Some queer dishes--Water wizards--A mysterious deputation--Iprotest against cannibalism--My marriage ceremony--A startling proposition--Daily routine--A diet of worms--I proceed cautiously--The cannibal poet sells his wares--Fishing extraordinary--How emus were caught--Eternal fires--A coming horror--The first cannibal feast.
I saw very little of Gunda from the moment of landing.I feel sure that the fact of his having seen so much of the world, and travelled such a long distance--to say nothing about bringing back so wonderful a creature as myself--had rendered him a very great man indeed in the estimation of his friends; and in consequence of this so much honour was paid him that he became puffed up with pride, and neglected his faithful wife.
Everywhere I went the natives were absolutely overwhelming in their hospitality, and presents of food of all kinds were fairly showered upon me, including such delicacies as kangaroo and opossum meat, rats, snakes, tree-worms, fish, &c., which were always left outside my hut.Baked snake, I ought to mention, was a very pleasant dish indeed, but as there was no salt forthcoming, and the flesh was very tasteless, I cannot say I enjoyed this particular native dainty.The snakes were invariably baked whole in their skins, and the meat was very tender and juicy, though a little insipid as to flavour.The native method of cooking is to scoop out a hole in the sand with the hands, and then place the article to be cooked at the bottom.Some loose stones would then be thrown over the "joint." Next would come a layer of sand, and the fire was built on the top of all.Rats were always plentiful--often so much so as to become a serious nuisance.They were of the large brown variety, and were not at all bad eating.I may say here that the women-folk were responsible for the catching of the rats, the method usually adopted being to poke in their holes with sticks, and then kill them as they rushed out.The women, by the way, were responsible for a good many things.They were their masters'
dressers, so to speak, in that they were required to carry supplies of the greasy clay or earth with which the blacks anoint their bodies to ward off the sun's rays and insect bites; and beside this, woe betide the wives if corroboree time found them without an ample supply of coloured pigments for the decoration of their masters' bodies.One of the principal duties of the women-folk, however, was the provision of roots for the family's dinner.The most important among these necessaries--besides fine yams--were the root and bud of a kind of water-lily, which when roasted tasted not unlike a sweet potato.
There was usually a good water supply in the neighbourhood of these camps, and if it failed (as it very frequently did), the whole tribe simply moved its quarters elsewhere--perhaps a hundred miles off.
The instinct of these people for finding water, however, was nothing short of miraculous.No one would think of going down to the seashore to look for fresh water, yet they often showed me the purest and most refreshing of liquids oozing up out of the sand on the beach after the tide had receded.
All this time, and for many months afterwards, my boat and everything it contained were saved from molestation and theft by a curious device on the part of Yamba.She simply placed a couple of crossed sticks on the sand near the bows, this being evidently a kind of Masonic sign to all beholders that they were to respect the property of the stranger among them; and I verily believe that the boat and its contents might have remained there until they fell to pieces before any one of those cannibal blacks would have dreamed of touching anything that belonged to me.
After a time the natives began pointedly to suggest that I should stay with them.They had probably heard from Yamba about the strange things I possessed, and the occult powers I was supposed to be gifted with.A day or two after my landing, a curious thing happened--nothing more or less than the celebration of my marriage!
I was standing near my boat, still full of thoughts of escape, when two magnificent naked chiefs, decked with gaudy pigments and feather head-dresses, advanced towards me, leading between them a young, dusky maiden of comparatively pleasing appearance.
The three were followed by an immense crowd of natives, and were within a few feet of me, when they halted suddenly.One of the chiefs then stepped out and offered me a murderous-looking club, with a big knob at one end, which ugly weapon was known as a "waddy." As he presented this club the chief made signs that I was to knock the maiden on the head with it.Now, on this I confess Iwas struck with horror and dismay at my position, for, instantly recalling what Yamba had told me, I concluded THAT A CANNIBAL FEASTWAS ABOUT TO BE GIVEN IN MY HONOUR, and that--worst horror of all--I might have to lead off with the first mouthful of that smiling girl.Of course, I reflected they had brought the helpless victim to me, the distinguished stranger, to kill with my own hands.At that critical moment, however, I resolved to be absolutely firm, even if it cost me my life.
While I hesitated, the chief remained absolutely motionless, holding out the murderous-looking club, and looking at me interrogatively, as though unable to understand why I did not avail myself of his offer.Still more extraordinary, the crowd behind observed a solemn and disconcerting silence.I looked at the girl;to my amazement she appeared delighted with things generally--a poor, merry little creature, not more than fifteen or sixteen years of age.I decided to harangue the chiefs, and as a preliminary Igave them the universal sign to sit down and parley.They did so, but did not seem pleased at what they doubtless considered an unlooked-for hitch in an interesting ceremony.
