Winter in Northern Queensland—Snakes as food—Hunting snakes—An
unexpected guest at night—Yokkai’s first dress—Norway’s “mountains
of food”—Departure from Herbert Vale—Farewell to the world of the
blacks.
[Illustration:
HUNTING THE PYTHON.
]
Winter had now set in in earnest The fields were gray, and the sun had
lost much of its power. During the daytime it was still quite warm,
though the heat was not oppressive. A more agreeable temperature than
Northern Queensland during this season of the year can scarcely be
conceived, especially toward sunset. I felt perfectly comfortable in my
shirt sleeves without any vest. During the night so much dew falls that
the woollen blanket becomes saturated if one sleeps beneath the open
sky. Walking in the grass in the morning is almost like wading in a
river. One becomes drenched to the hips. But what glorious mornings!
They stimulate a person to work, and their freshness awakens all the
joys of life.
The scrubs are very still in winter, and it is this stillness that gives
the season its peculiar character. While the mammals and birds have
donned their most beautiful and warmest furs and plumage, the natives go
about as naked as in the summer. Not even in the night do they wear
clothes, but warm themselves by the camp fires. Yet it is easy to
procure subsistence during this season of the year. Fruits are not so
abundant, but, on the other hand, animal food is easily obtained. During
this season the natives are much occupied in hunting snakes, which
during the winter are very sluggish, and can be slain in great numbers.
The blacks are particularly fond of eating snakes, but they do not, like
many of the southern tribes, eat poisonous serpents.
One of the snakes most commonly eaten is the Australian python (_Morelia
variegata_), the largest snake found in Australia, which here in
Northern Queensland may even attain a length of more than twenty feet.
During winter it seems to prefer staying in the large clusters of ferns
found on the trunks of trees. At night it seeks shelter from the cold
among the leaves, but during the daytime it likes to bask in the
sunshine, which enables the natives to discover and kill it with their
clubs. If attacked it may bite with its many and sharp teeth, but the
wound produced is not dangerous. These ferns grow in wreaths round the
large trunks of trees, and look like the topsails of a ship, but they
are far more numerous, and like the orchids, which grow pretty much in
the same manner, are constant objects of interest to the natives, for in
them they find not only snakes, but also rats and other small mammals,
_Uromys_, _Sminthopsis_, _Phascologale_, etc. They therefore, as a rule,
take the trouble to climb the trees to make the necessary search. They
discover the snakes at a great distance, though the wreath may be fifty
to sixty yards above the ground.
We were at one time travelling along one of the mountain streams, while
the blacks as usual kept a sharp look-out and examined the numerous
clusters of fern in the scrub. Suddenly they discovered something lying
on the edge of one of these fern clusters, but very high in the air.
Notwithstanding their keen eyesight, they were unable to make out
whether it was a serpent or a broken branch, so a young boy, whom I
usually called Willy, climbed up in a neighbouring tree to investigate
the matter. Ere long he called down to us, _Vindcheh! vindcheh!_—that
is, Snake! snake! I was very much surprised, for the object looked to me
like an old leafless limb of a tree. Willy came down at once, and lost
no time in ascending the tree where the serpent was lying.
When he had obtained a foothold near the fern wreath, he broke off a
large branch and began striking the serpent, which now showed signs of
life. The lazy snake soon received so many blows on the head that it
fell down, and proved to be more than ten feet long. While we were
taking a look at it we heard Willy, whom it was almost impossible to
discover so high up in the tree, call down that he had found another
snake, and this made the blacks jubilant.
It seemed, however, to be more difficult for Willy to get this snake
down, for it was protected among the leaves, and he was obliged to use
his stick with all his might in order to drive it out. At last it tried
to make its escape, and crept out over the edge of the wreath of ferns
in order to lay hold of the tree-trunk, but the distance was too great,
and it slipped. It could not get back, for Willy stood there striking
it, and so this serpent, which was more than sixteen feet long, fell
off; in coming down it struck the crown of a palm-tree, which broke its
fall, and quick as lightning, it coiled itself round the trunk of the
tree like a corkscrew. Willy did not give up. He came down, and
immediately climbed up in the palm-tree to his victim, which was,
however, so tenacious of life that it did not let go its hold until its
head was crushed.
When we came to look for the former serpent we were astonished to find
it gone. We all searched carefully everywhere among the stones on the
bank of the river, but it was not to be found, and we had given up the
search when Willy, to our surprise, came dragging it behind him. He had
found it at the bottom of a hole in the river, and had dived after it.
These serpents are wonderfully tenacious of life. The one in question
was apparently dead and motionless when we left it, still it had been
able to crawl twenty paces, and keep itself hidden at the bottom of a
hole in the river-bed.
The natives, being anxious to secure themselves against other mishaps of
this sort, decided to roast the serpents at once. But, as we had not
time for this, they procured a withy band from a lawyer-palm, tied the
two together until we returned in the evening, and made them fast to a
tree, round the trunk of which the serpents coiled themselves. When we
passed the place in the afternoon there was still life in them, but they
were soon despatched, put together in bundles, and carried to the camp
to be roasted for supper.
As quickly as possible the camp fire was made and stones were heated;
for snakes are one of those delicacies which are prepared in the most
_recherché_ manner. The snakes were first laid carefully in circular
form, in order that they might occupy as small a space as possible; each
forming a disc fastened together with a reed, they looked like the
rope-coils made by sailors on the deck of a ship. Large serpents, and
the flesh of fish, cattle, and men, are all prepared in the following
interesting manner. First a hole is made in the ground about a foot
deep, and in it a great fire is built. Over the fire a few stones about
twice the size of a man’s fist are placed. When the stones have become
red-hot, they are laid aside and the rest of the fire is cleared away.
Then a number of the stones are put down into the hole, and over them
are laid fresh green leaves, especially of the so-called native ginger
(_Alpinia cærulea_). Upon these the meat is placed, and is covered with
leaves and with the rest of the hot stones; the dug-out earth is then
spread over the whole, which has the appearance of an ant-hill. If an
opening is discovered letting out steam, it is immediately covered so as
to keep the heat within the hill.
Now the baking is permitted to go on undisturbed. The natives know
precisely when the meat is done, and they never make a mistake. The hot
stones have developed an intense heat, which gradually bakes or roasts
the food thoroughly and preserves all its flavour.
On opening the mound the outer leaves are found to be scorched, while
the inner ones are fresh and green, and give the dish a very inviting
appearance. Beef prepared in this manner has a very fine flavour. If
leaves of the ginger-plant are used, they give the food a peculiar,
piquant taste. While I lived among the savages I adopted this manner of
preparing my salt beef, after leaving it in a brook over night to get
rid of the saltness.
No one who has never tasted meat prepared in this manner has any
conception of what an excellent flavour it has. The principle is much
the same as that applied in France, of roasting birds in clay; and in
America, of baking clams. In my opinion, fishermen and hunters should
adopt this method of preparing their meat. Large leaves are not
necessary—common grass may be used, but it must be fresh and green, and
must be put on in thick layers.
The Australian native does not take so great pains with common meat, but
simply roasts it on the fuel or in the hot ashes. In this manner he also
prepares his larvæ, beetles, birds, lizards, and eggs. His fish he wraps
up in leaves, and then roasts it in the ashes. The natives never use
boiling water in preparing their food, hence they have no kettles. Food
is not kept in a raw state, but is always roasted before it is put away.
There is, however, rarely anything to save.
When the serpents were done and were taken out of the hot leaves, they
were perfectly whole as before. The bands were loosened, and the snakes
stretched out to their full length and cut open along one side with one
of their own jaw-bones. First the fat is taken and handed in long
strings to the greedy mouths; then the heart, liver, and lungs; finally
the body itself is to be divided. As the jaw-bone is not a sufficiently
sharp tool for this purpose, they bite the serpent into pieces with
their teeth. Nothing is wasted, for even the back-bone is crushed
between the stones and eaten, and the blacks lick and suck the small
amount of juice which drops from the meat, and enjoy themselves hugely.
But the greatest delicacy is the fat. What cannot be eaten on the spot
is put away in the hut, and in this instance they ate the leavings for
four whole days, until the meat finally became putrid. When we left the
camp I observed that they, strange to say, did not burn these remains of
the serpents, which is their usual custom with uneaten food, in order to
prevent the witchcraft of strangers.
Snake-flesh has a white colour, and does not look unappetising, but it
is dry and almost tasteless. The liver, which I found excellent, tastes
remarkably like game, and reminds one of the best parts of the
ptarmigan. While they were being carved the serpents diffused an
agreeable fragrance like that of fresh beef, and the large liver, which
I obtained in exchange for tobacco, supplied me for several days with a
welcome change of my monotonous fare.
The natives stand in great fear of poisonous serpents, a fact no doubt
due to their helplessness against them. If they discover such a one they
usually get out of its way, and if they attempt to kill it they do so by
throwing at it from a distance. Accordingly the blacks were frequently
surprised to see me go close to a poisonous snake and kill it with a
stick. On such occasions they certainly realised the superiority of the
white man. For my part, I had gradually become so accustomed to snakes
that it simply amused me to see them, if they did not come into too
dangerous proximity. The beauty of their forms and motions awakened my
admiration, though on the other hand it must be admitted that their life
and habits are not particularly interesting.
About two-thirds of the Australian serpents are poisonous, but only five
varieties are said to be absolutely dangerous to man.
People who visit the tropics for the first time always fear these
reptiles at first, and no doubt justly so, but in course of time they
discover that their fear has been too great and that it should be
overcome. When a person is bitten it is especially important to keep
cool, for fear and excitement make the matter worse and may end in
disaster. It is no rare thing for a bushman when bitten to be foolish
enough to chop off the bitten limb.
[Illustration:
SNAKE FEAST IN MY CAMP.
]
As the serpents are so numerous in Australia, it is of course necessary
to keep a sharp look-out and not get too close to them. They may be met
with everywhere—on the ground, in the trees, in the water, nay, even in
the houses. Though most of the snakes seek their food at night, one’s
watchfulness should not be relaxed in the daytime. The bushman’s
precaution of always examining his bed before retiring to rest I deem
worthy of imitation. A boy near Rockhampton was bitten by a brown snake
in his bed and died.
Deaths from serpent bites are rare in Australia. In a case known to me a
man died from the bite of the brown serpent (_Diemenia_) without feeling
any pain to the very last, while I also know of instances where serpent
bites have caused the most violent pain.
The serpents are in fact timid, and are inclined to run away from
danger, and so far as I have been able to observe, they never attack men
unless during the pairing season. But if we come suddenly upon them,
their irritable and ugly temper makes them bite with a movement as quick
as lightning.
Poisonous serpents were not so numerous here as farther south in
Queensland, still they could not be called rare. One day, as we were
sitting together round the fire, I was startled by the cry of the
blacks, _Vindcheh! vindcheh!_—that is, Snake! snake! A serpent had
appeared in my hut, but hid when it heard the shouting of the blacks.
Being utterly unable to get it out of the foliage of which the wall of
my hut was constructed, I assumed that it had crept back into the grass
which grew outside. The same night I was awakened by some inexplicable
cause; there was no sound, and in the clear light of the camp fire no
suspicious object could be discerned. At the same moment I discovered a
serpent, which was slowly and noiselessly creeping up my left side
toward my head. I quietly allowed the snake to proceed until I saw its
tail pass my cheek. After a few moments I arose, quickly changed my bed,
and slept the rest of the night on the other side of the camp fire. Had
I made the slightest motion the snake would doubtless have bitten me.
* * * * *
It was near the end of June. The expeditions I had made during the last
weeks were in a certain sense interesting, but they were less profitable
than heretofore. I had discovered that there was not much more for me to
do here. And even though I might have had a rich field to explore, I was
hardly able to stand any longer the many privations and difficulties
with which I had to contend.
I did not find my occupation tedious, but still I could not help longing
to get away. There was here absolutely nothing of that to which I had
been accustomed; for months I had lived with people who were not even
able to pronounce my name. A feeling akin to home-sickness kept getting
possession of me. I longed for civilisation. No matter how zealous a
naturalist a man may be, he is first of all a human being, and when this
feeling comes upon us we cannot conquer it, but must perforce give in.
I accordingly went back to Herbert Vale, and prepared to leave these
regions and return to Central Queensland.
It was necessary to get some of the natives to go with me to assist in
carrying the baggage, but it was important to be careful in the choice
of men. I was unwilling to trust myself to the blacks about the station,
and the others were afraid of the strange land which we had to traverse.
Their speech would betray them, they said, and so they would in a short
time be killed and eaten. Yokkai alone expressed a desire to accompany
“Mami,” still he would not dare unless he was joined by another black
man, viz. Chinaman—the person I disliked most of them all. As the reader
may remember, he was a great rascal who had caused me much annoyance,
but as there was no other way, I had to swallow this bitter pill, for I
could not go alone.
With the greatest care all my specimens were packed into large cloths
which the postman had brought me from Cardwell, and which I had sewed
into a kind of bag. Then all was put on the backs of the horses, and it
made them look like camels. Yokkai and Chinaman carried some of the
smaller bundles and led the horses, and I followed on foot.
To Yokkai I had given a whole suit of clothes as a reward for his
services. I am sorry to say it was about all I was able to do for him.
He was, however, exceedingly happy in his first dress and felt more
secure against strange blacks, who would judge by his clothes that he
was in the service of a white man. The natives hesitate to attack a
black man who is dressed, for they are afraid they may be shot by his
master. Yokkai had of late talked much about going to Norway—across the
great water in the great canoe. There he was sure of getting all he
wanted of flour and tobacco. In Norway he would get him a wife, he said.
She must be a white woman, but one was enough; it would not be good to
have two, he thought. I had also taught him to say Norway, and he
believed that we were now bound for that country, with its mountains of
“food and tobacco.”
On the way my old pack-horse tumbled backwards down a steep river bank,
and lay on his side with my valuable baggage under him. I got him up
again, and was happy to find that no damage had been done. With the
exception of this mishap, I arrived unscathed at Mr. Gardiner’s farm at
Lower Herbert, where I met with the most friendly reception.
Great changes had been made here since I left. I could scarcely
recognise the place. Near the farm a whole sugar plantation had grown
up. Where the dense scrubs flourished when I was there before, the
fields were now covered with sugar-cane, and there was life and bustle
everywhere. On the plantation I got some boxes, in which I packed my
collection, and soon was ready to go on board a barge which was to carry
me down the river to Dungeness.
Yokkai took a deep interest in all that he saw and heard. He lived high,
stuffed himself with sugar-cane, and pretended to be a man of great
importance; in this case it certainly was “the clothes that made the
man.” But everything was so new and strange to him that he did not feel
perfectly at home. He had already given up the journey across the great
water, and he was longing to get back to his own mountains.
I had taken precautions that he should in no way suffer in “the strange
land,” and I also made arrangements for his safe return to his own
tribe.
Before I went on board the boat I asked him if he would like to go with
me to Norway. He shrugged his shoulders and answered a positive No. I
shook his hand and bade him good-bye; but I did not discover the
faintest sign of emotion. He gazed at me steadfastly with his large
brown eyes beneath his broad-brimmed hat, but did not understand the
significance of shaking hands. Thus I parted from my only friend among
the savages, and many emotions crowded upon me as the vessel glided
away, memories of the stirring days I had passed with him, and a sense
of deep gratitude for the many services he had done me.
Upon the whole, I took leave of the country of the blacks and my
interesting life in the mountains with strange feelings in my breast.
Some of the impressions derived from this grand phase of nature I shall
never forget. When the tropical sun with its bright dazzling rays rises
in the early morning above the dewy trees of the scrub, when the
Australian bird of paradise arranges its magnificent plumage in the
first sunbeams, and when all nature awakens to a new life which can be
conceived but cannot be described, it makes one sorry to be alone to
admire all this beauty. Or when the full moon throws her pale light over
the scrub-clad tops of the mountains and over the vast plains below,
while the breezes play gently with the leaves of the palm-tree, and when
the mystic voices of the night birds ring out on the still quiet night,
there is indeed melancholy, but also untold beauty, in such a situation.
I was, however, not sorry to leave the people. I had come to Herbert
Vale full of sympathy for this race, which the settler drives before him
with the rifle, but after the long months I had spent with them my
sympathy was gone and only my interest in them remained. Experience had
taught me that it is not only among civilised people that men are not so
good as they ought to be.