Frozen meat—Again at Gracemere—Australian scenery—In a
carriole—Hunting the dugong—Cosmopolitan quarters for the
night—Cure for nervous diseases—Poisonous rabbits—Marry only a
person with good teeth—Bush girls—Mount Morgan.
[Illustration:
THE FREEZING ESTABLISHMENT, LAKES CREEK, NEAR ROCKHAMPTON.
]
After a voyage of a few days I arrived in safety at Gracemere. On the
journey from Herbert river down the coast you pass two establishments
for freezing meat for export, viz. Bowen and Rockhampton. This
comparatively new industry in Australia has recently been largely
developed, and is no doubt destined to become of great importance to the
country, which will in this manner be able to dispose of its great
surplus of meat. The largest amount is exported from New Zealand.
Gracemere was now in its winter dress. How poor Central Queensland looks
to a person coming from the charming tropics of Northern Queensland! But
here in the south the genuine Australian landscape is found, the
characteristic feature of which is the fantastical and the gloomy;
solemn gum-trees, which lose their white bark in winter just as European
trees shed their leaves, stiff grass-trees, solemn-looking acacias, can
hardly give any charm to a landscape. And yet I have seen beautiful
landscapes outside Northern Queensland, as for instance the fern-tree
gully in Victoria, where the most splendid tree-ferns grow at the feet
of the highest trees in the world. The views from the heights in the
rear of the capital of South Australia across the wide Adelaide plains
are very imposing, as are also those obtained on a journey across the
Blue Mountains in New South Wales, especially where the windings of the
Paramatta river are seen in the distance.
Though I enjoyed in a high degree the pleasure attendant upon a return
to the comforts of civilisation, I soon began to make expeditions
northward along the coast.
On one occasion I was invited to take part in hunting the dugong
(_Halicore dugong_). I set out in the latter part of August in a
carriole (_karjol_) which the Archers many years ago had imported from
Norway, and which probably is the only one of the kind in all Australia.
A carriole requires a good road, for it easily upsets, on account of the
short distance between the two wheels, but in the open woodlands of
Australia it is possible to drive almost anywhere, if there are no
fences, brooks, or other obstacles.
After a journey of four days I arrived at Torilla, where preparations
were at once made for the hunt. The first need was a boat. My host had
only a small sailing boat given to him by some French Communists who had
escaped from their confinement in New Caledonia and landed on his
premises. One of these fugitives had been employed on the farm, and was
an excellent carpenter. He undertook to repair the old rotten hulk,
which had been lying on the bank of the river for a long time exposed to
the sun and rain. It was a well-built boat with new sails and good
masts, but in other respects it had seen its best days. The Frenchman
went to work industriously, encouraged by the lady of the house, who
promised him that he should be permitted to take part in the hunt, which
in her mind was a guarantee that he would repair the boat properly. And
after he had spent eight days in calking, rigging, and pitching the
craft, he declared her seaworthy, and we at length put to sea. The crew
consisted of my host, my English friend the squatter, the Frenchman, and
myself. We were to take turns in baling.
After a pleasant sail we reached an island late in the evening, and
there we made our camp on the shore. We had taken drinking water with
us. The old mangrove stems made an excellent fire, and the soft sand a
pleasant bed. We also set fire to some tall grass, in order to give the
signal to some blacks who had agreed to join us here.
Early the next morning two natives, who were to assist us in hunting,
came rowing in a canoe from the mainland. One of them paddled the canoe,
while the other one kept baling out water with a large shell.
The canoe of the natives here is made of three pieces of bark, one
forming the bottom and two the sides. The pieces are sewed together with
wood fibres, and there is nothing, by way of ribs, to keep the pieces of
bark together; simply a small cross-piece to support the sides, nor are
there rowlocks or rudder. There is only room for two, and as the water
continually pours in, one man is occupied in baling, while the other
paddles on the two sides alternately with a stick about two yards long.
We took both the blacks and their canoe on board and started with full
sail for Saltwater Bay. The difference between ebb and flood was here
about twenty-eight feet. In Broad Sound, which lies a little farther to
the north, the difference is said to be greater than anywhere else in
the world—that is, about thirty-three feet.
Saltwater Bay is very shallow, and the large fields of mud that become
visible at ebb-tide are covered with submarine Algæ. Here the dugong,
the strange Australian seacow, seeks its food when the tide rises. In
the innermost part of the bay we found a place for a camp; we rose early
the next morning, and as soon as the water was deep enough rowed out.
The blacks brought the implements to be used. The harpoon consists of
two parts, the handle and spear, of which I give an illustration below.
The point or spear is a piece of wire about eleven inches long,
sharpened at one end, the other being enclosed in grass and wood fibre,
forming a sort of knot which fits exactly into a hole in the handle so
as to be held firmly in its place. To this knot a line is fastened. When
the harpoon is thrown the point enters the animal, and at the same time
the handle is set free and floats about on the water. This handle is a
heavy wooden rod about three yards long.
[Illustration:
A WIRE HARPOON POINT.
]
[Illustration:
A WOODEN PLUG.
]
[Illustration:
A WOODEN HARPOON POINT.
]
Although the point is without barbs, still it sticks fast in the
dugong’s thick skin, as if the latter were made of gutta-percha. The
point of the harpoon is bent into a hook the moment the animal starts
away, and when, from tugging at the canoe, it has become sufficiently
exhausted, it is finally towed up to the boat and its nostrils adroitly
closed with wooden plugs, and thus it is choked. Before the natives in
this part of Australia had come in contact with Europeans and had
learned the value of iron, they used barbed harpoon points made of wood.
The manner in which the natives catch the dugong shows more thought and
reflection than we would expect from savages so low in the scale of
development as the Australian aborigines. The fact that the black man,
lazy as he is by nature, will submit to all the toil necessary to
capture the animal is proof of the great value he puts upon its flesh
and fat.
As we sailed across the bay before a light breeze our natives did not
fail to discover a large amount of loose grass floating on the water,
positive evidence that the dugong was not far away. Nor did many moments
pass before the man keeping watch in the stern of the boat called out:
_Parábela, parábela!_—that is, Dugong, dugong! We sent the blacks out in
their own canoe. One of them seized the baling-shell, while the other
put his long spear and his lines in order, and so they rowed softly out
among the animals, which kept coming nearer and nearer. We remained as
quiet as possible in the distance and witnessed the scene before us with
the deepest interest.
More than fifty dugongs were approaching, and one or two came within a
few yards of our boat. They frequently raised their heads above the
water to get breath; making a heavy loud expiration, and then, with a
quick inspiration, they again disappeared in the deep.
The blacks kept rowing among them in order to select a suitable victim.
At length the spear leaves the unerring hand of the black hunter. A
great splash in the water shows that the harpoon has not missed its aim.
The animal is pierced by a second harpoon and starts off with two lines.
After half an hour it is so exhausted that it can be brought up to the
canoe, where its nostrils are plugged.
By uniting our efforts we at length succeeded in bringing the animal
into our boat. Although it was a mere calf, it was no easy matter to get
it on board.
We took the blacks into our boat and set sail so as to reach our camp at
the head of the bay before the water became too shallow. It was a
touching sight to see the mother of the slain animal following us for a
long time, swimming to and fro near the boat for half an hour and then
going away.
We brought our game safe ashore, and at once began to skin it. In the
meantime the blacks were cooking a gray mullet (_Mugil_), which has an
excellent flavour. They fried it in fat from the dugong, and this,
accompanied by a glass of whisky, formed an excellent meal. The
successful hunt put us in the best of spirits. The squatter jokingly
proposed that we, like the blacks, should anoint our bodies with dugong
oil and dance a korroboree all night through. The Frenchman, our cook,
was as happy as a lark, and was quite in his element when some of the
most tender parts of the dugong were placed over the coals to roast.
[Illustration:
THE DUGONG, OR AUSTRALIAN SEA-COW (_Halicore dugong_).
]
The meat had an exceedingly delicate flavour, and tasted like something
midway between veal and pork, but far better than either. The squatter
imagined himself in Paris, and was reminded of the Hôtel du Louvre,
where he had spent many a day of his earlier life.
My host and myself were busy preparing the skin. The blacks were in the
best of spirits. They fried and ate as much of the meat as they pleased,
and thereupon an unlimited supply of tobacco was placed at their
disposal. When night set in, our camp presented a most picturesque
appearance. Three large camp fires blazed among the gum-trees, the
columns of smoke ascended in the calm evening, and the stars glittered
over a company as wide apart in tastes and interests as in nationality,
but all gay and happy: one Englishman, a white Australian, a Frenchman,
a Norseman, and two Australian blacks.
The dugong has become widely known on account of its fat, which even
several years ago was found to be an excellent remedy for consumption
and nervous prostration. A physician in Brisbane found it difficult to
procure cod-liver oil from Europe for his patients, and so he determined
to try the fat of the dugong. He boiled it into an oil, of which the
medicinal qualities were found to be most remarkable. Near Brisbane a
dugong-fishing establishment was started and a number of black
harpoonists were employed. Dugong oil fetched a high price, but
unfortunately it soon became adulterated with shark-liver oil and
similar fats. Its reputation fell, and the market was destroyed. There
was also a large demand for skeletons to supply all the museums of the
world.
The fat used for medicinal purposes is taken from the sides, and the
oil, which is almost as clear as water, is absolutely tasteless. As the
animals have become very scarce, and as they, moreover, are very shy,
the oil is naturally very expensive. This fact is greatly to be
deplored, for its nourishing and nerve-invigorating qualities can
scarcely be over-estimated. There are most remarkable instances on
record of its having cured nervousness, and according to the report of
Dr. Hobbs it must be credited with being in all respects superior to
cod-liver oil. I am familiar by experience with the excellent effect of
both on the nervous system, and although I greatly prefer the dugong
oil, still, as we have in cod-liver oil so good a substitute for it, I
cannot but regret that the value of this kind of food is not appreciated
more than it is. Is it not possible that we here have a cure for the
overworked nerves of our time? Unfortunately most people have a dislike
to cod-liver oil, which is in part attributable to the poor preparation
of former times and in part to the fact that it is rarely obtained
fresh. Nowadays conscientious manufacturers produce an article having,
when in good condition, the flavour of fresh cod-liver oil, which by the
majority of people is looked upon as a delicacy. It now only remains to
find some way of preserving that flavour of the oil.
At present there are two dugong-fishing establishments in Queensland,
both on the east coast, but they are not managed with sufficient energy,
and the result is that cod-liver oil is used more extensively than
dugong oil. The fact that the animals move from one place to another,
and have to be followed by the fishermen, makes the capture of the
dugong very difficult. The fishing is carried on mainly by very strong
nets, in which the animals are caught when they return, with the
ebb-tide, from their pasture grounds on the shoals to deep water. The
dugong is not found south of Moreton Bay, but is plentiful everywhere
north of it, particularly in the Gulf of Carpentaria. It is also found
in the Mozambique Channel and in the Indian Ocean, and the Malayans are
said to be skilful in harpooning it. Besides the oil, the skin of the
dugong, which is an inch thick, is also very valuable, as it is made
into a gelatine or into strong leather. The bones, which are very heavy,
may be used as a substitute for ivory.
It is said that the dugong mother constantly holds fast to her young
with her pectorals, and in ancient times this gave rise to the
traditions about sirens or mermaids. The Dutchman called the dugong
_baardmannetje_, _i.e._ the little bearded man.
The next morning, while I was putting the finishing touches to the
preparation of my skin, I heard the squatter cry out, “Here! the boat is
sinking!” We all ran to see what was the matter, and we discovered our
boat on the point of being swallowed by the waves, and my two bottles of
alcohol floating in the water. There was no actual danger of the boat
being lost, for the water was shallow, but the tide was now rising with
the force of a river, so that it was not long before only the masts of
our boat were visible. As there were traces of crocodiles to be seen
everywhere on the strand, one of us took a rifle in order to keep guard,
while the rest tried to save the boat, which after wading in mud up to
our waists, we finally succeeded in doing.
It was impossible to secure a full-grown dugong, for our lines were not
strong enough, and we therefore started on our journey home again. The
next night we made our camp on an island, and the squatter at once went
out to shoot rabbits with his rifle. The rabbits had been placed on this
island a few years previously, and although there was no fresh water
excepting when it rained, still they throve very well, and had greatly
increased in numbers. Strange to say, these rabbits are said to be
poisonous, doubtless on account of the food on which they are obliged to
subsist. The squatter informed me that a year ago he had visited this
island and shot some of these animals, which were roasted and eaten, but
had made both him and his companions ill.
A large number of Australian plum-trees were found on this island. We
shot a mound-builder and several pigeons. The next morning the blacks
left us, and we continued our sail home. On the coast we saw large
numbers of rock-oysters. It happened to be ebb-tide and there were three
large peninsulas, like a yellow-brown mass, entirely covered with these
fine-flavoured shell-fish.
I remained a few days longer with my most amiable hosts at Torilla. The
lady of the house was a very intelligent woman. Her parents had taught
her Greek and Hebrew in order to enable her to read both the Old and the
New Testament in the original tongue. Though she was well versed in both
languages, she was no blue-stocking, but a very practical woman. She
gave her daughter the very prudent advice, “Never you marry a bad
breakfast-man.” The first thing she noticed in a man was his teeth. If
these were sound, the rest of the body was sure to be right—a sound mind
in a healthy body. Like the majority of Australian ladies, the daughter
was natural and free from affectation. She took a deep interest in
zoology, and was an industrious collector of specimens. On her solitary
excursions she did not hesitate to climb trees after birds’ eggs, and
she complained bitterly that the men were too lazy to help her. The
ladies who are brought up in the Australian bush have, upon the whole, a
peculiar frankness and independence, for from their very childhood they
have to rely on themselves. Another “bush girl” of my acquaintance rode
thirty miles to try on a dress.
[Illustration:
NEAR THE COAST OF CENTRAL QUEENSLAND. JABIRU IN THE FOREGROUND.
]
The whole family at Torilla were excellent riders, and had the
reputation of being the best in Queensland. An unmanageable horse at the
station had thrown both his master and mistress, nearly killing them,
but they nevertheless continued to care for the animal with the greatest
tenderness, a proof of the great sympathy an Australian feels for his
horse.
On my way back to Gracemere I saw a large number of wading birds in the
lagoons. I took special notice of the splendid Australian jabiru
(_Mycteria australis_), and I had the good fortune to shoot on the wing
a specimen of this beautiful variety of the stork family with swan shot
at a distance of no less than 127 paces.
I passed the oldest gold mine in Queensland, called Canoona Diggings,
but the place was now almost entirely abandoned. Here I met a Dane, who
was very kind to me. He had been in the gold mines since their
discovery, about thirty years ago, and in spite of the fact that both he
and his family had to work hard for a living, they looked healthy and
contented.
It is a great mistake to suppose that digging gold is easy work. As
everybody knows, “nuggets of gold” are scarce. Most of the gold is found
as fine grains, and requires great labour to separate it from the
gravel, which in this case had to be hauled a great distance to the only
place where water was to be found in the whole region. Here the water
was pumped up from a deep well by horse power. This is the so-called
alluvial gold. Gold in quartz has to be worked by mining and by costly
crushing machines, in the construction of which a fortune must be spent
before any pure ore can be secured. Most of the gold is now produced in
the latter manner in Australia.
I watered my horse at the pump of the gold digger, said good-bye to the
kind people, and continued my journey down along Fitzroy river.
The country along the lower part of this river is very rich in gold.
Farther east, near Rockhampton, a whole gold-bearing mountain was
discovered in 1884—Mount Morgan, which at present is the richest gold
bed in the whole world, and has made Queensland the first gold-producing
colony of Australia. It is also a remarkable fact that the gold here
appears in an entirely new form. Mount Morgan, which is about 300 feet
high, has been produced in the tertiary period by a hot spring, which
may have resembled the geysers of Iceland or the hot springs of
Yellowstone Park. It is formed of siliceous sinter, with some limonite
and clayey substances, and the gold is distributed throughout the rocky
mass. This discovery has made the owners immensely rich; the value of
some of the original shares exceeding one and a half million pounds. One
of my friends who bought a share for £1000 has now made out of this an
income of more than £2000 a year. By boring it has been demonstrated
that the gold increases in quantity with the depth, so that there seems
to be no end of this fabulous wealth. No wonder that it has attracted
the attention of speculators in every part of the world.
At the present time the weekly output of ore is 1500 tons. The average
yield is 6 ounces per ton, and accordingly £36,000 of pure gold is
produced per week.
This great find of gold is interesting, both from a theoretical and from
a practical point of view. It shows that gold-bearing siliceous sinter
can be the result of volcanic agencies, and that there is a hope that
gold may yet be found in formations that have hitherto been regarded as
worthless.
[Illustration:
MOUNT MORGAN GOLD MINE.
]