The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

by Louis de Rougemont

  CHAPTER VIII

  In the throes of fever--A ghastly discovery--Pitiful relics--A criticalmoment--Yamba in danger--A blood bath--A luxury indeed--Signs ofcivilisation--The great storm--Drifting, drifting--Yamba's mysteriousglee--A dreadful shock--"Welcome home!"--My official protectors--Myselfas a cannibal war chief--Preparations for battle--A weirdapparition--Generosity to the vanquished--The old desire.

  I had not been established in this camp many days, however, before I wasstruck down, for the first time, with a terrible attack of malarialfever, probably produced by the many hours I had spent wading in theswamps at Port Essington. There were the usual symptoms--quick flushingsand fever heats, followed by violent fits of shivering, which no amountof natural warmth could mitigate. My faithful Yamba was terriblydistressed 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 forseveral days I was even unable to recognise my Yamba. Then the feversubsided 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 wasfrequently seized with distressing fits of shivering. I also experiencedan 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 befound in the neighbourhood--beasts which had formerly belonged tosettlers, but were now run wild--I resolved, when sufficiently strong, totry and capture one of the cows for the sake of its milk. Captain Davisridiculed the idea, and assured me that it was only possible to slay onewith a rifle; but I determined to see what I could do.

  Yamba, of course, accompanied me on my expedition, and her bushmanshipwas altogether quite indispensable. We came upon buffalo tracks near alarge water-hole, and here we each climbed a gum-tree and awaited thearrival of our prey. We waited a long time, but were at length rewardedby seeing a big cow buffalo and her calf wandering leisurely in ourdirection. My only weapons were a lasso made out of green kangaroo hide,fixed to the end of a long pole; and my bow and arrows. I slid down thetree a little way, and when the calf was near enough, I gently slippedthe noose over its neck, and promptly made it a prisoner under the verynose of its astonished mother, who bellowed mournfully. My success soelated Yamba that she, too, slid down from her hiding-place, and wasmaking 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. Yambainstantly realised her danger, and swarmed up a tree again likelightning, just as the great brute was upon her. I called out to her toattract the attention of the old bull whilst I attended to the mother andcalf. I dropped my pole to which the lasso was attached, and allowed thelittle one to walk quickly away with it; but, as I anticipated, thetrailing shaft soon caught between the stumps of some trees, and made thecalf a more secure prisoner than ever. It was a curious repetition ofthe story of the two whales. The mother walked round and round, andappeared to be in the greatest distress. She never left her little one'sside, 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 stillholding the attention of the bull--a fiery brute who was pawing theground with rage at the foot of her tree. I had fitted an arrow to mybow, and was preparing to shoot, when, unfortunately, the bull detectedthe noise of my approach, and rushed straight at me. I confess it wasrather a trying moment, but I never lost my head, feeling confident of myskill with the bow--which I had practised off and on ever since I hadleft school at Montreux. I actually waited until the charging monsterwas within a few paces, and then I let fly. So close was he that notmuch credit is due to me for accurate aim. The arrow fairly transfixedhis right eye, causing him to pull up on his haunches, and roar withpain.

  Yamba, full of anxiety, hurried down her tree; but she had scarcelyreached the ground when the baffled bull wheeled and charged her, withmore fury than ever. She simply glided behind a tree, and then I showedmyself and induced the bull to charge me once more. Again I waited untilhe 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, andcommenced to back in an uncertain way, bellowing with pain. I forgot allmy 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. Ibrought him to the earth with two or three more blows, and a few minuteslater had administered the _coup-de-grace_. No sooner was the big bulldead than I determined to test the efficacy of a very popular nativeremedy for fever--for shivering fits still continued to come upon me atmost awkward times, usually late in the day. No matter how much grasspoor Yamba brought me as covering, I never could get warm, and so now Ithought I would try some animal heat.

  Scarce had life left the body of the prostrate bull before I ripped openthe carcass between the fore and hind legs; and after remarking to Yamba,"I am going to have heat this time," I crawled into the interior. Myhead, however, was protruding from the buffalo's chest. Yamba understoodperfectly well what I was doing; and when I told her I was going toindulge in a long sleep in my curious resting-place, she said she wouldkeep watch and see that I was not disturbed. I remained buried in thebull's interior for the rest of the day and all through the night. Nextmorning, to my amazement, I found I was a prisoner, the carcass havinggot cold and rigid, so that I had literally to be dug out. As I emergedI presented a most ghastly and horrifying spectacle. My body was coveredwith congealed blood, and even my long hair was all matted and stiffenedwith it. But never can I forget the feeling of exhilaration and strengththat took possession of me as I stood there looking at my faithfulcompanion. _I was absolutely cured_--a new man, a giant of strength! Imake a present of the cure to the medical profession.

  Without delay I made my way down to the lagoon and washed myselfthoroughly, scrubbing myself with a kind of soapy clay, and afterwardstaking a run in order to get dry. This extraordinary system of applyingthe carcass of a freshly killed animal is invariably resorted to by thenatives in case of serious illness, and they look upon it as an all butinfallible cure. Certainly it was surprisingly efficacious in my owncase.

  Next day we directed our attention to the capture of the cow, which wasstill wandering around her imprisoned little one, and only leaving it fora few minutes at a time in order to get food. I constructed a smallfence 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 tameher, and did not even let her little calf come near her. We thenapproached her, and found her perfectly subdued, and willing to take foodand water from us precisely as though she were the gentlest Alderney.

  I found I was even able to milk her; and I can assure you that I nevertasted anything more delicious in my life than the copious droughts offresh milk I indulged in on that eventful morning. In fact, Ipractically lived on nothing else for the next few days, and it pulled meround in a most surprising way. The flesh of the dead buffalo I did nottouch myself, but handed it over to the blacks, who were vastly impressedby my prowess as a mighty hunter. They themselves had often tried tokill buffalo with their spears, but had never succeeded. I removed thebull's hide, and made a big rug out of it, which I found very serviceableindeed in subsequent wet seasons. It was as hard as a board, and nearlyhalf an inch thick.

  When I returned to "Captain Davis" and the rest of my friends at RafflesBay, I was quite well and strong once more, and I stayed with them threeor four months, hunting almost every day (there were even wild ponies andEnglish cattle--of course, relics of the old settlement), and picking upall the information I could. I had many conversations with Davishimself, and he told me that I should probably find white men at PortDarwin, which he said was between three and four hundred miles away. Thetribe at Port Essington, I may mention, on
ly numbered about fifty souls.This was about the year 1868. Captain Davis--who was passionately fondof tobacco, and would travel almost any distance to obtain an ounce ortwo from the Malay _beche-de-mer_ fishers--pointed out to me a blazedtree 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 awhite man; and the fact that he had come overland filled me with hopesthat some day I, too, might return to civilisation in the same way. TheEnglish-speaking black chief assured me that his father had acted asguide to Leichhardt, but whether the latter got back safely to Sydneyagain he never knew. The white traveller, he said, left Port Essingtonin a ship.

  Having considered all things, I decided to attempt to reach Port Darwinby boat, in the hope of finding Europeans living there. At first, Ithought of going overland, but in discussing my plans with "CaptainDavis," he told me that I would have to cross swamps, fords, creeks, andrivers, some of which were alive with alligators. He advised me to go bywater, and also told me to be careful not to be drawn into a certainlarge bay I should come across, because of the alligators that swarmed onits shores. The bay that he warned me against was, I think, Van Dieman'sGulf. He told me to keep straight across the bay, and then pass betweenMelville Island and the main. He fitted me out with a good stock ofprovisions, including a quantity 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 dogpushed out into the unknown sea in our frail canoe, which was only aboutfifteen feet long and fourteen inches wide. Of course, we kept close in-shore all the time, and made pretty good progress until we passed ApsleyStrait, avoiding the huge Van Dieman's Gulf, with its alligator-infestedrivers and creeks. We must have been close to Port Darwin when, withlittle or no warning, a terrific storm arose, and quickly carried us outto sea in a south-westerly direction. In a moment our frail little craftwas partially swamped, and Yamba and I were compelled to jump overboardand hang on to the gunwale on either side to prevent it from beingoverwhelmed altogether. This was about a fortnight after I left CaptainDavis. We knew that if we were swamped, all our belongings, including mypoor Bruno, my live geese, water, and other provisions, would be lost inthe raging sea. The night that followed was perhaps one of the mostappalling experiences that ever befell me; but I had by this time becomeso inured to terrible trials that I merely took it as a matter of course.

  Imagine for yourself the scene. The giant waves are rolling mountainshigh; the darkness of night is gathering round us fast, and I and myheroic wife are immersed in the tremendous sea, hanging on for dear lifeto a little dug-out canoe only fourteen inches wide. Although we weresoon thoroughly exhausted with our immersion in the water, we dared notclimb aboard. Will it be believed that _all night long_ we werecompelled to remain in the sea, clinging to the canoe, half drowned, andtossed about like the insignificant atoms we were in the midst of thestupendous waves, which were literally ablaze with phosphorescent light?Often as those terrible hours crawled by, I would have let go my hold andgiven 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 mehow much we had been through already, and how many fearful dangers we hadsafely 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. Itdescribed the heart-breaking efforts made by a slave to obtain hisfreedom. How bloodhounds were put upon his track; how he is at lastcornered in a swamp, and as he looks helplessly up at the stars he askshimself, "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 theenormous seas, I recalled the whole poem and applied the slave's remarksto myself. "Can it be possible," I said, "after all the struggles I havemade against varying fortune, that I am to meet death now?" I was inabsolute despair. Towards the early hours of the morning Yamba advisedme to get into the canoe for a spell, but she herself remained hanging onto the gunwale, trying to keep the head of the little canoe before theimmense waves that were still running. I was very cold and stiff, andfound it difficult to climb aboard. As the morning advanced, the seabegan to abate somewhat, and presently Yamba joined me in the canoe. Wewere, however, unable to shape our course for any set quarter, since bythis time we were out of sight of land altogether, and had not even theslightest idea as to our position.

  All that day we drifted aimlessly about, and then, towards evening, aperfect calm settled on the sea. When we were somewhat rested we paddledon in a direction where we concluded land must lie (we steered south-eastfor the main); and in the course of a few hours we had the satisfactionof seeing a little rocky island, which we promptly made for and landedupon. 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 smallstock we always carried in skins. Judging from the appearance of therocks, and the smell that pervaded the place, I imagined that this mustbe a guano island. I now knew that we were near Port Darwin, _but as afact we had passed it in the great storm_, _while we were fighting forour lives_. We slept on the island that night, and felt very much betternext morning when we started out on our voyage once more, visiting everybay and inlet. Hope, too, began to reassert itself, and I thought thatafter all we might be able to reach Port Darwin in spite of the distancewe must have been driven out of our course. Several islands studded thesea through which we were now steadily threading our way, and thatevening we landed on one of these and camped for the night. Next day wewere off again, and as the weather continued beautifully fine we madesplendid progress.

  One evening a few days after the storm, as we were placidly paddlingaway, I saw Yamba's face suddenly brighten with a look I had never seenon it before, and I felt sure this presaged some extraordinaryannouncement. She would gaze up into the heavens with a quick, suddenmotion, and then her intelligent eyes would sparkle like the stars above.I questioned her, but she maintained an unusual reserve, and, as Iconcluded that she knew instinctively we were approaching Port Darwin, I,too, felt full of joy and pleasure that the object of our great journeywas at length about to be achieved. Alas! what awaited me was only thegreatest of all the astounding series of disappointments--one indeed sostunning 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 hadapparently satisfied herself upon a certain point, she turned to me witha shout of excited laughter and delight, pointing frantically at acertain glowing star. Seeing that I was still puzzled by her merriment,she cried, "That star is one you remember well." I reflected for amoment, and then the whole thing came to me like a flash of lightning._Yamba was approaching her own home once more_--_the very point fromwhich we had both started eighteen months previously_! In the storm, asI have already said, we had passed Port Darwin altogether, having beendriven out to sea.

  I tell you, my heart nearly burst when I recalled the awful privationsand hardships we had both experienced so recently; and when I realisedthat all these things had been absolutely in vain, and that once more mytrembling hopes were to be dashed to the ground in the most appallingmanner, I fell back into the canoe, utterly crushed with horror andimpotent disappointment. Was there ever so terrible an experience? Takea map of Australia, and see for yourself my frightful blunder--mistakingthe west coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria for the eastern waters of theCape York Peninsula, and then blindly groping northward and westward insearch of the settlement of Somerset, which in reality lay hundreds ofmiles north-east of me. I was unaware of the very existence of the greatGulf of Carpentaria. But were it not for having had to steer north toget out of the waterless plains, I might possibly have reached the north-eastern coast of the continent in due time, avoiding the Roper Riveraltogether.
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  Yamba knelt by my side and tried to comfort me in her own sweet, quaintway, and she pictured to me--scant consolation--how glad her people wouldbe to have us both back amongst them once more. She also urged what agreat man I might be among her people if only I would stay and make myhome with them. Even her voice, however, fell dully on my ears, for Iwas fairly mad with rage and despair--with myself, for not having goneoverland to Port Darwin from Port Essington, as, indeed, I should mostcertainly have done were it not that Davis had assured me the greaterpart of the journey lay through deadly swamps and creeks, and greatwaters swarming with alligators. I had even had in my mind the idea ofattempting to _reach Sydney overland_! but thought I would first of allsee what facilities in the way of reaching civilisation Port Darwin hadto offer. Now, however, I was back again in Cambridge Gulf,--in the veryspot I had left a year and a half ago, and where I had landed with myfour blacks from the island sand-spit. But you, my readers, shall judgeof 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. Weresolved it would never do to confess we had been _driven back_. No, wehad 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_ thiswas for me to play,--with my whole being thrilling with an agony ofhelpless rage and bitter disappointment.

  This time, however, we did not wait for the blacks to come out and meetus, but paddled straight for the beach, where the chiefs and all thetribe were assembled in readiness to receive us. The first poignantanguish being passed, and the warmth of welcome being so cordial andexcessive (they cried with joy), I began to feel a little easier in mymind and more resigned to inexorable fate. The usual ceremony of nose-rubbing on shoulders was gone through, and almost every native presentexpressed his or her individual delight at seeing us again. Then theybesieged us with questions, for we were now great travellers. A spacious"humpy" or hut was built without delay, and the blacks vied with oneanother in bringing me things which I sorely needed, such as fish,turtles, roots, and eggs.

  That evening a _corroboree_ on a gigantic scale was held in my honour;and on every side the blacks manifested great rejoicing at my return,which, of course, they never dreamed was involuntary. Human nature is,as I found, the same the world over, and one reason for my warm welcomewas, that my blacks had just been severely thrashed by a neighbouringtribe, and were convinced that if I would help them to retaliate, theycould not fail to inflict tremendous punishment upon their enemies. Bythis time, having become, as I said before, somewhat resigned to my fate,I consented to lead them in their next battle, on condition that twoshield-bearers were provided to protect me from the enemy's spears. Thisbeing the first time I had ever undertaken war operations with myfriends, I determined that the experiment should run no risk of failure,and that my dignity should in no way suffer. I declared, first of all,that I would choose as my shield-bearers the two most expert men in thetribe. There was much competition for these honoured posts, and manywarriors demonstrated their skill before me.

  At length I chose two stalwart fellows, named respectively Warriga andBommera, and every day for a week they conducted some trial manoeuvreswith their friends. There would be a kind of ambush prepared, andflights of spears would be hurled at me, only to be warded off withastonishing dexterity by my alert attendants. All I was provided withwas my steel tomahawk and bow and arrows. I never really became expertwith the spear and shield, and I knew only too well that if I handledthese clumsily I should immediately lose prestige among the blacks.

  After a week or two of practice and sham combats, I felt myself prettysafe with my two protectors, and I then began organising an army to leadagainst the enemy. Altogether I collected about 100 fighting men, eacharmed with a bundle of throwing spears, a shield made of light wood, anda short, heavy waddy or club for use at close quarters. When everythingwas in readiness, I marched off at the head of my "army" and invaded theenemy's country. We were followed by the usual crowd of women-folk, whosaw to the commissariat department and did the transport themselves. Onthe first day out, we had to ford a large stream--a branch of theVictoria River, I think--and at length reached a suitable place in whichto engage the enemy. It is difficult for me to fix the exact locality,but I should judge it to be between Murchison and Newcastle ranges. Thecountry in which the operations took place was a fine open grassy plain,thinly skirted with trees and with mountains almost encircling it in thedistance.

  I ought here to describe my personal appearance on this important day,when, for the first time, I posed as a great chief, and led my peopleinto battle, filled with the same enthusiasm that animated them. My hairwas built up on strips of whalebone to a height of nearly two feet frommy head, and was decorated with black and white cockatoo feathers. Myface, which had now become very dark from exposure to the sun, wasdecorated in four colours--yellow, white, black, and red.

  There were two black-and-white arched stripes across the forehead, and ayellow curving line across each cheek under the eye. I also wore afairly long beard, moustache, and side-whiskers. There were fourdifferent-coloured stripes on each arm, whilst on the body were four vari-coloured stripes, two on each side; and a long, yellow, curving stripeextended across the stomach, belt-wise. Around my middle I wore a kindof double apron of emu skin, with feathers. There were other stripes ofdifferent-coloured ochres on my legs, so that altogether you may imagineI presented a terrifying appearance. Of this, however, I soon grew quiteoblivious--a fact which I afterwards had occasion bitterly to regret. Itwere, indeed, well for me that I had on subsequent occasions realisedbetter the bizarre nature of my appearance, for had I done so I wouldprobably have reached civilisation years before I did.

  At this period, then, you find me a fully equipped war chief of thecannibal blacks, leading them on to battle attired as one of their ownchiefs in every respect, and with nearly all their tribal marks on mybody. When we reached the battle-ground, my men sent up smoke-signals ofdefiance, announcing the fact of our invasion, and challenging the enemyto come down from the mountains and fight us. This challenge waspromptly responded to by other smoke-signals, but as at least a day mustelapse before our antagonists could arrive I spent the interval indevising a plan of battle--oddly enough, on the lines of a famoushistoric Swiss encounter at Grandson five or six centuries ago.

  I arranged that fifty or sixty men, under the leadership of a chief,should occupy some high ground in our rear, to form a kind of ambush.

  They were also to act as a reserve, and were instructed to come rushingto our assistance when I signalled for them, yelling out their weird war-cry of "Warra-hoo-oo,--warra-hoo-oo!" I concluded that this in itselfwould strike terror into the hearts of our opponents, who were accustomedto see the whole force engaged at one time, and knew nothing about troopsheld in reserve, or tactics of any kind whatsoever. The native method ofprocedure, as, I think, I have already remarked, was usually to dash pell-mell at one another after the abuse and fight, until one side or theother drew blood, without which no victory could be gained.

  Just before the battle commenced I had a real inspiration whichpractically decided the affair without any fighting at all. It occurredto me that if I mounted myself on stilts, some eighteen inches high, andshot an arrow or two from my bow, the enemy would turn tail and bolt. Andso it turned out. As the armies approached one another in full battlearray they presented quite an imposing appearance, and when a suitabledistance separated them they halted for the inevitable abusive parley.Into the undignified abuse, needless to remark, I did not enter, but keptwell in the background. The spokesman of my tribe accused the enemy ofbeing without pluck--said that they were cowards, and would soon havetheir livers eaten by the invaders. There was any amount ofspear-brandishing, yelling, and gesticulating. For these blacksapparently find it impossible to come up to actual fighting pitch withoutfirst being worked up to an extraordinary degree of excit
ement.

  When at length the abuse had got perfectly delirious, and the first spearwas about to be thrown, I dashed to the front on my stilts. Severalspears were launched at me, but my shield-bearers turned them on oneside. I then shot half-a-dozen arrows into the enemy's ranks in almostas many seconds. The consternation produced by this flight of "invisiblespears" was perfectly indescribable. With a series of appalling yellsthe enemy turned and fled pell-mell. My men gave chase, and wounded manyof them. In the midst of the rout (the ruling thought being alwaysuppermost), it occurred to me that it might be a useful stroke ofbusiness to make friends with this vanquished tribe, since they mightpossibly be of service to me in that journey to civilisation, the idea ofwhich I never really abandoned from the day I was cast upon my littlesand-spit. Furthermore, it flashed across my mind that if I made thesenomadic tribes interested in me and my powers, news of my isolation mighttravel enormous distances inland--perhaps even to the borders ofcivilisation itself.

  I communicated my ideas to my men, and they promptly entered into myviews. They consented to help me with great readiness. While I wasspeaking with them, the vanquished warriors had re-formed into positionsome three or four hundred yards away, and were watching our movementswith much curiosity. I now abandoned my stilts and my bow and arrows,and marched off with my chiefs in the direction of our late opponents.

  As we approached, with branches in our hands as flags of truce, I signedto the startled men that we wished to be friendly; and when we halted,several chiefs came forward unarmed from the ranks of the enemy to conferwith us. At first they were much surprised at my overtures, but I soonconvinced them of my sincerity, and they at length consented to accept myoffers of friendship. They acknowledged at once my superiority and thatof my men, and presently all the chiefs came forward voluntarily andsquatted at my feet in token of subjection. The two armies then united,and we all returned to a great encampment, where the women prepared atruly colossal feast for conquerors and conquered alike, and the greatestharmony prevailed. It was magnificent, but I am sure it was not war. Thebraves of both sides decorated themselves with many pigments in theevening, and the two tribes united in one gigantic _corroboree_, whichwas kept up all night, and for several days afterwards. We remainedencamped in this district for about a week, holding continuous_corroboree_, and each day becoming more and more friendly with our lateenemies. The country abounded in game, and as the rivers were also wellstocked with fish the supply of food was abundant. At the end of theweek, however, we retired to our respective homes, but, strangely enough,I felt I could no longer settle down to the old life among my friendlyblacks.

  The old desire for wandering came over me, and I resolved that some dayin the near future I would make yet another attempt to reachcivilisation, this time striking directly south. For a time, however, Iforced myself to remain content, accompanying the men on their huntingexpeditions and going out fishing with my devoted Yamba.