The rainy season—How the evenings are spent—Hardy
children—Mangola-Maggi’s revenge—The crania of the Australians—The
expedition to Cardwell—Dalrymple Gap—A scandalous murder—Entry
into Cardwell—Yokkai as cook—“Balnglan’s” death—Tobacco cures
sorrow.
It grew more and more difficult to secure serviceable men. Yokkai I
could usually depend on, but all the others I suspected more or less.
Several times I was nearly ready for an expedition, when it began to
rain. The weather was, of course, very unreliable during the rainy
season. Old Walters had gone down to Cardwell for provisions, and I was
left alone at the station with the Kanaka, where time hung heavily on my
hands, for I had but few books. I kept writing as long as I was able,
and the rest of the day I sat in the kitchen chatting with the Kanaka
and the blacks, who usually came in late in the afternoon to warm their
naked bodies by the fire. Their bodies were washed clean by the rain,
and the wet steamed off them in the warm kitchen. They had a hard time
of it during this season. The weather was cold and wet, and the women
did not find much food in the woods, so that they suffered from hunger.
We generally sat round the fire, and the blacks told stories from their
everyday life. One of them, who was the most frequent visitor, was
Jacky, whom I mentioned before, a cunning black man, but upon the whole
a good-natured, sociable fellow, who was highly respected by his
companions. We therefore looked upon him as a sort of chief. One evening
he remained long, and entertained us with his stories. The conversation
turned upon our flour which was nearly finished, and it was stated that
we soon would have to live on the potatoes in the garden until the
overseer returned. It might take weeks before he came back, as the
rivers had overflowed their banks and the rain still continued. Jacky,
the rogue! pitied us. The next morning the Kanaka told me that most of
the potatoes were gone. Either Jacky’s women had stolen them, while he
kept us talking to prevent any suspicion on our part, or he must have
taken them immediately after he left us.
After a week’s continuous rain we again got clear weather. The only
pleasure I had had during this time was bathing. Whenever the weather
permitted, I would go down to the river in the misty cold air, but it
was necessary to keep a sharp look-out for crocodiles and not venture
too far out in the stream. In the same stream where I was in the habit
of bathing, a dog had recently been caught by a crocodile, while
swimming by the side of his master. Thus the dog saved the man’s life,
for the crocodile is particularly fond of dog’s flesh. Strange to say,
the natives are not afraid of swimming across a river, but I would not
advise a white man to attempt it.
Whenever it was possible I made excursions with the blacks, even during
this time. One day while we were out I met a black woman, who I knew had
a child two weeks old. She carried a basket on her back, and I, assuming
that the child was in the basket, asked her to show it to me. She at
once placed the basket on the ground, thrust her hand into it, seized
the child by the feet, and held it with the head down for me to look at.
The child awoke and began to cry a little, but did not seem to suffer
much by this treatment. The children are, upon the whole, hardy. At a
station near the tropics the white people several times saw a child only
a few days old lying out in the cold on a piece of bark with hoar-frost
round about it; and apparently it was not injured thereby.
At another time the conversation turned on a child that had died about a
month ago. One of the natives, who was aware that I collected various
things, asked me whether I would like to get this child, and added: “Why
have they been so stupid as to lay it in the ground? You and I will dig
it up and hang it in a tree to dry.” He was very eager to undertake this
work for me, hoping thereby to earn some tobacco. The child’s mother,
who had not thought of the possibility of getting any profit out of her
dead child, became from this moment very eager to sell it.
It is not often that it is so easy to get the natives to part with their
dead. They dislike to disturb their own, and are afraid to meddle with
those of other tribes. At this very time I was trying to secure a
cranium of a full-grown individual, and in connection with this I had
some very interesting experiences. I offered a reward of tobacco for the
head of a man of a distant tribe, who some time ago had been killed at a
borboby. From fear of the strange tribe they could not be persuaded to
procure it, so I made up my mind to try to get it myself. I took Yokkai
with me to show me the grave, but I did not find it.
Finally I succeeded in inducing Mangola-Maggi to fetch the head; but the
skull he brought me belonged to a young person and not to a full-grown
man. Besides, there was a large hole in the top of it, which made it
much less desirable as a cranium. I asked him what had produced the
hole. “Dingo has eaten it,” he said. Though I insisted that this could
not be true, he kept asserting that it was the right head. As, however,
he got no tobacco and as I promised him a large amount if he would bring
the right one, he set out again in company with another native. After he
had gone, the blacks explained to me the facts concerning this skull.
Mangola-Maggi as a young man had experienced great difficulty in getting
a wife, and had therefore requested an old man to give him one of his.
But, as was natural, the old man refused to do this. Mangola-Maggi, who
was a person of high authority on account of his ability to secure human
flesh, became angry, and decided to take revenge. On meeting the young
son of the man, he struck him on the head with a stone and killed him,
and it was the skull of this young man that they had now brought to me
and were trying to get a reward for. The body he had eaten immediately
after the murder.
The next day Mangola-Maggi and his companion brought the right cranium
and got their reward. When I reproached Mangola-Maggi for his conduct
toward the old man’s son, he simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled. I
afterwards learned that he was challenged by the father to a duel with
wooden swords and shields, and that in this manner the whole affair was
settled.
[Illustration:
A MALE CRANIUM FROM ROCKHAMPTON, CENTRAL QUEENSLAND, SEEN FROM FIVE
SIDES.
]
It is a well-known fact that the Australian natives, according to Gustaf
Retzius, belong to the prognathous dolichocephalous class. Their
projecting jaws make them resemble the apes more than any other race,
and their foreheads are as a rule very low and receding. The bone is
thick and strong. Few crania are to be found without marks of injuries,
whether they be male or female. The muscles of the face, particularly
the masticatory muscles, are very fully developed; the superciliary
arches are very prominent; the cheek-bones are high, and the temporal
fossæ very deep. The skull-bones form a high arch. The orbital margin is
very thick, the nasal bones are flat and broad, and the teeth large and
strong, the inner molars having as many as six cusps. The hollow of the
neck takes an upward and receding direction.
In the eight crania brought by me from Central and Northern Queensland
the length-breadth index is 71, the length averages 180.5, and the
breadth 128. The dolichocephalous character of the skull is mainly owing
to the great narrowness of the cranium.
The facial angle averages 68°. _Index orbitalis_ is microseme (81.5),
_index nasalis_ is platyrhine (53), and Daubenton’s angle averages 5°.
The male crania have the savage type even to a greater degree than the
female.
The above measurements, particularly the small capacity of the cranium,
and the low receding forehead, which is unfavourable to a development of
the frontal lobes, indicate the low plane of intellectual development of
the Australian natives. The smaller the skull is the lower the race
ranks in culture, but the organs of the face are all the more developed
in comparison with the rest of the head.
The features distinguishing the cranium of the Australian from that of
the European are, in the first place, the projecting jaws (the
prognathous character), which are very rare and never marked among
Europeans; in the second place, the low forehead and the small capacity,
which among Europeans would be called microcephalous, and would indicate
a weak mind; in the third place, the flat nose, which is also very rare
in Europe; and finally, the large Daubenton angle.
[Illustration:
DALRYMPLE CREEK.
]
In course of time we got better weather, so that I was able to start on
a long expedition to Cardwell to buy provisions, and thereupon to
examine the country north-west of this village. Yokkai and I succeeded
after much trouble in gathering a few people for this journey. We also
had the dog “Balnglan.” All looked fresh and green after the rain; but
it is wonderful how quickly everything dries up again, and how soon the
rivers fall to their usual level. After all the rainfall the air was
cool and very pleasant.
One evening I got a tangible proof, showing how important it is to clear
with fire the ground on which one is going to camp for the night. Yokkai
called my attention to the remains of a venomous serpent that had been
in the grass. The above precaution is also important in sanitary
respects, for the old grass is full of miasma, which makes the ground
unhealthy.
On our way we passed the place on Dalrymple Creek where Jimmy had
murdered the white man. A heap of stones marked the spot where the
postman had buried him. In the pool of water hard by I found a few
bones. Soon after this we crossed the ridge at a place called Dalrymple
Gap. To a person looking down from the summit there is a most beautiful
view on either side. The spectator is greeted by a luxuriant tropical
vegetation; palms and bananas, and a multitude of other trees of greater
or lesser size, cover the ground, while across the gap hangs the
telegraph wire which connects civilised Australia with Europe. It made a
strange impression on me to find this emblem of civilisation after
spending so long a time among the savages. A wide swath for the
telegraph wire is cut through the dense forest, and continues its way
northward all the way to Cape York. This opening must constantly be
cleared, otherwise the rank vegetation would soon disturb the telegraph.
In these very regions a horrible murder was committed a few years ago by
the blacks. The fact is well known in Northern Queensland, but except
the natives, very few people are familiar with the details of the
murder. The natives often talked with me concerning this event, which
has not been forgotten by the white population either. The blacks did
not hesitate to talk about it now, as so long a time has elapsed since
it happened.
A settler named Mr. O’Connor, who had come to reside on the Lower
Herbert, cultivated a farm, and employed a great many blacks to help him
to clear the scrubs and to work in the fields. He paid them well, was
very kind to them, and did not shoot them, as so many of the other
colonists did, but was what is called “a blacks’ protector.” He paid
them in meat, flour, and tobacco, but was too kind to them, and so the
natives felt perfectly safe and had an irresistible desire to possess
all his property.
They resolved to make an attack on his farm, and marched against the
house armed with wooden swords and shields. O’Connor became alarmed,
took his revolver, and finally had to shoot at them. But at every shot
the natives ran behind the trees and shouted: “Shoot away, it will soon
be our turn!” At last he had fired his six shots without hitting one of
them. They had ceased to fear him to such a degree that they did not
even respect his revolver, and rushing upon him, they slew him with
their heavy swords, mangled his body, and plundered his house. They took
the bananas in his garden and stole his chickens. His wife was dragged
in an unconscious condition into the woods, where she was killed.
A police officer happened at the time to be on a tour of inspection in
the neighbourhood. As O’Connor was the only settler in this district,
the inspector wanted to visit him, and thus he discovered the crime that
had been committed. He ordered a battue of the blacks in all directions.
The troopers, who had on several occasions enjoyed the hospitality of
the settler, were furiously enraged, and pursued the criminals like
bloodhounds. The blacks report, however, that they did not succeed in
shooting more than two of the men—an old man and a youth—but nearly all
the women fell into their hands. The women, who generally are spared by
the native police, were on this occasion obliged to suffer for the
crimes of the men, and even the children were murdered and thrown into
the flames.
This account, given me by several natives whose statements agreed, I
consider perfectly reliable.
We encamped near Cardwell, a little settlement of about a hundred
inhabitants on the seashore. I had great trouble in getting any of my
men to go with me into the village, but finally succeeded in persuading
one man to accompany me, while the others remained in the camp awaiting
our return.
[Illustration:
AN OLD MAN FROM TOWNSVILLE, NORTHERN QUEENSLAND.
]
Our entrance into the village attracted considerable attention. I was on
horseback, and my attendant, Morbora, marched at my side in his
“garments of paradise.” With one hand he shouldered my gun, and with the
other hand he led the pack-horse. We must have looked like travelling
gypsies.
The people of the village gathered round us, and asked with the greatest
curiosity how I could live among the natives without being killed. They
all knew me from the postman, whose route began at Cardwell. I at once
went to the “hotel”—for there is no town with twenty inhabitants without
its hotel—to get my dinner, and procured for Morbora, who was sitting on
the verandah and taking care of the horse, a large amount of leavings—“a
black-fellow’s meal,” as it is called. He seemed to enjoy the food
immensely, as he had never before had such a feast. He was in perfect
ecstasy over all that he saw, and every trace of fear had left him. The
white men entered into conversation with him, and it surprised me to see
how well he used the few English words I had taught him. He felt like a
lord as he sat there eating the food of the white man.
I paid a visit to the police magistrate, and talked with him about
Jimmy. Then I bought provisions and returned to the camp, bringing with
me woollen blankets for all my men. The Government of Queensland
annually distributes blankets to the natives on the Queen’s birthday, if
they will but come and get them. This is the only thing the Government
does for the black inhabitants. The day for distribution had not yet
arrived, but I succeeded in getting blankets for my men in advance.
Here, on the borders of civilisation, there are but few natives who
avail themselves of this privilege, as they are too timid to approach
the whites.
On our return to the camp these blankets were a source of joy and
admiration. My blacks now made their first acquaintance with this sort
of luxury, and they seemed to be perfectly delighted. The flour and
sugar I had brought made, however, the deepest impression on them. The
amount was not large, but my blacks had never before seen such a lot of
dainties. In their simplicity they thought all was to be eaten at once,
though I tried to make them understand that it was to last a long time.
I did not give them much of the sugar, as they were able to procure
honey for themselves. Sugar had become an absolute necessity to me, and
I was unable to swallow my food without sweetening the water. It
frequently happened that I lay down in the evening munching dry food
without being able to swallow it. This made the natives envious, for,
having devoured their own share at once, they wanted to get what I was
trying to eat.
We proceeded up the Coast Mountains north-west from Cardwell, and
encamped near the summit on a grassy lawn in the scrub, constructing our
huts with more care than usual, and digging ditches round them so that
we could keep dry. The vegetation here was remarkably luxuriant. We had
a fine view of the ocean and of the coast below us, including a long
series of scrub-clad hills toward the north.
Yokkai, whom I had educated as well as I could to prepare the food, was
very proud of being permitted to handle the white man’s things. I had
taught him to wash himself and to keep himself clean, but only insisted
on his doing this when he acted as cook, and at such times I was always
present, as he was especially fond of baking damper. It was never
necessary to ask him twice to do this. He made no delay in procuring the
bark, on which he carefully laid the necessary amount of flour, adding
the proper amount of water, and kneaded the dough with a skill that a
baker might envy. When the dough was kneaded, and he had shaped it, he
threw it a few times into the air, and caught it like a ball, to show us
that he understood the art perfectly. After placing the cake in the
ashes, he carefully collected all the small pieces of dough remaining
and made a little cake of them, which he baked for his own special
benefit. Besides, I gave him, as his perquisite, a small piece of the
damper when it was done.
As he gradually grew more accustomed to the baking, I noticed that the
remnants of dough on the bark kept increasing in quantity, but as he
was, upon the whole, a rather scrupulous man, I said nothing about it. I
also gave him permission to prepare the meat. I had abandoned the tin
pail and now prepared my meat in the same manner as the natives.
We made daily excursions into the woods, which were unusually dense and
abounded with lawyer-palms. As usual, the leeches[14] were very numerous
in these mountains, and were very annoying. As you walk through the
woods, exhausted and dripping with perspiration, you scarcely notice
their bites before they have satisfied their thirst for blood, but then
the blood flows freely from the wound. The ticks, however, are a far
greater annoyance. All the scrubs up here are so full of these insects
that a white man dreads to enter them, though the natives are not at all
annoyed by them. A splendid remedy for the itching caused by these
insects is lemon juice, and hence I always took lemons with me on my
expeditions from Herbert Vale. I put this juice over my whole body, and
thus the insects were doubtless killed, for I immediately felt relief. A
larger species of tick is also found here which kills the dogs of
Europeans, but, strange to say, has no effect on the dingo. They are,
however, a great inconvenience to the white man, and should at once be
killed by applying petroleum to them. It is useless to try to jerk them
out, for a part of them will remain in the flesh and may cause bad
sores. I know a man who became blind for a few minutes on account of a
tick which he could not get entirely rid of, a part of it remaining in
the flesh of his back.
Footnote 14:
They are not eaten by the natives.
On my wanderings here, my blacks found in a pool formed by a mountain
brook a toollah (_Pseudochirus archeri_). The natives all shouted at
once, _yarri_. They told me that the large yarri, which I never
succeeded in securing, but of whose existence I have no doubt, subsists
for a great part on this animal, which, in this instance, it had left in
the cool water for future consumption. One is tempted to believe that
the yarri understands the preserving quality of the water. The natives,
too, preserve their meat in the water during the hot summer months, as
the temperature of the water is, of course, lower than that of the air.
The fact probably is, that the yarri has found the water to be a safer
place for storing the meat. The toollah was put between some stones near
the edge of the river. I was much pleased with what the natives told me,
for it awakened in me hopes of securing a specimen of this large
marsupial. Fortunately, I had strychnine with me. I poisoned the toollah
and laid it on the bank. Farther up the stream I left several pieces of
meat, likewise prepared with poison, a source of great aggravation to
the blacks, who would have liked to eat the meat. As we went to examine
the snares every day, I was very much afraid that our dog might eat the
poison, and I kept constantly warning the blacks.
One day, as we were returning to the camp, the natives were to take a
beat by themselves through the scrub. I urged them particularly not to
return along the river, but to come through the woods, so as to avoid
the poisoned meat. Later in the day, as they were coming home, I heard
them talking about poison and about “Balnglan.” I at once became
suspicious, and asked if the dog had eaten any of the poison. They
denied it, but when I pressed them with questions they admitted that
they had returned by the way of the river, probably because they were
too lazy to go the other way, and they also confessed that “Balnglan”
had taken the poisoned toollah in his mouth. Yokkai had at once taken
the toollah out of “Balnglan’s” mouth, so that he had not eaten any of
it. No sooner had they made this statement than the dog fell into
spasms. I rushed into my hut, mixed as quickly as I could some tobacco
and water to pour down the dog’s throat, while Yokkai and another man
held it, but it died at once.
Yokkai gazed at it for a moment, then turned away and wept bitterly. He
sat down and wrung his hands in despair, while large tears rolled down
his cheeks. The other man also began to sob and cry aloud.
Though I felt the deepest sympathy for them, I could not endure these
endless lamentations. I got two large pieces of tobacco, and offered it
as a reward to them if they would cease their sobbing. Yokkai became
silent at once and straightened himself up, while he looked at the
tobacco with his eyes full of tears. He accepted it with contentment,
but there was not a smile on his face. The other continued sobbing until
it came to be his turn to get tobacco, then his sorrow was cured
instantly.
I myself was touched by this event, for the good beast, which lay there
dead and rigid, had been of great service to me. It was the best dog for
miles round, and was the most intelligent dingo I have ever seen. I not
only placed a high value on it, but I was also very fond of it, though
it had several times attacked my leather traps, such as strings, shoes,
and even my revolver case. I was anxious to preserve at least its fine
black skin with white breast and yellow legs, and I suggested to Yokkai
that he should let me have it. Knowing that such a request would be
opposed, I at the same time offered tobacco as a compensation. He at
first objected, but when he saw two whole sticks of tobacco, every
scruple vanished and his eyes beamed with satisfaction. He even assisted
me in skinning the dingo, and from this time he regained his usual good
humour. He had some suspicions that Nilgora, the owner of the dog, would
become angry when he learned of this sad event, but he felt certain that
he could satisfy him by giving him his woollen blanket and some tobacco.