" Hinchinbrook was probably separated from the
mainland, arrived in Rockingham Bay on the 19th June 1818. He named and
landed on Goold Island, and sailing north on the 21st, anchored off
Timana, where he went ashore. "Dunk Island," he writes, "a little to the
northward, is larger and higher, and remarkable for its double-peaked
summit."
Those natives who are versed in the ancient history of the island, tell
of the time when all were amazed by the appearance of bags of flour,
boxes of tobacco, and cases of goods drifting ashore. None at the time
knew what flour was; only one boy had previously smoked, and the goods
were too mysterious to be tested. Many tried to eat flour direct from the
bag. The individual who had acquired the reputation of a smoker made
himself so sick that none other had the courage to imitate him, and the
tobacco and goods were thrown about playfully. In after years the
inhabitants were fond of relating how they had humbugged themselves.
The next ensuing official reference of particular interest is contained
in the narrative of the voyage of H.M.S. RATTLESNAKE, by John
Macgillivray, F.R.G.S., naturalist of the expedition. The date is 26th
May 1848, and an extract reads--"During the forenoon the ship was moved
over to an anchorage under the lee (north-west side) of Dunk Island,
where we remained for ten days. The summit of a very small rocky island,
near the anchorage, named, by Captain Owen Stanley, Mound Islet
(Purtaboi), formed the first station. Dunk Island, eight or nine miles in
circumference, is well wooded; it has two conspicuous peaks, one of which
(the north-west one) is 857 feet in height. Our excursions were confined
to the vicinity of the watering-place and the bay in which it is
situated. The shores are rocky on one side and sandy on the other, where
a low point runs out to the westward. At their junction, and under the
sloping hill with large patches of bush, a small stream of fresh water,
running out over the beach, furnished a supply for the ship, although the
boats could approach the place closely only at high-water. Among the
most interesting objects of natural history are two birds, one a new and
handsome fly-catcher (MONARCHA LEUCOTIS), the other a swallow, which Mr
Goold informs me is also an Indian species. Great numbers of butterflies
frequent the neighbourhood of the watering-place; one of these (PAPILIO
URVILLIANUS) is of great size, and splendour, with dark purple wings,
broadly margined with ultramarine, but from its habit of flying high
among the trees I did not succeed in catching one. An enormous spider,
beautifully variegated with black and gold, is plentiful in the woods,
watching for its prey in the centre of a large net stretched horizontally
between the trees. The seine was frequently hauled upon the beach with
great success. One evening through its means, in addition to plenty of
fish, no less than five kinds of star-fishes and twelve of crustacea,
several of which are quite new, were brought ashore. Among the plants of
the island the most important is a wild species of plantain or banana,
afterwards found to range along the north-east coast and its islands, as
far as Cape York. Here I saw for the first time a species of
Sciadophyllum (BRASSAIA ACTINOPHYLLA, the umbrella-tree) one of the most
singular trees of the eastern coast-line of tropical Australia; a slender
stem, about thirty feet in height, gives off a few branches with immense
digitate dark and glossy leaves, and long spike-like racemes of small
scarlet flowers, a great resort for insects and insect-feeding birds.
Soon after the ship had come to an anchor, some of the natives came off
in their canoes and paid us a visit, bringing with them a quantity of
shell-fish (SANGUINOLARIA RUGOSA), which they eagerly exchanged for
biscuit. For a few days afterwards we occasionally met them on the beach,
but at length they disappeared altogether, in consequence of having been
fired at with shot by one of two 'young gentlemen' of the BRAMBLE on a
shooting excursion, whom they wished to prevent approaching too closely a
small village where they had their wives and children. Immediate steps
were taken in consequence to prevent the recurrence of such collisions
when thoughtless curiosity on one side is apt to be promptly resented on
the other if numerically superior in force... The men had large
cicatrices on the shoulders and across the breast and belly, the septum
of the nose was perforated, and none of the teeth had been removed. I saw
no weapons, and some rude armlets were their only ornaments."
Tam o' Shanter Point derives its title from the barque of that name, in
which the members of the Kennedy Exploring Expedition voyaged from
Sydney, whence they disembarked on 24th and 25th May 1848. H.M.S.
RATTLESNAKE had been commissioned to lend Kennedy assistance, and
Macgillivray relates that everything belonging to the party (with the
exception of one horse drowned while swimming ashore) was safely landed.
The first camp was formed on some open forest-land behind the beach at a
small fresh-water creek. On the 27th Mr Carson, the botanist of the party,
commenced digging a piece of ground, in which he sowed seeds of cabbages,
turnips, leek, pumpkin, rock and water melons, pomegranate, peach-stones
and apple-pips. No trace of this first venture in gardening in North
Queensland is now discernible. No doubt, inquisitive and curious blacks
would rummage the freshly turned soil as soon as the back of the
good-natured gardener was turned. It occurred to me that possibly the
pomegranate seeds might have germinated, and the plants become
established and acclimatised, but search proved resultless. Carson makes
no reference to the coco-nut palm which once flourished at the mouth of
the creek. The inference is that the nut whence it sprang drifted ashore
after his attempt to civilise the vicinity by the planting of seeds.
Dalrymple refers to the tree which, at the date of his visit (September
1873), was "about fourteen feet in height, but without fruit!" It grew to
a great tree, and blacks found in the fruit a refreshing, nutritious
food; but an evil thing came along one day in the shape of a thirsty
Chinaman, and as he could not climb the tree he cut it down, and blacks,
even to this day, hate the name of Chinaman. Opposite the Point is the
Island of Timana, known to some as "the Island on which the Chinaman was
killed!" Whether "the Chinaman" was the person who cut down the coco-nut
palm is not known, but somehow his fate and that of the palm have become
associated.
The only traces of the expedition of half a century ago are marks upon
trees at the mouth of the Hull River--2 miles to the south, at the spot
which it appears to have crossed. The object of Kennedy's expedition was
to explore the country to the eastward of the dividing range running
along the north-east coast of Australia. Difficulties assailed them at
the outset, as many weeks passed before they got clear of Rockingham Bay,
its rivers, swamps, and dense scrubs fenced in by a mountain chain. The
cart was abandoned on July 18th and the horses were packed. An axle and
other ironwork of a cart was found many years ago in the neighbourhood of
the upper Murray River. As the axle was slotted for the old style of
linchpins, no reasonable doubt exists as to its identity, and its
discovery affords collateral proof of a statement published in Mr
Dalrymple's official report--"It is noteworthy that several gins of the
Rockingham Bay tribe now in service in private families, and with the
native police are unanimous in their statements that an elderly white man
is still resident amongst them, and they associate his capture with
'white fellow leave him wheel-barrow along a scrub.' Kennedy abandoned his
horse-cart in the scrub of the Rockingham Bay Range before these gins
were born!" Kennedy's expedition was a disastrous failure. The brave
leader was killed by the blacks far up Cape York Peninsula while he was
heroically pushing on to obtain succour for his famishing and weary
followers. Three only were subsequently rescued. All this has, perhaps,
little to do with Dunk Island: but the scene is so close at hand that the
temptation to include a slight reference to one of the most sensational
and romantic episodes in the exploration of Australia could not be
resisted.
Twenty-five years lapsed, and then another official landing took place.
In the meantime the island had been frequently visited, but there are no
records, until the 29th September 1873, when the "Queensland North-East
Coast Expedition," under the leadership of Mr G. Elphinstone Dalrymple,
F.R.G.S., landed. Three members of the party have left pleasing
testimonies of their first impressions, and I turn to the remarks of the
leader for geological definitions. He says--"The formation of Dunk Island
is clay slates and micaceous schist. A level stratum of a soft, greasy,
and very red decomposing granitic clay was exposed along the southwest
tide-flats, and quartz veins and blue slates were found on the same side
of the island further in!" The huge granite boulders on the south-east
aspect and the granite escarpments on the shoulders of the hills above
did not apparently attract attention.
One feature then existent has also disappeared. The explorers referred to
the belt of magnificent calophyllum trees along the margin of the
south-west beach, and Mr Dalrymple thus describes a vegetable wonder--
"Some large fig-trees sent out great lateral roots, large as their own
trunks, fifty feet into salt water; an anchor-root extending
perpendicularly at the extremity to support them. Thence they have sent
up another tree as large as the parent stem, at high-water presenting the
peculiarity of twin-trees, on shore and in the sea, connected by a
rustic root bridge." These trees have no place or part now.
My chronicles are fated to be tinged with the ashen hue of the
commonplace, though the scenes they attempt to depict are all of the
sun-blessed tropics.
SATELLITES AND NEIGHBOURS
Consultation of the map will show that Dunk Island has four satellites
and seven near relations. Though not formally included in the Family
Group it stands as sponsor to all its members, and overlords the islets
within a few yards of its superior shores. The official chart has been
revised,
Only a few examples of current titles are given, as the crowding in of
the full list would have obscured the map in a maze of words. Many of the
geographical titles of the blacks are without meaning, being used merely
to indicate a locality. Others were bestowed because of the presence of a
particular tree or plant or a remarkable rock. Some few commemorate
incidents. Two places on Dunk Island perpetuate the names of females. The
coast-line is so varied that specific names for localities a few hundred
yards apart hardly seem necessary; but the original inhabitants, frugal
of their speech, found it less trouble to strew names thickly than to
enter into explanations one to another when relating the direction and
extent which the adventures and the sport of the day led them. Few names
for any part of the island away from the beach seem to have existed,
although the site of camps along the edge of the jungle, and even in
gullies as remote as may be from the sea, are even now apparent. Camps
were not honoured by titles, but all the creeks and watercourses and other
places where water was obtainable were so invariably, and camps were
generally, though not always, made near water.
Brief reference to each of the satellites and neighbours of Dunk Island
may not be out of place; if only to preserve distinctions which were
current long before the advent of white folks, and to make clear remarks
in future pages upon the different features of the domain over which the
Beachcomber exercises jurisdiction. Not to many men is permitted the
privilege of choosing for his day's excursion from among so many
beautiful spots, certain in the knowledge that to whichsoever he may
elect to flutter his handkerchief is reserved for his delight; certain
that the sands will be free from the traces of any other human being;
certain that no sound save those of nature will break in upon his musings
and meditations.
Purtaboi, the first and the nearest of the satellites, lies
three-quarters of a mile from the middle of the sweep of Brammo
Bay--always in view through the tracery of the melaleuca trees.
Mung-um-gnackum and Kumboola, to the south-west, are linked at low-water
spring tides to Dunk Island and to each other; and Wooln-garin, to the
south-east, is separated from the rocky cliffs and ledges of the island
by 300 yards of deep and swiftly-flowing water.
Purtaboi--dainty and unique--its hill crowned with low-growing trees and
shrubs, a ruddy precipice, groups of pandanus palms, beach lined with
casuarinas, banks of snow-white coral debris, ridge of sharped-edged
rocks jutting out to the north-western cove and out-lying reef of coral,
tangle of orchids and scrub all in miniature--save the orchids--gigantic
and gross and profuse of old-gold bloom. In October and November hosts of
sea-birds come hither to nest, and so also do nutmeg or Torres Straits
pigeons, blue doves, peaceful doves, honey-eaters, wood-swallows, the
blue reef heron, and occasionally the little black cormorant. The
large-billed shore plover (ESACUS MAGNIROSTRIS) deposits her single egg
on the sand, merely carelessly whisking aside the casuarina needles for
its reception.
Hundreds of terns (six species) lay their eggs among the tinkling coral
chips, and discarding all attempts at concealment, practise artistic
deception. So perfect is the artifice that the eggs are frequently the
least conspicuous of the elements of the banks of drift, broken coral and
bleached shells. Not until each square yard is steadfastly inspected can
they be detected, though there may be dozens around one's feet, the
colours--creamy white with grey and brown and purple spots, and blotches
and scribblings--blending perfectly with their environment. The eggs, by
the way, are a great delicacy, sweet, nutty, and absolutely devoid of
fishy flavour. When the downy young are hatched they, too, are almost
invisible. They cunningly lie motionless, though within a few inches of
your hand, and remain perfectly passive when lifted. Snoodling beside
lumps of coral or beneath weather-beaten drift-wood, they afford
startling proof of the effect of sympathetic coloration. When one stoops
to pick up a piece of wood, whitened and roughened by the salt of the
sea, and finds that more than half its apparent bulk is made up of
several infants in soft swaddles, crowded together into a homogeneous
mass, the result is pleasing astonishment. Only when individuals of the
group move do they become visible to their natural enemies. These tender
young birds enjoy no protection nor any of the comfort of a nest; and if
they were not endowed from the moment of birth with rare consciousness of
their helplessness, the species, no doubt, would speedily become
exterminated, for keen-sighted hawks hover about, picking up those which,
failing to obey the first law of nature, reveal themselves by movement.
If the wind is tempered to the shorn lamb, what is the provision of
Nature which enables so tender a thing as a young bird, a mere helpless
ball of creamy fluff, to withstand the frizzling heat with which the sun
bleaches the broken coral? Many do avail themselves of the meagre shadow
of shells and lumps of coral, but the majority are exposed to the direct
rays of the sun, which brings the coral to such a heat that even the
hardened beachcomber walks thereon with "uneasy steps," reminding him of
another outcast who used that oft-quoted staff as a support over the
"burning marl." Gilbert White relates that a pair of fly-catchers which
inadvertently placed their nests in an intolerably hot situation hovered
over it "all the hotter hours, while with wings expanded and mouths
gaping for breath, they screened the heat from their suffering young."
Parental duty of the like nature does not appear to be practised for the
benefit of the young tern; but they are well fed with what may be
considered thirst-provoking food. Thirst does occasionally overcome the
instinct which the young birds obey by absolute stillness, and a
proportion of those which give way to the ever-present temptation of the
sea falls to the lot of the hawks. Mere fluffy toddlers, with mouths
gaping with thirst, slide and scramble down the coral banks, waddle with
uncertain steps across the strip of smooth sand to be rolled over and
over in their helplessness by the gentle break of the sea. They cool
their panting bodies by a series of queer, sprawling marine gymnastics,
swim about buoyantly for a few minutes, are tumbled on to the sand, and
waddle with contented cheeps each back to its own birthplace among
hundreds of highly-decorated eggs, and hundreds of infants like unto
themselves.
The parents of the white-shafted ternlet (STERNA SINENSIS), the most
sylph-like of birds, with others of the family, ever on the look-out,
follow in circling, screaming mobs the disturbance on the surface of the
sea caused by small fish vainly endeavouring to elude the crafty bonito
and porpoise, and take ample supplies to the ever-hungry young. How is it
that the hundreds of pairs recognise among the hundreds of fluffy young,
identical in size and colour, each their particular care?
The picture "where terns lay" testifies to the solicitude of Nature for
the preservation of types. The apparent primary carelessness of the terns
in depositing their eggs is shown, when the chicks are hatched, to have
been artfulness of a high order. At least a dozen, if not more, young
birds were sharply focused by the camera, but so perfectly do their
neutral tints blend with the groundwork of coral, shells and sand that
only three or four are actually discernible, and these are perplexingly
inconspicuous. A microscopic examination of the photograph is necessary
to differentiate the helpless birds from their surroundings.
On another island within the Barrier Reef several species of sea-birds
spontaneously adapted themselves to altered circumstances. They, in
consonance with the general habits of the species, were wont to lay their
eggs carelessly on the sand or shingle, without pretence of nests. A
meat-loving pioneer introduced goats to the island, the continual
parading about of which so disturbed the birds, and deprived them of
their hope of posterity, that they took to the building of nests on dwarf
trees, out of the way of the goats. That birds unaccustomed to the
building of nests should acquire the habit, illustrates the depths of
Nature's promptings for the preservation of species; or is it that the
faculty existed as an hereditary trait, was abandoned only when its
exercise was unnecessary, and resumed when there was conspicuous occasion
for it? On a neighbouring island of the same group unstocked with goats,
no change in the habits of the birds has taken place.
Among the rocks of Purtaboi, in cool dark grottoes, the brown-winged tern
rears her young. She often permits herself to be trapped rather than
indicate her presence by voluntary flight. One of the most graceful of
the sea-swallows this. Brown of back and greenish-white under surface;
noisy, too, for it "yaps" as a terrier whensoever intruders approach the
island during the brooding season; and its puff-ball chicken, crouching
in dim recesses, takes the bluish-grey hue of the rock.
The Blue Reef heron builds a rough nest of twigs on the ledges of the
rocks, sometimes at the roots of the bronze orchid (DENDROBIUM
UNDULATUM), and endeavours to scare away intruders by harsh squawks,
stupidly betraying the presence of pale blue eggs or helpless brood. When
the blue heron flies with his long neck stiffly tucked between his
shoulders, he is anything but graceful; but under other circumstances he
is not an ungainly bird. Occasionally my casual observations are made
afar off, with the medium of a telescope. Then the birds are seen
behaving naturally, and without fear or self-consciousness. The other day
the cute attitudes of a beach curlew interested me, as he stood upon a
stone just awash, and ever and anon picked up a crab. A blue heron
flapped down beside him, and the curlew skipped off to another rock. In
a minute the heron straightened his neck, poised its long beak for
striking, and brought up a wriggling fish, which with a jerk of its head
it turned end for end and swallowed. Another actor came within the field
of the glass--the mate of the heron, alighting on the stone beside her
lord and master. He was in a peckish humour, and instantly the tufts on
his shoulders, the long feathers on the neck, and the rudimentary crest
were angrily erected, and he made a peevish snap at her. You can imagine
his reproof--"Get away from this. Don't crowd a fellow. Go to a rock of
your own. This is my place. You spoil my sport!" Then, remembering that
domestic tiffs were not edifying to strangers--and there was the sober
brown curlew looking on--the bird let his angry feathers subside, and made
way for his spouse on the best point of the rock. Each on one leg, they
stood shoulder to shoulder, the very embodiment of connubial bliss. I
noticed, too, that the mistress was allowed to fish to her heart's
content, the master never raising a feather in remonstrance, though she
gobbled up all that came along.
Low-lying Mung-um-gnackum, the abode of the varied honey-eater, the
tranquil dove, and the brooding-place of the night-jar (CAPRIMULGUS) and
lovely Kumboola, lie to the south-west, a bare half-mile away.
Kumboola's sheltered aspect is thickly clad with jungle; a steep grassy
ridge springs from the blue-grey rocks to the south-east; and on the
precipitous weather side grow low and open scrub and dwarf casuarina.
Here is a natural aviary. Pigeons and doves coo; honey-eaters whistle;
sun-birds whisper quaint, quick notes; wood swallows soar and twitter.
Metallic starlings seek safe sleeping-places among the mangroves, ere
they repair last year's villages, and join excitedly in the chorus; while
the great osprey wheels overhead, and the grey falcon sits on a bare
branch, still as a sentinel, each waiting for an opportunity to take toll
of the nutmeg pigeons. The channel-billed cuckoo shrieks her discordant
warning of the approaching wet season; and the scrub fowl utters those
far-off imitations of the exclamation of civilised hens. Sundown at
Kumboola towards the end of September, when the sea laps and murmurs
among the rocks, and great white pigeons gather in thousands on the dark
foliage, or "coo-hooing" and flapping, disappear beneath the thick leafy
canopy, and all the other birds are saying their good-nights, or
asserting their rights, or protesting against crowding or intrusion, is
an ever-to-be-remembered experience. Added to the cheerful presence of
the noisy birds, are the pleasant odours which spring from the jungle as
coolness prevails, and the flaming west gives a weird tint of red to the
outlines of the trees, and of purple to the drowsy sea.
Of entirely different character is the last of the satellites to be
mentioned, Wooln-garin. Lying 300 yards off the south-western end of Dunk
Island, across a swift and deep channel, it is naught but a confused mass
of weather-beaten rocks, the loftiest not being more than 50 feet above
high-water. A few pandanus palms, hardy shrubs and trailers, and
mangroves, spring from sheltered crevices, but for the most part the
rocks are bare. The incessant assaults of the sea have cut deep but
narrow clefts in the granite, worn out sounding hollows, and smoothed
away angularities. Here a few terns rear their young, and succeeding
generations of the sooty oyster-catcher lay their eggs just out of the
reach of high-tide. A never-ending procession of fish passes up and down
the channel, according as the tide flows and ebbs, though they do not at
all times take serious heed of bait. To one who generally fishes for a
definite purpose, it is tantalising to peep down into the clear depths
and watch the lazy fish come and go, ignoring the presence of that which
at other times is greedily snapped at. Turtle, and occasionally dugong,
favour the vicinity of Wooln-garin which on account of its distinctive
character is one of the most frequented of the satellites.
The neighbouring islands include Timana, 2 1/2 miles from the sand-spit
of Dunk Island and 1 1/2 mile from Kumboola. Bedarra lies a little to the
southward; Tool-ghar three-quarters of a mile from Bedarra; Coomboo half
a mile from Tool-ghar; and the group of three--Bud-joo, Kurrambah and
Coolah--still further to the south-east. These comprise the Family
Islands of the chart.
On Timana are gigantic milkwood trees (ALSTONIA SCHOLARIS) which need
great flying buttresses to support their immense height, their roots
being mainly superficial. For many generations two ospreys have had their
eyrie in one of these giant trees, fit nursery for imperial birds! With
annual additions, the nest has attained immense proportions, and as years
pass it will still further increase, for blacks capable of climbing such
a tree and disturbing the occupants are few and far between. Great
distinction and pride, however, are the lot of the athlete who secures
the snowy down of the young birds to stick in tufts on his dirty head
with fat, gum or beeswax, for he will be the admired of all admirers at
the CORROBBOREE. Vanity impels human beings to extraordinary exertions,
trials and risks, and the black who desires to outshine his fellows, and
who has the essential of strength and length of limb, will make a loop of
lawyer vine round the tree, and with his body within the loop begin the
ascent. Having cut a notch for the left great toe, he inclines his weight
against the tree, while he shifts the loop three feet or so upwards. Then
he leans backward against the loop, cuts a notch for his right great toe,
and so on until the nest is reached. There has been but one ascent of
this tree in modern times, and the name of the black, "Spider," is still
treasured.
A heavy, slovenly-patched mantle of leafage, impervious to sunlight,
covers the Isle of Timana, creating a region of perpetual dimness from
western beach to eastern precipice, where orchids cling and palms peer on
rocks below. All the vegetation is matted and interwoven, only the
topmost branches of the milkwood escaping from the clinging, aspiring
vines. Tradition asserts that not many years since Timana was much
favoured by nutmeg pigeons, now sparsely represented; but the varied
honey-eater and a friar bird possessing a most mellow and fluty note,
cockatoos and metallic starlings are plentiful. Although there is no
permanent fresh water, the pencil-tailed rat leaves numerous tracks on
the sand, and scrub fowls keep the whole surface perpetually raked.
From a mound adjacent to the beach a black boy brought fifteen eggs as we
picnicked on the beach, and though some of them were nigh upon hatching,
not one was covered with white ants--which, an authority asserts,
particularly like crawling over the eggshells, so as to be ready when
wanted by the chicks. Nor have I ever seen an instance of this alleged
exhibition of self-sacrifice on the part of the white ant. Another boy
had eaten his very substantial lunch, but the eggs were tempting and he
baked two. One, and that new-laid, is ample for an ordinary mortal. The
condition of the first resembled that which the embarrassed curate
described as "good in parts"; but "Mickie" was not nice over a
half-hatched egg. Indeed, was it not rather more piquant than otherwise?
The second proved to contain a fully developed chicken. Now the chick
emerges from the shell feathered, and this, but for the unfortunate
accident of discovery, would have begun to scratch for its living in a
day or so. Mickie flicked away the fragments of shell from the steaming
dainty and laid it snugly on a leaf. "That's for Paddy"--an Irish
terrier, always of the party. It was an affecting act of renunciation.
Presently "Paddy" came along; but "Paddy," who, too, had lunched,
bestowed merely a sniff and a "No, thank you" wag of the tail. "What, you
no want 'em? All right." No second offer was risked, and in a moment, in
one mouthful, the chick was being crunched by Mickie, feathers and all.
The menu of the Chinese--with its ducks' eggs salted, sharks' fins and
tails, stewed pups, fowls' and ducks' tongues, fricasseed cat, rat soup,
silkworm grubs, and odds and ends generally despised and rejected--is
pitifully unromantic when set against the generous omnivority of
Australian blacks.
A mile beyond Timana is Bedarra, with its lovely little bays and coves
and fantastically weathered rocks, its forest and jungle and scrub, and
its rocky satellite Pee-rahm-ah.
Several of the most conspicuous landmarks are associated in the minds of
blacks with legends, generally of the simplest and most prosaic nature.
About this rough rock Pee-rahm-ah is a story which in the minds of the
natives satisfactorily accounts for its presence.
In the far-away past two nice young gins, they say, were left by
themselves on Dunk Island, while the others of the tribe went away in
canoes to Hinchinbrook. Tiring of their lonesomeness, they made up their
minds to regain the company of their relatives by swimming from island to
island. Kumboola was easily reached; to Timana it is but a mile and a
half, and a mile thence to Bedarra. Leaving the most easterly point of
Bedarra, they were quickly caught in the swirl of a strong current and
spun about until both became dazed and exhausted. As they disappeared
beneath the water they were changed to stone, and the stone rose in
fantastic shape, and from that day Pee-rahm-ah has weathered all the
storms of the Pacific and formed a feature in the loveliest scene these
isles reveal.
The largest of the neighbouring isles, Bedarra, has less than a square
mile of superficial area; the smallest but 4 or 5 acres. The smaller are
made up of confused masses of granite, for the most part so overgrown
with fig trees, plumy palms, milkwoods, umbrella-trees, quandongs,
eugenias, hibiscus bushes, bananas and lawyer vines, as to be
unexplorable without a scrub-knife; for the soil among the rocks is soft
and spongy, the purest of vegetable mould, and encourages luxurious
growth. The jungle droops over the grey rocks on the sheltered side.
Twisted Moreton Bay ash and wind-crippled scrub spring up among the
clefts and crevices on the weather frontage--the south-east--while a
narrow strip of sand, the only landing-place, is a general characteristic
of the north-west aspect. Birds nest in numbers in peace and security,
for the islets are off the general track. Seldom is there any disturbance
of the primeval quietude, and in the encompassing sea, if the fish and
turtle suffer any excitement, rarely is the cause attributable to man.
The islands immediately to the south-east form the Family Group--triplets,
twins and two singles. I like to think approving things of them; to note
individual excellences; to familiarise myself with their distinguishing
traits; to listen to them in their petulance and anger, and in that
sobbing subsidence to even temper; to their complacent gurglings and
sleepy murmurs. One--and the most Infantile of all--not of the Family, has
a distinctive note, a copyright tone which none imitates, and which
becomes at times a sonorous swelling boom, a lofty recitative, for even an
island has its temper and its moods.
PLANS AND PERFORMANCES
"The folly of this island! They say there's but five upon this isle; we
are two of them; if the other three be brained like us the State
totters!"
The scheme for the establishment of our island home comprehended several
minor industries. This isle of dreams, of quietude and happiness; this
fretless scene; this plot of the Garden of Eden, was not to be left
entirely in its primitive state. It was firmly resolved that our
interference should be considerate and slight; that there should be no
rude and violent upsetting of the old order of things; but just a gentle
restraint upon an extravagant expression here and there, a little
orderliness, and ever so light a touch of practicability. A certain
acreage of land was to be cleared for the cultivation of tropical fruits;
of vegetables for everyday use, and of maize and millet for poultry,
which we proposed to breed for home consumption. Bees were to be an
ultimate source of profit. There are millions of living proofs of direct
but vagrant descent from the Italian stock, with which we started,
humming all over this and the adjacent islands to-day.
How we went about the practical accomplishment of our plans; in what
particulars they failed; what proportion of success was achieved, and the
process of education in rural enterprises generally, it were idle to
account. Rather, an attempt must be made to give particulars of the
project as a whole as it stands after a period of nine years. Be it
understood that we depended almost solely on the aid of the blacks. Means
at command did not permit the employment of even a single white workman,
save for a brief experimental period. Indeed, there is yet to be found in
Australia the phase of tropical agriculture which affords payment of the
ruling rate of wages. The proximity of countries in which cheap labour
predominates counterbalances the minimum demand of white men in these
parts. Those who have had experience of aboriginals as labourers,
understand their erratic disposition; yet with considerate treatment, the
exact and prompt fulfilment of obligations and promises, the display of
some little sympathy with their foibles, interest in their doings, and
ready response to any desire expressed to "walk about," they are not
wholly to be set at naught as labourers. Some are intelligent and honest
to a degree, and when in the humour will work steadily and consistently.
When not in humour, it is well to accept the fact cheerfully.
Here I must have leave to be candid, so that the reader may be under no
misapprehension as to the exact circumstances under which the undertaking
progressed. Income from the land as the result of agricultural operations
was not absolutely necessary. This acknowledgment does not imply the
possession of, or any disrespect for, "the cumbersome luggage of riches,"
nor any affectation; but rather an accommodating and frugal
disposition--the capacity to turn to account the excellent moral that
poor Mr Micawber lamented his inability to obey. Profit from the sale of
produce and poultry would have supplied additional comforts which would
have been cordially appreciated; but if no returns came, then there was
that state of mind which enabled us to endure the deprivation as the
Psalmist suffered fools. And shall not this be accounted unto us for
righteousness? Shall we not enjoy the warm comfort of virtue? We were at
liberty to reflect with the Vicar of Wakefield--"We have still enough
left for happiness, if we are wise; and let us draw upon content for the
deficiencies of fortune." Certainly, we were not inclined to risk that
which thriftily employed provided for all absolute necessaries on the
chance of securing that which might, after all, prove to be superfluous.
At least, there remains the consciousness of having lived, and of having
wrought no evil (not having interfered in recent Federal Legislation),
and being able to enjoy the sleep which is said to be that of the just.
Occasionally there are as many as four blacks about the place. They come
and go from the mainland, some influenced by the wish for the diet of
oysters for a time. "Me want sit down now; me want eat oyster." At rare
intervals we are entirely alone for months together, and then cultural
operations stand still. Twice, a considerable portion of the plantation
was silently overrun by the scouts of the jungle, and had to be
re-surveyed in order to locate smothered-up orange-trees. Our staff,
domestic and otherwise, usually consists of one boy and his gin, and save
for the housework, affairs are not conducted on a serious or systematic
plan. The spur necessity not being applied, there is no persistent or
sustained effort to make a profit, and, of course, none is earned.
In a few months from the felling of the first strip of jungle and the
burning off of the timber and rubbish, however, we grew produce that went
towards the maintenance of the establishment. That pious old man who
lived to the majestic age of 105, and during the last ninety years
existed wholly upon bread and water, was not the only one who had "a
certain lusting after salad." Until we grew fruit, the papaw, the
quickest and amongst the best, vegetables were more necessary.
Our plantation, all carved out of the jungle, has an area of 4 1/2 acres.
We have orange-trees (two varieties), just coming into bearing, and from
which profits are expected; pineapples (two varieties), papaws, coffee
(ARABICA), custard apples, sour sop, jack fruit, pomegranate, the
litchee, and mangoes in plenty. Sweet potatoes are always in successive
cultivation, also pumpkins and melons, and an occasional crop of maize.
Bananas represent a staple food. We have had fair crops of English
potatoes, and have grown strawberries of fine flavour, though of
deficient size, among the banana plants. Parsley, mint, and all "the
vulgar herbs" grow freely. Readers in less favoured climes may hardly
credit the statement that pineapples are so plentiful in the season in
North Queensland that they are fed to pigs as well as horses. Twenty good
pines for sixpence!--who would cultivate the fruit and market it for such
remuneration? Hundreds of tons of mangoes go absolutely to waste every
year. The taste for this wholesome and most delicious fruit has not yet
become established in the large centres of population of Australia. At
one time the same could he said of bananas; but now the trade has become
prodigious. The era of the mango has yet to come.
The original cedar hut now forms an annexe to a bungalow designed, in so
far as means permitted, as a concession to the dominating characteristics
of the clime. Around the house is an acre or so given over to an attempt
to keep up appearances.
Poultry are comfortably housed; a small flock of goats provides milk and
occasionally fresh meat. There are two horses (one a native of the
island) to perform casual heavy work; the boat has a shed into which she
is reluctantly hauled by means of a windlass to spend the rowdy months;
there is a buoy in the bay to which she is greatly attached when she is
not sulking in the shed or coyly submitting to the caresses of the waves.
It may have been anticipated that I would, Thoreau-like, set down in
details and in figures the exact character and cost of every designed
alteration to this scene; but the idea, as soon as it occurred, was
sternly suppressed, for however cheerful a disciple I am of that
philosopher, far be it from me to belittle him by parody.
A good portion of the house represents the work of my own unaccustomed
hands. I have found how laborious an occupation fencing is, and how very
exasperating if barbed wire is used; that the keeping in order of even a
small plantation in which ill-bred and riotous plants grow with the
rapidity of the prophet's gourd, and which if unattended would lapse in a
very brief space of time into the primitive condition of tangled jungle,
involves incessant labour of the most sweatful kind. A work on structural
botany tells me that "the average rate of perspiration in plants has been
estimated as equal to that of seventeen times that of man." Only dwellers
in the tropics are capable of realising the profundity of those pregnant
words. Nowhere does plant life so thrive and so squander itself. And to
toil among all this seething, sweating vegetation! No wonder that the
trashing of sugar-cane is not a popular pastime among Britishers.
Given a quiet and contented mind, a banana-grove, a patch of sweet
potatoes, orange and mango and papaw trees, a few coffee plants; the sea
for fish, the rocks for oysters; the mangrove flats for crabs, and is it
not possible to become fat with a minimum of labour? Fewer statements
have found wider publicity than that the banana contains more nutriment
than meat. I have good reason to have faith--faith in it. In Queensland
every man has to find money for direct and indirect taxation; but apart
from the imposts upon living, moving and having being, what ready money
does a man want beyond a few shillings for tea, sugar and other luxuries,
and some few articles of essential clothing? But I am attempting to
describe a special set of circumstances, and would not have it on my
conscience that I indirectly offered encouragement even to a forlorn and
shipwrecked brother to abandon hope of becoming the prime minister of the
Commonwealth, and to enter upon a life of reckless irresponsibility such
as mine.
As soon as test and trial proved in this special case that life on the
periphery of the whirl of civilisation was not only endurable but "so
would we have it," arrangements were made with the Government of the
State for a change in the tenure upon which the right of possession was
upheld.
In obedience to those altruistic tendencies which, with due recognition
of the law of self-preservation, comprehend the duty of man, it is
necessary that the terms and conditions upon which others may acquire
freehold estates in tropical Queensland--the most fruitful and the most
desirable part of Australia--should be briefly detailed. As insurance
against intrusion, a small area of the island had been secured from the
Government under special lease for a term of thirty years, at the rental
of 2 shillings 6 pence per acre per annum. This lease was maintained
only for the period during which our verdant sentiments were put to the
test. That phase having passed without the destruction of a single
illusion, no restraint was imposed upon the passion to possess the land.
Negotiations resulted in a certain acreage being proclaimed open to
selection, and in such case the original applicant has the prior right.
What is termed under the exceedingly liberal land laws of Queensland an
agricultural homestead may comprise 160 acres, 320 acres, or 640 acres,
in accordance with the classification of the land as of first, second, or
third quality. The selector must pay 2 shillings 6 pence per acre at the
rate Of 3 pence per acre for ten years, and must reside continuously on
the land. Five years are allowed for the completion of
improvements--house, clearing, fencing, cultivation, etc., which in
valuation must equal 10 shillings, 5 shillings, or 2 shillings 6 pence
per acre respectively, according to the classification of the land. At
the end of the five years the selector may pay in a lump sum the second
moiety of rent, making the total 2 shillings 6 pence per acre, and he is
thereupon entitled to the issue of a deed of grant of the land in
fee-simple. Otherwise payments may extend over the term of ten years,
when the land becomes freehold. Briefly, for the sum Of 2 shillings 6
pence per acre distributed over ten years, in addition to a trifle for
survey fees (also payable in easy instalments) and the construction of
improvements equal in value to 2 shillings 6 pence per acre, the freehold
of land unsurpassed in fertility in the whole world may be acquired. The
selector may build his own hut and erect his fences of timber from his
clearing, and the officials assess improvements on a liberal scale. Who
would not be a landed proprietor under such terms? Other clauses of the
Land Act are far more encouraging. Not only are payments held in abeyance
until the selector is able to meet them out of his earnings from the
land, but in special cases monetary assistance is afforded him. Literally
the meekest of men may inherit the choicest part of the earth.
What has been said of the natural features of Dunk Island is applicable
to the coastal tract extending, say, 300 miles, than which no land is
more fertile. A very notable advantage is enjoyed here. Brammo Bay is but
three or four minutes' steam from the track of vessels which make weekly
trips up and down the coast, and by arrangements with the proprietary of
one of the lines we have the boon of a regular weekly mail and of cheap
carriage of supplies. Without this connecting link, life on the island
would have been very different. The Companies running parallel lines of
steamers, one skirting the coast and the other outside the islands in
deep water, have done much to open up the wealth of the agricultural land
of North Queensland. Trade follows the flag. Here the flag of the
mercantile marine has frequently been first planted to demonstrate the
certainty of trade.
Without apology, a few facts are submitted which utterly condemn the
practicability of one department of island enterprise, and which possibly
(without protest) may provide a reason for the placing of other branches of
industry beyond the pale of recognition by those who devote every moment
of time to, and make never-ending sacrifices of ease and health and
comfort on behalf of, what folks term the main chance. When after some
expenditure in the purchase of plant and material, and no little labour,
the couple of beehives that formed the original stock of a project for
the harvesting of the nectar which had hitherto gone to waste or been
disposed of by unreflecting birds, had increased to a dozen, and honey
of pleasant and varying flavour flowed from the separator at frequent
intervals, hopes ran high of the earning of a modest profit from one of
the cleanest, nicest, most entertaining and innoxious of pursuits.
No one who takes up bees and who studies their manners and methods can
allow his admiration to remain dormant. It is not the fault of the bees
if he does not become ashamed of himself in some respects; nor are they
to blame if the wisest men fail quite to comprehend some of the wonders
they perform. Only by those "who list with care extreme," are their
gentle tones heard aright; and even from such are some secrets hidden.
How is it that an egg deposited by the queen-mother in a more than
ordinarily capacious compartment hatches a grub, "just like any other,"
which grub, feasting upon the concentrated food stored within its cell,
expands and lengthens and emerges an amber queen in all her glory?
Bee-keepers learn that the queen and the drones are the only perfect
insects in the hive, the hoard of willing, bustling slaves being females
in a state of arrested development. Each worker might have been a queen
but for the fact that environment and a special food were not vouchsafed
in the embryonic stage. By making artificial queen-cells, which the
workers provide for, men bring about the birth of queens at will. Not yet
has the secret of the manufacture of royal jelly been revealed. But is it
not the common belief that the spacious compartment and the special food
work the transformation of what otherwise would have been a brief-lifed
toiler to an insect of majestic proportions, regal adornment and imperial
instinct, whose wants are anticipated and who has no duty to perform save
that of increasing and multiplying her faithful subjects? Man controls
the development of an insect. May not those who complain of the disparity
between the births of females and males still listen to hope's
"flattering tale"? Such is one of the homilies of the hive.
Interest in bee-culture grows; and some of the habits of the insect came
to be understood and, inevitably, admired, the while all convenient
vessels available, even to the never-to-be-despised kerosene tins, were
utilised to store the nectar garnered from myriads of blossoms. But as
time passed the fair prospects faded. Less and less quantities of honey
were stored. The separator seldom buzzed with soothing melody as the
honey, whirled from the dripping frames of combs, pattered against its
resonant sides. Bees seemed less and less numerous. An air of idleness,
almost dissoluteness and despair, brooded over some of the hives. The
strong robbed the weak; and the weak contented themselves with gathering
in listless groups, murmuring plaintively. If the hives were inquiringly
tapped, instead of a furious and instant alarm and angry outpouring of
excited and wrathful citizens, eager to sacrifice themselves in the
defence of the rights of the commonwealth, there was merely a buzzing
remonstrance, indicative of decreased population, weakness and
disconsolation.
The cause of so great a change in the character and demeanour of citizens
who erstwhile worked as honey carriers all day, and who during the hot,
still nights did duty as animated ventilating fans to maintain a free
circulation of air through the hive, had to be investigated. Soon it was
revealed in the presence of two species of birds, the Australian
bee-eater (MEROPS ORNATUS) and the white-rumped wood-swallow (ARTAMUS
LEUCOGASTA). The former is one of the handsomest of the smaller birds of
Australia, its chief colouring being varying shades of green with
bronze-brown and black head and blue back; and to add to its appearance
and pride two graceful feather-shafts of black protrude from the green
and yellow of the tail. It travels in small companies of, say, from four
and five to a couple of dozen, and in its flight occasionally seems to
pause with wings and tail outspread, revealing all its charms. Fond it
is, too, of perching on bare twigs commanding a wide survey, whence It
darts with unerring precision to catch bees and other insects on the
wing. If its prey takes unkindly to its fate, the bird batters it to
death on its perch ere swallowing it with a twitter of satisfaction. The
wood-swallow wears a becoming suit of soft pearly grey and white, to
contrast with its black head and throat. It has a graceful, soaring
flight and a cheerful chirrup. At certain seasons scores congregate on a
branch, perching in a row, so closely compact that their breasts show as
a continuous band of white. When one leaves his place to catch an insect,
the others close up the ranks and dress the line, and on returning,
wrangle and scold as he may, he needs must take an outside place. Let a
bush fire be started, and flocks of wood-swallows whirl and circle along
the flanks of the circling smoke, taking flying insects on the wing, or
deftly pick "thin, high-elbowed creatures," scuttling up tree-trunks out
of the way of the flames. Those were the marauders who confounded
anticipations of a comfortable livelihood in the decent calling of an
apiarist. They devoured bees by the hundred every day. Every hive paid
dreadful toll to them, for they found food so plentiful, and with so
little exertion, that they made the vicinity of the hives a permanent
abiding place. For a brief season I found myself confronted by a problem.
I had to apply my own favourite theories and arguments to myself and
weigh against them practical advantages. Honey was plentiful and, given
that the bees were protected against voracious enemies, might have been
stored in marketable quantities. But was I not bound by honour as well as
sentiment to protect the birds? Was not my coming hither due to a certain
extent to a wish for the preservation of bird-life? Was there not in my
presence an implied warranty to that effect? Had not the island since my
occupancy become a sanctuary, a city of refuge, a safe abiding place, a
kingdom where all the birds of the air--save tyrants and cannibals were
welcomed with gladness and enthusiasm? Had I not warned others of the
dreadful consequences that would befall any disturbance of the sacred air
by so much as the unauthorised report of a gun? How then was I to deal
out justice to the defenceless bees that I had hurried hither,
willy-nilly, without consideration of their likes and dislikes and their
multitudinous descendants? How protect my investment in apiarist plant?
How maintain the stock of honey, white, golden and tawny brown,
excellent, wholesome delicious food, and still preserve the natural
rights, the privileges of the birds? Had not the birds the right of prior
occupancy and other legitimate claims, in addition to sentimental demands
upon my conscience? Not only, too were the birds beautiful to look upon
and of engaging habits; not only had they become companionable and
trustful; not only were they among the primeval features of the island
that I was so eager to leave unspotted from the world; but they were
eminently useful in the work of keeping within bounds the rampant host of
insects to which mankind is in the habit of applying the term injurious.
It took no long time to make up my mind. Gladly came the determination to
abandon the enterprise rather than do violence to the birds. Fortunately
a kindly friend took the entire plant and the hives off my hands. We are
the worse off in respect of honey; but we have the birds, and the thought
comes that there are now hundreds of colonies of bees from the original
stock, here and on the mainland, working out their own destinies. Had the
enterprise been allowed to flourish, it would have been at the cost of
the lives of hundreds of graceful birds; and hundreds of others that now
merrily make so free would have been scared away. The money that would
have been spent in cartridges is applied to the purchase of honey from
foreign parts. No one is much the worse off. Indeed, my friend who
purchased the stock is the richer by my abandonment of the calling, and
am not I conscious of consistency?
So, these my vocations drift into the gentle and devious stream of
inconsequence. It would be vain-glorious, no doubt, to assert that there
is placid indifference to vain-glory, which Carlyle declares to be, with
neediness and greediness, one of the besetting sins of mankind; but am I
not free from the cares that obtrude on those of tougher texture of mind
who find joy in the opposite to this peace and unconcern for the rewards
and honours of the world? Better this isolation and moderation in all
things than, racked with worries, to moan and fret because of non-success
in the ceaseless struggle for riches, or the increase thereof; better
than to bow down to and worship in the "soiled temple of Commercialism"
that haughty and supercilious old idol Mammon; better than to offer
continual sacrifices of rest, health, and the immediate good of life to
appease the exacting and silly deities of fashion and society.
There may be some who, in a disparaging tone, will at this stage of my
confessions enter an accusation of impracticableness. To such a charge I
would plead guilty; but to those who proffer it, I neither appeal, nor do
I fear their judgment. These writings are for those who see something in
life beyond the mere "getting on in world," or making a din in it.