The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

  CHAPTER VII

  The agonies of thirst--A ghastly drink--I ask Yamba to kill me--Myministering angel--How Yamba caught opossum--The water witch--A barometerof snakes--The coming deluge--The plunge into the Rapids--A waste ofwaters--A fearful situation--Barking alligators--English-speakingnatives--A ship at last--I abandon hope--The deserted settlement.

  By this time I began to feel quite delirious; I fear I was like a baby inYamba's hands. She knew that all I wanted was water, and became almostdistracted when she could not find any for me. Of herself she neverthought. And yet she was full of strange resources and devices. When Imoaned aloud in an agony of thirst, she would give me some kind of grassto chew; and although this possessed no real moisture, yet it promotedthe flow of saliva, and thus slightly relieved me.

  Things grew worse and worse, however, and the delirium increased. Hourafter hour--through the endless nights would that devoted creature sit bymy side, moistening my lips with the dew that collected on the grass. Onthe fifth day without water I suffered the most shocking agonies, and inmy lucid moments gave myself up for lost. I could neither stand norwalk, speak nor swallow. My throat seemed to be almost closed up, andwhen I opened my eyes everything appeared to be going round and round inthe most dizzy and sickening manner. My heart beat with chokingviolence, and my head ached, so that I thought I was going mad. Mybloodshot eyes (so Yamba subsequently told me) projected from theirsockets in the most terrifying manner, and a horrible indescribablelonging possessed me to kill my faithful Bruno, in order to drink hisblood. My poor Bruno! As I write these humble lines, so lacking inliterary grace, I fancy I can see him lying by my side in that glaring,illimitable wilderness, his poor, dry tongue lolling out, and his piteousbrown eyes fixed upon me with an expression of mute appeal that added tomy agony. The only thing that kept him from collapsing altogether wasthe blood of some animal which Yamba might succeed in killing.

  Gradually I grew weaker and weaker, and at last feeling the end was near,I crawled under the first tree I came across--never for a moment giving athought as to its species,--and prepared to meet the death I nowfervently desired. Had Yamba, too, given up, these lines would neverhave been written. Amazing to relate, she kept comparatively well andactive, though without water; and in my most violent paroxysm she wouldpounce upon a lizard or a rat, and give me its warm blood to drink, whileyet it lived. Then she would masticate a piece of iguana flesh and giveit to me in my mouth, but I was quite unable to swallow it, greatly toher disappointment. She must have seen that I was slowly sinking, for atlast she stooped down and whispered earnestly in my ear that she wouldleave me for a little while, and go off in search of water. Like a dreamit comes back to me how she explained that she had seen some birdspassing overhead, and that if she followed in the same direction she wasalmost certain to reach water sooner or later.

  I could not reply; but I felt it was a truly hopeless enterprise on herpart. And as I did not want her to leave me, I remember I held out mytomahawk feebly towards her, and signed to her to come and strike me onthe head with it and so put an end to my dreadful agonies. The heroiccreature only smiled and shook her head emphatically. She took theproffered weapon, however, and after putting some distinguishing marks onmy tree with it, she hurled it some distance away from me. She thenstooped and propped me against the trunk of the tree; and then leaving mypoor suffering dog to keep me company, she set out on her lonely searchwith long, loping strides of amazing vigour.

  It was late in the afternoon when she took her departure; and I lay therehour after hour, sometimes frantically delirious, and at others in astate of semi-consciousness, fancying she was by my side with shellsbrimming over with delicious water. I would rouse myself with a startfrom time to time, but, alas! my Yamba was not near me. During the longand deathly stillness of the night, the dew came down heavily, and as itenveloped my bed, I fell into a sound sleep, from which I was awakenedsome hours later by the same clear and ringing voice that had addressedme on that still night on my island sand-spit. Out upon the impressivestillness of the air rang the earnest words: "_Coupe l'arbre_! _Coupel'arbre_!"

  I was quite conscious, and much refreshed by my sleep, but the messagepuzzled me a great deal. At first I thought it must have been Yamba'svoice, but I remembered that she did not know a word of French; and whenI looked round there was no one to be seen. The mysterious message stillrang in my ears, but I was far too weak to attempt to cut the treemyself, I lay there in a state of inert drowsiness until, rousing myselfa little before dawn, I heard the familiar footsteps of Yamba approachingthe spot where I lay. Her face expressed anxiety, earnestness, and joy.

  In her trembling hands she bore a big lily leaf containing two or threeounces of life-giving water. This I drank with gasping eagerness, as youmay suppose. My delirium had now entirely left me, although I was stillunable to speak. I signed to her to cut the tree, as the voice in mydream had directed me. Without a word of question Yamba picked up thetomahawk from where she had hurled it, and then cut vigorously into thetrunk, making a hole three or four inches deep. It may seem astonishingto you, but it surprised me in no wise when out from the hole there_trickled a clear_, _uncertain stream of water_, under which Yambapromptly held my fevered head. This had a wonderfully refreshing effectupon me, and in a short time I was able to speak feebly but rationally,greatly to the delight of my faithful companion. As, however, I wasstill too weak to move, I indulged in another and far sounder sleep. Ido not know the scientific name of that wonderful Australian tree whichsaved my life, but believe it is well known to naturalists. I have heardit called the "bottle tree," from the shape of the trunk. All throughthat terrible night, while Yamba was far away searching for water, Brunohad never left my side, looking into my face wistfully, and occasionallylicking my body sympathetically with his poor, parched tongue. Whilst Iwas asleep the second time, Yamba went off with the dog in search offood, and returned with a young opossum, which was soon frizzling in anappetising way on a tripod of sticks over a blazing fire. I was able toeat a little of the flesh, and we obtained all the water we wanted fromour wonderful tree. Of course, Yamba was unacquainted with the fact thatwater was stored in its interior. As a rule, her instinct might bedepended upon implicitly; and even after years of her companionship Iused to be filled with wonder at the way in which she would track downgame and find honey. She would glance at a tree casually, and discern onthe bark certain minute scratches, which were quite invisible to me, evenwhen pointed out. She would then climb up like a monkey, and return tothe ground with a good-sized opossum, which would be roasted in its skin,with many different varieties of delicious roots.

  When I had quite recovered, Yamba told me she had walked many milesduring the night, and had finally discovered a water-hole in a newcountry, for which she said we must make as soon as I was sufficientlystrong. Fortunately this did not take very long, and on reaching thebrink of the water-hole we camped beside it for several days, in order torecuperate. I must say that the water we found here did not look veryinviting--it was, in fact, very slimy and green in colour; but by thetime we took our departure there was not a drop left. Yamba had a methodof filtration which excited my admiration. She dug another holealongside the one containing the water, leaving a few inches of earthbetween them, through which the water would percolate, and collect inhole perfectly filtered.

  At other times, when no ordinary human being could detect the presence ofwater, she would point out to me a little knob of clay on the ground inan old dried-up water-hole. This, she told me, denoted the presence of afrog, and she would at once thrust down a reed about eighteen incheslong, and invite me to suck the upper end, with the result that I imbibedcopious draughts of delicious water.

  At the water-hole just described birds were rather plentiful, and whenthey came down to drink, Yamba knocked them over without difficulty. Theymade a very welcome addition to our daily bill of fare. Her mode ofcapturing the birds was simplicity itself. She made hersel
f a longcovering of grass that completely enveloped her, and, shrouded in this,waited at the edge of the water-hole for the birds to come and drink.Then she knocked over with a stick as many as she required. In this waywe had a very pleasant spell of rest for four or five days. Continuingour journey once more, we pushed on till in about three weeks we came toa well-wooded country, where the eucalyptus flourished mightily and waterwas plentiful; but yet, strange to say, there was very little game inthis region. Soon after this, I noticed that Yamba grew a littleanxious, and she explained that as we had not come across any kangarooslately, nor any blacks, it was evident that the wet season was coming on.We therefore decided to steer for higher ground, and accordingly wentalmost due north for the next few days, until we reached the banks of abig river--the Roper River, as I afterwards found out--where we thoughtit advisable to camp. This would probably be sometime in the month ofDecember.

  One day I saw a number of small snakes swarming round the foot of a tree,and was just about to knock some of them over with my stick, when Yambacalled out to me excitedly not to molest them. They then began to climbthe tree, and she explained that this clearly indicated the advent of thewet season. "I did not wish you to kill the snakes," she said, "becauseI wanted to see if they would take refuge in the trees from the comingfloods."

  Up to this time, however, there had not been the slightest indication ofany great change in the weather. Many months must have elapsed sincerain had fallen in these regions, for the river was extremely low betweenits extraordinarily high banks, and the country all round was dry andparched; but even as we walked, a remarkable phenomenon occurred, whichtold of impending changes. I was oppressed with a sense of coming evil.I listened intently when Yamba requested me to do so, but at first all Icould hear was a curious rumbling sound, far away in the distance. Thisnoise gradually increased in volume, and came nearer and nearer, butstill I was utterly unable to account for it. I also noticed that theriver was becoming strangely agitated, and was swirling along at ever-increasing speed. Suddenly an enormous mass of water came rushing downwith a frightful roar, in one solid wave, and then it dawned upon me thatit must have already commenced raining in the hills, and the tributariesof the river were now sending down their floods into the main stream,which was rising with astonishing rapidity. In the course of a couple ofhours it had risen between thirty and forty feet. Yamba seemed a littleanxious, and suggested that we had better build a hut on some high groundand remain secure in that locality, without attempting to continue ourmarch while the rains lasted; and it was evident they were now upon us.

  We therefore set to work to construct a comfortable little shelter ofbark, fastened to a framework of poles by means of creepers and climbingplants. Thus, by the time the deluge was fairly upon us, we were quitesnugly ensconced. We did not, however, remain in-doors throughout thewhole of the day, but went in and out, hunting for food and catching gamejust as usual; the torrential rain which beat down upon our naked bodiesbeing rather a pleasant experience than otherwise. At this time we had awelcome addition to our food in the form of cabbage-palms and wild honey.We also started building a catamaran, with which to navigate the riverwhen the floods had subsided. Yamba procured a few trunks of very lighttimber, and these we fastened together with long pins of hardwood, andthen bound them still more firmly together with strips of kangaroo hide.We also collected a stock of provisions to take with us--kangaroo andopossum meat, of course; but principally wild honey, cabbage-palm, androots of various kinds. These preparations took us several days, and bythe time we had arranged everything for our journey the weather hadbecome settled once more. Yamba remarked to me that if we simply drifteddown the Roper River we should be carried to the open sea; nor would webe very long, since the swollen current was now running like a mill-race.Our catamaran, of course, afforded no shelter of any kind, but we carriedsome sheets of bark to form seats for ourselves and the dog.

  At length we pushed off on our eventful voyage, and no sooner had we gotfairly into the current than we were carried along with prodigiousrapidity, and without the least exertion on our part, except in thematter of steering. This was done by means of paddles from the side ofthe craft. We made such rapid progress that I felt inclined to go on allnight, but shortly after dusk Yamba persuaded me to pull in-shore andcamp on the bank until morning, because of the danger of travelling atnight among the logs and other wreckage that floated about on the surfaceof the water.

  We passed any number of submerged trees, and on several of these foundsnakes coiled among the branches. Some of these reptiles we caught andate. About the middle of the second day we heard a tremendous roarahead, as though there were rapids in the bed of the river. It was nowimpossible to pull the catamaran out of its course, no matter how hard wemight have striven, the current being absolutely irresistible. The banksnarrowed as the rapids were reached, with the result that the water inthe middle actually became _convex_, so tremendous was the rush in thatnarrow gorge. Yamba cried out to me to lie flat on the catamaran, andhold on as tightly as I could until we reached smooth water again. Thisshe did herself, seizing hold of the dog also.

  Nearer and nearer we were swept to the great seething caldron of boilingand foaming waters, and at last, with a tremendous splash we entered theterrifying commotion. We went right under, and so great was the force ofthe water, that had I not been clinging tenaciously to the catamaran Imust infallibly have been swept away to certain death. Presently,however, we shot into less troubled waters and then continued our course,very little the worse for having braved these terrible rapids. Had ourcraft been a dug-out boat, as I originally intended it to be, we mustinevitably have been swamped. Again we camped on shore that night, andwere off at an early hour next morning. As we glided swiftly on, Inoticed that the river seemed to be growing tremendously wide. Yambaexplained that we were now getting into very flat country, and thereforethe great stretch of water was a mere flood. She also prophesied arather bad time for us, as we should not be able to go ashore at nightand replenish our stock of provisions. Fortunately we had a sufficientsupply with us on the catamaran to last at least two or three dayslonger. The last time we landed Yamba had stocked an additional quantityof edible roots and smoked meats, and although we lost a considerableportion of these in shooting the rapids, there still remained enough fora few days' supply.

  In consequence of the ever-increasing width of the river, I found it adifficult matter to keep in the channel where the current was, so I gaveup the steering paddle to Yamba, who seemed instinctively to know whatcourse to take.

  On and on we went, until at length the whole country as far as the eyecould reach was one vast sea, extending virtually to the horizon; itssluggish surface only broken by the tops of the submerged trees. One daywe sighted a number of little islets some distance ahead, and then wefelt we must be nearing the mouth of the river. The last day or two hadbeen full of anxiety and inconvenience for us, for we had been simplydrifting aimlessly on, without being able to land and stretch our crampedlimbs or indulge in a comfortable sleep. Thus the sight of the islandswas a great relief to us, and my ever-faithful and considerate companionremarked that as we had nothing to fear now, and I was weary with myvigil of the previous night, I had better try and get a little sleep.Accordingly I lay down on the catamaran, and had barely extended my limbswhen I fell fast asleep. I awoke two or three hours later, at mid-day,and was surprised to find that our catamaran was not moving. I raisedmyself up, only to find that we had apparently drifted among the tops ofa ring of trees rising from a submerged island. "Halloa!" I said toYamba, "are we stuck?" "No," she replied quietly, "but look round."

  You may judge of my horror and amazement when I saw outside the curiousring of tree-tops, scores of huge alligators peering at us with horridstolidity through the branches, some of them snapping their capaciousjaws with a viciousness that left no doubt as to its meaning. Yambaexplained to me that she had been obliged to take refuge in this peculiarbut convenient
shelter, because the alligators seemed to be swarming invast numbers in that part of the river. She had easily forced a way forthe catamaran through the branches, and once past, had drawn themtogether again. The ferocious monsters could certainly have forced theirway into the inclosure after us, but they didn't seem to realise thatsuch a thing was possible, apparently being quite content to remainoutside. Judge, then, our position for yourself--with a scanty foodsupply, on a frail platform of logs, floating among the tree-tops, andliterally besieged by crowds of loathsome alligators! Nor did we knowhow long our imprisonment was likely to last. Our poor dog, too, wasterribly frightened, and sat whining and trembling in a most pitiable wayin spite of reassuring words and caresses from Yamba and myself. Iconfess that I was very much alarmed, for the monsters would occasionallyemit a most peculiar and terrifying sound--not unlike the roar of a lion.Hour after hour we sat there on the swaying catamaran, praying ferventlythat the hideous reptiles might leave us, and let us continue our journeyin peace. As darkness began to descend upon the vast waste of waters, itoccurred to me to make a bold dash through the serried ranks of ourbesiegers, but Yamba restrained me, telling me it meant certain death toattempt to run the gantlet under such fearsome circumstances.

  Night came on. How can I describe its horrors? Even as I write, I seemto hear the ceaseless roars of those horrible creatures, and the weirdbut gentle lappings of the limitless waste that extended as far as theeye could reach. Often I was tempted to give up in despair, feeling thatthere was no hope whatever for us. Towards morning, however, thealligators apparently got on the scent of some floating carcasses broughtdown by the floods, and one and all left us. Some little time after thelast ugly head had gone under, the catamaran was sweeping swiftly andnoiselessly down the stream again.

  We made straight for a little island some distance ahead of us, and foundit uninhabited. Black and white birds, not quite so large as pigeons,were very plentiful, as also were eggs. Soon my Yamba had a nice mealready for me, and then we lay down for a much-needed rest. After this westeered for a large island some nine or ten miles distant, and as weapproached we could see that this one _was_ inhabited, from the smoke-signals the natives sent up the moment they caught sight of us.

  As we came nearer we could see the blacks assembling on the beach to meetus, but, far from showing any friendliness, they held their spears poisedthreateningly, and would no doubt have thrown them had I not suddenlyjumped to my feet and made signs that I wished to sit down with them--toparley with them. They then lowered their spears, and we landed; but tomy great disappointment neither Yamba nor I could understand one word oftheir language, which was totally different from the dialect of Yamba'scountry. Our first meeting was conducted in the usual way--squattingdown on our haunches, and then drawing nearer and nearer until we wereable to rub noses on one another's shoulders. I then explained by meansof signs that I wanted to stay with them a few days, and I wasinexpressibly relieved to find that my little passport stick (which neverleft my possession for a moment), was recognised at once, and proved mostefficacious generally. After this I became more friendly with my hosts,and told them by signs that I was looking for white people like myself,whereupon they replied I should have to go still farther south to findthem. They took us to their camp, and provided us with food, consistingmainly of fish, shell-fish, and roots. So far as I could ascertain,there were no kangaroo or opossum on the island. After two or threedays, I thought it time to be continuing our journey; but feelingconvinced that I must be in the vicinity of the Cape YorkPeninsula--instead of being on the west coast of the Gulf ofCarpentaria--I decided not to go south at all, but to strike due north,where I felt certain Somerset Point lay; and I also resolved to travel bysea this time, the blacks having presented me with a very unsubstantial"dug-out" canoe. Leaving behind us the catamaran that had brought us somany hundreds of miles, we set out on our travels once more--taking care,however, never to lose sight of the coast-line on account of our frailcraft. We passed several beautiful islands, big and little, and on onethat we landed I came across some native chalk drawings on the face ofthe rock. They depicted rude figures of men--I don't remember anyanimals--but were not nearly so well done as the drawings I had seen incaves up in the Cape Londonderry district.

  We also landed from time to time on the mainland, and spoke with thechiefs of various tribes. They were all hostile at first. On oneoccasion we actually met one or two blacks who spoke a few words ofEnglish. They had evidently been out with pearlers at some time in theirlives, but had returned to their native wilds many years before ourvisit. I asked them if they knew where white men were to be found, andthey pointed east (Cape York), and also indicated that the whites weremany moons' journey away from us. I was sorely puzzled. A glance at amap of Australia will enable the reader to realise my great blunder.Ignorant almost of Australian geography I fancied, on reaching thewestern shores of the Gulf of Carpentaria, that I had struck the CoralSea, and that all I had to do was to strike north to reach Somerset, thewhite settlement I had heard about from the pearlers. I felt soconfident Cape York lay immediately to the north, that I continued mycourse in that direction, paddling all day and running in-shore to campat night. We lived mainly on shell-fish and sea-birds' eggs at thistime, and altogether life became terribly wearisome and monotonous. This,however, was mainly owing to my anxiety.

  About a fortnight after leaving the mouth of the Roper River we came to aplace which I now know to be Point Dale. We then steered south into abeautiful landlocked passage which lies between the mainland and ElchoIsland, and which at the time I took to be the little strait runningbetween Albany Island and Cape York. I steered south-west inconsequence; and after a time, as I did not sight the points I was on thelook-out for, I felt completely nonplused. We landed on Elcho Island andspent a day or two there. Being still under the impression that CapeYork was higher up, I steered west, and soon found myself in a veryunpleasant region. We explored almost every bay and inlet we cameacross, but of course always with the same disheartening result.Sometimes we would come near being stranded on a sandbank, and would haveto jump overboard and push our craft into deeper water. At others, shewould be almost swamped in a rough sea, but still we stuck to our task,and after passing Goulbourn Island we followed the coast. Then we strucknorth until we got among a group of islands, and came to Croker Island,which goes direct north and south. Day after day we kept doggedly on,hugging the shore very closely, going in and out of every bay, andvisiting almost every island, yet never seeing a single human being. Wewere apparently still many hundreds of miles away from our destination.To add to the wretchedness of the situation, my poor Yamba, who had beenso devoted, so hardy, and so contented, at length began to manifestsymptoms of illness, and complained gently of the weariness of it all."You are looking," she would say, "for a place that does not exist. Youare looking for friends of whose very existence you are unaware." Iwould not give in, however, and persuaded her that all would be well intime, if only she would continue to bear with me. Both of us wereterribly cramped in the boat; and by way of exercise one or the otherwould occasionally jump overboard and have a long swim. Whenever wecould we landed at night.

  One morning, shortly after we had begun our usual trip for the day, andwere rounding a headland, I was almost stupefied to behold in front of methe masts of a boat (which I afterwards found to be a Malay proa), closein-shore. The situation, in reality, was between Croker's Island and themain, but at the time I thought that I had at length reached Somerset. Isprang to my feet in a state of the greatest excitement. "Thank God!thank God!" I shouted to Yamba; "we are saved atlast!--saved--saved--saved!" As I shouted, I pulled the canoe round andmade for the vessel with all possible despatch. We very soon came upwith her, and found her almost stranded, in consequence of the lowness ofthe tide. I promptly clambered aboard, but failed to find a soul. Ithought this rather strange, but as I could see a hut not very far away,close to the beach, I steered towards it. This l
ittle dwelling, too, wasuninhabited, though I found a number of trays of fish lying about, whichafterwards I found to be _beche-de-mer_ being dried and smoked. Suddenly,while Yamba and I were investigating the interior of the hut, a number ofMalays unexpectedly appeared on the scene, and I then realised I had hadthe good fortune to come across a Malay _beche-de-mer_ expedition.

  The fishermen were exceedingly surprised at seeing Yamba and me; but whenthey found I could speak their language a little they evinced every signof delight, and forthwith entertained us most hospitably on board theircraft, which was a boat of ten or fifteen tons. They told me they hadcome from the Dutch islands south of Timor, and promptly made me an offerthat set my heart beating wildly. They said they were prepared to takeme back to Kopang, if I wished; and I, on my part, offered to give themall the pearl shells left on my little island in the Sea of Timor--thelatitude of which I took good care not to divulge--on condition that theycalled there. They even offered Yamba a passage along with me; but, tomy amazement and bitter disappointment, she said she did not wish to gowith them. She trembled as though with fear. She was afraid that whenonce we were on board, the Malays would kill me and keep her.

  One other reason for this fear I knew, but it in no way mitigated myacute grief at being obliged to decline what would probably be my onlychance of returning to civilisation. For this I had pined day and nightfor four or five years, and now that escape was within my grasp I wasobliged to throw it away. For let me emphatically state, that even ifcivilisation had been but a mile away, I would not have gone a yardtowards it without that devoted creature who had been my salvation, noton one occasion only, but practically every moment of my existence.

  With passionate eagerness I tried to persuade Yamba to change her mind,but she remained firm in her decision; and so, almost choking with bitterregret, and in a state of utter collapse, I had to decline the offer ofthe Malays. We stayed with them, however, a few weeks longer, and atlength they accompanied me to a camp of black fellows near some lagoons,a little way farther south of their own camp. Before they left, theypresented me with a quantity of _beche-de-mer_, or sea-slugs, which makemost excellent soup. At the place indicated by the Malays, which was inRaffles Bay, the chief spoke quite excellent English. One of his wivescould even say the Lord's Prayer in English, though, of course, she didnot know what she was talking about. "Captain Jack Davis," as he calledhimself, had been for some little time on one of her Majesty's ships, andhe told me that not many marches away there was an old Europeansettlement; he even offered to guide me there, if I cared to go. Hefirst led me to an old white settlement in Raffles Bay, called, I think,Fort Wellington, where I found some large fruit-trees, including ripeyellow mangoes. There were, besides, raspberries, strawberries, and Capegooseberries. Needless to remark, all this made me very happy andcontented, for I felt I must now be getting near the home of some whitemen. I thought that, after all, perhaps Yamba's refusal to go with theMalays was for the best, and with high hopes I set out with Captain Davisfor another settlement he spoke of. This turned out to be PortEssington, which we reached in two or three days. Another cruel blow wasdealt me here.

  You can perhaps form some idea of my poignant dismay and disappointmenton finding that this dreary-looking place of swamps and marshes was quitedeserted, although there were still a number of ruined brick houses,gardens, and orchards there. The blacks told me that at one time it hadbeen one of the most important penal settlements in Australia, but had tobe abandoned on account of the prevalence of malarial fever arising fromthe swamps in the neighbourhood. I came across a number of graves, whichwere evidently those of the exiled settlers; and one of the woodenheadstones bore the name of Captain Hill (I think that was the name). Ihave an idea that the fence round this old cemetery still remained. Therewas food in abundance at this place--raspberries, bananas, and mangoesgrew in profusion; whilst the marshes were inhabited by vast flocks ofgeese, ducks, white ibis, and other wild-fowl. Indeed in the swamps thebirds rose in such prodigious numbers as actually to obscure the face ofthe sun. Here for the first time I saw web-footed birds perched intrees.

  The blacks had a very peculiar method of catching water-fowl. They wouldsimply wade through the reeds into the water almost up to their necks,and then cover their heads with a handful of reeds. Remaining perfectlystill, they would imitate the cry of different wild-fowl. Then at aconvenient opportunity, they would simply seize a goose or a duck by theleg, and drag it down under the water until it was drowned. The numberof water-fowl caught in this way by a single black fellow was trulyastonishing.

  After having remained a fortnight at Port Essington itself, we returnedto Raffles Bay, where Yamba and I made a camp among the blacks and tookup our residence among them; for Captain Davis had told me that shipscalled there occasionally, and it was possible that one might call soonfrom Port Darwin. The vessels, he added, came for buffalo meat--of whichmore hereafter. I had decided to remain among these people some littletime, because they knew so much about Europeans, and I felt sure ofpicking up knowledge which would prove useful to me.