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CHAPTER III
ОглавлениеJourney to Western Queensland—Camping out—Damper (Australian bread)—The song of the magpie—Australian scrubs—Hunting the kangaroo—Devotion of parrots—Station life—Lonely shepherds—Migration of rats—Native justice—Australian fleas—Native mounted police—A remarkable flint instrument—The boomerang.
A WOOL-WAGGON.
In the beginning of July I prepared myself for a long journey to the west. I first despatched several cases of things collected to Christiania, and then proceeded on my journey in company with a man who was to bring provisions to Minnie Downs, Messrs. Archer’s sheep station, about 350 miles west from Rockhampton.
I had long contemplated this journey, as Western Queensland was in my imagination a veritable Eldorado for the naturalist. So far as I knew, no zoologist had yet studied the fauna of the far west. With my limited acquaintance with Australian bush-life I was happy to get a companion; he had a waggon drawn by three horses, so that our day’s journey was comparatively short, which was a great advantage to me. I thus had the opportunity of making many digressions on the way, and of procuring many animals, while my companion preceded me. The greater part of the day I was occupied on my own account in hunting and in preparing my game. In the course of the afternoon I overtook the waggon, the track of which I was always able to follow.
At sunset we encamped for the night, and the horses were let loose with their forefeet hobbled. We made a large fire and prepared our supper, which, as is common in the bush, consisted of salt beef and damper. The latter is the name of a kind of bread made of wheat flour and water. The dough is shaped into a flat, round cake, which is baked in red-hot ashes. This bread looks very inviting, and tastes very good, as long as it is fresh, but it soon becomes hard and dry.
HEAD OF “MORE PORK” (Podargus cuvierii).
After supper we immediately made up our beds, which consisted simply of a waterproof laid on the ground and some woollen blankets. For the sake of convenience we usually slept under the waggon with the fire before us. Generally there is no other roof for the Australian traveller than the sky, and this is, as a rule, quite sufficient in Western Queensland, where no dew falls except immediately after the rainy season. On the coast it is, however, necessary to be more prudent; if you do not sleep in a tent, you should at least take care to have something over your head, so as not to inhale the dew. A couple of boughs will often answer—a precaution never taken by the careless bushmen.
How well one feels in this out-of-door life! When we lie down to rest we are lulled to sleep by the melancholy, sleep-inspiring, and not disagreeable voices of the night bird Podargus—“more pork! more pork!”—and we are awakened in the bracing morning air, before the sun is up, by the wondrous melodious organ-tones of the Australian magpie (Gymnorhina tibicen).
At Expedition Range we came to dense scrubs, the so-called Brigalow-scrubs. The motley blending of plants which characterises the scrubs of the sea-board is not found here. The Brigalow (Acacia harpophylla) frequently occupies the whole ground for miles around; the air is heavy and oppressive; occasionally the gray monotony is broken by an isolated bottle-tree (p. 55) (Sterculia rupestris), which derives its name from the wonderful resemblance of the stem to a bottle. The inner part of this tree is porous and spongy, and therefore absorbs a great deal of moisture, a fact of which the cattle-owner sometimes avails himself during a prolonged drought. In a few places this damp wood, which contains a great deal of starch, is used for fodder.
After journeying two or three days through this gray wilderness, we crossed Comet river. Along its banks my attention was drawn to a number of Casuarinas—those leafless, dark trees which always make a sad impression on the traveller; even a casual observer will notice the dull, depressing sigh which comes from a grove of these trees when there is the least breeze. Near Springsure I stopped a day at a station, where I was invited to take part in a kangaroo hunt. There were several of us in the company, all on horseback. Toward sunset we set out, for the animals at that time go out to feed, and it was not long before we caught sight of one of them. Our dogs, which were all fine kangaroo hounds, were now let loose, and we galloped after them as fast as our horses could carry us.
The kangaroo jumps as quickly as a galloping horse, but usually it gets tired soon, especially if it is an “old man,” as the colonists say. He then places himself with his back against the trunk of a tree and seeks to protect himself from the dogs to the last. Woe be to the dog who comes within reach of his paws! He seizes it with his arms, and rips its belly open with his strong big toe. The dog therefore takes good care not to come too near. Sometimes the kangaroo takes refuge in a pool of water, and if the dog is too intrusive, the kangaroo ducks it instinctively under water, and holds it there till it is dead. The hunt proceeded as rapidly as our fast horses could gallop, but it did not take long before the kangaroo turned on the dogs in the manner I have described. One of the hunters came up, dismounted, and one or two powerful blows from his club put an end to the animal. We killed six of them in this manner.
Not far from Nogoa river I overtook my travelling companion. In this region I shot two specimens of the beautiful parrot Platycercus pulcherrimus under the following remarkable circumstances. An hour before sunset I left the camp with my gun, and soon caught sight of a pair of these parrots, a male and a female, that were walking near an ant-hill eating grass-seed. After I had shot the male, the female flew up into a neighbouring tree. I did not at once go to pick up the dead bird—the fine scarlet feathers of the lower part of its belly, which shone in the rays of the setting sun, could easily be seen in the distance. Soon after the female came flying down to her dead mate. With her beak she repeatedly lifted the dead head up from the ground, walked to and fro over the body, as if she would bring it to life again; then she flew away, but immediately returned with some dry straws of grass in her beak, and laid them before the dead bird, evidently for the purpose of getting him to eat the seed. As this too was in vain, she began again to raise her mate’s head and to trample on his body, and finally flew away to a tree just as darkness was coming on. I approached the tree, and a shot put an end to the faithful animal’s sorrow.
A KANGAROO HUNT.
About 250 miles from the coast we passed the part of the Great Dividing Range, which here forms the watershed between Eastern and Western Queensland. In this part the watershed consists of a low range. Nevertheless no one can fail to observe the great difference in animal life on the two sides as well as the immediate change in the character and aspect of the country. No sooner is the range passed than we meet with the red-breasted cockatoo (Cacatua roseicapilla), which is never found on the eastern side.
From this time we were in Western Queensland, as it is called, the great rich pasturage, where millions of sheep wander about, and we were soon aware that we had come within the confines of the squatters. One can scarcely imagine a more characteristic picture of Australian bush-life than the sight of a wool-waggon approaching from the distance. Eighteen or twenty strong oxen in the scorching heat, their tongues far out of their mouths, laboriously drag a heavy waggon loaded with bales of wool. By the side of the caravan walks the driver, sunburnt and dusty, with his long whip in his hand. Under an awning on the top of the load, which is as high as a house, the driver’s family have their quarters, and a few sheep and goats follow behind.
Such a carrier makes his living by transporting wool from stations in the far west to the coast, and also by bringing back supplies. Thus he spends his life on the road from one year’s end to another. He is himself the owner of both oxen and waggon. If he has several of such teams and also a wife, she usually drives one, plying her whip as dexterously as any man.
Finally we meet the great flocks of sheep from Minnie Downs, proof that we are now near this station, our goal. The month I spent here gave me an excellent knowledge of station life. The raising of cattle and sheep, the most important industry of Australia, has more or less influence on all kinds of business in that country. In the older colonies the cattle and sheep farmers are also the owners of the land where their herds and flocks graze, but in the larger part of Queensland the pastures are rented from the Government. These great cattle and sheep farmers are called squatters, and they are the aristocracy of Australia. If the squatter is a sheep-farmer, he not unfrequently has 200,000 sheep upon his station, while the cattle-farmer often owns 15,000 head. He does not hesitate to pay as high as £2000 for a fine bull, or as high as £600 for a ram of choice pedigree.
A station resembles a little village. Besides the main building, which is the residence of the squatter or his superintendent, there are a number of shanties for the workmen, a butcher’s shop, a storehouse for wool, and a shop where most of the necessaries of life may be bought. A garden of vegetables may usually be found down by the water, for there is always a creek or a water-hole near every station. The garden is generally managed by skilful Chinamen, who are, it is true, hated by all colonists (every Chinaman must pay £30 for permission to settle in Queensland), but at the same time are recognised as the most able gardeners. The secret of their art is chiefly the untiring attention they give to the plants, watering them early and late in sunshine and even in rain.
The stock-yard is an enclosure indispensable to every station. The cattle are driven into it when they are to be captured, but it is usually occupied by the horses, which are lodged there every morning so that the stock-man may select his own animal. Most of the work on a station is done on horseback, and one can hardly conceive of an Australian unable to ride.
There is of course much work to be done on a station having such extensive pasturage. The sheep cause the most trouble. The transportation of the wool to the coast is very expensive, and often costs more than the freight from the coast to England. And yet sheep-raising may often give a profit of as much as thirty per cent. The cattle are sent alive to the cities to be slaughtered. Milk is scarcely used at all in the bush. On a station containing about 10,000 head not more than three or four cows may be milked, as the cattle are half wild and have to be tamed for milking purposes. The chief stress is laid on the beef. What, then, becomes of this immense quantity of beef? The greater part is eaten in Australia, where the consumption is enormous. More recently establishments have been built, in which the beef is either canned or frozen for export. Besides, considerable quantities are used for the production of tallow. In the neighbourhood of Rockhampton there is an establishment where the carcasses of about 100,000 cattle and sheep are annually boiled down and converted into tallow.
In Australia, wherever there are good pastures to be found, the land is quickly taken up for the feeding of large droves of cattle and flocks of sheep. First, the cattle consume the coarse grass, then the sheep are turned into the pastures. Distance is a matter of no consequence. It may require months to bring the stock up to the new station, but no place is so far away that there is any hesitation about forming a station there, provided the pasturage is good. The greatest difficulty with which the squatter has to contend is the climate, for prolonged drought may completely ruin him.
I was now in one of the best grazing districts of Australia, covered for hundreds of miles with the well-known Mitchell-grass (Astrebla elymoides), which has a remarkable power of withstanding the drought without losing its nourishing qualities.
In the vicinity of Minnie Downs there still were scrubs, but farther west they became less abundant. These were mainly Brigalow-scrubs, and near the station they occupy large tracts of land. Here we also become acquainted with a new kind of scrub, called by the colonists gidyascrub, which manifests itself even at a distance by a very characteristic but not agreeable odour, being especially pungent after rain. The Australian inland scrubs give a vivid impression of solitude and desolation, with their gray or brown masses of stiff, often shadeless trees, which like a sea undulate over barren plains and low hills. To ramble in these woods, where all is dry and hot, and silent as the grave, is no pleasure as it would be elsewhere. It is very difficult to discover life in this woody wilderness, and the monotony is rarely broken by the sight of a bird or any other living thing. These scrubs, which sometimes are of immense extent (for instance in South Australia 9000 square miles), are peculiar to Australia, and, as Mr. Wood well says, are just as characteristic of the country as the steppes of Tartary, the prairies of America, and the deserts of Africa are of these respective countries.
In the great gidya and Brigalow-scrubs in the vicinity of the station I could not therefore expect to find any great variety of animal life. Nor does it exist to any extent in the open country generally. The Australian dog (dingo) was formerly very numerous here and in all Western Queensland. But as it is the sworn enemy of the squatters they have begun to kill it, so that it is now in course of extermination. On the large stations a man is kept whose sole work it is to lay out poison for the dingo. The black variety with white breast generally appears in Western Queensland along with the red.
SPIDER PARALYSED BY A HORNET (natural size).
I frequently had occasion to observe the spiders, and among them the large woolly Phrictis crassipes was found in great numbers. It makes a hole 18 inches deep, and in a slanting position, but the entrance is not supplied with a trap-door, as is the case with the burrows of many other spiders out here. I once saw a hornet (Mygnimia australasiæ) proceed boldly into one of these holes, which I then immediately closed. I dug to the bottom of the hole from the side. There I saw the spider paralysed by the plucky hornet, which was sitting on its back. I was anxious to test the effect of the poison of this colossal spider, and once let it bite the snout of a kitten, which thereupon became very sick and vomited violently, but soon recovered.
Another spider (Lathrodectus scelio), which is very common here and everywhere in Queensland, is very dangerous even to men. It is a small black animal, of the size of our house-spider, with a brilliant scarlet mark on its back. A friend of mine was bitten in the leg by one of these dangerous spiders, which is feared like a snake. The pain was violent, and was followed by paralysis which lasted for three days. He was able to feel the venom work its way up the leg, pass through the bowels, and descend down the other leg, whereupon it ascended to the breast. But on the third day he had a cold perspiration, and recovered.
This spider is found especially in old wood and rubbish, but is also fond of staying in houses, keeping itself concealed during the day and coming out at night. On my verandah at Gracemere I could collect as many as I pleased, for they are not at all timid.
I soon began to long for regions farther west, where the fauna is more abundant, and continued my journey alone with only two horses. As a rule there was a path which I could follow. When no path was to be found, I proceeded as best I could, and made my camp wherever night overtook me. Every day I expected new scenes, but I was always disappointed. It was the same over and over again; large, gray plains covered with dry Mitchell-grass undulated before me; here and there stood a solitary gum-tree, especially on the banks of the rivers. Dwarf scrubs were the only things that occasionally varied the landscape.
When I arrived at Barcoo river, I discovered to my surprise only a dry river-bed with pools of water here and there, instead of a veritable stream. Yet this is naturally explained by the fact that the river owes its existence exclusively to the rains, which is the case with the majority of the Australian streams.
It seldom rains in Western Queensland; but during the rainy season the rivers rapidly fill their beds, overflow their banks, and in some places become several miles wide. The water, however, soon disappears again, and the high temperature reduces the mighty stream to isolated water-holes. Water is therefore a precious article in the Australian bush. To furnish drink for the cattle the squatter must build large dams, especially across the rivers, and thus gather a supply which may protect him against irreparable losses. In recent years water has been obtained by boring very deep wells. I may here mention the fact that, at the end of 1887, water was found in Barcaldine at a depth of 691 feet by an artesian boring. It was clear as crystal and perfectly fresh, but very warm, the temperature being 101°F. Through a pipe 10 inches in diameter it rose with such force that it formed a fountain above the ground, and carried to the surface stones of the size of emu eggs. The amount of water from this artesian well is about 176,000 gallons per day.[1]
1. The artesian well at Blackall last year struck water at the depth of 1666 feet and gives 300,000 gallons per day, at a temperature of 119°. In other places several borings have been successful at a slight depth.
The soil consists, as a rule, of a fertile, deep, and chocolate-coloured deposit. Water is all that is wanted to make a great deal of Western Queensland a large wheat-growing country, and I feel sure, owing to the great success artesian borings of late have had, that such a future is really in store for this country. In the present circumstances it is difficult to keep garden flowers alive.
In Western Queensland nobody is surprised if a drop of rain does not fall for eight or ten months together. Nevertheless, cattle and sheep keep fat all the year, for the grass retains its nutriment even though it looks dry and gray, and a shower will make these dry stalks green.
On the way to Thompson river I spent a night with an Irish shepherd, who lived far away from any neighbour, occupied wholly with his sheep. As a peculiar and pedantic hermit, he preferred this solitary life, to which he had accustomed himself for many years. He could not bear any interruption in his habits, and with Australian straightforwardness he did not hesitate to make it apparent that all things in his neat little cottage must be kept in their places. But if one adapted oneself to his habits, it was not difficult to get on with him. He was, in fact, a type of those old Australian shepherds who are rapidly being relegated to the domain of history. Though his hair had turned gray in the bush, he had not forgotten his Irish descent. “England is too powerful,” said he; “her fate will be like that of Rome in ancient times.”
After supper he spread some sacks on the floor, and these were to be my bed. But I was not yet ready to retire, so I went out in the starry night, where the moon and the Southern Cross shone cold on the lonely landscape. The pure, clear winter air was chill on the gray plains and dark green trees, while in the cottage the fire blazed high on the hearth and shed a ray of light out through the small windows.
I opened the door and was deeply touched to find the hermit kneeling before his bed. Here the old man lived alone with his God in the desolate Australian bush.
On the banks of the Thompson river I observed the well-known nardu (Marsilea). The seed of this plant is crushed and ground by the natives, and used for food. Nardu has become painfully celebrated, for it was on this seed that the famous travellers Burke and Wills subsisted until they finally perished from starvation.
At Westlands station I had the good fortune to witness a korroboree, that is, a festive dance by the natives in the neighbourhood. The melody sung to this dance was genuine Australian, but the text was mixed with English words. The air was as follows:—
The water we are obliged to drink in the interior of Queensland is wellnigh intolerable. Frequently it is so thick with mud that it has to be boiled, after which the dirt is allowed to sink to the bottom. Very often it is white, mixed with chalk, or it may be coloured black from decayed leaves. When the bushman wants a drink of water he does not hesitate to drink it as it is, and I have even seen these careless people drink from a dam in which there lay a couple of putrid sheep. That people do not oftener fall ill is doubtless due to the circumstance that the water is almost universally drunk boiled with tea. Though the water is not always as unhealthy as its appearance would indicate, I seldom omitted to boil it; but as I often found it inconvenient to dismount and make a fire, I accustomed myself to do without it all day long. I made up for the want, however, in the evening, when I was lucky enough to encamp near good water. At one station I emptied two large pitchers in the course of an hour.
Though one perspires freely in this climate, still the moisture evaporates so rapidly that one keeps perfectly dry while riding beneath the perpendicular rays of the sun.
About a month after my departure from Minnie Downs I reached Windex station, 650 miles from Rockhampton, where I found the same hospitable reception always accorded a stranger in the Australian bush. I was invited to remain for a while to explore the vicinity. The owner was himself interested in zoology, and he believed it would pay me to stop; he was right, for the animal life was interesting even if it were not rich in species. I here added to my collection Australia’s smallest marsupial animal, the beautiful Phascologale minutissima. A cat playing with something that looked like a mouse led to the capture of this specimen, for on closer examination it appeared that it was not an animal of the mouse family, but this little marsupial. It had no less than nine young in the pouch. From Windex I made an excursion for a few days to a mountain region about thirty miles distant. Here I shot the beautiful white species of kite (Elanus axillaris), and a couple of specimens of the charming Diamantina-pigeon. These beautiful little birds are very numerous here, and so tame that the stock-men can easily kill them with their whips.
On the broad sandy heights in the vicinity the so-called spinifex is found in great abundance. This grass (Triodia irritans) is the traveller’s torment, and makes the plains, which it sometimes covers for hundreds of miles, almost impassable. Its blades, which have points as sharp as needles, often prick the horses’ legs till they bleed, and it is generally regarded simply as a nocuous grass; still, the horses will eat the tender blades of the young plant.
The district in which I now found myself had a year before been visited by a plague of rats. They came from the north-west and proceeded, viâ Winton, on their wanderings towards the east. A man in Ayrshire Downs told me that they appeared in countless numbers—during the day they kept concealed, but in the evening the ground seemed to be alive with them, so numerous were they. One night for amusement he laid a piece of meat on his threshold, and killed with a stick 400 of these animals which came up to eat the meat. An occasional straggler was left behind, but the main body disappeared in a short time. Afterwards I learned that an army of rats had also passed Westwood, doubtless the same clan, but greatly reduced in number, and probably but few of them reached the coast. I have been informed that the small marsupials (Phascologale minutissima) before mentioned make similar periodical migrations.
From Ayrshire Downs I proceeded south to Elderslie, a station in process of construction. It was so difficult to get building timber in the vicinity that it had been found expedient to use stone for building. The station lies near the confluence of the Diamantina and Western rivers. I here met two men who were looking for opals in the mountains east of the Diamantina river. Not far north of Elderslie lies a very rich copper-bearing district called Cloncurry, which is said to surpass even the celebrated Lake Superior mines in North America. Moreover, gold and actual mountains of pure iron ore abound here, but on account of the difficulty of transportation this enormous wealth is not yet available. Queensland will, it is said, become a centre for the production of precious metals. Besides great wealth of gold, silver, tin, and other metals, the land, according to recent investigations, has so vast an amount of coal that its coast is destined in time to become the most important emporium of coal on the southern hemisphere.
The natives near Diamantina river astonished me by their bodily structure; neither before nor since have I seen them so tall and upon the whole so well nourished as in the tribe near Elderslie. Some of the women were even monstrously large; their hair was generally straight. Their food consisted chiefly of fish, snakes, rats, and clams.
A conspicuous trait in the character of the Australian native is treachery, and the colonists are wont to give the stranger the warning, “Never have a black-fellow behind you.” Nor should one, as a rule, rely on them. How difficult it is for them to lay aside their uncivilised habits may be seen from the following incident, which happened at Dawson river. A squatter was walking in the bush in company with his black boy, hunting brush-turkey (Talegalla). As they sauntered forth, the black boy touched him on the shoulder from behind and said, “Let me go ahead.” When the squatter asked why he wished to go before him, the boy answered, “I feel such an inclination to kill you.” The black boy had been on the station for several years, where he had served as shepherd and had proved himself very capable.
I observed an interesting fact among the natives of this locality. In cases of murder they administer justice in a peculiar manner, as the following instance will illustrate. A black boy at Connemara station was sent on an errand to Diamantina gates. On his way home he fell in with an old man and his two wives, all of whom belonged to the same tribe as the boy. In the course of the journey the boy killed the old man and took possession of the two young wives. Meanwhile, one of them escaped and reported what had happened to the tribe, which caused universal indignation. Fourteen men with spears and other weapons then proceeded to Connemara to punish the murderer. The boy concealed himself, and the white people on the station would not surrender him, for he was a good servant. They even fired one or two shots at the blacks in order to frighten them away. Three or four days passed, and the boy believed that all danger was over. As he went out one morning to take in a horse, he was killed by his tribal kinsmen only half a mile from the station.
From Peak Downs I have heard similar stories. A black man who was to be punished, probably for murder, was pursued to the very station. When the white folk got sight of him he was so covered with spears that he looked like a porcupine.
In the new main building at Elderslie station the fleas had already made their appearance. They usually live in the ground, and as soon as you step on the soil they creep by the dozen up your legs. In Europe I have never felt a bite of these insects, but the Australian representatives were genuine blood-suckers. As I could not abstain from scratching, I broke my skin, and thus produced a series of bad and irritable sores which would not heal. At last I felt so uncomfortable when I moved, that to my great annoyance I was obliged to keep still for a week. When the week was over, this sitting still became unbearable. Besides, I had received an invitation to take part in an expedition down the Diamantina river.
QUEENSLAND NATIVE MOUNTED POLICE.
An inspector of the native police, whose barracks were down by the river, was going to make a tour of inspection southward, and I was to go with him. In spite of my wounds I started for the barracks, which were situated about thirty miles south; but when I got there I was so ill that I was obliged to give up my intention of joining the expedition. As soon as I stirred, and especially when I rode, swellings arose on various parts of my body, which, however, disappeared whenever I lay down. There was accordingly nothing else to do but to remain idle, lying on the verandah of the policemen’s bark hut. The native police, in whose quarters I now was, is a body organised by the Government of Queensland for the protection of the settlers. They are stationed in those parts of the colony where the natives appear to be dangerous. Such a corps of police consists of natives from other parts of Australia, and consequently they are the natural enemies of the blacks against whom they are employed. They are commanded by a white officer, the so-called sub-inspector, and by a sergeant. The force is in uniform, armed with rifles, and consists of splendid horsemen. From the barracks, which are generally some low bark huts, the police several times a year make tours of inspection through the large districts under their charge. When the natives kill a white man, the police punish them, and if they prey upon the cattle of the squatter, the latter sends word to the police barracks and demands that the blacks be “dispersed.” As Queensland becomes colonised, the native police force is being gradually reduced in numbers, and at the present time there are but few barracks in the northern and western part of the colony.
During my sojourn here I had the good luck to obtain a valuable flint knife (p. 48) which the natives of Georgina river use for the peculiar mika-operation[2] to prevent the increase of population. It has a very sharp point and three sides, two of which are very sharp, so that the blade is in fact two-edged. The handle is made of a lump of resin (probably from a eucalyptus), and is in reality black, but is painted with reddish-brown ochre. The knife is stuck into this handle, the resin having been softened over the fire. On the other end of the handle a flat piece of wood is fastened, painted with chalk figures. To the knife belongs a sheath of the bark of the tea-tree. The pieces of bark are placed side by side and bound together by a kind of string, which is probably spun from the hair of the opossum.
2. This remarkable custom, by which the natives produce hypospadi artificially, belongs especially to the tribes west of the Diamantina river, and west and north of the Gulf of Carpentaria, and does not, as might be supposed, originate in lack of means of sustenance, since the districts in question are full of rats, fish, and such vegetables as nardu, pigweed, and the like. In a few tribes the children are operated on, only about five per cent being spared. In other tribes it is the husband who, after becoming the father of one or two children, must submit to the requirements of the law, as it is said, amid certain festivities (as for example trees are cut down and stuck into the ground in a circle around the place of operation). A man about twenty years old from Georgina river, whom I examined, explained to me that the reason for the operation was, that the blacks “did not like to hear children cry in the camp,” and that they do not care to have many children. This person had not been operated on himself, as he had not yet been the father of a child. According to the information I gathered, the cut, which is about an inch long, extends almost to the scrotum. The surface of the wound is first burnt with hot stones, whereupon the wound is kept apart by little sticks which are inserted, and in this manner an opening is formed, through which the sperma is emitted. The natives of these tribes are fat and in good physical condition. Mr. White, a squatter from Rocklands in North-western Queensland, and an excellent observer of the blacks, noticed for the first time in 1876 near Boulya that some of them had been injured in some way, and found that they had been operated on in the manner described. Later he saw a number of cases, and they all explained to him that the reason was that they did not care to be burdened with too many children. (See in regard to this custom also two articles by Baron N. von Miklucho-Maclay in Zeitschrift für Ethnologie. Berlin, 1880 and 1882.)
FLINT KNIFE FROM GEORGINA RIVER WITH ITS SHEATH (½ size).
The outer side of the sheath is whitened with chalk, and at the small end of it is a tuft of red cockatoo down. The natives procure the knife by making a fire on the flint rock and then pouring water on it. Thus it splits, and very nice pieces can easily be selected. This flint knife is the finest Australian implement I have seen. One would hardly think that it was made by an Australian native, so much labour has been bestowed upon it.
POUCH FOR THE CARRYING OF PITURI (¼ size).
I obtained the little pouch represented below on the same occasion. It is a torpedo-shaped network made of plant fibre, and is used exclusively for carrying the leaves of a tree called pituri (Duboisia hopwoodii). The leaves contain a stimulant which possesses qualities similar to those of tobacco and opium, and are chewed by several tribes in the interior of Australia. Pituri is highly valued as a stimulant, and is taken for barter far and wide; the habitat of the tree is, however, probably not so limited as has been supposed. The pituri pouch obtained by me was secured from natives about 200 miles west of Diamantina river, and was knitted with great skill in about two hours.
When the native police are at home at their barracks they have not much to do. The troopers are fond of roaming about in the woods, and they devote themselves to the athletics peculiar to their race, usually undressing themselves so as to be more free in their movements. In cool evenings they often amuse themselves with throwing the boomerang, and their matchless skill invariably commanded my admiration. It is strange that so primitive a people as the Australian natives should have invented this weapon, which, as we know, has the peculiarity of returning to the thrower, provided it does not meet with any obstacle on the way. The boomerang is a curved, somewhat flat and slender weapon made from a hard and heavy wood, Brigalow (Acacia excelsa) or myall (A. pendula), but the best one I found was made of a lighter kind of wood. The curving of the boomerang, which often approaches a right angle, must be natural and lie in the wood itself. One side is perfectly flat and the other slightly rounded. The ends are pointed. The peculiarity of the boomerang, viz. that it returns of itself to the thrower, depends on the fact that it is twisted so that the ends are bent in opposite directions; the twisting is accomplished by putting it in water, then heating it in ashes, and finally bending it, but this warp must occasionally be renewed, for it sometimes disappears, especially if the weapon is made of light wood. Upon the whole, there is no striking irregularity in the plan of the boomerang; this warped boomerang is, as a rule, used only as a toy.
In Western Queensland, as elsewhere in Australia, numerous boomerangs which are not twisted are used, but these, which are only for war and hunting, do not return when thrown. They are thrown with killing effect into flocks of pigeons and ducks.
When an Australian is throwing a boomerang, he seizes one end, which is usually made rough in order to afford a better grip, and holds it backward in such a manner that the concave side of the weapon turns forward. Grasping it firmly, he runs a couple of paces forward, and then throws his boomerang in a straight line before him. The moment it leaves his hand it turns into a horizontal position, and starts off, buzzing like a spinning-wheel. While going with great speed, it revolves round its own axis, and in this manner takes a slanting direction upward through the air. It does not return the same way as it went, but curves toward the left, and thus describes an ellipse. Gradually it loses its momentum and so falls slowly, sometimes only a couple of paces from its starting-point.
Dexterity rather than strength is needed to throw the boomerang with success. Above all, it is important to hold it firmly until it is suddenly let loose. It cannot fail to astonish everybody to see how far and at the same time how gracefully this weapon can whirl through the air. I was never tired of witnessing this amusement, which is so highly prized by the blacks, and also learned to throw the boomerang myself, but did not acquire the skill of the natives. It is very difficult to throw this weapon well, and it requires considerable practice. All the blacks are by no means perfect in its use, and very few white people acquire the art.
The natives frequently make the boomerang touch the ground ten or twelve paces from where it is thrown; but this, far from diminishing the speed, gives it on the contrary increased velocity. It may even touch the ground a second time, and then whirl off in the above-described circle from the right to the left. It is impossible to aim accurately with the returning boomerang: with the plain one, which does not return, it is much easier to do so, and the mark is not missed. A man is rarely killed by a boomerang. An acquaintance of mine told me that he once in a skirmish was hit in the thigh; the wound was only about an inch and a half deep, and was soon cured. His horse was hit in several places, without receiving any harm worth mentioning.
BOOMERANGS FROM QUEENSLAND (⅐ size).
a, b, c, plain ones from Central Queensland (Coomooboolaroo). d, a returning one from Herbert river.[3]
3. On the Herbert river I never saw boomerangs ornamented with engraved lines like those farther south and west in Queensland.
It has been asserted that the Egyptians and Assyrians used the boomerang, and from this the conclusion has been drawn that the Australian natives are descended from a race that have had a higher degree of development than they now possess. But, according to Mr. B. Smyth, it is extremely doubtful whether the Dravidic or Egyptian boomerang is identical with the Australian, since the former could not have had the quality of returning. Moreover, we find in Australia intermediate forms of this remarkable weapon, which show a development towards, rather than a retrogression from, the present boomerang.
It is a remarkable fact, which is asserted by several persons, that the boomerang is also used in South-eastern India; detailed accounts are, however, lacking. This weapon reminds us of the myth about Thor’s hammer, Mjolner, which also returned to the hands of the thrower.
To explain the origin of the boomerang, which is found as far north as Herbert river, would be difficult. But we can conceive it to have been invented by accident. A twig or a piece of wood which was on the ground may have become warped by rain and sunshine, and thereby assumed a form which revealed the striking quality of returning when it was thrown. In the forests the natives generally lay hold of any piece of wood for the purpose of killing a small animal. It is more probable, however, that the idea was discovered in their games. The native Australian seems to amuse himself with everything that comes in his way. Thus I have frequently seen them fold the leaf of a common palm into a square, give the two corners a little twist, one to each side, and throw it into the air, making it skim round and return. A white man told me that his black boys, while round the camp fire, used frequently to amuse themselves with the leaves of the Brigalow-acacia, which have a striking resemblance to the boomerang. They gave them a flick with the finger, causing the leaves to start off, but to return in the same manner as the boomerang. This seems to me to be the most reasonable explanation of the matter. The blacks may also have received a suggestion from the whirling movements described by the winged fruit of the gum-trees as it falls to the ground.
