Spearing geese—Killing ducks with
boomerangs—’Possum-hunting—How to make fire—The tribe shift
camp—The Boorah—Mat and Tim’s journal.
After our boys had been with the tribe for seven months, as near as
they could guess, by means of a notched stick on which they nicked
off the days, they began to acquire a smattering of the dialect, so
that both black and white men could understand each other to a limited
extent.
In this way the brothers made out that in four moons many tribes would
visit them.
They now went out regularly hunting with their black friends, and in
this way learnt much concerning the habits of the native game; also
where to look for edible roots, of which there were many sorts; and
though they found that the blacks were adepts at snaring all sorts
of fowl, yet from their experience at home, and the many lessons in
knots which they had picked up from the sailors, the brothers soon
became even more successful in their art, more especially with regard
to snaring animals. They also made strong kangaroo nets out of a fine
flax, which the natives showed them how to prepare; these they turned
out very rapidly, and with superior knots to those formed by the
tribe, which pleased the latter.
But if the blacks were surprised at the quickness of the white men,
the clever way in which they learnt their habits and customs, and
quite confounded at the effects of the “Thunderstick,” by which name
they had dubbed the gun, in their hands, still more on their side were
the brothers astonished at the prowess displayed by the former in
using their spears.
Upon one occasion there was great preparation in the camp; dilly
bags were filled with food, large bundles of small light sticks were
brought in and fashioned into spears, and Mat and Tim were invited
to attend an expedition over the plains, to which the natives kept
pointing, and repeating the word “Noorgooral.”
The constant repetition of this word, coupled with the preparations
for the hunt, raised the curiosity of the brothers, and they were glad
to have the chance of going; so, divesting themselves of their scanty
and now ragged clothes, which they found irksome to them when away
from the camp, they prepared to follow the tribe.
After walking for several hours, the party came in sight of a long
chain of narrow lagoons. This was towards evening, and geese could
be seen coming in flocks of tens and twenties, and dropping into the
pools.
“Flight time,” whispered Mat, who felt all his sporting instincts
aroused at this sight.
The blacks no sooner saw the geese than they dropped into the long
grass, bidding the white men do the same. Each native had a bundle of
the spears in his hand, and thus crawling through the blady grass,
they stealthily approached the nearest pool, when all formed a line
along and directly over the water, without having disturbed a single
bird.
At a given signal, up jumped each black fellow, and, as quick as
lightning, hurled spear after spear into the dense bodies, or flocks,
of the affrighted geese as they rose clamorous from the water.
“Why, guns couldn’t do better!” exclaimed Tim in astonishment, seeing
the water covered with dead and dying fowl.
“No, a lot of them hit with guns would go away wounded,” said Mat,
“and see, each bird that’s struck with those spears drops.”
These spears at short ranges flew like arrows from a bow, many birds
fell dead, more were struggling in the water; but other flocks were
approaching, so down went the blacks again, and, rising up just as
the fresh arrivals had discovered their mistake, and before they had
settled, hurled their darts as before, until they had no spears left.
With the exception of a whispered sentence or two between the
brothers, not a sound had escaped the lips of the hunters up to this;
but _now_, with wild yells of triumph, they gave vent to their
pent-up feelings, plunged into the lagoons and their reedy edges, and
commenced to retrieve both game and spears.
The brothers were rushing in like the rest, when they were seized
and implored by the natives, by signs, not to go into the water;
however, they laughingly shook themselves free, and dived in off the
bank, bringing geese to land, and returning for more. When the blacks
saw how completely at home they were in the water they raised joyful
exclamations, and afterwards explained that they thought the white men
had been _blown_ ashore at the time of the shipwreck on a piece of the
vessel.
Subsequently our lads accompanied their friends on a similar
expedition, but this time the birds they were after proved to be
ducks—a large black duck, and another sort, brown and white in colour,
which perched on trees. On this occasion the weapons used were
boomerangs. Keeping a bundle of these under the left arm, the natives
hurled them one after another into the midst of the scared fowl, as
they rose from the water, bagging over forty birds before darkness
terminated the sport.
The remarkable tameness of all the water-fowl struck our foresters,
for unless when being actively pursued, both geese, ducks, and smaller
water-birds would simply swim a few yards away from the bank on the
approach of a human being, and this when the whole lake was thickly
covered with them.
By dint of long practice the white men at last succeeded in using the
boomerang effectively; the spear came to them much more readily; but
the boomerang required far greater patience and practice to learn than
they could have conceived possible. At length they could hurl it even
to the satisfaction of the natives.
They had been told by men on board the _Young Austral_ that a black
fellow could so hurl a boomerang that it should cut off his enemy’s
head, and then, after taking a little circular flight, presumably to
examine the country, return obediently to the feet of its master.
Their tribe soon exploded this absurd fable, for they showed them
that when the weapon struck full, there it stayed; if it glanced off
an object it might terminate its flight anywhere; if it met with no
resistance they had to go after it and pick it up. But they also
showed them one or two other boomerangs, which, owing to some unseen
peculiarity in the cutting, _did_ come back, in this way. A group of
seven tall trees grew on the edge of a water-hole, which was situated
on a plain close to the camp. An able-bodied black beckoned the
brothers to follow him; then, taking his stand some thirty yards from
the trees, he selected three boomerangs. Taking a short run, he cast
one so as to shape its course to the _right_ of the clump of timber,
the weapon whirled gracefully upwards, higher and higher, turned
completely round the topmost branches to the _left_, and descended
with a heavy thud to the feet of the thrower. The second failed in its
perfect flight by striking a small twig, whilst the third was as great
a success as the first.
The worst wound a boomerang could make (our brothers were informed)
was by either of the sharp points entering; each end terminating in
one of these.
That which Mat and Tim had all along been most anxious to learn was
the art of making fire, and an opportunity soon presented itself.
One of the natives, who was recognized as the chief, and named
“Dromoora,” a man who with his jin had always proved most staunch and
friendly to the white men, invited them one day to go ’possum-hunting
in some high ranges, a considerable distance from the camp.
Both Mat and Tim had often hunted these animals before, and knew how
to seek them, and when found, how to cut them out; but they at once
accepted Dromoora’s invitation, as he was such a good fellow.
Having arrived at the range, Mat soon picked out a tree where the
recently ascending marks, cut by the claws of the little beast through
the white bark, showed that it had gone up the preceding night, whilst
there were no tracks to denote its having come down again. So Mat cut
little steps up the tree, sufficiently large to afford a hold for the
big toe, ascending by this means till he reached the branches, when he
found the hole, and after chopping for a considerable time, dragged
out the little animal and knocked it on the head.
When they had collected some dozens of ’possums amongst them, Mat
explained to the jin, whose name was “Terebare,” that he wanted to
make fire, whereupon, with a good-tempered smile, which displayed her
beautiful row of white teeth, she disappeared into a neighbouring
scrub, and brought back a bit of very rotten dry wood, the size of an
ordinary walking-stick: this was a branch of the black fig-tree. She
then split it down the middle, and placed it on the ground, flat side
uppermost, holding it down with her well-shaped little feet. Dromoora
meantime had cut a sound piece, round and straight about a foot long.
Placing this round piece straight up on end, the girl rolled it with
her hands round and round on the split wood under her feet, pressing
it with some force into it, until after the lapse of a minute or two,
she had bored a hole nearly through the latter, then cutting a notch
on the under side of this, the fine dust fell through on to some fine
dry grass which she had already placed there. She then resumed the
rolling motion until sparks appeared, when, picking up the dry grass
and blowing into it, it flamed up.
“That’s a secret worth knowing,” said Mat, as he saw the small fire
kindled; “fancy, if we’d been able to do that when we were wrecked.
I expect it isn’t as easy as it looks.” And Mat went to work to make
fire himself. He slaved and he rolled until the perspiration ran off
him, being much laughed at by Dromoora and his wife in consequence,
who told him he must stay there until he succeeded. After repeated
failures he at length saw his heap of grass begin to smoke and Tim
kneeling down and blowing into this, the flame of victory flashed up.
They then shouldered their game, and returned in good spirits to camp.
Heavy rains setting in soon after this, Dromoora’s tribe shifted camp
to higher ground some miles away.
There was another reason for this movement on the part of the natives,
the fact that their old district was getting short of roots and game.
Of salt-water fish there was plenty, though some distance off.
The blacks made many more excursions to the coast, on rare occasions
accompanied by our twins, always returning with fish and odds and ends
in the shape of nails and other portions of metal.
After one of these trips Dromoora brought his white friends something
which he had carefully wrapped up in ’possum skin, telling them as he
unfolded the precious flotsam, that he had found it floating near the
shore, and that he thought it must something to do with the gun, or
“Teegoora,” as the weapon was known in the tribe.
When the parcel was unfolded Mat saw that it was a pencil—an immense
“find,” as he could now jot down notes, and keep a rough journal
on the margin of his books, which he had long since dried and put
carefully away.
Thus time passed on.
Once a report was brought to the brothers by blacks of a distant tribe
that a white man had been seen again far to the west; but upon asking
whether they could not go and find him, they were told that it was
impossible, as not only was the distance enormous, but there were many
hostile tribes between them and the country where the white man had
been seen.
After the rains had ceased, numbers of strange natives began to
collect. These were the tribes that Dromoora and his men had spoken
about.
Some eight tribes were represented amongst these new arrivals, and at
one time our foresters counted over 600 on the ground together.
After the usual examination of the white men, which was rendered
more bearable by Dromoora being present, and giving orders to the
blacks that they were to treat them as warriors, the strange tribes
introduced themselves to the “friendlies” by organizing a grand
“corroboree,” which lasted two nights. At its conclusion it was
evident by the preparations made that something unusual was about to
take place.
Upon inquiry it was found that they were about to celebrate a
“Boorah,” or “Boree,” a ceremony to make the lads young men.
Dromoora explained that for eight months previous to this event the
lads have to go into the bush and cater for themselves, that during
that period they must on no account see a female, and that after this
term of independence they are brought in, and cane rings are placed
round their arms, and twisted tightly.
Upon this special occasion the brothers were prevented from sleeping
all night by the hideous cries and howls of the youths, who were
enduring agony from the pressure of the rings.
When daylight at length came, they saw forty of the victims seated
on the ground, surrounded by their mothers, sisters, and female
relatives. These women were crying and cutting themselves all over
with sharp stones, in token of joy at seeing them.
The youths they had put comfortably to sleep in shady places, while
the old jins were away in the swamps to get roots to make them cakes.
The older men had collected the spears of the youngsters, which they
had been carrying with them during their eight months’ absence; these
they had fixed in the earth in a semicircle, fastening grass festoons
from head to head of each spear.
In the evening the young men were placed under the decorated spears,
and their sisters and female cousins lay with their heads on the
swollen arms.
Next morning the young men were taken into the bush, and returned
decorated with shells and feathers, generally painted up and made to
look becoming, when they set about choosing their sweethearts, and
another grand “corroboree” closed the proceedings.
But there was much quarrelling and fighting after this, for these
newly-fledged warriors commenced stealing the old men’s daughters,
and even their wives; so that the brothers on this occasion presently
found themselves amongst a lot of infuriated savages fighting chiefly
with their clubs.
However, Dromoora came to their rescue, and, leading them into their
gunyah, bid them lie quiet, and on no account in any way to interfere
with the jins, for that they always caused these troubles; advice
which Mat thought was quite uncalled for, as they had long seen that
whenever there was fighting it was invariably about the women; but he
answered the chief good-humouredly enough, remarking that white men
_also_ were known to have trouble about women in their own country.
However, in the present case the fierce uproar did not last long, and
no one was killed, though some terrible blows were exchanged. The
combatants had to leave off to go and find food.
Though Mat and Tim would not be separated from each other, they
gradually joined other tribes in the district, or rather stayed with
them during hunting expeditions; and though both were now so far
settled that they got on well with the natives, were accomplished
and keen hunters, and never lacked food, yet they often thought and
conversed together concerning their white brethren and civilization.
The time had now dragged along until they were aware that they had
been more than five years amongst the blacks, and still they saw
no chance of release from their somewhat degrading life. One great
comfort which supported them amidst their hardships was that they
could keep up their spirits in each other’s society—in their own
language, with their own books. Had there been only one white man, he
must have almost forgotten his own language by this time.
During this long period of “free captivity,” our foresters had
acquired half a dozen different dialects, which they had picked up
amongst neighbouring tribes. They had often spoken of trying to work
their way south, but had been dissuaded by their friends, who told
them that the danger was too great, the tribes in that direction being
fierce, and that they dare not go themselves beyond a certain limit.
At the same time it was judged by our boys that their friends wished
them to stay, and possibly exaggerated these dangers.
Though at first they “got out” very much in their dates, the brothers
kept a journal as regularly as circumstances permitted, putting
down everything of interest in their own lives, but more especially
entering into a description of the manners and customs of the natives.
Tim contributed also by giving specimens of the language with their
equivalents in English; also he mentioned with accuracy the edible
plants, describing the places where they should be looked for, and
their native names, as “Kaourou,” a blue water-lily, of which the
natives eat seeds and roots. “Kadolo,” good root, something like a
carrot, grows in every valley, plain, or creek bank, has three narrow,
long, sharp-pointed leaves. He also mentioned the native yam, the wild
banana, and a sort of tobacco. Many of these fruits and roots Mat
guessed the English names of from pictures which he recollected.
There was not much order in their journal, as both brothers simply
jotted down events and descriptions independently of each other. For
instance, Mat wrote on the fly-leaf of the largest volume:—
“This book we hope to carry with us into civilization; but if God
wills that we both die here, it may be found some day amongst our
black brethren, who look upon our books as a sort of white man’s
spirit, and they promise always to take care of them. Tim and I
are now as naked as when we landed from the wreck of the _Young
Austral_, our clothes having rotted long ago; but our bodies are
sun and weatherproof. Tim gets a touch of rheumatism now and again,
but otherwise we are very well, though rather thin. We don’t know
what ’tis to be tired; when we’re caught by darkness far from camp
we just lie down where we are with our dog, and sleep as soundly as
ever we did at home. We know two sorts of trees that always hold good
drinking-water; Tim is going to describe them, he says, so we hope
never to die of thirst. Food we can get as easily as the natives can.”
Mat then went on to describe the blacks in the same somewhat
unconnected manner:—
“These natives amongst whom we are living are called the ‘Waigonda;’
they are not really black, but more the colour of an old penny. When
a child is born ’tis a sort of dirty white; but the jins squeeze
their milk over it, when about three days’ old, and rub charcoal into
its skin. Many of the natives are treacherous and cunning: they have
broad, flat noses, sunken, black eyes, and terrible great mouths.
“Sometimes twins are born, and we’ve known the father kill one of them
to save the trouble of bringing up two.
“They are awful lazy, the men have—some of them leastways—eight or
nine wives, who do most all the work for him, and often supply him
with food for days together.
“I’ve known a man sell a wife for a new kangaroo net; or _lend_ one
for some article they want. They eat everything that creeps on the
earth; snakes they are very fond of, particularly one that’s not
poisonous, called “manoo.” Many of the fruits _look_ like English
ones, but they’re just about nasty, and mostly all stone. One fruit
looks like a big orange, but it will just turn your throat inside out
if you try to suck it, but the blacks pound and soak it, and then bake
it, and it makes good flour. There’s a little fig the size of a cherry
that’s really good.
“The blacks use the juice of different sorts of bark for making
fish stupid, so that they float belly upwards and can be caught.
Fish-hooks they cut out of fresh-water turtle shells. Sometimes they
eat human flesh, but only a friend killed in battle or by accident,
never their enemies. The bodies of these they cut into strips, dry,
and divide the pieces amongst the tribe: then they think that the
strength of the dead man is added to their own. They sometimes get
killed by crocodiles and snakes. They have no remedy for snake-bites;
if they get bitten by a poisonous one, they just lie down and die,
and the whole tribe howls for hours. They cannot in any way write
their language, but can send messages by notched sticks, which are
understood. They can’t count above five; more than that they show by
their fingers.
“They speak very thick in the throat, but the young women speak nice
and soft. They measure time by wet and dry seasons, and by moons. They
fear some sort of spirit, and don’t like to move about at night.
“There’s a great mountain near us; Tim and I have often hunted on
it. The blacks tell us that their forefathers once saw a great flood,
which drowned all the tribes, but that they got away in time and ran
up this mountain, and built a big canoe and escaped. Tim and I judge
from this that their forefather’s name was Noah, as mentioned in our
Bible, which was saved. These natives cut their bodies into all sorts
of queer patterns, and make the wounds heal with the lips open. They
haven’t much hair on their faces, as a rule; I’ve only once or twice
seen good whiskers or beards. They cut the hair on their heads when
they are boys with tomahawks. Tim and I have long beards.
“In their language a canoe or any ship is ‘woolgoora;’ water,
‘doongalla.’
“They believe that the moon is a human being like themselves; that
one tribe throws it up, and it rises, and then comes down again, when
another tribe catches it to prevent its hurting itself. Falling stars
mean danger or something extraordinary, in the direction in which
they fall. They declare that some fell over the sea just before Tim
and I landed; we didn’t see them, however. An eclipse frightens them
terribly, and they cower down and mumble grass till it is over.”
Much more to the same effect wrote Mat, and to his jottings copious
notes were added by Tim. These dilapidated books, the margins of which
were covered with their pencilled notes, they preserved with the most
jealous care; noting also the seasons as they passed, and the hot
Christmas time.
Nothing very eventful had, so far, happened to them; the same routine
of hunting and fishing every day, varied by an occasional tramp to the
beach, partly to collect crabs and shell-fish, but more particularly
to look out for any passing vessel; and though more than one was
seen during these years, they always proved to be far beyond any
signalizing by smoke.
And what was Jumper doing all this time? Though beyond the middle age
of dog life, he was as fleet and strong as ever; the only ailment he
suffered from was a slight deafness, which first became apparent after
his long swim from the wreck. He had long got over his dislike to the
natives, though suspicious of any belonging to other tribes. He proved
of great use in running down wounded kangaroos and wallaby, but more
especially did he distinguish himself when the great nets were set and
the hunters drove the game into them; then the dog was in his glory,
helping, as he had before done at home when cattle had to be driven in
a certain direction. He was a great favourite with the Waigonda tribe,
and the dingoes, or half-wild dogs, belonging to the camp, treated him
with the greatest respect.