You may imagine my feelings when, early one morning, Yamba suddenly gripped my arm and murmured, "We are nearing my home at last." Ileaped to my feet, and a few minutes afterwards the mainland came hazily into view.Instead of heading straight for it, however, we made for a beautiful island that stood in the mouth of a large bay, and here we landed to recuperate for a day or so.Immediately on our arrival, Yamba and her husband lit some fires, and made what were apparently smoke-signals to their friends on the main.They first cut down a quantity of green wood with my tomahawk and arranged it in the form of a pyramid.Next they obtained fire by rubbing together two pieces of a certain kind of wood; and as the smoke ascended we saw answering smoke-signals from the opposite shore.The smoke was allowed to ascend in puffs which were regulated by the manipulation of boughs.Not long after this curious exchange of signals (and the practice is virtually universal throughout the whole of aboriginal Australia), we saw three catamarans, or floats, each carrying a man, shooting across towards our island.These catamarans merely consisted of a broad plank with a stick placed transversely at the prow, on which the black placed his feet.He squatted down on the plank and then paddled forward.I viewed their approach with mixed sensations of alarm and hope.I was in the power of these people, I thought.
They could tear me limb from limb, torture me, kill and eat me, if they so pleased; I was absolutely helpless.These fears, however, were but momentary, and back upon my mind rushed the calm assurances I had obtained from my clear-eyed mentor, Yamba, to say nothing about the mysterious message of hope and consolation that had startled the solemn stillness of that tropical night.I knew these people to be cannibals, for, during the long talks we used to have on the island, Yamba had described to me their horrid feasts after a successful war.Nevertheless, I awaited the arrival of the little flotilla with all the complacency I could muster, but at the same time I was careful to let Yamba's husband be the first to receive them.
And he advanced to meet them.The newcomers, having landed, squatted down some little distance away from the man they had come to meet, and then Gunda and they gradually edged forwards towards one another, until at length each placed his nose upon the other's shoulder.This was apparently the native method of embracing.
Later Gunda brought his friends to be introduced to me, and to the best of my ability I went through the same ridiculous ceremony.Imust say my new friends evinced an almost uncontrollable terror at the sight of me.Gunda, however, made it clear that I was NOT a returned spirit, but a man like themselves--a great man certainly, and a mysterious man, but a man all the same.Although by this time my skin had become tanned and dark, there was seemingly no end to the amazement it caused the blacks.They timidly touched and felt my body, legs, and arms, and were vastly anxious to know what the covering was I had round my body.In due time, however, the excitement subsided somewhat, and then the newcomers prepared more smoke-signals to their friends on the mainland--this time building five separate fires in the form of a circle.
It was interesting to watch this remarkable method of communication.Each fire was set smoking fiercely a few seconds after its neighbour had started.Finally, the columns of smoke united, and ascended together in the form of a huge pyramid, going up a tremendous height into the still, hot air.The meaning of these signals was explained to me.They indicated to the people on the mainland that the advance guard had found Gunda and his family;that they had a great man with them; and that, furthermore, they might expect us to return all together almost immediately.By this time, thanks to Yamba's able and intelligent lessons, I was able to speak the queer language of the blacks with some show of fluency, and I could understand them well enough when they did not jabber too quickly.
