_Mongan_, a new mammal—For my collection or to feed the
blacks?—Natives do not eat raw meat—A young yarri—A meteorite—Fear
of attacks—Cannibals on the war-path—The relations between the
tribes.
The following day the rain had entirely ceased, but the natives refused
to continue the journey because the scrub was so wet. Still I had
determined to raise the disagreeable quarantine, even though I should
expose myself to still greater discomfiture. After an hour or two I
actually succeeded in getting them to start, in spite of Willy’s
assurances that it was impossible to get into the other valley for which
I was making. Jimmy went alone upon some hills to find _mongan_, a
mammal which the natives had mentioned to me, but which I had not yet
seen. The women were excused from gathering fruits in the scrub, which
was now scarcely accessible, and instead they were to go down to the
grassy plain and examine the poisoned meat which we had laid there as
lures for the yarri. The men accompanied me to a neighbouring valley,
where the women declared they had seen boongary on one of their
expeditions to gather fruit.
The long incessant rain had formed countless brooks, which, with their
clear and sparkling water, frequently crossed our path to vanish in the
dense scrub. The sky was now clear and cloudless, and the wet, dense
forest lay bathed in the bright glittering sunshine, which produced an
intense heat, while warm vapours rising from the ground and from the
trees made the air so damp and oppressive that we became very much
exhausted.
We often found large coils of the lawyer-palm obstructing our passage.
Willy repeatedly called my attention to the fact that he had been right
in urging that the scrub was impassable, but still we managed to get on,
partly by going round, partly by creeping under the obstructions.
[Illustration:
Harald Jensen lith. Hoffensberg & Trap^ṣ Etabl.
PSEUDOCHIRUS HERBERTENSIS. N.SP.
]
When we got out of the scrub we went along the side of a steep heap of
debris overgrown with creeping plants, a difficult road, for the stones
were continually loosened under our feet and rolled down with a
tremendous crash. We saw nothing but old traces of boongary; on the
other hand, I shot a specimen of the toollah (_Pseudochirus archeri_)
described above. The dogs proved useless, my Gordon setter was, of
course, too heavy to work in the scrub, to which she was not accustomed,
and Chinaman’s dog also disappointed my expectations, for it refused to
range at all, thereby making its master so angry that he pelted it with
sticks. We had agreed to meet the women and Jimmy at the foot of the
mountains, and when we reached the camp at dusk we found them already
there; they had inspected all the poisoned meat lures, but none of them
had been touched. Jimmy, however, had, to my great delight, found mongan
(_Pseudochirus herbertensis_), a new and very pretty mammal, whose
habitat is exclusively the highest tops of the scrubs in the Coast
Mountains (see coloured plate).
Willy and Chinaman persisted in having the toollah which I had shot, and
as our provisions were giving out, I was obliged to surrender it, much
to my chagrin. I tried to keep the skin, but they eagerly objected that
the animal would lose its flavour if roasted without it. In order to
satisfy their hunger, I was therefore obliged to give them both the skin
and the body.
They now threw the animal on the fire, in order to singe the hair off.
Then they cut its belly open with a sharp piece of wood, placed it on
the coals, and as soon as it was half roasted it was torn into several
pieces and distributed, whereupon each one roasted his share. In this
way the Australian prepares and roasts all small mammals. He does not
like to eat the meat raw, but has not the patience to wait until it is
thoroughly done. As soon as a crust is formed on the meat, he takes it
from the coals and gnaws off the roasted part; he then puts it back to
roast the rest.
The women returned from their expedition with a lot of fruit rather like
red peas, called by the natives _koraddan_. It grows on a climbing plant
found in abundance in the scrub, but as a rule cannot be reached from
the ground, hence the women must climb the trees to gather it. The
koraddan is roasted between grass and hot stones, and has a
comparatively good flavour, smelling and tasting like boiled peas.
[Illustration:
YARRI (_Dasyurus maculatus_).
]
I had much trouble in getting the natives to look after the strychnine
lures, in the effect of which they had no faith, as they are not in
possession of any kind of poison. I promised them tobacco if they could
bring me the animal I wanted. At last they started, and one day, to my
great surprise, they brought me a yarri. The natives having a
superstition that “a great water will rise” if a young man picks up a
dead yarri, Jimmy, who was the oldest, had to carry the animal, and at
the head of the others he brought it in triumph to the camp, holding it
carefully by the tail high in the air. Had he not been present, I doubt
whether I should have obtained the animal.
I concealed my joy, and in order to test them insisted that it was not a
yarri that they had caught, but they shouted wildly _Yarri, yarri,
yarri!_ declaring, however, that it was a young one. The skin was hardly
three feet long from the snout to the end of the tail. It was of a
yellowish-gray colour, with whitish round spots. It proved to be a
_Dasyurus maculatus_, yarri being a name applied to the whole family of
_Dasyuridæ_. I am, however, convinced that there exists a large animal
of this kind that has not yet been discovered. The one which the natives
particularly call yarri I shall have occasion to mention farther on.
I was sorry to find that the specimen now brought to me had been lying
so long that it had already become greenish on the under side, and had a
bad smell. As my knives were rather blunt, it was no pleasant task to
flay the animal, whose skin is very tough. Unfortunately my knife
slipped and cut a deep gash in my thumb. To prevent blood-poisoning I
applied caustic and carbolic acid, and continued my work with a bandage
on my thumb.
One day I secured a specimen of the wonderful _Hypsiprymnodon
moschatus_, which forms the connecting link between the kangaroos and
the phalangers. This animal, called by the natives _yopŏlo_, is not very
rare in the lower part of the scrubs, but is difficult to kill, as it
haunts the banks of the rivers and is never seen on the grassy plain.
When we walked along a river in the scrubs my blacks would often make a
smacking sound that causes the animal, which is very curious, to come
forth and thus be discovered. The yopolo is brown, and about the size of
a stoat. Its lair is formed like a globular nest from fallen leaves near
the root of a tree, but it is only to be discovered among the leaves and
grass by the keen eyes of the blacks. The natives frequently succeed in
catching the animal by placing their feet quickly on the lair, but as a
rule the yopolo is hunted with a dingo.
The last evening but one of this expedition a very curious event
happened. While we were eating supper we suddenly heard a terrible cry
from the women, who had a camp by themselves farther down the river.
After a moment’s reflection the men ran down and soon brought the women
up to our camp. A stone been thrown against a rock close by, nearly
hitting one of them, and this made them afraid of camping down there
alone. They assumed that the stone had been thrown by strange natives,
and they requested me to “shoot the land” to frighten them. When I had
fired four or five times they thought they would be able to “sleep
first-rate.”
The next morning I went down to the deserted camp, and they at once
pointed out to me where the stone had hit the rock with great force.
Close by we also found all the pieces, which together formed a heavy
stone about the size of a potato, and was, no doubt, a meteorite. The
women had made a false alarm, and there was no danger on this occasion.
But as a rule they have every reason for being on their guard, for the
neighbouring tribes are continually on a war-footing, and they are
always in danger of attacks.
Individuals belonging to the same tribe are usually on the best of
terms, but the different tribes are each other’s mortal enemies. Woe
therefore to the stranger who dares trespass on the land of another
tribe! He is pursued like a wild beast and slain and eaten. In
connection with this it should, however, be stated that the small
subdivisions of the tribes that live nearest the border are on amicable
terms with their neighbours, and that accordingly the borders between
the tribes are frequently very indistinct. The family tribes have
well-defined limits, and as a rule they are on friendly terms with each
other. I am hardly able to state the extent of a tribe. The one living
around Herbert Vale owned an area of land which I should estimate to be
about forty miles long and thirty miles wide. It was divided into many
sub-tribes or family tribes, which lived within their own well-defined
limits, the country within which was well known to them. Outside their
borders they had no acquaintance with the country. This was one of the
difficulties I had to contend with, as I soon found that a native
outside his own “land” was of little or no service to me, for he there
felt very insecure. The case was still worse when he entered the domain
of another tribe; there he was utterly restless and timid.
In a family tribe there may be about twenty to twenty-five individuals,
often less. How many such small divisions it takes to make a tribe it is
impossible to say, as there exists no sort of organisation. They do not
even have chiefs, and in this respect they differ from the natives in
other parts of Australia, where there are sometimes even two chiefs in
one tribe, usually an old man and a young man. It is probably not far
from the truth to estimate a tribe at two hundred to two hundred and
fifty individuals. On important occasions the old men’s advice is
sought, and their counsel is mostly taken by the whole tribe, but there
is no restraint put on the liberty of the individual. When a camp is
broken up, those who wish to follow, do so; those who prefer to go
somewhere else or to remain, take their choice. In most cases, however,
there is a wonderful consonance between them. The natives on Herbert
river have not much use for a chief, as the tribes do not, as in Western
Queensland, carry on open warfare with each other, but simply seek to
diminish the number of their enemies by treacherous attacks.
The Australian rambles about in his woods all day long, free from care,
though he always feels a secret fear of strange blacks. But when “the
sun is near the mountains” (_vi molle mongan_), he is filled with
anxiety and restlessness at the thought of the dangers which threaten
him after darkness falls upon the earth. The least sound makes him
suspicious; he shudders and listens, and whispers timidly to his
comrades, _Kolle! mal!_—that is, Hush! man! When he has assured himself
that the fear is unfounded, he soon recovers his balance, to be again
frightened by the next suspicious sound. During the daytime a torn-off
leaf or a footprint which he does not understand at once awakens his
mistrust.