A festival dance of the blacks—Their orchestra—A plain table—Yokkai
wants to become a “white man”—Yokkai’s confession—A dangerous
situation—A family drama.
The next day, before sunset, the dance began again. At one end of the
little place for dancing, where the grass had already been well trampled
down, sat the orchestra, consisting, as usual, of only one, or sometimes
of two men. The musician was sitting on the ground with his legs
crossed, and was singing the new song, accompanying himself by beating
together a boomerang and a nolla-nolla.
In front of him on the little plat of level ground fourteen to sixteen
men were dancing in ranks of four or five each. Near the orchestra, on
the right, a woman kept dancing up and down, keeping time with the men
and with the music.
On Herbert river more than one woman never takes part in the dance. This
is a great honour to her, and she is envied by all the other women, who
sit in rows on both sides of her and the musician. They assume their
favourite position and do not, like the men, cross their legs before
them or sit on one of their hams, but they rest on their legs and heels,
the legs being very close together. In this position they usually play
an accompaniment to the music by beating both their open hands against
their laps, thus producing a loud hollow sound.
The spectators sit on both sides of the dancers all the way up to the
corners occupied by the women. The arrangement is as follows:—
[Illustration]
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| _d._ |
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| _d._ |
_s._ | —————— |_s._
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| _d._ |
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| _d._ |
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————— ———— ————— —————
_w._ _m._ _f.d._ _w._
_m._ the music. _f.d._ the female dancer. _ww._ the women. _dddd._ the
dancers. _ss._ the spectators.
[Illustration:
A TUFT OF TALEGALLA FEATHERS.
]
[Illustration:
A SHELL USED AS AN ORNAMENT.
]
As a rule the spectators do not decorate themselves much for the
occasion; one may be seen here and there who has painted himself with a
little ochre borrowed from a comrade. The dancers, on the other hand,
have done all in their power to beautify themselves. Their bodies shine
with red, yellow, or white paint. Their hair is well filled with
beeswax, and decorated with feathers, with the crests of cockatoos, and
similar ornaments. For the purpose of giving themselves a savage look,
some of them hold in their mouths tufts either of talegalla feathers or
of yarn made from opossum hair. The latter kind of tufts or tassels the
natives call _itaka_. Some of the natives have mussel-shells glued fast
to their beards with wax. The Australian blacks and the Malayans are the
only savages who employ this ornament in this manner.
Several of the women had painted themselves, some of them with
alternating black and red bands across the face. Strange to say, the
_dombi-dombi_ (dancing-woman) wore no ornaments. She was middle-aged,
with a pair of beautiful eyes, but her limbs were slender, and she had a
large protruding stomach. The very uniform hopping movements of her lean
body were not graceful. She kept her arms extended and spread the long
slender fingers of her hands as far apart as possible. The sight of this
woman jumping up and down in the same place, in the attitude above
described, and with her large breasts dangling, was truly disgusting.
But the woman seemed to enjoy herself wonderfully, and she was not
relieved by any of the other women.
The chief attention centres on the male dancers, who are the heroes of
the day. They start on the open side of the ground opposite the
orchestra, and gradually approach the latter. Their twists and turns
keep time with the music, and they continually give forth a grunting
sound with accents in harmony with the music and their own movements.
Near the orchestra they suddenly pause, scatter for a moment, and then
begin again as before.
The music was quick and not very melancholy; the monotonous clattering,
the hollow accompaniment of the women, the grunting and the heavy
footfall of the men, reminded me, especially when I was some distance
away from the scene, of a steam-engine at work.
While both the music and the song are an endless repetition of the same
strophes, the dance has a few variations. Now and then a different
figure is presented. One of those figures looked very well. Six men
marched to the music in closed ranks, accompanying the rhythmical
tramping of their feet with blows to the right and left with tomahawks
and boomerangs. In other figures they presented a variety of comical
movements. With arms akimbo, they spread their knees as far apart as
possible, and jumped and grunted in time with the music.
[Illustration:
DANCE OF THE NATIVES.
]
The dance was utterly childish, but it interested me to observe that
they had a somewhat different programme for each evening. They several
times produced what might be called a pantomime, but, as I did not quite
comprehend it, I cannot fully describe it. On the open side of the
square, opposite the music, a sort of chamber was constructed, where the
chief performers made their toilets and kept themselves concealed until
the performance commenced. When it was time to begin the pantomime, they
rushed forth, all more ornamented than usual with ochre spots of
different colours over their whole bodies, and with false beards and
hair made of fibres of wood. They took their places in line with the
other dancers, and with the usual twists and turns and keeping time with
the music, marched up to the orchestra, where they paused for a moment.
Then they formed in two long lines, opposite each other, and two of the
most gaudily decorated men stepped forth from the ranks. While the
others remained standing in their places, these two kept running up and
down along the ranks, acting like clowns, and making all sorts of
ridiculous gestures. The most important part of their acting consisted
in kneeling down opposite one another and putting a stick into the
ground with the right hand, at the same time bending to one another with
various kinds of gestures and grimaces. Thus they kept entertaining the
spectators for a long time, and it must be admitted that these two
natives gave evidence by their performances of no small amount of comic
talent. The closing scene was vociferously applauded, and the charmed
natives asked me if I, too, did not think the acting splendid. I could
not induce them to explain to me the significance of the performance,
but still I managed to find out that it had some connection with the
devil.
The spectators now and then indicate their approbation by laughing
aloud. The women sit with smiles on their lips, and take great pleasure
in witnessing the performance. The female dancer also keeps her eyes
constantly on the male dancers, but the musician at her side apparently
takes no interest in what is going on. He sits there beating his wooden
weapons together and singing with his hoarse but powerful tenor voice.
He rarely looks up, as he has already been watching the exercises for
weeks, and knows them all by heart; but even he sometimes seems to be
amused. Now and then he raises his eyes and looks happy as a lark at the
naked figures moving backwards and forwards in the strangest
contortions. He never tires of singing, and whenever he begins the
strophe anew he raises his voice with a sort of enthusiasm.
These festivals, called by the civilised blacks _korroboree_, are of
course evidence of friendly relations between the tribes. On this
occasion the dance was given by several neighbouring tribes that were on
friendly terms with each other. As a rule, however, the korroborees in
Australia are given upon the settlement of wars and feuds among the
tribes, and are a sort of ratification of the treaty of peace. Doubtless
these festivals have, in the history of Australia, been of considerable
importance in regard to the social development of the natives. The
korroborees have facilitated bartering among them, and have also
contributed toward promoting social intercourse among the tribes. It is
a curious fact that these “ratifications of treaties of peace”
frequently give rise to new feuds, on account of insults to women that
are apt to occur at such festivals.
The dance always begins with the full moon and about half an hour before
sunset. When the sun’s last rays disappear from the horizon there is a
pause until the moon rises, when the dancing begins in earnest and may
last all night; but, not satisfied with the pale light of the moon, they
kindle a large camp fire, the red flames of which, mingling with the
white light of the moon, produce a strange fantastic effect. Toward
morning they took a little rest, but before dawn I was again awakened by
their monotonous song and clattering. When the sun rises it becomes too
hot to dance.
The natives are wonderfully frugal in their eating at their festivals. I
have never seen them eat together for pleasure or to celebrate any
event. Anything like a banquet is entirely out of the question, nay, on
the occasion I have described they might be said to be fasting. Those
invited had taken no provisions with them, as they expected to be fed by
their hosts. The latter supposed that the guests would bring food with
them, and the result was that they had to subsist on almost nothing
during the three days devoted to the dance. Some of them got a little
tobacco. There were no other stimulants, for the blacks of Herbert river
produce no intoxicating drink. They contented themselves with pleasure
and water, but when the three days were gone they had to take to the
scrubs and look for tobola. After gathering tobola for a few days, they
renewed the dance in another place, where the same songs and the same
performances were repeated, after which they again took to the woods to
find means of subsistence.
In this manner the scene of the dance gradually approached Herbert Vale,
and as the dancers were on a friendly footing with the blacks of that
district, they gave entertainments on two evenings for their benefit.
These festivities continued for nearly six weeks. On the other hand, it
may take years before the blacks give another dance, for they must have
new dances and new songs every time they dance, and their song-makers
and dancing-masters, do not care to bother their brains with too much
exertion.
While the blacks went up into the mountains to gather tobola, I
persuaded Nilgora and one or two others to remain with Yokkai and me. I
did not like to leave a place where boongary were to be found without
securing a full-grown specimen, but they preferred to go up the
mountains with the others, and were tired of hunting for me day after
day. The natives are fond of change, and cannot endure monotony. They
repeatedly tried to convince me that there were no more boongary, but I
knew this to be mere pretext. I explained to them what I would pay them,
and though I offered them all I had, even the shirt I wore, if they
could procure me a boongary, they still answered _Wainta boongary,
wainta? maja, maja! nongarshly yongul!_ (Where is boongary, where? no,
no! there is but one in the woods).
Finally Nilgora and his men started early one morning to go hunting with
“Balnglan.” As he returned in the evening without any game, I had the
next morning to renew my persuasions, and I showed him my tobacco. My
provisions were no temptation to Nilgora, for I had none, and as I had
already given him a shirt, the one I wore was no inducement to him. My
last hope was my hat, an ornament highly prized by the blacks. He
finally yielded, but to no purpose, as he returned in the evening as
empty-handed as the day before.
Nilgora started for the mountains to attend the dance, while Yokkai and
I betook ourselves back to Herbert Vale.
Nilgora was a typical savage, and as he had never before been in contact
with white men, he was more easy to manage than the others, but was
reticent and reserved. I was surprised to find him always armed with a
sword-bayonet, the history of which it was impossible for me to get at.
He was very much afraid of the white men, and for this reason he never
came down from the mountains, and hence I infer that this weapon must
long have travelled from tribe to tribe before it came into his
possession. The native police do not use bayonets.
What particularly attracted my attention in Nilgora’s looks were his
tall powerful figure and his almost Roman nose, another proof to me that
the natives here are mixed with the Papuans.
On the descent to Herbert Vale, Yokkai had the important task of
carrying the skins in a bag. They had to be handled with great care, a
fact that my black friend did not understand. Fortunately, he was afraid
of the poison with which the skins were prepared, and this made him very
circumspect.
In a cheerful frame of mind I proceeded down to the grassy plain. The
dark claws of the boongary protruding out of the bag reminded me of what
had been accomplished during the past few days, and besides it was a
source of gratification to me that Yokkai did not, on a nearer
acquaintance, disappoint the good hopes I had formed in regard to him on
our first meeting. I felt that I could look the future cheerfully in the
face, and I had reason to hope for good results so long as he was my
companion. Yokkai was well acquainted with several of the most savage
tribes in the neighbourhood, and with his help it would be more easy for
me to secure companions on my expeditions. By reason of his _naïveté_
and good humour, I might count on having in him a lively and
entertaining companion. Nor was he so savage and greedy as the other
blacks. A circumstance which made him particularly devoted to me was his
decided eagerness to become a “white man.” His ambition was to eat the
food of a white man, to smoke tobacco, to make damper, to shoot, to take
care of horses, to wear clothes, and to talk English.
He told me a number of stories in regard to himself, and gave me much
interesting information about the life and customs of the natives. Among
other things, he said that he once had stolen from a white man, but it
seems that in connection with that he acquired a great dread of the
white men and their dangerous weapons. The whites were too angry, he
said, and he assured me that he never more would _gramma_—that is,
steal. Together with his comrades, he had ventured to go down to a farm
near the coast, where he had been tempted by the sight of a wash-tub
containing some clothes. On one of his shoulders he still bore the mark
of a rifle ball, by which he had been greeted on his visit to the white
man.
My plan now was to go to the table-land seventy miles to the west, where
Mr. Scott, the owner of Herbert Vale, had his head station, the Valley
of Lagoons. Up there it rains less in the rainy season than it does at
Herbert Vale, and for this reason I decided to change my headquarters.
When I came to the station, I met a white man who was going the same way
as I, and we decided to travel together. Yokkai remained at Herbert
Vale. The next day, January 30, we proceeded toward Sea-View Range,
where we arrived the first afternoon. Here my companion wanted to encamp
for the night.
I looked back upon the scrub-clad mountains on the other side of the
valley. The air was clear, and the setting sun caused long shadows to
fall in the mountain declivities. Far away, on the summit of a mountain,
smoke was ascending. The blacks were burning the grass and were hunting
the wallaby, free from every care and anxiety. The palms, the ferns, the
rays of the sun glistening in the waterfalls, all this charming scenery
I was now to abandon, and I was to live at a station with the white men
on the prosy plains. No, this was not possible; I longed to get back to
my black friends! When I saw the sun setting amid an effulgence of
crimson, and thus indicating fine weather for the morrow, my mind was
made up. I decided to wait for the rain as long as possible, and this
year the rainy season set in unusually late.
I bade farewell to my travelling companion, and started back for Herbert
Vale.
Early the next morning I went in search of Yokkai, whom I soon found. He
and I started up the mountains to procure, if possible, more people to
assist us.
In a small tribe which we came to, some of the natives were found
willing to go with us, and soon afterwards we had the good fortune to
meet Nilgora and “Balnglan.” We made our camp in the same place as
before—on the old dancing-ground. Nilgora was now very accommodating. He
had employed his time since we parted in eating tobola, and was now
longing for the white man’s food, which he had learned to like when he
was with me before. During the four days we spent here we succeeded in
securing a small female boongary and a young one. Thus I now had in all
five males and one female, though none of them were full grown. The
female (represented on the coloured plate) had a little young one in her
pouch, but the black had already given it to “Balnglan,” thinking it was
worthless.
One day, when Yokkai and I were left alone in the camp, he suddenly
broke out, “Poor fellow,—white-fellow!” Thinking that he referred to me,
I, half angry, asked him what was the matter. “Poor fellow,
white-fellow—Jimmy,” said he, beating the back of his head, “Jimmy,
white-fellow _ngallogo_”—that is, “in the water.” I now understood that
something was the matter, and on inquiry at last found out that the same
Jimmy who had been with me before had killed a white man and thrown him
into the water. The white man had been camping near a river in the
middle of the day, “while the sun was big,” not far from Herbert Vale.
Jimmy had gone to him and offered to find fuel and build a fire,
services which were accepted. The white man made his tea and sat down to
eat, but Jimmy did not get any of the food, and at once became angry,
and struck the white man on the back of the head with his tomahawk as he
brought his tin cup to his lips to drink, so that he fell down dead.
Then Jimmy robbed all that the white man had and threw his body into the
water.
The report of the murder made a deep impression on me. Perhaps I ought
to be satisfied with the results I had already gained. If I remained
longer I might meet with a similar fate. I did not dare show Yokkai that
the information affected me, though the words did escape my lips, that
the black police would be angry with Jimmy and kill him.
When Nilgora came home in the evening, I heard Yokkai at once informing
him “that the police would kill Jimmy.” That whole evening the blacks
were very reticent and unapproachable. Doubtless my ill-advised
statement had frightened them, for they were aware that the police paid
no respect to persons, but would shoot the first native they found, and
they were also afraid that Yokkai would have to suffer for his
thoughtlessness in telling tales out of school.
It was necessary to be equal to every emergency, for it was in their
power to hinder the news of the murder from spreading. To avoid every
danger, I resolved to be on the alert that night—the only night I ever
kept awake during my life with the blacks. As was my custom, I fired a
shot to remind my companions that my weapon was still in existence.
The natives were lying down round the fire in front of the opening of my
hut, and from time to time they cast sly glances at me lying with
half-closed eyes in my hut. The camp fire made it easy for us to watch
each other. To convince them that I was wide awake, I now and then
ordered them to fetch wood for the fire. I did not feel at all safe, and
not until morning did I fall asleep, exhausted with fatigue.
When I opened my eyes the first rays of the morning sun were shining
into my hut, and it was a source of the keenest gratification to know
that I was unscathed. Never before had the dewy tropical morning seemed
so beautiful as it did after this night.
I decided to go back to Herbert Vale for the present, and the same day
Yokkai and I started on our return. I was determined to do all in my
power to secure the punishment of Jimmy. Something ought to be done to
show the blacks that they could not with impunity take the life of a
white man.
Jimmy had accompanied me on several expeditions, so that I knew him
well. He was a brutal, despotic fellow, and very reserved. Not long
before this he had also killed one of his wives. He had robbed a man of
his pretty young wife, Mólle-Mólle. But she loved her first husband and
could not get on well with Jimmy, the less so as he had another wife,
who was very jealous and always inflamed him against Mólle-Mólle. She
tried to escape to her former husband, but was recaptured by Jimmy, who
cut her on the shoulder with his axe to “mark” her. Still, she soon
again found an opportunity to escape, and came to Herbert Vale, where I
then happened to be staying. On her shoulder was a large open wound,
which did not, however, appear to give her much pain. She requested me
to shoot Jimmy, for he was “not good.” In spite of her beautiful,
beseeching eyes and her coquettish smiles, I could make her no promise,
but I urged her to make haste and go to her former husband, whom she was
seeking. The same night she disappeared.
I afterwards learned that she had found the man she loved, but her joy
was of short duration. Jimmy was the stronger of the two men; he
recaptured her, and punishment was again inflicted. According to the
statements of the natives, he had almost killed her. He had struck her
with a stone on the head, so that she fell as if dead on the hot sand.
There he left her, in the middle of the day, after covering her with
stones. The next time I saw Mólle-Mólle she had grown very thin and
pale, and had great scars on her head. She was on the point of going
with Jimmy down the river to another “land.” On this journey he killed
her with his tomahawk, and an old man buried her. This happened only
three weeks after Jimmy had slain the white man.
Yokkai was afraid that he would be killed by the blacks at Herbert Vale,
because he had revealed the murder of the white man, but I quieted him
with the assurance that his name should not be mentioned.