The Adventures of Louis De Rougemont Part 6

Our catamaran, of course, afforded no shelter of any kind, but we carried some 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 got fairly into the current than we were carried along with prodigious rapidity, and without the least exertion on our part, except in the matter of steering. This was done by means of paddles from the side of the craft. We made such rapid progress that I felt inclined to go on all night, but shortly after dusk Yamba persuaded me to pull in-sh.o.r.e and camp on the bank until morning, because of the danger of travelling at night among the logs and other wreckage that floated about on the surface of the water.

We pa.s.sed any number of submerged trees, and on several of these found snakes coiled among the branches. Some of these reptiles we caught and ate. About the middle of the second day we heard a tremendous roar ahead, as though there were rapids in the bed of the river. It was now impossible to pull the catamaran out of its course, no matter how hard we might have striven, the current being absolutely irresistible. The banks narrowed as the rapids were reached, with the result that the water in the middle actually became _convex_, so tremendous was the rush in that narrow gorge. Yamba cried out to me to lie flat on the catamaran, and hold on as tightly as I could until we reached smooth water again. This she did herself, seizing hold of the dog also.

Nearer and nearer we were swept to the great seething caldron of boiling and foaming waters, and at last, with a tremendous splash we entered the terrifying commotion. We went right under, and so great was the force of the water, that had I not been clinging tenaciously to the catamaran I must 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 our craft been a dug-out boat, as I originally intended it to be, we must inevitably have been swamped. Again we camped on sh.o.r.e that night, and were off at an early hour next morning. As we glided swiftly on, I noticed that the river seemed to be growing tremendously wide. Yamba explained that we were now getting into very flat country, and therefore the great stretch of water was a mere flood. She also prophesied a rather bad time for us, as we should not be able to go ash.o.r.e at night and replenish our stock of provisions. Fortunately we had a sufficient supply with us on the catamaran to last at least two or three days longer. The last time we landed Yamba had stocked an additional quant.i.ty of edible roots and smoked meats, and although we lost a considerable portion of these in shooting the rapids, there still remained enough for a few days' supply.

In consequence of the ever-increasing width of the river, I found it a difficult matter to keep in the channel where the current was, so I gave up the steering paddle to Yamba, who seemed instinctively to know what course to take.

On and on we went, until at length the whole country as far as the eye could reach was one vast sea, extending virtually to the horizon; its sluggish surface only broken by the tops of the submerged trees. One day we sighted a number of little islets some distance ahead, and then we felt we must be nearing the mouth of the river. The last day or two had been full of anxiety and inconvenience for us, for we had been simply drifting aimlessly on, without being able to land and stretch our cramped limbs or indulge in a comfortable sleep. Thus the sight of the islands was a great relief to us, and my ever-faithful and considerate companion remarked that as we had nothing to fear now, and I was weary with my vigil 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 limbs when 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 raised myself up, only to find that we had apparently drifted among the tops of a ring of trees rising from a submerged island. "Halloa!" I said to Yamba, "are we stuck?" "No," she replied quietly, "but look round."

You may judge of my horror and amazement when I saw outside the curious ring of tree-tops, scores of huge alligators peering at us with horrid stolidity through the branches, some of them snapping their capacious jaws with a viciousness that left no doubt as to its meaning. Yamba explained to me that she had been obliged to take refuge in this peculiar but convenient shelter, because the alligators seemed to be swarming in vast numbers in that part of the river. She had easily forced a way for the catamaran through the branches, and once past, had drawn them together again. The ferocious monsters could certainly have forced their way into the inclosure after us, but they didn't seem to realise that such a thing was possible, apparently being quite content to remain outside. Judge, then, our position for yourself--with a scanty food supply, on a frail platform of logs, floating among the tree-tops, and literally besieged by crowds of loathsome alligators! Nor did we know how long our imprisonment was likely to last. Our poor dog, too, was terribly frightened, and sat whining and trembling in a most pitiable way in spite of rea.s.suring words and caresses from Yamba and myself. I confess that I was very much alarmed, for the monsters would occasionally emit a most peculiar and terrifying sound--not unlike the roar of a lion.

Hour after hour we sat there on the swaying catamaran, praying fervently that the hideous reptiles might leave us, and let us continue our journey in peace. As darkness began to descend upon the vast waste of waters, it occurred to me to make a bold dash through the serried ranks of our besiegers, but Yamba restrained me, telling me it meant certain death to attempt to run the gantlet under such fearsome circ.u.mstances.

Night came on. How can I describe its horrors? Even as I write, I seem to hear the ceaseless roars of those horrible creatures, and the weird but gentle lappings of the limitless waste that extended as far as the eye could reach. Often I was tempted to give up in despair, feeling that there was no hope whatever for us. Towards morning, however, the alligators apparently got on the scent of some floating carca.s.ses brought down by the floods, and one and all left us. Some little time after the last ugly head had gone under, the catamaran was sweeping swiftly and noiselessly down the stream again.

We made straight for a little island some distance ahead of us, and found it uninhabited. Black and white birds, not quite so large as pigeons, were very plentiful, as also were eggs. Soon my Yamba had a nice meal ready for me, and then we lay down for a much-needed rest. After this we steered for a large island some nine or ten miles distant, and as we approached 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 a.s.sembling on the beach to meet us, but, far from showing any friendliness, they held their spears poised threateningly, and would no doubt have thrown them had I not suddenly jumped to my feet and made signs that I wished to sit down with them--to parley with them. They then lowered their spears, and we landed; but to my great disappointment neither Yamba nor I could understand one word of their language, which was totally different from the dialect of Yamba's country. Our first meeting was conducted in the usual way--squatting down on our haunches, and then drawing nearer and nearer until we were able to rub noses on one another's shoulders. I then explained by means of signs that I wanted to stay with them a few days, and I was inexpressibly relieved to find that my little pa.s.sport stick (which never left my possession for a moment), was recognised at once, and proved most efficacious 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 find them. They took us to their camp, and provided us with food, consisting mainly of fish, sh.e.l.l-fish, and roots. So far as I could ascertain, there were no kangaroo or opossum on the island. After two or three days, I thought it time to be continuing our journey; but feeling convinced that I must be in the vicinity of the Cape York Peninsula--instead of being on the west coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria--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 by sea this time, the blacks having presented me with a very unsubstantial "dug-out" canoe. Leaving behind us the catamaran that had brought us so many 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 frail craft. We pa.s.sed several beautiful islands, big and little, and on one that we landed I came across some native chalk drawings on the face of the rock. They depicted rude figures of men--I don't remember any animals--but were not nearly so well done as the drawings I had seen in caves up in the Cape Londonderry district.

We also landed from time to time on the mainland, and spoke with the chiefs of various tribes. They were all hostile at first. On one occasion we actually met one or two blacks who spoke a few words of English. They had evidently been out with pearlers at some time in their lives, but had returned to their native wilds many years before our visit. I asked them if they knew where white men were to be found, and they pointed east (Cape York), and also indicated that the whites were many moons' journey away from us. I was sorely puzzled. A glance at a map of Australia will enable the reader to realise my great blunder.

Ignorant almost of Australian geography I fancied, on reaching the western sh.o.r.es of the Gulf of Carpentaria, that I had struck the Coral Sea, and that all I had to do was to strike north to reach Somerset, the white settlement I had heard about from the pearlers. I felt so confident Cape York lay immediately to the north, that I continued my course in that direction, paddling all day and running in-sh.o.r.e to camp at night. We lived mainly on sh.e.l.l-fish and sea-birds' eggs at this time, 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 a place which I now know to be Point Dale. We then steered south into a beautiful landlocked pa.s.sage which lies between the mainland and Elcho Island, and which at the time I took to be the little strait running between Albany Island and Cape York. I steered south-west in consequence; and after a time, as I did not sight the points I was on the look-out for, I felt completely nonplused. We landed on Elcho Island and spent a day or two there. Being still under the impression that Cape York was higher up, I steered west, and soon found myself in a very unpleasant region. We explored almost every bay and inlet we came across, but of course always with the same disheartening result.

Sometimes we would come near being stranded on a sandbank, and would have to jump overboard and push our craft into deeper water. At others, she would be almost swamped in a rough sea, but still we stuck to our task, and after pa.s.sing Goulbourn Island we followed the coast. Then we struck north 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 sh.o.r.e very closely, going in and out of every bay, and visiting almost every island, yet never seeing a single human being. We were apparently still many hundreds of miles away from our destination.

To add to the wretchedness of the situation, my poor Yamba, who had been so devoted, so hardy, and so contented, at length began to manifest symptoms of illness, and complained gently of the weariness of it all.

"You are looking," she would say, "for a place that does not exist. You are looking for friends of whose very existence you are unaware." I would not give in, however, and persuaded her that all would be well in time, if only she would continue to bear with me. Both of us were terribly cramped in the boat; and by way of exercise one or the other would occasionally jump overboard and have a long swim. Whenever we could we landed at night.

One morning, shortly after we had begun our usual trip for the day, and were rounding a headland, I was almost stupefied to behold in front of me the masts of a boat (which I afterwards found to be a Malay proa), close in-sh.o.r.e. The situation, in reality, was between Croker's Island and the main, but at the time I thought that I had at length reached Somerset. I sprang to my feet in a state of the greatest excitement. "Thank G.o.d!

thank G.o.d!" I shouted to Yamba; "we are saved at last!--saved--saved--saved!" As I shouted, I pulled the canoe round and made for the vessel with all possible despatch. We very soon came up with her, and found her almost stranded, in consequence of the lowness of the tide. I promptly clambered aboard, but failed to find a soul. I thought this rather strange, but as I could see a hut not very far away, close to the beach, I steered towards it. This little dwelling, too, was uninhabited, though I found a number of trays of fish lying about, which afterwards 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 of Malays unexpectedly appeared on the scene, and I then realised I had had the good fortune to come across a Malay _beche-de-mer_ expedition.

The fishermen were exceedingly surprised at seeing Yamba and me; but when they found I could speak their language a little they evinced every sign of delight, and forthwith entertained us most hospitably on board their craft, which was a boat of ten or fifteen tons. They told me they had come from the Dutch islands south of Timor, and promptly made me an offer that set my heart beating wildly. They said they were prepared to take me back to Kopang, if I wished; and I, on my part, offered to give them all the pearl sh.e.l.ls left on my little island in the Sea of Timor--the lat.i.tude of which I took good care not to divulge--on condition that they called there. They even offered Yamba a pa.s.sage along with me; but, to my amazement and bitter disappointment, she said she did not wish to go with them. She trembled as though with fear. She was afraid that when once 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 my acute grief at being obliged to decline what would probably be my only chance of returning to civilisation. For this I had pined day and night for four or five years, and now that escape was within my grasp I was obliged to throw it away. For let me emphatically state, that even if civilisation had been but a mile away, I would not have gone a yard towards it without that devoted creature who had been my salvation, not on one occasion only, but practically every moment of my existence.

With pa.s.sionate eagerness I tried to persuade Yamba to change her mind, but she remained firm in her decision; and so, almost choking with bitter regret, and in a state of utter collapse, I had to decline the offer of the Malays. We stayed with them, however, a few weeks longer, and at length they accompanied me to a camp of black fellows near some lagoons, a little way farther south of their own camp. Before they left, they presented me with a quant.i.ty of _beche-de-mer_, or sea-slugs, which make most excellent soup. At the place indicated by the Malays, which was in Raffles Bay, the chief spoke quite excellent English. One of his wives could even say the Lord's Prayer in English, though, of course, she did not know what she was talking about. "Captain Jack Davis," as he called himself, had been for some little time on one of her Majesty's ships, and he told me that not many marches away there was an old European settlement; he even offered to guide me there, if I cared to go. He first led me to an old white settlement in Raffles Bay, called, I think, Fort Wellington, where I found some large fruit-trees, including ripe yellow mangoes. There were, besides, raspberries, strawberries, and Cape gooseberries. Needless to remark, all this made me very happy and contented, for I felt I must now be getting near the home of some white men. I thought that, after all, perhaps Yamba's refusal to go with the Malays was for the best, and with high hopes I set out with Captain Davis for another settlement he spoke of. This turned out to be Port Essington, which we reached in two or three days. Another cruel blow was dealt me here.

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

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

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

CHAPTER VIII

In the throes of fever--A ghastly discovery--Pitiful relics--A critical moment--Yamba in danger--A blood bath--A luxury indeed--Signs of civilisation--The great storm--Drifting, drifting--Yamba's mysterious glee--A dreadful shock--"Welcome home!"--My official protectors--Myself as a cannibal war chief--Preparations for battle--A weird apparition--Generosity to the vanquished--The old desire.

I had not been established in this camp many days, however, before I was struck down, for the first time, with a terrible attack of malarial fever, probably produced by the many hours I had spent wading in the swamps at Port Essington. There were the usual symptoms--quick flushings and fever heats, followed by violent fits of shivering, which no amount of natural warmth could mitigate. My faithful Yamba was terribly distressed at my condition, and waited upon me with most tender devotion; but in spite of all that could be done for me, I grew gradually weaker, until in the course of a few days I became wildly delirious. The blacks, too, were very good to me, and doctored me, in their quaint native way, with certain leaves and powders. All to no purpose, however; and for several days I was even unable to recognise my Yamba. Then the fever subsided somewhat, and I was left as weak and helpless as a little child.

It was some time before I quite recovered from the fever; and I was frequently seized with distressing fits of shivering. I also experienced an overwhelming desire for a drink of milk; why, I am unable to say.

Therefore, when some of the blacks told me that wild buffalo were to be found in the neighbourhood--beasts which had formerly belonged to settlers, but were now run wild--I resolved, when sufficiently strong, to try and capture one of the cows for the sake of its milk. Captain Davis ridiculed the idea, and a.s.sured me that it was only possible to slay one with a rifle; but I determined to see what I could do.

Yamba, of course, accompanied me on my expedition, and her bushmanship was altogether quite indispensable. We came upon buffalo tracks near a large water-hole, and here we each climbed a gum-tree and awaited the arrival of our prey. We waited a long time, but were at length rewarded by seeing a big cow buffalo and her calf wandering leisurely in our direction. My only weapons were a la.s.so made out of green kangaroo hide, fixed to the end of a long pole; and my bow and arrows. I slid down the tree a little way, and when the calf was near enough, I gently slipped the noose over its neck, and promptly made it a prisoner under the very nose of its astonished mother, who bellowed mournfully. My success so elated Yamba that she, too, slid down from her hiding-place, and was making her way over to me and the calf, when suddenly an enormous bull, which we had not previously seen, rushed at her at full speed. Yamba instantly realised her danger, and swarmed up a tree again like lightning, just as the great brute was upon her. I called out to her to attract the attention of the old bull whilst I attended to the mother and calf. I dropped my pole to which the la.s.so was attached, and allowed the little one to walk quickly away with it; but, as I antic.i.p.ated, the trailing shaft soon caught between the stumps of some trees, and made the calf a more secure prisoner than ever. It was a curious repet.i.tion of the story of the two whales. The mother walked round and round, and appeared to be in the greatest distress. She never left her little one's side, but continued to bellow loudly, and lick the calf to coax it away.

Quietly sliding down my tree, I made my way to where Yamba was still holding the attention of the bull--a fiery brute who was pawing the ground with rage at the foot of her tree. I had fitted an arrow to my bow, and was preparing to shoot, when, unfortunately, the bull detected the noise of my approach, and rushed straight at me. I confess it was rather a trying moment, but I never lost my head, feeling confident of my skill with the bow--which I had practised off and on ever since I had left school at Montreux. I actually waited until the charging monster was within a few paces, and then I let fly. So close was he that not much credit is due to me for accurate aim. The arrow fairly transfixed his right eye, causing him to pull up on his haunches, and roar with pain.

Yamba, full of anxiety, hurried down her tree; but she had scarcely reached the ground when the baffled bull wheeled and charged her, with more fury than ever. She simply glided behind a tree, and then I showed myself and induced the bull to charge me once more. Again I waited until he was almost upon me, and then I sent another arrow into his other eye, blinding him completely. On this, the poor brute brought up sharp, and commenced to back in an uncertain way, bellowing with pain. I forgot all my fever in the excitement, and rushing upon the beast with my tomahawk, I dealt him a blow on the side of the head that made him stagger. I brought him to the earth with two or three more blows, and a few minutes later had administered the _coup-de-grace_. No sooner was the big bull dead than I determined to test the efficacy of a very popular native remedy for fever--for shivering fits still continued to come upon me at most awkward times, usually late in the day. No matter how much gra.s.s poor Yamba brought me as covering, I never could get warm, and so now I thought I would try some animal heat.

Scarce had life left the body of the prostrate bull before I ripped open the carca.s.s between the fore and hind legs; and after remarking to Yamba, "I am going to have heat this time," I crawled into the interior. My head, however, was protruding from the buffalo's chest. Yamba understood perfectly well what I was doing; and when I told her I was going to indulge in a long sleep in my curious resting-place, she said she would keep watch and see that I was not disturbed. I remained buried in the bull's interior for the rest of the day and all through the night. Next morning, to my amazement, I found I was a prisoner, the carca.s.s having got cold and rigid, so that I had literally to be dug out. As I emerged I presented a most ghastly and horrifying spectacle. My body was covered with congealed blood, and even my long hair was all matted and stiffened with it. But never can I forget the feeling of exhilaration and strength that took possession of me as I stood there looking at my faithful companion. _I was absolutely cured_--a new man, a giant of strength! I make a present of the cure to the medical profession.

Without delay I made my way down to the lagoon and washed myself thoroughly, scrubbing myself with a kind of soapy clay, and afterwards taking a run in order to get dry. This extraordinary system of applying the carca.s.s of a freshly killed animal is invariably resorted to by the natives in case of serious illness, and they look upon it as an all but infallible cure. Certainly it was surprisingly efficacious in my own case.

Next day we directed our attention to the capture of the cow, which was still wandering around her imprisoned little one, and only leaving it for a few minutes at a time in order to get food. I constructed a small fence or inclosure of sticks, and into this we managed to drive the cow.

We then kept her for two days without food and water, in order to tame her, and did not even let her little calf come near her. We then approached her, and found her perfectly subdued, and willing to take food and water from us precisely as though she were the gentlest Alderney.

I found I was even able to milk her; and I can a.s.sure you that I never tasted anything more delicious in my life than the copious droughts of fresh milk I indulged in on that eventful morning. In fact, I practically lived on nothing else for the next few days, and it pulled me round in a most surprising way. The flesh of the dead buffalo I did not touch myself, but handed it over to the blacks, who were vastly impressed by my prowess as a mighty hunter. They themselves had often tried to kill buffalo with their spears, but had never succeeded. I removed the bull's hide, and made a big rug out of it, which I found very serviceable indeed in subsequent wet seasons. It was as hard as a board, and nearly half an inch thick.

When I returned to "Captain Davis" and the rest of my friends at Raffles Bay, I was quite well and strong once more, and I stayed with them three or four months, hunting almost every day (there were even wild ponies and English cattle--of course, relics of the old settlement), and picking up all the information I could. I had many conversations with Davis himself, and he told me that I should probably find white men at Port Darwin, which he said was between three and four hundred miles away. The tribe at Port Essington, I may mention, only numbered about fifty souls.

This was about the year 1868. Captain Davis--who was pa.s.sionately fond of tobacco, and would travel almost any distance to obtain an ounce or two from the Malay _beche-de-mer_ fishers--pointed out to me a blazed tree near his camp on which the following inscription was cut:--

LUDWIG LEICHHARDT, Overland from Sydney, 1847.

It was therefore evident that this district had already been visited by a white man; and the fact that he had come overland filled me with hopes that some day I, too, might return to civilisation in the same way. The English-speaking black chief a.s.sured me that his father had acted as guide to Leichhardt, but whether the latter got back safely to Sydney again he never knew. The white traveller, he said, left Port Essington in a ship.

Having considered all things, I decided to attempt to reach Port Darwin by boat, in the hope of finding Europeans living there. At first, I thought of going overland, but in discussing my plans with "Captain Davis," he told me that I would have to cross swamps, fords, creeks, and rivers, some of which were alive with alligators. He advised me to go by water, and also told me to be careful not to be drawn into a certain large bay I should come across, because of the alligators that swarmed on its sh.o.r.es. The bay that he warned me against was, I think, Van Dieman's Gulf. He told me to keep straight across the bay, and then pa.s.s between Melville Island and the main. He fitted me out with a good stock of provisions, including a quant.i.ty of _beche-de-mer_, cabbage-palm, fruit, &c. I arranged my buffalo skin over my provisions as a protection, turtle-back fashion. Our preparations completed, Yamba and I and the dog pushed out into the unknown sea in our frail canoe, which was only about fifteen feet long and fourteen inches wide. Of course, we kept close in- sh.o.r.e all the time, and made pretty good progress until we pa.s.sed Apsley Strait, avoiding the huge Van Dieman's Gulf, with its alligator-infested rivers and creeks. We must have been close to Port Darwin when, with little or no warning, a terrific storm arose, and quickly carried us out to sea in a south-westerly direction. In a moment our frail little craft was partially swamped, and Yamba and I were compelled to jump overboard and hang on to the gunwale on either side to prevent it from being overwhelmed altogether. This was about a fortnight after I left Captain Davis. We knew that if we were swamped, all our belongings, including my poor Bruno, my live geese, water, and other provisions, would be lost in the raging sea. The night that followed was perhaps one of the most appalling experiences that ever befell me; but I had by this time become so inured to terrible trials that I merely took it as a matter of course.

Imagine for yourself the scene. The giant waves are rolling mountains high; the darkness of night is gathering round us fast, and I and my heroic wife are immersed in the tremendous sea, hanging on for dear life to a little dug-out canoe only fourteen inches wide. Although we were soon thoroughly exhausted with our immersion in the water, we dared not climb aboard. Will it be believed that _all night long_ we were compelled to remain in the sea, clinging to the canoe, half drowned, and tossed about like the insignificant atoms we were in the midst of the stupendous waves, which were literally ablaze with phosph.o.r.escent light?

Often as those terrible hours crawled by, I would have let go my hold and given up altogether were it not for Yamba's cheery and encouraging voice, which I heard above the terrific roar of the storm, pointing out to me how much we had been through already, and how many fearful dangers we had safely encountered together. It seemed to me like the end of everything.

I thought of a certain poem relating to a man in a desperate situation, written, I believe, by an American, whose name I could not remember. It described the heart-breaking efforts made by a slave to obtain his freedom. How bloodhounds were put upon his track; how he is at last cornered in a swamp, and as he looks helplessly up at the stars he asks himself, "Is it life, or is it death?" As I hung on to the little dug- out, chilled to the very marrow, and more than half drowned by the enormous seas, I recalled the whole poem and applied the slave's remarks to myself. "Can it be possible," I said, "after all the struggles I have made against varying fortune, that I am to meet death now?" I was in absolute despair. Towards the early hours of the morning Yamba advised me to get into the canoe for a spell, but she herself remained hanging on to the gunwale, trying to keep the head of the little canoe before the immense waves that were still running. I was very cold and stiff, and found it difficult to climb aboard. As the morning advanced, the sea began to abate somewhat, and presently Yamba joined me in the canoe. We were, however, unable to shape our course for any set quarter, since by this time we were out of sight of land altogether, and had not even the slightest idea as to our position.

All that day we drifted aimlessly about, and then, towards evening, a perfect calm settled on the sea. When we were somewhat rested we paddled on in a direction where we concluded land must lie (we steered south-east for the main); and in the course of a few hours we had the satisfaction of seeing a little rocky island, which we promptly made for and landed upon. Here we obtained food in plenty in the form of birds; but drinking- water was not to be found anywhere, so we had to fall back on the small stock we always carried in skins. Judging from the appearance of the rocks, and the smell that pervaded the place, I imagined that this must be a guano island. I now knew that we were near Port Darwin, _but as a fact we had pa.s.sed it in the great storm_, _while we were fighting for our lives_. We slept on the island that night, and felt very much better next morning when we started out on our voyage once more, visiting every bay and inlet. Hope, too, began to rea.s.sert itself, and I thought that after all we might be able to reach Port Darwin in spite of the distance we must have been driven out of our course. Several islands studded the sea through which we were now steadily threading our way, and that evening we landed on one of these and camped for the night. Next day we were off again, and as the weather continued beautifully fine we made splendid progress.

One evening a few days after the storm, as we were placidly paddling away, I saw Yamba's face suddenly brighten with a look I had never seen on it before, and I felt sure this presaged some extraordinary announcement. She would gaze up into the heavens with a quick, sudden motion, and then her intelligent eyes would sparkle like the stars above.

I questioned her, but she maintained an unusual reserve, and, as I concluded that she knew instinctively we were approaching Port Darwin, I, too, felt full of joy and pleasure that the object of our great journey was at length about to be achieved. Alas! what awaited me was only the greatest of all the astounding series of disappointments--one indeed so stunning as to plunge me into the very blackest depths of despair.

Yamba still continued to gaze up at the stars, and when at length she had apparently satisfied herself upon a certain point, she turned to me with a shout of excited laughter and delight, pointing frantically at a certain glowing star. Seeing that I was still puzzled by her merriment, she cried, "That star is one you remember well." I reflected for a moment, and then the whole thing came to me like a flash of lightning.

_Yamba was approaching her own home once more_--_the very point from which we had both started eighteen months previously_! In the storm, as I have already said, we had pa.s.sed Port Darwin altogether, having been driven out to sea.

I tell you, my heart nearly burst when I recalled the awful privations and hardships we had both experienced so recently; and when I realised that all these things had been absolutely in vain, and that once more my trembling hopes were to be dashed to the ground in the most appalling manner, I fell back into the canoe, utterly crushed with horror and impotent disappointment. Was there ever so terrible an experience? Take a map of Australia, and see for yourself my frightful blunder--mistaking the west coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria for the eastern waters of the Cape York Peninsula, and then blindly groping northward and westward in search of the settlement of Somerset, which in reality lay hundreds of miles north-east of me. I was unaware of the very existence of the great Gulf of Carpentaria. But were it not for having had to steer north to get out of the waterless plains, I might possibly have reached the north- eastern coast of the continent in due time, avoiding the Roper River altogether.

Yamba knelt by my side and tried to comfort me in her own sweet, quaint way, and she pictured to me--scant consolation--how glad her people would be to have us both back amongst them once more. She also urged what a great man I might be among her people if only I would stay and make my home with them. Even her voice, however, fell dully on my ears, for I was fairly mad with rage and despair--with myself, for not having gone overland to Port Darwin from Port Essington, as, indeed, I should most certainly have done were it not that Davis had a.s.sured me the greater part of the journey lay through deadly swamps and creeks, and great waters swarming with alligators. I had even had in my mind the idea of attempting to _reach Sydney overland_! but thought I would first of all see what facilities in the way of reaching civilisation Port Darwin had to offer. Now, however, I was back again in Cambridge Gulf,--in the very spot I had left a year and a half ago, and where I had landed with my four blacks from the island sand-spit. But you, my readers, shall judge of my feelings.

We landed on an island at the mouth of the gulf, and Yamba made smoke- signals to her friends on the mainland, telling them of our return. We resolved it would never do to confess we had been _driven back_. No, we had roamed about and had come back to our dear friends of our own free- will, feeling there was no place like home! just think what a _role_ this was for me to play,--with my whole being thrilling with an agony of helpless rage and bitter disappointment.

This time, however, we did not wait for the blacks to come out and meet us, but paddled straight for the beach, where the chiefs and all the tribe were a.s.sembled in readiness to receive us. The first poignant anguish being pa.s.sed, and the warmth of welcome being so cordial and excessive (they cried with joy), I began to feel a little easier in my mind and more resigned to inexorable fate. The usual ceremony of nose- rubbing on shoulders was gone through, and almost every native present expressed his or her individual delight at seeing us again. Then they besieged us with questions, for we were now great travellers. A s.p.a.cious "humpy" or hut was built without delay, and the blacks vied with one another in bringing me things which I sorely needed, such as fish, turtles, roots, and eggs.