The island—The gigantic cockle-shell—Amongst the blacks—The
_Corroboree_.
After getting out of the water, Mat and Tim remained stretched on the
sand without moving a limb, enjoying the sense of perfect security
from the sea; but at length they felt that they must commence to look
for water, their thirst was so great after all the salt water that
they had swallowed. On trying to rise, they found they could scarcely
stand, so numbed and weary were their limbs; but by stamping and
running, they caused the blood to flow through their veins, and were
thus enabled to start on a small voyage of discovery.
The island, as it proved to be, consisted of large rocks full of caves
with a few bushes and ferns growing here and there. There was no lack
of water in the crevices of the rocks, and astringent though it was,
it seemed like nectar to the thirsty lads. In one of the caves they
found that the sand was deep, dry, and even warm, and in this spot
they determined to take a good long rest, which they felt themselves
sadly in need of. Tim had proceeded to explore one of these caves,
when Mat heard him call, “Look here,” and proceeding to the spot,
found his brother examining the floor of the cave, which was covered
with oyster shells; a further search showed the remains of several
small fires with more shells round them.
“Some one has had a good feast here, Mat; let us have a nap, and then
_we’ll_ look for oysters.”
So without more ado, they buried themselves in the sand up to their
necks, and fell into a sound sleep.
How long they slept neither of them knew, but Mat was awakened by a
cold feeling about his nose, and jumping up, found to his astonishment
and delight, his faithful dog, which greeted him with short, sharp
barks of delight; the noise woke Tim, who perceiving his favourite,
seized him, and the two rolled over together with joy. They found to
their surprise that Jumper’s coat was quite dry, and on emerging from
the cave, perceived that whilst they had been sleeping, the storm had
abated, and the sun was now shining, also that the tide had run out,
leaving their island connected with the mainland by a spit of sand.
The tracks of the dog plainly showed that, having landed farther down
the coast, he had been trying along the edge of the water for his
masters, until led to them by this streak of sand.
Congratulating themselves upon the recovery of their dog, which they
had given up for lost, Mat and Tim proceeded to gather a supply of
oysters—these being rock oysters were easily detached by the tap of a
stone.
In the pools, left by the receding tide, amongst the rocks and coral,
many kinds of fish were imprisoned, and there were quantities of crabs
in a muddy belt of mangroves, so that there was no lack of food,
which, however, had to be eaten raw.
“We’ve always eaten oysters raw,” quoth Mat, “and why not fish that
swim?”
But Tim was too much engaged to answer, he had seen some large mullet
endeavouring to escape out of a channel in the rocks, and was wading
about amongst the green weed, piling stones across the outlet of this
creek, previous to pursuing the fish, when suddenly under water, in a
cleft of the rocks, he felt his foot seized, and held in a vice-like
grasp. The shock nearly threw him down, but recovering himself, he
shouted,—
“Mat! _here_, quick!”
The latter rushed up at once, crying,—
“Got a rock on your foot?”
“No,” gasped Tim, “it’s more like a dozen rat-traps, and it’s pinching
fearful.”
Mat by this time had cleared away the weed, and at length, through the
dark water could be seen the outlines of a gigantic double shell, with
his brother’s leg imprisoned in its jaws.
“Look, how awful!” cried Tim; “I can never get loose from that big
brute of a cockle.”
Mat tugged and tore at the shell, and, being a powerful lad, he
expected to be able to rip one side off by the hinge, but he could no
more move it than he could the rocks to which it was attached.
“It’s no good, old man, it’s too far for me to reach it yet, but,
thank God, the water’s falling; if ’twere rising we’d be done. Do you
feel you can last out an hour or so?”
“I don’t know, Mat, I feel awful queer and sick, but I can find the
pain is out of my foot, for I can’t feel the limb at all.”
The first thing that Mat did was to pile up rocks under his brother,
by this means getting him into a more restful position, he then wedged
stones into the jaws of the fish, hoping thus to take some of the
frightful pressure off the foot, and, bidding Tim be of good cheer,
started for the shore, returning presently with a heavy, waterlogged
piece of wreckage, and—
“See here, Tim!” he cried, as he approached him, and triumphantly held
up an iron spike, “I knocked this out of the old timber, this’ll do
the job.”
The water had now fallen so much that the jaws of the huge shell were
well exposed.
First scraping the mud and stones, so as to get down to the base of
the fish, Mat placed the heavy spike against the shell, which Tim
had graphically enough described as a huge cockle; such, indeed,
it exactly resembled, but on a gigantic scale, measuring along the
jaws over three feet; he then dealt his piece of iron a heavy blow
with the piece of timber, but the iron would not penetrate—flew off
at a tangent: recovering it, he proceeded to examine the shell more
closely, and for this purpose baled out most of the remaining water
with his hands, then inserted the end of the spike at another angle;
the next time he essayed he drove the bolt right through the shell up
to the hilt; this, however, had no effect upon the clasping powers of
the monster, the foot was jammed as tight as ever.
“Oh! for my axe!” said Mat, “but never fear. Now to get the spike out.
I’ll kill this devil _somehow_.”
It seemed a long time before the spike could be released, but at
length, succeeding in this, Mat drove it in every direction through
the living, leathery substance of the creature itself.
It would _not_ relax.
He then rammed the piece of timber in, and, exerting his full
strength, attempted to prise open the shell, he felt that the enemy
was slowly opening, when snap went his rotten lever, broken short off.
“It’s too ‘brow’” (brittle), gasped Tim.
Nothing discouraged, Mat set to work with the remaining bit of his
stick, but after another hard struggle, and sweating at every pore,
he had to sit down a moment to recover; literally a moment, for he
had hardly settled himself in a position to catch the breeze, turning
towards the open sea for this purpose, when his ear caught the dull
moaning of the tide, which had turned!!
Without a word, but with an agonized feeling in his heart, Mat jumped
up, and driving his lever far down into the mutilated fish, and
planting his feet against the opposite rock, gave one long and frantic
“prise;” when, oh, joy! through the blinding streams of perspiration
that ran over his face, he first saw the stones falling in, and he
plainly _felt_ the double shell slowly give.
“Pull, Tim!” he yelled; and his brother was free, being, however,
forced to lift his crippled foot with both hands out of the jaws of
the fish, whilst Mat never relaxed his hold of the lever.
The instant that the foot was released, and the timber thrown aside,
the stones fell completely in, and the shell closed with a sudden
snap. Mat, however, did not wait to see more, for merely administering
a furious blow on to the beast, which only had the effect of
splintering the lips, he seized the almost unconscious Tim, hoisted
him on his shoulders, and hurried as fast as he could over cruelly
sharp rocks to the shore, somewhere about a quarter of a mile distant.
With a couple of rests he got over the distance, and at length sank
down with his burden under some shady trees, through which a little
stream of water flowed on its way to the sea.
“I believe that pure water has saved my life,” said Tim, after he had
drunk his fill, and had his leg, which was terribly swollen and cut,
swathed in some soft bark, which was hanging down in ragged tatters on
a large tree close by, and which Mat wetted in the sweet water before
applying.
Our foresters, it must be borne in mind, were in a woeful plight.
True, they had escaped the one great danger which they shared during
that terrible swim; but what had been their experience, so far, on the
shore? In the first place, they were aware that savages were about,
for they had seen their lately-used camping-places, at all events
their fishing resorts, and remains of their recent fires. Then the
action of the salt water and wind on their skins; still worse, the
powerful rays of a tropical sun, subsequently, had caused a sort of
boiling-peeling process to set in. Added to this, Tim, as we have
seen, had had his ankle-bone nearly crushed through, and Mat, now
that he had a moment of leisure, found that his old wound—that one
inflicted by the bloodhound—had broken open, a fact which he was aware
of during the last two hours from the pain he felt. It is doubtful,
had they not found shade and _good_ water, whether our lads would not
have left their bones on the strand.
After Mat had made up a soft bed of grass and bark for his brother,
and covered him over with the same material, he stepped outside the
timber to have a look round.
Having finished his survey, he was returning to doctor his own leg
when he descried a thin column of smoke, which seemed suddenly to
shoot up in the distance. Hastening to Tim, he told him what he had
just seen, and that he believed the fire must have been just lit, for
that there was no appearance of smoke when he first quitted him to
look round.
“Now, Tim,” he continued, “men have lit that fire, and, be they
friends or foes, we’d better seek them out when we can travel; for
I know we can’t last long without fire or clothes, and both of us
wounded; but I’ll strap up my leg tight with this soft bark stuff, and
then after a bit I’ll be able to carry you. I can easily do it, with
rests; anyhow, we’ll get away from this salt water, there’s too much
danger in it.”
Tim answered wearily enough,—
“Let’s rest here a day or so, and then, I think, with your help, in a
cool night or early morning, I can get along.”
So Mat brought up a heap of shell-fish to the camp, and by evening had
made their sleeping-quarters a little more comfortable by means of
boughs and bark.
The night passed without further incident; but it was a period of
feverish nightmare to both brothers; lie how they would, their skins
were so blistered that the pain was almost unendurable, and Mat,
besides, was up many times to cool his brother’s wounded leg with
water.
At daylight they were awakened from a doze by the barking of Jumper.
Mat was on his legs in a moment, and, proceeding cautiously to the
spot, discovered the dog trying to claw up a tree, evidently striving
to get at something in the branches. This proved to be a huge lizard,
which was lying out on a limb a few feet from the ground.
Being an adept at “squirrelling” at his old home in the Forest, Mat
knocked the animal off his perch with sticks; and Jumper, who had been
intently watching the proceedings, had it in his jaws almost before it
reached the ground.
Near this spot Mat observed lying on the ground some tempting-looking
fruits, in colour and shape somewhat resembling an orange, which had
evidently fallen off a kind of stunted palm-tree. These he gathered
up, and, together with the lizard, carried them back to their camp.
With a sharp shell he cut out the fat from the lizard, and put it by
to dress their wounds with; but the raw flesh of the beast proved
quite uneatable by reason of its utter want of taste; whilst the
delicious-looking fruit was far worse from the opposite reason—it was
so intensely bitter and acrid that they quickly spat it out again.
However, Jumper made a hearty meal off the lizard, the poor dog not
having had anything but raw fish up to this time.
The view from their camp was a calm and peaceful one. The Pacific
Ocean, which had so lately belied its name, now stretched, as far as
the eye could reach, in one unruffled surface; beautiful bays indented
the coast both north and south, whilst huge grey-looking forests
seemed to mingle with the now blue waters, growing apparently to their
very edge. Not a sail of any description had the brothers seen upon
the ocean; the only sign of man was the smoke, or rather smokes, for
by the second day the fires had evidently increased in numbers.
Our foresters found that the fat of the lizard well rubbed in did them
more good than cold water bandages, and one afternoon Tim said he
thought he could travel. They both agreed that it would be a relief
even to move camp, though they might take a long time before they
reached the strange fires. Mat procured a couple of stout sticks to
lean upon, remarking, as he gave one to his brother with a smile,
“We’ve no call to trouble about the luggage;” which, indeed, so far,
was lucky.
As long as they travelled quite slowly, with long rests, they found
they could “keep going” very well. Mat—by far the most able man,
though they were both cripples—carried Tim over bad bits of ground;
but on level country the latter managed well enough by resting one
hand on his brother’s shoulder. Having thus covered some miles of
country, they came to a water-hole with several small tracks leading
to it; round the margin were prints of numerous feet freshly stamped
in the sand.
“Here they be,” whispered Mat, pointing to the signs, “big feet and
little feet, a whole tribe of ’em, and can’t be far off neither. We
must go careful like.”
Resuming their journey, they crossed a plain of treeless waste, and
then entered a country thickly overgrown with scrub.
Jumper, who was ahead, and had entered the thicket, returned growling,
with bristles erect, and at the same moment some dark forms could be
seen rushing into a lagoon, which now appeared in a sort of clearing.
Then all was still.
Mat, whose eyesight was specially sharp, whispered,—
“I can see what looks like a black nose shaking the water by that
great water-leaf.”
The brothers stood quietly, hesitating what to do next.
Suddenly Jumper commenced growling again, with his gaze fixed on one
side of the lagoon. At the same instant more than one black fellow
could be seen stealthily approaching through the long grass, their
bodies glistening with beads of water.
“Some have got behind us,” again whispered Mat.
And indeed the white men appeared to be surrounded.
“You hold the dog tight, Tim, and I’ll try and make friends.”
Perceiving that Jumper was held, an old black fellow, armed with
club, spear, and shield, walked boldly up to Mat, jabbering loudly the
whole time, with chin in the air, and after feeling him all over, was
about to do the same to Tim; but this Jumper would not stand, and Tim,
by signs, implored the native to keep back.
The old man understood, and called to the other blacks, who
immediately flocked up, and, hearing the white men talk, were
evidently relieved to find that they were human beings like
themselves, and thereupon made signs to know from whence they came.
Mat, for answer, pointed to the sea, imitating the action of swimming.
One of the blacks, who seemed to be the chief, comprehended at once;
and the brothers saw by his gestures that he was explaining to the
others what was meant, at which there was much jabbering and guttural
ejaculations.
Mat pointed out how blistered and wounded their bodies and legs were,
and explained by pantomime that they were hungry.
The natives now seemed satisfied, and led them by the hand, or rather
conducted Mat in this manner—for they were afraid to approach Tim
again, on account of the furious growls of Jumper—to the camp fires,
where they intimated to the white men they should lie down; they then
gave them a couple of cloaks of ’possum skin to cover their bodies
with, and a quantity of roasted roots and fish to eat; this fare
seemed to put new life in the brothers as they reclined on their soft
rugs.
A black fellow then cooe’ed loudly, and several women and children
seemed to spring up from the long grass around, where they had
doubtless been hiding until the men knew with whom they had to deal.
Mat so far knew, as the whole tribe had now surrounded them, that
he and his brother had fallen amongst blacks of the mainland of
Australia, for he not only recognized types of visage, pictures of
which he had seen in the squire’s museum in the Forest, but also most
of the camp equipment, of which the squire had many specimens. Thus
he was able to point out and name to Tim spears, woomeras, yelamans,
boomerangs, stone tomahawks, and nullah-nullahs; also their dilly
bags, large and small, containing fish and roots, and many small
articles wrapt up in ’possum skins.
Whilst they were regaling themselves the tribe kept up an incessant
jabbering, as they pointed out the white men to each other.
One of the blacks showed by signs that there were other white men, but
men clothed; he seemed to imply far, far away to the west. This gave
the brothers hope that there might be a settlement in that direction,
until by repeated signs they surmised that they must be white men
travelling to the north.
It was almost night when our gipsies encountered the natives, and by
the time that they had finished their meal, the camp was wrapped in
darkness, save for the light given out by the tiny fires.
Seeing that the white men had eaten up all their food, the blacks gave
them a gourd of water, and then, taking Mat by the hand again, and
signing to Tim to follow, conducted them to a gunyah, or hut, which
was made of saplings and covered with bark. It contained a tiny upper
story, also made of sheets of bark, just large enough for two men to
lie down in. Pointing to this, they intimated that the white men might
sleep there, which, indeed, they were nothing loth to do.
Mat, having first placed some cool green leaves on his brother’s
ankles, pulled the rugs over them, for the night was chilly, and
prepared to sleep.
Before darkness had quite set in they had observed two blacks start
off on their back trail towards the coast, which caused Mat to remark
that he “had read that blacks never travelled at night. However,” he
added, “we shall know more about it in the morning. If I’d a pipe of
’baccy now, I’d be all right, but we can’t have everything, and these
chaps don’t seem a bad lot, though they’re rum ’uns to look at.”
“That they be,” said Tim; “we shall know all about ’em in a day or
two. If they’d meant badly you said as they’d have killed us at once.”
“Yes, from what I’ve been told, it was a good sign their bringing up
the women and children so soon. We might get them to take us to the
white men they spoke about, who knows?”
The conversation, which took place as they were lying in their hut,
was at this point interrupted by the sound of a high-pitched voice
singing a sort of mournful ditty; presently other voices joined in.
“Hullo! let’s see what’s up,” said Tim; and from the opening in their
gunyah they witnessed a curious sight.
Three or four women, or “jins,” were seated on the ground, singing
and beating time with pieces of stick; a dozen little freshly-lit
fires were burning in a circle, and in the midst of them were some
fifteen painted warriors, white paint and red paint was daubed in
regular lines over their faces and jaws, causing them to resemble so
many death’s heads, whilst their bodies were streaked with broad white
stripes, each rib being distinctly marked.
These white lines followed the course of their limbs, giving them the
appearance of so many skeletons, as they appeared in the flickering
light cast upon them.
“What a rum sight!” said Tim, who, with his brother, was intently
watching these proceedings, as we have said.
“Yes, a sort of free-and-easy, I should fancy, but, look!” for as Mat
spoke each warrior took up the refrain of the “jins,” and, whilst
singing a hoarse chant, sprang high into the air, descending so
heavily that the earth seemed to shake under them; then shaking
their spears with a quivering motion, and uttering tremendous yells,
they sprang again into the air and ran “amuck” against each other.
[Illustration: The “Corroboree.”]
As they pursued these ferocious antics, the sight made the white men’s
blood curdle, for they thought that this must be the prelude to a rush
upon themselves.
The “Corroboree,” as they afterwards found was the right name for this
peculiar form of black-fellow recreation, waxed louder and fiercer,
each man working himself up to a perfect frenzy, now darting in and
out of the fires, and even in some cases plunging _into_ them, and
scattering the blazing embers, till exhausted, they would here and
there “fall out” and beat time to recover.
Their aspect appeared terrible and unearthly, the brothers were
spell-bound, not knowing whether fury or joy was the cause of this
extraordinary scene. Then the infernal din died away, only to be
renewed louder than ever, as fresh warriors took the places of those
pumped out, until the exhibition reached, as it seemed, a fight in
terrible reality, as man closed with man, fending off each other’s
spears and clubs with their “yelamans,” showing surprising feats of
agility as they sprang high into the air, shouting fiercely a sort of
war-cry the whole time.
The ceremony was brought to a close by all stamping their feet with
heavy thuds on the ground, and then each coiled himself up by his
fire, exhausted.
Our foresters breathed again.
“Well, if they ain’t the most bloodthirsty-looking devils I ever
seed,” said Tim; “but I suppose it’s all sham; the women don’t dance,
and ain’t painted, they’re what’s called the ‘Orkistry’ in the
playhouse, I suppose.”
“Just _about_ a rum go,” joined in Mat; “I reckon we’re all right to
sleep now, though.”
It was about midnight when the whole camp had retired to rest, so the
brothers followed the general example.