AUSTRALIA--_Continued_.
MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE NATIVES -- DRESS AND ORNAMENTS OF NORTHERN
AUSTRALIA -- MODE OF DRESSING THE HAIR -- THE “DIBBI-DIBBI” --
TATTOOING AND CICATRIZING -- PATTERN OF THE SCARS -- SIGNIFICATION OF
THE VARIOUS PATTERNS -- POMP AND VANITY -- THE NOSE-BONE -- NECKLACES
-- THE GIRDLE AND TASSEL -- TATTOOS AND SCARS AMONG THE WOMEN -- THE
TURTLE SCAR -- HIGH SHOULDERS OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- INDIFFERENCE TO
DRESS -- THEIR FUR MANTLES, AND THEIR USES -- THE SEA-GRASS MANTLE --
FOOD OF THE AUSTRALIANS -- VEGETABLE FOOD -- MODE OF PROCURING ROOTS
-- THE BIYU -- THE NARDOO PLANT AND ITS USES -- THE “BURKE AND WILLS”
EXPEDITION -- THE BULRUSH ROOT, ITS USE FOR FOOD AND ROPE MAKING --
SUBTERRANEAN WATER STORES -- MOLLUSCS, AND MODE OF COLLECTING THEM
-- HARD WORK FOR THE WOMEN -- DIVING FROM THE RAFT -- RELAXATION
WHEN THEY RETURN HOME -- COOKING THE MOLLUSCS AND CRUSTACEA -- FISH
CATCHING WITH LINE, NET, AND SPEAR -- INSECT FOOD -- THE BEE CATCHERS
-- TREE AND EARTH GRUBS, AND MODE OF CATCHING THEM -- THE PILEYAH --
THE DUGONG -- ITS LOCALITIES, AND MODES OF TAKING AND COOKING IT --
CAPTURING AND COOKING THE GREEN TURTLE -- CURIOUS USE OF THE SUCKING
FISH -- TAMING THE TURTLE -- THE HAWKSBILL TURTLE, AND MODE OF
CATCHING IT -- TURTLE OIL AND DRIED FLESH -- SALE OF TORTOISE-SHELL
-- TWO FORMS OF AUSTRALIAN OVENS -- COOKING AND EATING SNAKES --
CATCHING THE SNAKE ALIVE -- THE CLOAK AND THE SHIELD -- THE DUGONG,
AND ITS CAPTURE -- SMALL TENACITY OF LIFE -- A SAVORY FEAST.
We will now proceed to the various manners and customs of the
Australians, not separating them into the arbitrary and fluctuating
distinctions of tribes, but describing as briefly as is consistent with
justice, the most interesting of their habits, and mentioning those
cases where any particular custom seems to be confined to any one tribe
or district.
We have in the illustration No. 1, on page 707, a good example of a
native of North Western Australia. The sketch was kindly made by Mr. T.
Baines. A profile of the man is given, in order to show the peculiar
contour of the face, which, as the reader may see, has nothing of the
negro character about it; the boldly prominent nose, the full beard,
and the long hair fastened up in a top-knot being the distinguishing
features. The man carries in his belt his provisions for the day,
namely, a snake and one of the little kangaroo-rats, and having these
he knows no care, though of course he would prefer larger game.
Round his neck may be seen a string. This supports an ornament which
hangs upon his breast. Several forms of this ornament, which is called
in the duplicative Australian language a “dibbi-dibbi,” are employed,
and there are in my collection two beautiful specimens made from the
shell of the pearl-oyster. The ordinary dibbi-dibbi is fan-shaped,
and does not depart very much from the original outline of the shell.
There is, however, one kind of dibbi-dibbi which is valued exceedingly,
and which is shaped like a crescent. The specimen in my possession
is almost as large as a cheese plate, and must have been cut from
an enormous shell, economy, whether of material or time, not being
understood by these savages. Owing to the shape of the shell, it is
slightly convex, and was worn with the concave side next the body.
Not being satisfied with the natural smooth polish of the nacre, the
native has ornamented the dibbi-dibbi with a simple but tolerably
effective pattern. Along the margin of the scooped edge he has bored
two parallel rows of small and shallow holes about half an inch
apart, and on either side of each row he has cut a narrow line. From
the outer line he has drawn a series of scalloped patterns made in a
similar fashion; and, simple as this pattern is, its effect is really
remarkable. The man has evidently begun a more elaborate pattern on the
broad surface of the shell, but his mind seems to have misgiven him,
and he has abandoned it. The cord by which it is suspended round the
neck is nearly an inch wide, and is made of string and a sort of rattan
plaited together.
On the shoulder of the man may be seen a number of raised marks. These
are the scars of wounds with which the Australians are in the habit
of adorning their bodies, and which they sometimes wear in great
profusion. The marks are made by cutting deeply into the skin, and
filling the wounds with clay and other substances, so that when the
wound heals an elevated scar is made. These scars are made in patterns
which partly differ according to the taste of the individual, and
partly signifying the district to which the tattooed person belongs.
For example, the scars as shown in the illustration are the mark of a
Northern Australian; and, although he may have plenty other scars on
his body and limbs, these will always appear on his shoulder as the
distinguishing mark of his tribe.
In my photographs, which represent natives from various parts of
the continent, these scars are very prominent, and there is not
an individual who does not possess them. Some have them running
longitudinally down the upper arm, while others have them alternately
longitudinal and transverse. They occasionally appear on the breast,
and an old man, remarkable for the quantity of hair which covered his
breast and arms, has disposed them in a fan shape, spreading from the
centre of the body to the arms. He has evidently spent a vast amount
of time on this adornment, and suffered considerable pain, as scars,
although not so large as in many other instances, are exceedingly
numerous; the man has adorned his arms and shoulders with little scars
of the same character arranged in regular lines.
In some parts of Australia the scars assume a much more formidable
appearance, being long and heavy ridges. One chief, who was very proud
of his adornments,--as well he might be, seeing that their possession
must nearly have cost him his life,--was entirely covered from his neck
to his knees with scars at least an inch broad, set closely together,
and covering the whole of the body. The front of the chest and stomach
was adorned with two rows of these scars, each scar being curved, and
reaching from the side to the centre of the body, where they met. The
man was so inordinately proud of this ornament that nothing could
induce him to wear clothing of any kind, and he stalked about in his
grandeur, wearing nothing but his weapons. The photograph of this man
has a very singular aspect, the light falling on the polished ridge of
the scars having an effect as if he were clad in a suit of some strange
armor.
By way of adding to the beauty of their countenances, they are in the
habit of perforating the septum of the nose, and of thrusting through
it a piece of bone or stick, the former being preferred on account of
its whiteness. It is almost impossible to describe the exceedingly
grotesque appearance presented by an Australian dandy, who has his
body covered with scars, and his face crossed by a wide piece of bone
some six inches in length, making his naturally broad nose wider, and
seeming as it were to cut his face in half. The hole through which this
ornament is thrust is made when a child is a fortnight old.
As to other ornaments, they consist of the usual necklaces, bracelets,
and anklets which are common to savage tribes in all parts of the
world. Some of these necklaces which are in my collection are really
pretty, and some skill is shown in their manufacture. One is made of
pieces of yellow reed as thick as quills and almost an inch in length,
strung alternately with scarlet reeds; another is made entirely of the
same reeds, while a third is, in my opinion, the handsomest, though
not the most striking of them. At first sight it appears to be made
entirely of the reeds already mentioned, but on a closer examination it
is seen to be composed entirely of the antennæ of lobsters, cut into
short lengths and strung together. To the necklaces is attached a small
mother-of-pearl dibbi-dibbi four inches long and one inch wide, and the
pieces of lobster antennæ are so disposed that the thinner parts of the
antennæ, taken from the extremities, come next to the dibbi-dibbi and
hang on the breast, while the larger and thicker parts, taken from the
base of the antennæ, come on the neck. The native basket in which these
necklaces were kept is more than half filled with bright colored seeds
of various hues, that are evidently intended for the manufacture of
necklaces.
Girdles of finely twisted human hair are often worn by the men, and
the native who is represented in the engraving No. 1, on page 707, is
wearing one of these girdles. Sometimes, as in the present instance, a
small tassel made of the hair of a phalangist or “flying-squirrel,” as
it is wrongly termed, is hung to the front of the girdle, by no means
as a covering, but as an ornament.
The scars are so highly valued that the women wear them nearly as
profusely as the men. In my photographs, there are portraits of many
women of all ages, not one of whom is without scars. They do not wear
them so large as the men, but seem to be more careful in the regularity
of the pattern.
Taking a series of three women, the first has three cuts on the
shoulder showing her northern extraction, and a row of small
horizontal and parallel scars along the front of the body from the
breast-bone downward. The second, in addition to the shoulder cuts, has
several rows of scars extending from the breast to the collar-bones,
together with a central line as already described, and some similar
rows of cuts on the ribs and sides. The third woman, a mere girl of
fourteen or so, has been very careful in the arrangement of the scars,
which descend in regular and parallel rows from the breast downward,
and then radiate fan-wise in six rows from the breast upward to the
collar bones.
Mr. M’Gillivray, who accompanied H. M. S. _Rattlesnake_ in her voyage,
writes as follows concerning the scar ornaments and their uses:--“The
Torres Straits islanders are distinguished by a large complicated oval
scar, only slightly raised, and of neat construction. This, which I
have been told has some connection with a turtle, occupies the right
shoulder, and is occasionally repeated on the left. (See engraving at
foot of page 722.) At Cape York, however, the cicatrices were so varied
that I could not connect any particular style with an individual tribe.
At the same time, something like uniformity was noticed among the
Katchialaigas, nearly all of whom had, in addition to the horned breast
mark, two or three long transverse scars on the chest, which the other
tribes did not possess.
“In the remaining people the variety of marking was such that it
appeared fair to consider it as being regulated more by individual
caprice than by any fixed custom. Many had a simple two-horned mark on
each breast, and we sometimes saw upon them a clumsy imitation of the
elaborate shoulder mark of the islanders.”
Well-shaped as are these women, they have one defect in form, namely,
the high and square shoulder, which detracts so much from feminine
beauty, and which is equally conspicuous in the child of six, the girl
of thirteen or fourteen, and the old woman. The men also exhibit the
same defective form.
The reader will have noticed the elaborate manner in which the hair of
the Australian savage is sometimes dressed. The style of hair-dressing
varies with the locality, and often with the time, fashion having as
absolute a reign among the native Australians, and being quite as
capricious, as among ourselves. Sometimes the hair is twisted up into
long and narrow ringlets, and, if the savage should not happen to have
enough hair for this fashion, he straightway makes a wig in imitation
of it. Now and then the head is shaved, except a transverse crest of
hair, and sometimes the natives will take a fashion of rubbing red
ochre and turtle-fat into their heads until they are saturated with the
compound, and will then twist up the hair into little strands.
The men of this part of Australia never wear any dress, and the women
are often equally indifferent to costume. At Cape York, however, they
mostly wear an apology for a petticoat, consisting of a tuft of long
grass or split pandanus leaves suspended to the front of the girdle. On
great occasions, and especially in their dances, they wear over this a
second petticoat mostly made of some leaf, and having the ends woven
into a sort of waistband. The material of the petticoat is generally
pandanus leaf, but, whatever may be the material, the mode of plaiting
it and the general form are the same among all the tribes of Torres
Straits. From this useful leaf, the women also make the rude sails for
their canoes, which serve the double purpose of sails and coverings
under which the natives can sleep in wet weather.
The women have rather a curious mode of wearing one of their ornaments.
This is a very long belt, composed of many strands of plaited or
twisted fibre, and passed round the body in such a manner that it
crosses on the breast like the now abolished cross-belts of the
soldier. It is drawn rather tight, and may perhaps be of some service
in supporting the bosom. In neither case does clothing seem to be worn
as a mode of concealing any part of the body, but merely as a defence
against the weather or as an ornament. Even when dress is worn it is of
a very slight character, with one or two exceptions. These exceptions
are the fur cloaks, with which the women sometimes clothe themselves,
and a remarkable garment which presently will be described.
The fur cloaks are made almost universally from the skin of the
opossum, and, as the animal is a small one, a considerable number
are sewed together to make a single robe. The mode of manufacture is
exactly similar to that which was described when treating of the kaross
of the Kaffir tribes, the skins being cut to the proper shape, laid
side by side, and sewed laboriously together with threads formed of the
sinews of the kangaroo’s tail, or often with those which are drawn out
of the tails of the very creatures which furnish the skin.
Sometimes a piece of kangaroo skin is used for the same purpose, but
in neither case does it fulfil the office of a dress according to our
ideas. The cloak is a very small one in proportion to the size of the
women, and it is worn by being thrown over the back and tied across the
chest by a couple of thongs, so as to leave the whole front of the body
uncovered. If the garment in question be the skin of the kangaroo, it
is slung over one shoulder, and allowed to fall much as it likes, the
only object seeming to be that it shall cover the greater part of the
back and one shoulder. Occasionally a man wears a fur cloak, but he
seems to be very indifferent as to the manner in which it hangs upon
his body, sometimes draping it about his shoulders, sometimes letting
it fall to his waist and gathering it about his loins, and sometimes,
especially if walking, holding two corners together with his left hand
in front of his breast, while his right hand grasps his bundle of
weapons.
Mr. Angas mentions one instance of a singularly perfect dress in use
among the Australians--the only dress in fact that is really deserving
of the name. It is a large cloak made from the zostera or sea grass, a
plant that is remarkable for being the only true flowering plant that
grows in the sea. It has very long grass-like blades, and is found in
vast beds, that look in a clear sea like luxuriant hay-fields just
before mowing.
The fibre of the zostera is long, and wonderfully tough, and indeed
the fibre is so good, and the plant so abundant, that the uses to
which it is now put, such as packing and stuffing, are far below its
capabilities, and it ought to be brought into use for purposes for
which a long and strong fibre are needed. Some time ago, when the
supply of rags for paper seemed to be failing, there was an attempt
made to substitute the zostera for rags; and, although it was not a
perfectly successful experiment, it had at all events the elements of
success in it.
With this long grass the Australian native occasionally makes a large
cloak, which will cover the whole body. It is made by laying the fibres
side by side, and lashing them together at regular intervals, much as
the well-known New Zealand mantle is made from the phormium. Anxious to
avoid trouble, the native only fastens together a sufficient quantity
to make a covering for his body as low as the knees, the loose ends of
the zostera being left as a kind of long fringe that edges the mantle
all round, and really has a very graceful effect.
The illustration No. 2, on the next page, shows one of those curious
mantles, which was sketched while on the body of the wearer. As the
manufacture of such a mantle involves much trouble, and the Australian
native has the full savage hatred of labor, very few of these cloaks
are to be seen. Indeed, nothing but a rather long inclement season
will induce a native to take the trouble of making a garment which he
will only use for a comparatively short period, and which is rather
troublesome to carry about when not wanted.
* * * * *
We now come to the food of the natives. As has already been stated,
they eat almost anything, but there are certain kinds of food which
they prefer, and which will be specially mentioned.
As to vegetable food, there are several kinds of yams which the more
civilized tribes cultivate--the nearest approach to labor of which
they can be accused. It is almost exclusively on the islands that
cultivation is found, and Mr. M’Gillivray states that on the mainland
he never saw an attempt at clearing the ground for a garden. In the
islands, however, the natives manage after a fashion to raise crops of
yams.
When they want to clear a piece of ground, they strew the surface
with branches, which are allowed to wither and dry; as soon as they
are thoroughly dried, fire is set to them, and thus the space is
easily cleared from vegetation. The ground is then pecked up with a
stick sharpened at the point and hardened by fire; the yams are cut
up and planted, and by the side of each hole a stick is thrust into
the ground, so as to form a support for the plant when it grows up.
The natives plant just before the rainy season. They never trouble
themselves to build a fence round the simple garden, neither do they
look after the growth of the crops, knowing that the rains which are
sure to fall will bring their crops to perfection.
There are also multitudes of vegetable products on which the natives
feed. One of them, which is largely used, is called by them “biyu.”
It is made from the young and tender shoots of the mangrove tree. The
sprouts, when three or four inches in length, are laid upon heated
stones, and covered with bark, wet leaves, and sand. After being
thoroughly stewed, they are beaten between two stones, and the pulp is
scraped away from the fibres. It then forms a slimy gray paste, and,
although it is largely eaten, the natives do not seem to like it, and
only resort to it on a necessity. They contrive, however, to improve
its flavor by adding large quantities of wild yams and other vegetable
products.
Perhaps the most celebrated wild food of the Australians is the
“nardoo,” which has become so familiar to the British reader since the
important expedition of Burke and Wills. The nardoo is the produce of
a cryptogamous plant which grows in large quantities, but is rather
local. The fruit is about as large as a pea, and is cleaned for use by
being rubbed in small wooden troughs. It is then pounded into a paste,
and made into cakes, like oatmeal.
The nardoo plant is one of the ferns, and those of my readers who are
skilled in botany will find it in the genus Marsilea. Like many of the
ferns, the plant presents a strangely unfernlike aspect, consisting
of upright and slender stems, about twelve inches high, each having
on its tips a small quadruple frond, closely resembling a flower. The
fruit, or “sporocarp” of the nardoo is the part that is eaten; and it
is remarkable for its powers of absorbing water, and so increasing its
size. Indeed, when the fruit is soaked in water, it will in the course
of a single hour swell until it is two hundred times its former size.
[Illustration: (1.) THE HUNTER AND HIS DAY’S PROVISIONS. (See page
704.)]
[Illustration: (2.) THE SEA GRASS CLOAK. (See page 706.)]
The nardoo is useful in its way, and, when mixed with more nutritious
food, is a valuable article of diet. Taken alone, however, it has
scarcely the slightest nutritive powers, and though it distends the
stomach, and so keeps off the gnawing sense of hunger, it gives no
strength to the system. Even when eaten with fish, it is of little
use, and requires either fat or sugar to give it the due power of
nourishment. With the wonderful brightness of spirit which Mr. Wills
managed to keep up, even when suffering the severest hardships, and
feeling himself gradually dying, he gives in his diary a curiously
accurate picture of the effects of living for a length of time on an
innutritious substance. He liked the nardoo, and consumed considerable
quantities of it, but gradually wasted away, leaving a record in his
diary that “starvation on nardoo is by no means unpleasant but for the
weakness one feels, and the utter inability to rouse one’s self; for as
far as appetite is concerned, it gives the greatest satisfaction.”
The death of this fine young man affords another proof of the
disadvantage at which a stranger to the country is placed while
traversing a new land. Many native tribes lived on the route along
which the travellers passed, and, from their knowledge of the resources
of the country, were able to support themselves; whereas the white
travellers seem to have died of starvation in the midst of plenty.
The chief vegetable food, however, is furnished by the bulrush root,
which is to the Australians who live near rivers the staff of life. As
the task of procuring it is a very disagreeable one, it is handed over
to the women, who have to wade among the reeds and half bury themselves
in mud while procuring the root.
It is cooked after the usual Australian manner. A heap of limestones is
raised, and heated by fire. The roots are then laid on the hot stones,
and are covered with a layer of the same material. In order to produce
a quantity of steam, a heap of wet grass is thrown on the upper layer
of stones, and a mound of sand heaped over all.
As the root, however well cooked, is very fibrous, the natives do not
swallow it, but, after chewing it and extracting all the soft parts,
they reject the fibres, just as a sailor throws aside his exhausted
quid; and great quantities of these little balls of fibre are to be
found near every encampment. The same fibre is convertible into string,
and is used in the manufacture of fishing lines and nets.
The singular knowledge of vegetable life possessed by the natives is
never displayed with greater force than in the power which they have of
procuring water. In an apparently desert place, where no signs of water
are to be found, and where not even a pigeon can be seen to wing its
way through the air, as the guide to the distant water toward which it
is flying, the native will manage to supply himself with both water
and food.
He looks out for certain eucalypti or gum-trees, which are visible from
a very great distance, and makes his way toward them. Choosing a spot
at three or four yards from the trunk, with his katta he digs away at
the earth, so as to expose the roots, tears them out of the ground, and
proceeds to prepare them. Cutting them into pieces of a foot or so in
length, he stands them upright in the bark vessel which an Australian
mostly carries with him, and waits patiently. Presently a few drops of
water ooze from the lower ends of the roots, and in a short time water
pours out freely, so that an abundant supply of liquid is obtained.
Should the native be very much parched, he takes one of the pieces
of root, splits it lengthwise, and chews it, finding that it gives
as much juice as a water-melon. The youngest and freshest-looking
trees are always chosen for the purpose of obtaining water, and the
softest-looking roots selected. After the water has all been drained
from them, they are peeled, pounded between two stones, and then
roasted; so that the eucalyptus supplies both food and drink.
As, however, has been stated, the chief reliance of the natives is
upon animal food and fish, molluscs, crustacea, reptiles, and insects
form a very considerable proportion of their food. Collecting the
shell-fish is the duty of the women, chiefly because it is really hard
work, and requires a great amount of diving. Throughout the whole of
this vast continent this duty is given to the women; and whether in
the Gulf of Carpentaria, on the extreme north, or in the island of Van
Diemen’s Land, in the extreme south, the same custom prevails. During
Labillardière’s voyage in search of La Perouse, the travellers came
upon a party of the natives of Van Diemen’s Land while the women were
collecting shell-fish, and the author gives a good description of the
labors to which these poor creatures were subjected:--
“About noon we saw them prepare their repast. Hitherto we had but a
faint idea of the pains the women take to procure the food requisite
for the subsistence of their families. They took each a basket, and
were followed by their daughters, who did the same. Getting on the
rocks that projected into the sea, they plunged from them to the bottom
in search of shell-fish. When they had been down some time, we became
very uneasy on their account; for where they had dived were seaweeds
of great length, among which we observed the _fucus pyriferus_, and we
feared that they might have been entangled in these, so as to be unable
to regain the surface.
“At length, however, they appeared, and convinced us that they were
capable of remaining under water twice as long as our ablest divers.
An instant was sufficient for them to take breath, and then they dived
again. This they did repeatedly till their baskets were nearly full.
Most of them were provided with a little bit of wood, cut into the
shape of a spatula, and with these they separated from beneath the
rocks, at great depths, very large sea-ears. Perhaps they chose the
biggest, for all they brought were of a great size.
“On seeing the large lobsters which they had in their baskets, we were
afraid that they must have wounded these poor women terribly with their
large claws; but we soon found that they had taken the precaution to
kill them as soon as they caught them. They quitted the water only to
bring their husbands the fruits of their labor, and frequently returned
almost immediately to their diving till they had procured a sufficient
meal for their families. At other times they stayed a little while to
warm themselves, with their faces toward the fire on which their fish
was roasting, and other little fires burning behind them, that they
might be warmed on all sides at once.
“It seemed as if they were unwilling to lose a moment’s time; for while
they were warming themselves, they were employed in roasting fish, some
of which they laid on the coals with the utmost caution, though they
took little care of the lobsters, which they threw anywhere into the
fire; and when they were ready they divided the claws among the men and
the children, reserving the body for themselves, which they sometimes
ate before returning into the water.
“It gave us great pain to see these poor women condemned to such severe
toil; while, at the same time, they ran the hazard of being devoured by
sharks, or entangled among the weeds that rise from the bottom of the
sea. We often entreated their husbands to take a share in their labor
at least, but always in vain. They remained constantly near the fire,
feasting on the best bits, and eating broiled fucus, or fern-roots.
Occasionally they took the trouble to break boughs of trees into short
pieces to feed the fire, taking care to choose the dryest.
“From their manner of breaking them we found that their skulls must
be very hard; for, taking hold of the sticks at each end with the
hand, they broke them over their heads, as we do at the knee, till
they broke. Their heads being constantly bare, and often exposed to
all weathers in this high latitude, acquire a capacity for resisting
such efforts: besides, their hair forms a cushion which diminishes
the pressure, and renders it much less painful on the summit of the
head than any other part of the body. Few of the women, however, could
have done as much, for some had their hair cut pretty short, and wore
a string several times round the head; others had only a simple crown
of hair. We made the same observation with respect to several of the
children, but none of the men. These had the back, breast, shoulders,
and arms covered with downy hair.”
Sometimes a party of women will go out on a raft made of layers of
reeds, pushing themselves along by means of very long poles. When they
arrive at a bed of mussels, they will stay there nearly all day diving
from the raft, with their nets tied round their necks, and, after
remaining under water for a considerable time, come up with a heavy
load of mussels in their nets.
They even manage to cook upon this fragile raft. They make a heap of
wet sand upon the reeds, put a few stones on it, and build their fire
on the stones, just as if they had been on shore. After remaining until
they have procured a large stock of mussels, they pole themselves
ashore, and in all probability have to spend several hours in cooking
the mussels for the men. The mussels are usually eaten with the bulrush
root.
There is a sort of crayfish which is found in the mud-flats of rivers
and lakes. These are also caught by the women, who feel for them in the
mud with their feet, and hold them down firmly until they can be seized
by the hand. As soon as the creatures are taken, the claws are crushed
to prevent them from biting, and they are afterward roasted, while
still alive, on the embers of the fire. Tadpoles are favorite articles
of diet with the Australians, who fry them on grass.
The ordinary limpet, mussel, and other molluscs, are largely eaten by
the natives, who scoop them out by means of smaller shells, just as is
done by boys along our own coasts--a plan which is very efficacious,
as I can testify from personal experience. Sometimes they cook the
molluscs by the simple process of throwing them on the embers, but as a
general rule they eat them in a raw state, as we eat oysters.
Fish they catch in various ways. The usual method is by a hook and
line; the former of which is ingeniously cut out of the shell of the
hawksbill turtle. Two of these hooks are now before me, and raise a
feeling of wonder as to the fish which could be induced to take such
articles into its mouth. It is flat, very clumsily made, and there is
no barb, the point being curved very much inward, so as to prevent
the fish from slipping off the hook. In fact the whole shape of the
hook is almost exactly identical with that of the hook which is found
throughout Polynesia and extends to New Zealand.
The hook is fastened to a long and stout line, made by chewing reeds,
stripping them into fibres, and rolling them on the thighs. Two of
these strings are then twisted together, and the line is complete. My
own specimen of a line is about as thick as the fishing lines used
on our coasts, and it is very long, having a hook at either end. The
hook is lashed to the line by a very firm but rather clumsy wrapping.
Sometimes the line is made of scraped rattan fibres.
Another mode of fishing is by the net. This requires at least two men
to manage it. The net is many feet in length, and about four feet in
width. It is kept extended by a number of sticks placed a yard or so
apart, and can then be rolled up in a cylindrical package and be taken
to the water. One man then takes an end of the net, unrolls it, and
with the assistance of his comrade drops it into the water. As soon as
the lower edge of the net touches the bottom, the men wade toward the
shore, drawing with them the two ends of the net and all the fish that
happen to be within its range. As soon as they near the shore, they
bring the two ends of the net to the land, fix them there, and are then
able to pick up and throw ashore all the fish that are in the net. Some
of the more active fish escape by leaping over the upper edge of the
net, and some of the mud-loving and crafty wriggle their way under the
lower edge; but there is always a sufficiency of fish to reward the
natives for their labor.
Like the fishing line, the net is made of chewed reeds, and the labor
of chewing and twisting the string belongs exclusively to the women.
A third mode of fishing is by employing certain traps or baskets,
ingeniously woven of rattan, and made so that the fish can easily pass
into them, but cannot by any possibility get out again. Sometimes
fish are speared in the shallow water, the native wading in, and with
unerring aim transfixing the fish with his spear. Even the children
take part in this sport, and, though armed with nothing better than a
short stick, sharpened at one end, contrive to secure their fish. With
the same stick they dig molluscs out of the mud, and turn crustacea out
of their holes; and when they can do this, they are supposed to be able
to shift for themselves, and their parents take no more trouble about
feeding them.
They are not more fastidious in the cooking of fish than of crustacea
or molluscs, but just throw them on the fire, turn them once or
twice with a stick, and when they are warmed through and the outside
scorched, they pick them out of the fire, scrape off the burnt scales,
and eat them without further ceremony.
Insect food is much used among the Australians. As might be expected,
honey is greatly valued by them, and they display great ingenuity in
procuring it. When a native sees a bee about the flowers, and wishes to
find the honey, he repairs to the nearest pool, selects a spot where
the bank shelves very gradually, lies on his face, fills his mouth with
water, and patiently awaits the arrival of a bee. These insects require
a considerable amount of moisture, as every one knows who has kept
them, and the bee-hunter reckons on this fact to procure him the honey
which he desires. After a while a bee is sure to come and drink, and
the hunter, hearing the insect approaching him, retains his position
and scarcely breathes, so fearful is he of alarming it. At last it
alights, and instantly the native blows the water from his mouth over
it, stunning it for the moment. Before it can recover itself, he seizes
it, and by means of a little gum attaches to it a tuft of white down
obtained from one of the trees.
As soon as it is released, the insect flies away toward its nest, the
white tuft serving the double purpose of making it more conspicuous
and retarding its flight. Away goes the hunter after it at full speed,
running and leaping along in a wonderful manner, his eyes fixed on the
guiding insect, and making very light of obstacles. (See illustration
No. 1, on the 716th page.) Sometimes a fallen tree will be in his way,
and if he can he jumps over it; but at all risks he must get over
without delay, and so he dashes at the obstacle with reckless activity.
Should he surmount it, well and good; but if, as often happens, he
should fall, he keeps his eyes fixed, as well as he can, on the bee,
and as soon as he springs to his feet he resumes the chase. Even if
he should lose sight of it for a moment, he dashes on in the same
direction, knowing that a bee always flies in a straight line for its
home; and when he nears it, the angry hum of the hampered insect soon
tells him that he has recovered the lost ground.
The reader will see that this mode of tracking the bee to its home
is far inferior to that of the American bee-hunters, and is rather a
business of the legs than of the head. The Australian bee-hunter waits
until a bee happens to come to the spot where he lies; the American
bee-hunter baits an attractive trap, and induces the insect to come to
the spot which he selects. Then the Australian bee-hunter only runs
after the single bee; whereas the American bee-hunter economizes his
strength by employing two bees, and saving his legs.
He puts honey on a flat wooden slab, having drawn a circle of white
paint round it. The bee alights on the honey, and, after filling its
crop, crawls through the white paint and sets off homeward. The hunter
follows the “bee-line” taken by the insect, and marks it by scoring or
“blazing” a few trees. He then removes his honeyed trap to a spot at
an angle with his former station and repeats the process. There is no
need for him to race after the flying bee, and to run considerable risk
of damaging himself more or less seriously; he simply follows out the
lines which the two bees have taken, and, by fixing on the point at
which they meet, walks leisurely up to the nest.
Having found his bee nest, the Australian loses no time in ascending to
the spot, whether it be a cleft in a rock, or, as is usually the case,
a hole in a tree. This latter spot is much favored by the bees, as
well as by many of the arboreal mammals, of which there are so many in
Australia. The sudden and violent tempests which rage in that part of
the world tear off the branches of trees and hurl them to the ground.
During succeeding rainy seasons, the wet lodges in the broken branch,
and by degrees rots away the wood, which is instantly filled with
the larvæ of beetles, moths, flies, and other insects that feed upon
decaying wood. Thus, in a few years, the hollow extends itself until it
burrows into the tree itself, and sometimes descends nearly from the
top to the bottom, thus forming an admirable locality for the bees.
Taking with him a hatchet, a basket, and a quantity of dry grass or
leaves, the native ascends, lights the grass, and under cover of the
smoke chops away the wood until he can get at the combs, which he
places in the basket, with which he descends. Should he be too poor to
possess even a basket, he extemporizes one by cutting away the bark of
the tree; and should the nest be a very large one, he is supplied by
his friends from below with a number of vessels, and passes them down
as fast as they are filled.
Perhaps some of my readers may remark that honey cannot be rightly
considered as insect food, and that it ought to have been ranked among
the vegetable productions. The Australian, however, does not content
himself with extracting the honey from the comb, but eats it precisely
in the state in which it is brought from the nest. As the bees are
not forced, as amongst English bee-masters, to keep their honey-cells
distinct from those which contain the hoard and the “bee-bread,” each
comb contains indiscriminately bee-bread, young bee-grubs, and honey,
and the Australian eats all three with equal satisfaction.
Another kind of insect food is a grub which inhabits the trunks of
trees, and of which the natives are inordinately fond. They have a
wonderful faculty of discovering the presence of this grub, and twist
it out of its hole with an odd little instrument composed of a hook
fastened to the end of a slender twig. This implement is carried in the
hair so as to project over the ear, like a clerk’s pen, and for a long
time puzzled travellers, who thought it to be merely an ornament, and
could not understand its very peculiar shape.
The larva is the caterpillar of a moth which is closely allied to the
goat-moth of our own country, and has the same habit of burrowing
into the wood of living trees. The hooked instrument which is used
for drawing them out of their holes is called the “pileyah,” and is
employed also for hooking beetles, grubs, and other insects out of
their holes in the ground. When the pileyah is used for extracting
grubs from the earth, the ground is first loosened by means of a wooden
scoop that looks something like a hollowed waddy. The pileyah is then
tied to the end of a polygonum twig of sufficient length, and by such
means can be introduced into the holes.
Perhaps the most celebrated of the various insect banquets in which
the Australians delight is that which is furnished by the bugong moth,
as the insect is popularly, but wrongly, called. Instead of belonging
to the moth tribe, it is one of the butterflies, and belongs to the
graceful family of the Heliconidæ. Its scientific name is _Euplœa
hamata_. The bugong is remarkable for the fact that its body, instead
of being slender like that of most butterflies, is very stout, and
contains an astonishing amount of oily matter. The color of the insect
is dark brown, with two black spots on the upper wings. It is a small
insect, measuring only an inch and a half across the wings.
It is found in the New South Wales district, and inhabits a range
of hills that are called from the insect the Bugong Mountains. The
Australians eat the bugong butterflies just as locusts are eaten in
many parts of the world, and, for the short time during which the
insect makes its appearance, feast inordinately upon it, and get quite
fat. The following account is given by Mr. G. Bennett:--
“After riding over the lower ranges, we arrived a short distance above
the base of the Bugong Mountain, tethered the horses, and ascended on
foot, by a steep and rugged path, which led us to the first summit of
the mountain: at this place, called Ginandery by the natives, enormous
masses of granite rock, piled one upon another, and situated on the
verge of a wooded precipice, excited our attention. An extensive and
romantic view was here obtained of a distant, wooded, mountainous
country.
“This was the first place where, upon the smooth sides or crevices of
the granite blocks, the bugong moths congregated in such incredible
multitudes; but, from the blacks having recently been here, we found
but few of the insects remaining. At one part of this group of granite
rocks were two pools, apparently hollowed naturally from the solid
stone, and filled with cool and clear water; so, lighting a fire, we
enjoyed a cup of tea previous to recommencing our further ascent. On
proceeding we found the rise more gradual, but unpleasant, from the
number of loose stones and branches of trees strewed about; several
of the deserted bark huts of the natives (which they had temporarily
erected when engaged in collecting and preparing the bugong) were
scattered around. Shrubs and plants were numerous as we proceeded, but,
with few exceptions, did not differ from those seen in other parts of
the colony.
“Near a small limpid stream a species of _Lycopodium_ grew so dense
as to form a carpet over which we were able to walk. The timber trees
towered to so great an elevation that the prospect of the country we
had anticipated was impeded. At last we arrived at another peculiar
group of granite rocks in enormous masses and of various forms; this
place, similar to the last, formed the locality where the bugong moths
congregate, and is called ‘Warrogong’ by the natives. The remains of
recent fires apprised us that the aborigines had only recently left the
place for another of similar character a few miles further distant.
“Our native guides wished us to proceed and join the tribe, but the
day had so far advanced that it was thought more advisable to return,
because it was doubtful, as the blacks removed from a place as soon as
they had cleared it of the insects, whether we should find them at the
next group, or removed to others still further distant.
“From the result of my observations it appears that the insects are
only found in such multitudes on these insulated and peculiar masses
of granite, for about the other solitary granite rocks, so profusely
scattered over the range, I did not observe a single moth, or even the
remains of one. Why they should be confined only to these particular
places, or for what purpose they thus collect together, is not a less
curious than interesting subject of inquiry. Whether it be for the
purpose of emigrating, or any other cause, our present knowledge cannot
satisfactorily answer.
“The bugong moths, as I have before observed, collect on the surfaces,
and also in the crevices, of the masses of granite in incredible
quantities. To procure them with greater facility, the natives make
smothered fires underneath these rocks about which they are collected,
and suffocate them with smoke, at the same time sweeping them off
frequently in bushelfuls at a time. After they have collected a large
quantity, they proceed to prepare them, which is done in the following
manner.
“A circular space is cleared upon the ground, of a size proportioned
to the number of insects to be prepared; on it a fire is lighted and
kept burning until the ground is considered to be sufficiently heated,
when, the fire being removed, and the ashes cleared away, the moths are
placed upon the heated ground, and stirred about until the down and
wings are removed from them; they are then placed on pieces of bark,
and _winnowed_ to separate the dust and wings mixed with the bodies;
they are then eaten, or placed into a wooden vessel called ‘walbum,’
or ‘calibum,’ and pounded by a piece of wood into masses or cakes
resembling lumps of fat, and may be compared in color and consistence
to dough made from smutty wheat mixed with fat.
“The bodies of the moths are large and filled with a yellowish
oil, resembling in taste a sweet nut. These masses (with which the
‘netbuls,’ or ‘talabats,’ of the native tribes are loaded during the
season of feasting upon the bugong) will not keep more than a week, and
seldom even for that time; but by smoking they are able to preserve
them for a much longer period. The first time this diet is used by the
native tribes, violent vomiting and other debilitating effects are
produced, but after a few days they become accustomed to its use, and
then thrive and fatten exceedingly upon it.
“These insects are held in such estimation among the aborigines, that
they assemble from all parts of the country to collect them from these
mountains. It is not only the native blacks that resort to the bugong,
but crows also congregate for the same purpose. The blacks (that is,
the crows and the aborigines) do not agree about their respective
shares: so the stronger decides the point; for, when the crows (called
‘arabul’ by the natives) enter the hollows of the rocks to feed upon
the insects, the natives stand at the entrance and kill them as they
fly out; and they afford them an excellent meal, being fat from feeding
upon the rich bugong. So eager are the feathered blacks or arabuls
after this food that they attack it even when it is preparing by the
natives; but as the aborigines never consider any increase of food a
misfortune, they lay in wait for the arabuls with waddies or clubs,
kill them in great numbers, and use them as food.”
* * * * *
Reptiles form a very considerable part of an Australian’s diet, and he
displays equal aptitude in capturing and cooking them. Turtle is an
especial favorite with him, not only on account of its size, and of the
quantity of meat which it furnishes, but on account of the oil which is
obtained from it.
On the coast of Australia several kinds of turtle are found, the most
useful of which are the ordinary green turtle and the hawksbill. They
are caught either in the water, or by watching for them when they come
on shore for the purpose of laying their eggs, and then turning them on
their backs before they can reach the sea. As, however, comparatively
few venture on the shore, the greater number are taken in the water.
Along the shore the natives have regular watchtowers or cairns made of
stones and the bones of turtles, dugongs, and other creatures. When
the sentinel sees a turtle drifting along with the tide, he gives the
alarm, and a boat puts out after it. The canoe approaches from behind,
and paddles very cautiously so that the reptile may not hear it. As
soon as they come close to it, the chief hunter, who holds in his hand
one end of a slight but tough rope, leaps on the turtle’s back, and
clings to it with both hands on its shoulders. The startled reptile
dashes off, but before it has got very far the hunter contrives to
upset it, and while it is struggling he slips the noose of the rope
over one of its flippers. The creature is then comparatively helpless,
and is towed ashore by the canoe.
In some districts the turtle is taken by means of a harpoon, which is
identical in principle with that which is used by the hippopotamus
hunters of Africa. There is a long shaft, into the end of which is
loosely slipped a movable head. A rope is attached to the head, and a
buoy to the other end of the rope. As soon as the reptile is struck,
the shaft is disengaged, and is picked up by the thrower; while the
float serves as an indication of the turtle’s whereabouts, and enables
the hunters to tow it toward the shore.
One of the natives, named Gi’ôm, told Mr. M’Gillivray that they
sometimes caught the turtle by means of the remora, or sucking-fish.
One of these fish, round whose tail a line has been previously made
fast, is kept in a vessel of water on board the boat, and, when a small
turtle is seen, the remora is dropped into the sea. Instinctively
it makes its way to the turtle, and fastens itself so firmly to the
reptile’s back that they are both hauled to the boat’s side and lifted
in by the fishermen. Only small turtles can be thus taken, and there
is one species which never attains any great size which is generally
captured in this curious manner.
The hawksbill turtle is too dangerous an antagonist to be chased in the
water. The sharp-edged scales which project from its sides would cut
deeply into the hands of any man who tried to turn it; and even the
green turtle, with its comparatively blunt-edged shell, has been known
to inflict a severe wound upon the leg of the man who was clinging to
its back. The native, therefore, is content to watch it ashore, and by
means of long, stout poles, which he introduces leverwise under its
body, turns it over without danger to himself.
When the Australians have succeeded in turning a turtle, there are
great rejoicings, as the very acme of human felicity consists,
according to native ideas, in gorging until the feasters can neither
stand nor sit. They may be seen absolutely rolling on the ground in
agony from the inordinate distension of their stomachs, and yet, as
soon as the pain has abated, they renew their feastings. Mostly they
assemble round the turtle, cook it rudely, and devour it on the spot;
but in Torres Straits they are more provident, and dry the flesh in
order to supply themselves with food during their voyages. They cut up
the meat into thin slices, boil the slices, and then dry them in the
sun.
During the process of cooking, a considerable amount of oil rises to
the surface, and is skimmed off and kept in vessels made of bamboo and
turtles’ bladders. The cook, however, has to exercise some vigilance
while performing his task, as the natives are so fond of the oil that,
unless they are closely watched, they will skim it off and drink it
while in an almost boiling state. The boiling and subsequent drying
render the flesh very hard, so that it will keep for several weeks; but
it cannot be eaten without a second boiling.
The shell of the hawksbill turtle is doubly valuable to the natives,
who reserve a little for the manufacture of hooks, and sell the rest
to shippers or traders, who bring it to Europe, where it is converted
into the “tortoise-shell” with which we are so familiar. There is
in my collection a beautiful specimen of one of these scales of
tortoise-shell as it was purchased from the natives. It is about eleven
inches in length and seven in width, and has a hole at one end by which
they string the scales together. There are the scars of eight large
limpet shells upon it, showing the singular appearance which the animal
must have presented when alive.
The cooking of turtle is a far more important process than that of
boiling fish, and a sort of oven is required in order to dress it
properly. In principle the oven resembles that which is in use in so
many parts of the world, and which has been already described when
shewing how the hunters of South Africa cook the elephant’s foot.
Instead, however, of digging a hole and burning wood in it, the
Australian takes a number of stones, each about the size of a man’s
fist, and puts them into the fire. When they are heated, they are laid
closely together, and the meat placed upon them. A second layer of
heated stones is arranged upon the meat, and a rim or bank of tea-tree
bush, backed up with sand or earth, is built round this primitive oven.
Grass and leaves are then strewn plentifully over the stones, and are
held in their places by the circular bank. The steam is thus retained,
and so the meat is cooked in a very effectual manner.
In some parts of the country, however, a more elaborate oven is
used. It consists of a hole some three feet in diameter and two feet
in depth, and is heated in the following manner:--It is filled to
within six inches of the top with round and hard stones, similar to
those which have already been described, and upon them a fire is
built and maintained for some time. When the stones are thought to be
sufficiently heated, the embers are swept away, and the food is simply
laid upon the stones and allowed to remain there until thoroughly
cooked.
This kind of oven is found over a large range of country, and Mr.
M’Gillivray has seen it throughout the shores of Torres Straits, and
extending as far southward as Sandy Cape on the eastern side.
[Illustration: (1.) BEE HUNTING. (See page 711.)]
[Illustration: (2.) COOKING A SNAKE. (See page 717.)]
Although the idea of snake eating is so repugnant to our ideas that
many persons cannot eat eels because they look like snakes, the
Australian knows better, and considers a snake as one of the greatest
delicacies which the earth produces. And there is certainly no reason
why we should repudiate the snake as disgusting while we accept the
turtle and so many of the tortoise kind as delicacies, no matter
whether their food be animal or vegetable. The Australian knows that
a snake in good condition ought to have plenty of fat, and to be well
flavored, and is always easy in his mind so long as he can catch one.
The process of cooking (see page 716) is exactly like that which is
employed with fish, except that more pains are taken about it, as is
consistent with the superior character of the food. The fire being
lighted, the native squats in front of it and waits until the flame
and smoke have partly died away, and then carefully coils the snake
on the embers, turning it and recoiling it until all the scales are
so scorched that they can be rubbed off. He then allows it to remain
until it is cooked according to his ideas, and eats it deliberately, as
becomes such a dainty, picking out the best parts for himself, and, if
he be in a good humor, tossing the rest to his wives.
Snake hunting is carried on in rather a curious manner. Killing a snake
at once, unless it should be wanted for immediate consumption, would be
extremely foolish, as it would be unfit for food before the night had
passed away. Taking it alive, therefore, is the plan which is adopted
by the skilful hunter, and this he manages in a very ingenious way.
Should he come upon one of the venomous serpents, he cuts off its
retreat, and with his spear or with a forked stick he irritates it with
one hand, while in his other he holds the narrow wooden shield. By
repeated blows he induces the reptile to attack him, and dexterously
receives the stroke on the shield, flinging the snake back by the
sudden repulse. Time after time the snake renews the attack, and is as
often foiled; and at last it yields the battle, and lies on the ground
completely beaten. The hunter then presses his forked stick on the
reptile’s neck, seizes it firmly, and holds it while a net is thrown
over it and it is bound securely to his spear. It is then carried off,
and reserved for the next day’s banquet.
Sometimes the opossum-skin cloak takes the place of the shield, and the
snake is allowed to bite it.
The carpet snake, which sometimes attains the length of ten or twelve
feet, is favorite game with the Australian native, as its large size
furnishes him with an abundant supply of meat, as well as the fat in
which his soul delights. This snake mostly lives in holes at the foot
of the curious grass-tree, of which we shall see several figures in the
course of the following pages, and in many places it is so plentiful
that there is scarcely a grass-tree without its snake.
As it would be a waste of time to probe each hole in succession, the
natives easily ascertain those holes which are inhabited by smearing
the earth around them with a kind of white clay mixed with water, which
is as soft as putty. On the following day they can easily see, by the
appearance of the clay, when a snake has entered or left its hole, and
at once proceed to induce the reptile to leave its stronghold. This is
done by putting on the trunk of the tree immediately over the hole a
bait, which the natives state to be honey, and waiting patiently, often
for many hours, until the serpent is attracted by the bait and climbs
the tree. As soon as it is clear of the hole, its retreat is cut off,
and the result of the ensuing combat is a certainty. The forked spear
which the native employs is called a bo-bo.
All the tribes which live along the eastern coast, especially those
which inhabit the northern part of the country, are in the habit of
capturing the dugong. This animal is very fond of a green, branchless,
marine alga, and ventures to the shore in order to feed upon it. The
natives are on the watch for it, and, as soon as a dugong is seen, a
canoe puts off after it.
Each canoe is furnished with paddles and a harpooner, who is armed with
a weapon very similar to that which is used by the turtle catchers,
except that no buoy is required. It is composed of a shaft some twelve
or fifteen feet in length, light at one end, and heavy at the other.
A hole is made at the heavy end, and into the hole is loosely fitted
a kind of spear head made of bone, about four inches in length, and
covered with barbs. One end of a stout and long rope is made fast to
this head, and the other is attached to the canoe.
As soon as he is within striking distance, the harpooner jumps out of
the boat into the water, striking at the same time with his weapon, so
as to add to the stroke the force of his own weight. Disengaging the
shaft, he returns to the canoe, leaving the dugong attached to it by
the rope. The wounded animal dives and tries to make its way seaward.
Strange to say, although the dugong is a large animal, often eight
feet in length, and very bulky in proportion to its length, it seldom
requires to be struck a second time, but rises to the surface and dies
in a few minutes from a wound occasioned by so apparently insignificant
a weapon as a piece of bone struck some three inches into its body.
When it is dead, it is towed ashore, and rolled up the bank to some
level spot, where preparations are at once made for cooking and eating
it.
Those who are acquainted with zoölogy are aware that the dugong is
formed much after the manner of the whale, and that it is covered first
with a tough skin and then with a layer of blubber over the muscles.
This structure, by the way, renders its succumbing to the wound of
the harpoon the more surprising. The natives always cut it up in the
same manner. The tail is sliced much as we carve a round of beef, while
the body is cut into thin slices as far as the ribs, each slice having
its own proportion of meat, blubber, and skin. The blubber is esteemed
higher than any other portion of the animal, though even the tough skin
can be rendered tolerably palatable by careful cooking.
Of all Australian animals, the kangaroo is most in favor, both on
account of the excellent quality of the flesh, and the quantity which
a single kangaroo will furnish. It is hardly necessary to remind the
reader that with the Australian, as with other savages, quantity is
considered rather than quality. A full grown “boomah” kangaroo will,
when standing upright, in its usual attitude of defence, measure nearly
six feet in height, and is of very considerable weight. And, when an
Australian kills a kangaroo, he performs feats of gluttony to which
the rest of the world can scarcely find a parallel, and certainly not
a superior. Give an Australian a kangaroo and he will eat until he
is nearly dead from repletion; and he will go on eating, with short
intervals of rest, until he has finished the entire kangaroo.
Like other savage creatures, whether human or otherwise, he is capable
of bearing deprivation of food to a wonderful extent; and his patient
endurance of starvation, when food is not to be obtained, is only to be
excelled by his gluttony when it is plentiful. This curious capacity
for alternate gluttony and starvation is fostered by the innately lazy
disposition of the Australian savage, and his utter disregard for the
future. The animal that ought to serve him and his family for a week is
consumed in a few hours; and, as long as he does not feel the pain of
absolute hunger, nothing can compel the man to leave his rude couch and
go off on a hunting expedition. But when he does make up his mind to
hunt, he has a bulldog sort of tenacity which forbids him to relinquish
the chase until he has been successful in bringing down his game.