(*Footnote. Since the survey of Endeavour Strait in 1844 by Lieutenant Yule in the Bramble (then attached to the Fly under Captain F.P. Blackwood) several sunken rocks have been discovered, thereby lessening the value of the passage through the Strait, as others, yet undetected, to be found only by sweeping for them, may be presumed to exist. Captain Stanley was strongly of opinion that the Prince of Wales Channel was far preferable, especially for large ships, to Endeavour Strait.)
ARRIVE AT PORT ESSINGTON.
November 9th.
Since leaving Booby Island, the weather has been fine with light easterly winds, the westerly monsoon in these seas not usually setting in until the month of December. We first made the land in the neighbourhood of Cape Croker, and soon afterwards saw the beacon on Point Smith. Entering Port Essington we ran up the harbour, and anchored off the settlement of Victoria early in the afternoon.
On landing and walking over the place after an absence of more than three years, I might naturally have looked for some signs of improvement in the appearance of the settlement and condition of the unfortunate residents, had I not been aware of the non-progressive nature of the system which had long been established there. I saw no such indications of prosperity except in the flourishing and improved appearance of the coconut-trees now in full bearing, as if nature boldly asserted her rights in opposition to the dormant or even retrograde condition of everything else in the place.
CONDITION OF THE SETTLEMENT. ITS UNHEALTHINESS.
We found the settlement in a ruinous condition. Even the hospital, the best building in the place, had the roof in such a state that when rain came on some of the patients’ beds had to be shifted, and the surgeon found it necessary to protect his own bed by a tent-like canopy. With few exceptions, everyone was dissatisfied, and anxiously looked forward to the happy time when the party should be relieved, or the settlement finally abandoned. The unhealthiness* of the place, so often denied, had now shown itself in an unequivocal manner; everyone had suffered from repeated attacks of intermittent fever, and another fever of a more deadly character had occasionally made its appearance, and, operating upon previously debilitated constitutions, frequently proved fatal.
(*Footnote. As illustration of this point, I would direct attention to the following tabular view of the Detachment of Marines at Port Essington, from the time of the arrival of the SECOND party to their final departure, embracing a period of five years. I have not been able to procure any authentic statement of the mortality among the FIRST party.
November 19th, 1844:
Found there: 1 officer, 0 men.
Arrived by Cadet: 3 officers, 52 men.
1847:
Arrived by Freak: 2 officers, 6 men.
Total: 6 officers, 58 men.
Died: 1 officer, 12 men.
Were invalided: 1 officer, 13 men.
November 30th, 1849:
Were taken away by Meander: 4 officers, 33 men.
Total: 6 officers, 58 men.
I may remark that, although it would obviously be unjust to suppose that all the cases of death and invaliding are to be attributed to the effects of the climate, yet the loss of the services of twenty-seven men out of fifty-eight in five years by these means, clearly proves the unhealthiness of the place. Another may be added to the list, for Captain Macarthur was shortly afterwards invalided in Sydney, a victim to the climate of Port Essington.)
There can, I think, be little doubt that much of the unhealthiness of the garrison depended upon local influences. The situation of Victoria, at the distance of sixteen miles from the open sea on the shores of an almost land-locked harbour, was unfavourable for salubrity, although in other respects judiciously chosen. Occasionally for days together the seabreeze has not reached as far up as the settlement, and the heat has been almost stifling; usually however the seabreeze set in during the forenoon, and after blowing for some hours was succeeded by a calm, often interrupted by a gentle land-wind. Within 400 yards of the hospital a great extent of mud overgrown with mangroves, dry at low-water, must have exercised a prejudicial influence; at times while crossing this swamp, the putrid exhalations have induced a feeling almost amounting to nausea. And if anything more than another shows the comparative unhealthiness of the site of the settlement, it is the fact, that invalids sent to Point Smith (at the entrance of the harbour) or Coral Bay–both of which places are within the full influence of the seabreeze–speedily recovered, although relapses on their return to Victoria were not infrequent.
CONDITION OF THE GARRISON.
Even in the important article of food–setting aside other secondary stores–the Port Essington garrison have almost always been badly supplied. I have seen them obliged to use bread which was not fit for human food–the refuse of the stock on hand at the close of the war in China, and yet there was none better to be got. In short, I believe, as I stated some years ago in a Colonial paper, that there is probably no vessel in Her Majesty’s navy, no matter where serving, the men of which are not better supplied with all the necessaries and comforts of life than are the residents at Port Essington. All these have volunteered for the place, but their preconceived ideas formed in England almost always on reaching the place gave way to feelings of regret at the step they had taken; I well remember the excitement in the settlement, and the feelings of joy everywhere expressed, when in October 1845, the first party learned that their relief had arrived.
HISTORY OF PREVIOUS SETTLEMENTS.
I shall now proceed to make some remarks upon Port Essington, ere the subject becomes a matter of history, as I fervently hope the abandonment of the place will render it ere many years have gone by;* but before doing so I may premise a brief account of the former British settlements on the north coast of Australia.**
(*Footnote. Port Essington was finally abandoned on November 30th, 1849, when the garrison and stores were removed to Sydney by H.M.S. Meander, Captain the Honourable H. Keppel. I may mention that most of the remarks in this chapter relative to Port Essington appear as they were originally written in my journal soon after leaving the place in the Rattlesnake; they are mostly a combination of the observations made during three visits, at intervals of various lengths, including a residence in 1844, of upwards of four months. I am also anxious to place on record a somewhat connected but brief account of the Aborigines, as I have seen many injudicious remarks and erroneous statements regarding them, and as it is only at Port Essington, for the whole extent of coastline between Swan River and Cape York, that we were able to have sufficient intercourse with them to arrive at even a moderate degree of acquaintance with their manners, customs, and language.)
(**Footnote. See Voyage round the World by T.B. Wilson, M.D.)
The British Government having determined to form an establishment on the northern coast of Australia, Captain J.J. Gordon Bremer, with H.M.S. Tamar, sailed from Sydney in August 1824, in company with two store ships and a party of military and convicts, the latter chiefly mechanics. On September 20th, they arrived at Port Essington, when formal possession was taken of the whole of the coast between the 129th and 135th meridians of east longitude.
MELVILLE ISLAND SETTLEMENT.
A sufficiency of fresh water not being found at this place it was determined to proceed to Melville Island, where they arrived on the 30th, and commenced forming the settlement of Fort Dundas in Apsley Strait. This settlement, however, after an existence of four years, was abandoned on March 31st, 1829, in consequence of the continued unfavourable accounts transmitted to the Home Government. Hostilities with the natives had early commenced, and several lives were lost on either side.
RAFFLES BAY SETTLEMENT.
Meanwhile in anticipation of the abandonment of Melville Island, it had been resolved to found a second settlement upon the north coast of Australia. For this purpose, H.M.S. Success, Captain Stirling, with a convoy of three vessels conveying troops, convicts, stores, and provisions, sailed from Sydney, and arrived at Raffles Bay on June 17th, 1827. Next day the new settlement of Fort Wellington was formed. A grand error was made in the very beginning, for the site was chosen behind a mudbank, dry at low tides, in order to secure proximity to a lagoon of fresh water, which after all disappeared towards the close of the dry season. At first the natives committed many depredations, chiefly during the night. About a month after the founding of the settlement, it was thought necessary to order the sentries to fire upon the natives whenever they approached, and on one occasion they were greeted with a discharge of grape-shot. At length one of the soldiers was speared, and in reprisal a party was sent out, which, coming unexpectedly upon a camp of natives, killed and wounded several, including a woman and two children. When the Bugis paid their annual visit to the coast several prahus remained to fish for trepang under the protection of the settlement. Of the healthiness of the place the medical officer states: “There is no endemic disease here. The climate of the place surpasses every other as far as I know, which is equally as near the equator; and were it not for the great height of atmospheric temperature, I should consider this one of the best in the world.” However, two years after the foundation of the settlement, when hostilities with the natives had ceased, and a friendly intercourse had been established–when the Bugis had already taken advantage of the protection of Europeans to carry on the trepang fishery in the bay–when the reported unhealthiness of the climate had never exhibited itself–in short when the settlement had been brought into a flourishing state, orders were suddenly received for its entire abandonment, which were carried into effect on August 29th, 1829.
SETTLEMENT OF VICTORIA.
Eight years afterwards, Government resolved for the fourth time to establish a settlement on the north coast of Australia, with the double view of affording shelter to the crews of vessels wrecked in Torres Strait, and of endeavouring to throw open to British enterprise the neighbouring islands of the Indian Archipelago. For this purpose, H.M.S. Alligator, under the command of Captain J.J. Gordon Bremer, and H.M.S. Britomart (Lieutenant Owen Stanley) were sent out, and left Sydney for Port Essington in September 1837. Another vessel with stores accompanied the Alligator, and both arrived at Port Essington on October 27th of the same year. Soon afterwards, upon a site for the settlement being chosen, the necessary operations were commenced, and by the end of May in the following year, the preliminary arrangements having been completed, the Alligator left, and Captain John Macarthur, R.M., with a subaltern, assistant-surgeon, storekeeper, and a linguist, together with a detachment of forty marines, remained in charge of the new settlement. The Britomart remained behind for several years as a tender to this naval station, or military post–for either term is equally applicable, and was afterwards succeeded in her charge by H.M.S. Royalist. In October 1845 the remains of the original party which had been there for seven years (including also a small detachment sent down from China) were relieved by a draft from England of two subalterns, an assistant-surgeon, and fifty-two rank and file of the Royal Marines, Captain Macarthur still remaining as commandant.
PORT ESSINGTON A MILITARY POST.
The Port Essington experiment I am afraid is to be regarded as a complete failure. Yet it could not well have been otherwise. It was never more than a mere military post, and the smallness of the party, almost always further lessened by sickness, was such that, even if judiciously managed, little more could be expected than that they should be employed merely in rendering their own condition more comfortable. And now after the settlement has been established for eleven years, they are not even able to keep themselves in fresh vegetables, much less efficiently to supply any of Her Majesty’s vessels which may happen to call there.
ADVANTAGES OF PORT ESSINGTON.
In order to develop the resources of a colony, always provided it possesses any such, surely something more is required than the mere presence of a party of soldiers, but it appears throughout, that Government were opposed to giving encouragement to the permanent settlement at Port Essington, of any of her Majesty’s subjects. It is well perhaps that such has been the case, as I can conceive few positions more distressing than that which a settler would soon find himself placed in were he tempted by erroneous and highly coloured reports of the productiveness of the place–and such are not wanting–to come there with the vain hopes of being able to raise tropical productions* for export, even with the assistance of Chinese or Malay labourers. Wool, the staple commodity of Australia, would not grow there, and the country is not adapted for the support of cattle to any great extent.
(*Footnote. I need not here enlarge upon the unfitness of Port Essington for agricultural pursuits–even that point has long ago been given up. The quantity of land which might be made productive is exceedingly small, and although cotton, sugarcane, and other tropical productions thrive well in one of the two gardens, there is no field for their growth upon a remunerative scale.)
Yet the little settlement at Port Essington has not been altogether useless. The knowledge of the existence of such a military post, within a few days’ sail of the islands in question, together with the visits of Commander Stanley in the Britomart, had completely prevented a repetition of the outrages formerly committed upon European trading vessels at the various islands of the group extending between Timor and New Guinea. The crews and passengers of various vessels wrecked in Torres Strait had frequently found in Port Essington a place of shelter, after six hundred miles and more of boat navigation, combined with the difficulty of determining the entrance, owing to the lowness of the land thereabouts, which might easily be passed in the night, or even during the day, if distant more than ten or twelve miles. I have myself been a witness to the providential relief and extreme hospitality afforded there to such unfortunates. Still, as a harbour of refuge, it is obvious that Cape York is the most suitable place, situated as it is within a short distance of the spot where disasters by shipwreck in Torres Strait and its approaches have been most frequent.
Port Essington has sometimes been alluded to as being admirably adapted for a depot from which European goods can be introduced among the neighbouring islands of the Indian Archipelago, but on this subject I would perfectly coincide with Mr. Jukes, who states: “Now, the best plan for a vessel wishing to trade with the independent islands, obviously, is to go to them at once; while she has just as good an opportunity to smuggle her goods into the Dutch islands, if that be her object, as the natives would have if they were to come and fetch them from Port Essington.”
NATIVES OF THE COBOURG PENINSULA. THEIR ORNAMENTS AND WEAPONS.
The natives of the Cobourg Peninsula are divided into four tribes, named respectively the Bijenelumbo, Limbakarajia, Limbapyu, and Terrutong. The first of these occupies the head of the harbour (including the ground on which the settlement is built) and the country as far back as the isthmus–the second, both sides of the port lower down–the third, the north-west portion of the peninsula–and the last have possession of Croker’s Island, and the adjacent coasts of the mainland. From the constant intercourse which takes place between these tribes, their affinity of language, and similarity in physical character, manners, and customs, they may be spoken of as one.
The Aborigines of Port Essington scarcely differ from those of the other parts of Australia–I mean, there is no striking peculiarity. The septum of the nose is invariably perforated, and the right central incisor–rarely the left, is knocked out during childhood. Both sexes are more or less ornamented with large raised cicatrices on the shoulders and across the chest, abdomen, and buttocks, and outside of the thighs. No clothing is at any time worn by these people, and their ornaments are few in number. These last consist chiefly of wristlets of the fibres of a plant–and armlets of the same, wound round with cordage, are in nearly universal use. Necklaces of fragments of reed strung on a thread, or of cordage passing under the arms and crossed over the back, and girdles of finely twisted human hair, are occasionally worn by both sexes and the men sometimes add a tassel of the hair of the possum or flying squirrel, suspended in front. A piece of stick or bone thrust into the perforation in the nose completes the costume. Like the other Australians, the Port Essington blacks are fond of painting themselves with red, yellow, white, and black, in different styles, considered appropriate to dancing, fighting, mourning, etc.
These people construct no huts except during the rainy season, when they put up a rude and temporary structure of bark. Their utensils are few in number, consisting merely of fine baskets of the stems of a rush-like plant, and others of the base of the leaf of the Seaforthia palm, the latter principally used for containing water. Formerly bark canoes were in general use, but they are now completely superseded by others, hollowed out of the trunk of a tree, which they procure ready-made from the Malays, in exchange for tortoise-shell, and in return for assistance in collecting trepang.
The aboriginal weapons are clubs and spears–of the latter the variety is very great, there being at least fourteen distinct kinds. Their clubs are three in number, made of the tough heavy wood called wallaru, a kind of gumtree, the ironbark of New South Wales; one is cylindrical, four feet long, tapering at each extremity; the other two, of similar length, are compressed, with sharp edges–one narrow, the other about four inches in greatest width, and resembling a cricket-bat in shape. These weapons on account of their great weight are used only at close quarters, and are never thrown like the waddy of New South Wales. The spears of the Port Essington natives may be divided into two classes–first, those thrown with the hand alone, and second, those propelled by the additional powerful leverage afforded by the throwing-stick. The hand-spears are made entirely of wood, generally the wallaroo, in one or two pieces, plain at the point or variously toothed and barbed; a small light spear of the latter description is sometimes thrown with a short cylindrical stick ornamented at one end with a large bunch of twisted human hair. The spears of the second class are shafted with reed. The smallest, which is no bigger than an arrow, is propelled by a large flat and supple throwing-stick to a great distance, but not with much precision. Of the larger ones (from eight to twelve feet in length) the two most remarkable are headed with a pointed, sharp-edged, flatly-triangular piece of quartz or fine-grained basalt, procured from the mountains beyond the isthmus. These large reed-shafted spears are thrown with a stiff flat throwing-stick a yard long, and with pretty certain effect within sixty paces.
ARTICLES OF FOOD.
The food of the aborigines consists chiefly of fish and shellfish, to which as subsidiary articles may be added lizards, snakes, possums, various birds, and an occasional kangaroo, turtle, dugong, or porpoise. Several roots (one of which is a true yam) together with various fruits in their seasons–especially a cashew-nut or Anacardium, also the base of the undeveloped central leaves of the cabbage-palm, are much prized. The digging up of roots and collecting of shellfish are duties which devolve upon the females.
Before the arrival of Europeans, in cases of remarkable disease or accident, certain old men known by the name of bilbo (by which cognomen the medical officers of the settlement have also been distinguished) were applied to for advice. I know of no popular remedies, however, with the exception of tight ligatures near a wound, bruise or sore, the object of which is to prevent the malady from passing into the body. In like manner for a headache, a fillet is bound tightly across the forehead. These people, like most other savages, recover in a most surprising manner from wounds and other injuries which would probably prove fatal to a European. The chief complaint to which they are subject is a mild form of ophthalmia, with which I once saw three-fourths of the natives about the settlement affected in one or both eyes; they themselves attributed this affection to the lurgala, or cashew-nut, then in season, the acrid oil in the husk of which had reached their eyes.
BURIAL CEREMONIES.
On the death of any one of the natives, the relatives give utterance to their grief in loud cries, sobs, and shrieks, continued to exhaustion. Some cut their bodies and tear their hair, and the women paint their faces with broad white bands. The body is watched by night, and the appearance of the first falling-star is hailed with loud shouts and waving of fire-brands, to drive off the yumburbar, an evil spirit which is the cause of all deaths and other calamities, and feeds on the entrails of the newly dead. When decomposition has gone on sufficiently far, the bones are carefully removed, painted red, wrapped up in bark, and carried about with the tribe for some time; after which they are finally deposited, either in a hollow tree or a shallow grave, over which a low mound of earth and stones is raised, occasionally ornamented with posts at the corners. I was unable to find out what circumstances determine the mode of burial in each case; neither differences of sex, age, or class are sufficient, as several natives whom I questioned told me which of the two kinds of burial his or her body would receive, without being able to assign any reason. Their reverence for the dead is probably not very great, as even a relative of the deceased will sell the skull or skeleton for a small consideration, on condition of the matter being kept a secret.
SUPERSTITIONS.
Like other Australians they carefully refrain from mentioning the name of anyone who is dead, and like them, believe in the transmigration of souls–after death they become Malays (the first strangers they had come in contact with) in precisely the same way as in New South Wales, etc. “When black fellow die, he jump up white-fellow.”
In addition to the yumburbar above-mentioned, there is another supernatural being, which has a corporeal existence. It appears in the shape of a man, and loves to grapple with stragglers in the dark, and carry them off. So much is the arlak an object of dread, that a native will not willingly go alone in the dark, even a very short distance from his fire, without carrying a light. Some have assured me that they had seen this arlak, and one man showed me wounds said to have been inflicted by its teeth, and I have no doubt of his having firmly believed that they were produced in this manner.
AND INSTITUTIONS.
Although in each tribe there are three distinct classes, possibly ranks, or perhaps something analogous to the division in other countries into castes, yet there does not appear to be anything approaching to chieftainship. There are a few elderly men, however, in each tribe, who, having acquired a reputation for sagacity and energy, exercise a certain degree of authority over the younger members, and generally manage important matters in their own way. Yet very few of these principal men are of the highest class, the manjerojelle–the middle is termed manjerawule–and the lowest manbulget, but I could not succeed in making out what privileges, if any, are enjoyed by the superior classes. The members of all three appeared to be upon a perfect equality.
Polygamy, although one of their institutions, is little practised, as few men have more than one wife at a time. The betrothal of a female takes place in infancy, and often even before birth. A few half-caste children have been born, but they do not appear to thrive, although this does not imply any want of attention on the part of the mothers.
These natives are fond of social enjoyment. Their evenings are passed away round the fires, with songs generally of a low, plaintive, and not unpleasing character, time being kept by beating one bone or stick upon another. They have besides what may be called a musical instrument–the ibero–a piece of bamboo, three feet in length, which, by blowing into it, is made to produce an interrupted, drumming, monotonous noise. In their dances I observed nothing peculiar.
LAWS OF PUNISHMENT AND REVENGE.
In illustration of their laws relative to punishments, and to show their identity with those of other Australian tribes, I may mention a circumstance which came under my own knowledge. One night about ten o’clock, hearing an uproar at a native encampment near the hospital, I ran out and found that a young man, named Munjerrijo, having excited the jealousy of another, of the name of Yungun, on account of some improper conduct towards the wife of the latter, had been severely wounded, his arm being broken with a club, and his head laid open with an iron-headed fishing spear. As the punishment was considered too severe for the offence, it was finally determined, that, upon Munjerrijo’s recovery, the two natives who had wounded him should offer their heads to him to be struck with a club, the usual way, it would appear, of settling such matters.
Like the other Australian tribes, those of Port Essington are frequently at feud with their neighbours, and quarrels sometimes last for years, or, if settled, are apt to break out afresh. In these cases the lex talionis is the only recognised one. I may give an example.
ACCOUNT OF NEINMAL, AN ABORIGINAL OF PORT ESSINGTON.
A Monobar native (inhabitant of the country to the westward of the isthmus) was shot by a marine in the execution of his duty, for attempting to escape while in custody, charged with robbery. When his tribe heard of it, as they could not lay their hands upon a white man, they enticed into their territory a Bijenelumbo man, called Neinmal, who was a friend of the whites, having lived with them for years, and on that account he was selected as a victim and killed. When the news of Neinmal’s death reached the settlement, some other Bijenelumbo people took revenge by killing a Monobar native within a few hundred yards of the houses. Thus the matter rests at present, but more deaths will probably follow before the feud is ended. Both these murders were committed under circumstances of the utmost atrocity, the victims being surprised asleep unconscious of danger and perfectly defenceless, then aroused to find themselves treacherously attacked by numbers, who, after spearing them in many places, fearfully mangled the bodies with clubs.
In some of the settled districts of Australia missionaries have been established for many years back, still it must be confessed that the results of their labours are far from being encouraging. Indeed no less an authority than Mr. Eyre, writing in 1848, unhesitatingly states as follows: “Nor is it in my recollection,” says he, “that throughout the whole length and breadth of New Holland, a single real and permanent convert to Christianity has yet been made amongst them.”* From what I myself have seen or heard, in the colony of New South Wales, I have reason to believe the missionary efforts there, while proving a complete failure so far as regards the Christianising of the blacks, have yet been productive of much good in rendering them less dangerous and more useful to their white neighbours, without however permanently reclaiming more than a few from their former wandering and savage mode of life, and enabling them and their families to live contentedly on the produce of their own labour. I am not one of those who consider that the Australian is not susceptible of anything like such permanent improvement as may be termed civilisation, although it appears to have been sufficiently proved that his intellectual capacity is of a very low order.
(*Footnote. Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia etc. by E.J. Eyre volume 2 page 420.)
Many of the Port Essington natives have shown a remarkable degree of intelligence, far above the average Europeans, uneducated, and living in remote districts–among others I may mention the name of Neinmal (the same alluded to in the preceding paragraph) of whose character I had good opportunities of judging, for he lived with me for ten months. During my stay at Port Essington, he became much attached to me, and latterly accompanied me in all my wanderings in the bush, while investigating the natural history of the district, following up the researches of my late and much lamented friend Gilbert.* One day, while detained by rainy weather at my camp, I was busy in skinning a fish–Neinmal watched me attentively for some time and then withdrew, but returned in half an hour afterwards, with the skin of another fish in his hand prepared by himself, and so well done too, that it was added to the collection. I could give many other instances of his sagacity, his docility, and even his acute perception of character–latterly, he seemed even to read my very thoughts. He accompanied me in the Fly to Torres Strait and New Guinea, and on our return to Port Essington begged so hard to continue with me that I could not refuse him. He went with us to Singapore, Java, and Sydney, and from his great good humour became a favourite with all on board, picking up the English language with facility, and readily conforming himself to our habits, and the discipline of the ship. He was very cleanly in his personal habits, and paid much attention to his dress, which was always kept neat and tidy. I was often much amused and surprised by the oddity and justness of his remarks upon the many strange sights which a voyage of this kind brought before him. The Nemesis steamer under weigh puzzled him at first–he then thought it was “all same big cart, only got him shingles** on wheels!” He always expressed great contempt for the dullness of comprehension of his countrymen, “big fools they,” he used often to say, “blackfellow no good.” Even Malays, Chinamen, and the natives of India, he counted as nothing in his increasing admiration of Europeans, until he saw some sepoys, when he altered his opinion a little, and thought that he too, if only big enough, would like to be a soldier. The poor fellow suffered much from cold during the passage round Cape Leeuwin and was ill when landed at Sydney, but soon recovered. Although his thoughts were always centred in his native home, and a girl to whom he was much attached, he yet volunteered to accompany me to England, when the Fly was about to sail, but as I had then no immediate prospect of returning to Australia, I could not undertake the responsibility of having to provide for him for the future. I was glad then when Lieutenant Yule, who was about to revisit Port Essington, generously offered to take him there–while in the Bramble he made himself useful in assisting the steward, and, under the tuition of Dr. MacClatchie, made some proficiency in acquiring the rudiments of reading and writing. At Port Essington, the older members of his family evinced much jealousy on account of the attention shown him, and his determination to remain with Mr. Tilston, the assistant-surgeon, then in charge, and endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose. While upon a visit to his tribe he met his death in the manner already recorded. His natural courage and presence of mind did not desert him even at the last extremity, when he was roused from sleep to find himself surrounded by a host of savages thirsting for his blood. They told him to rise, but he merely raised himself upon his elbow, and said: “If you want to kill me do so where I am, I won’t get up–give me a spear and club, and I’ll fight you all one by one!” He had scarcely spoken when a man named Alerk speared him from behind, spear after spear followed, and as he lay writhing on the ground his savage murderers literally dashed him to pieces with their clubs. The account of the manner in which Neinmal met his death was given me by a very intelligent native who had it from an eyewitness, and I have every reason to believe it true, corroborated as it was by the testimony of others.
(*Footnote. See Journal of an Overland Expedition in Australia etc. by Dr. Ludwig Leichhardt page 309 for an account of his death.)
(**Footnote. Wooden tiles generally used for covering the roofs of houses in Australia.)
FATHER ANJELLO AND HIS LABOURS.
Even Port Essington was destined to become the scene of missionary labours. A party of three persons, sent out by the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, one an Italian Roman Catholic priest, the others lay brothers of his order, embarked at Sydney, some time in 1847. The vessel conveying them unfortunately struck on a reef near the Northumberland Isles during the night, and Father Anjello was the only one of his party saved, and reached Port Essington in a most destitute condition. Nothing daunted, however, he commenced his labours among the blacks, by first acquiring the native language,* in which he ultimately became so proficient as to understand it thoroughly. A hut was built for him at a place called Black Rock, near the entrance of the harbour, at the distance of 14 miles from the settlement. Here he collected together as many of the children of the Limbakarajia tribe as he could induce to remain in the neighbourhood. He endeavoured to instruct them in the elements of his religion, and taught them to repeat prayers in Latin, and follow him in some of the ceremonious observances of the Roman Catholic Church. Like other children this amused them, and so long as they were well fed and supplied with tobacco, everything went on as he could desire. Meanwhile he was supported chiefly by the contributions of the officers of the garrison, themselves not well able to spare much. While leading this lonely life he seems gradually to have given way to gloomy despondency. I recollect one passage in his diary (which I once saw for an hour) where he expresses himself thus: “Another year has gone by, and with it all signs of the promised vessel. Oh! God, even hope seems to have deserted me.” At length a vessel from Sydney arrived, bringing a large supply of stores of every kind for the mission, but it was too late, for Father Anjello and his sorrows were alike resting in the tomb. One day news came that he was ill; a boat was sent immediately for him, and found him dying. He was removed to the settlement and next day he breathed his last–another, but not the last victim to the climate. His death-bed was described to me as having been a fearful scene. He exhibited the greatest horror of death, and in his last extremity blasphemously denied that there was a God!
(*Footnote. I regret that the arrangements for this work will not admit of my publishing in the Appendix a Port Essington vocabulary, consisting of about 650 words, in four dialects, formed in 1844, and corrected and improved in 1848; the manuscripts will be deposited in the library of the British Museum.)
In concluding the subject of the Aborigines, I may add that at present the natives of Port Essington have little to thank the white man for. The advantage of being provided with regular food and other comforts enjoyed by such as are in service are merely temporary, and, like the means of gratifying two new habits–the use of tobacco and spirits–to which they have become passionately addicted, will cease when the settlement is abandoned. The last importation of the whites was syphilis, and by it they will probably be remembered for years to come.
STATION AT CORAL BAY.
During our stay at Port Essington, I made an excursion in the decked boat of the settlement (which Captain Macarthur kindly allowed me the use of) to Coral Bay, a station for invalids very pleasantly situated on the western side of the harbour, twelve miles from Victoria. We found there my old friend Mr. Tilston,* the assistant-surgeon, with some convalescents under his charge. This is a much cooler and pleasanter locality than the neighbourhood of the settlement, still the heat was at times very great. I had here pointed out to me a kind of tea-tree, or Melaleuca, which had a short time before been recognised by a Malay as that producing the valuable cajeput oil, and on trial, the oil procured from the leaves by distillation, was found to be scarcely inferior in pungency to that of the Melaleuca cajeputi of the Moluccas. Here, too, we saw some of the playhouses of the greater bowerbird (Chlamydera nuchalis) and had the pleasure of witnessing the male bird playing his strange antics as he flew up to the spot and alighted with a dead shell in his mouth, laid it down, ran through the bower, returned, picked up the shell, and rearranged the heap among which it was placed, flew off again and soon returned with another–and so on.
SAIL FROM PORT ESSINGTON.
On November 16th we got underweigh at daylight, but the wind died away in the afternoon, and we anchored halfway down the harbour. Next day we got out to sea on our voyage to Sydney. We were all glad to leave Port Essington–it was like escaping from an oven. During our stay the sky was generally overcast, with heavy cumuli, and distant lightning at night, but no rain fell, and the heat was excessive. These were indications of the approaching change of the monsoon–the rainy season, with a wind more or less westerly, usually commencing in December and continuing until March.
December 3rd.
Latitude 11 degrees 2 minutes South longitude 123 degrees 11 minutes East. Today we may be said to have cleared the land after a dead beat to the westward, between the Sahul Bank and the islands of Timor and Rottee. It took us eleven days to make good less than 300 miles. The land was in sight during the greater portion of this time, and we had a good view of the noble mountain-range of Timor, also of Rottee and the Strait of Semao, which last we entered with the intention of passing through, but the wind headed us and we had to pass to the southward of Rottee. For a few days after leaving Port Essington we experienced very light and variable winds, which gradually settled into south-westerly, with occasional gloomy blowing weather and frequent squalls at night.
RETURN TO SYDNEY.
At length on January 24th, 1849, a long and monotonous passage of sixty-eight days brought us to Sydney, from which we had been absent for nine months.
CHAPTER 1.5.
Fate of Kennedy’s Expedition.
Sail on our Third Northern Cruise.
Excursion on Moreton Island.
History of Discoveries on the South-East Coast of New Guinea and the Louisiade Archipelago, from 1606 to 1846. Find the Shores of the Louisiade protected by a Barrier Reef. Beautiful appearances of Rossel Island.
Pass through an opening in the Reef, and enter Coral Haven. Interview with Natives on Pig Island.
Find them treacherously disposed.
Their mode of Fishing on the Reefs. Establish a system of Barter alongside the Ship. Description of the Louisiade Canoes, and mode of management. Find a Watering Place on South-East Island. Its Scenery and Productions.
Suspicious conduct of the Natives.
Their Ornaments, etc. described.
FATE OF KENNEDY’S OVERLAND EXPEDITION.
The most eventful occurrence during our stay in Sydney, was the arrival of the schooner which we had left at Port Albany, awaiting the arrival of Mr. Kennedy. She brought the sad news of the disastrous failure of his expedition, and of the death of all but three composing the overland party, including their brave but ill-fated leader. I was present at the judicial investigation which shortly afterwards took place, and shall briefly relate the particulars. I shall not easily forget the appearance which the survivors presented on this occasion–pale and emaciated, with haggard looks attesting the misery and privations they had undergone, and with low trembling voices, they gave their evidence.
It would appear that their difficulties commenced at the outset, as many weeks passed before they got clear of Rockingham Bay, its rivers, swamps, and dense scrubs, fenced in by a mountain chain. Six weeks elapsed before they were enabled to pursue a northerly course, the scrubs or dense brushes still continuing, requiring the party to cut their way. The carts were abandoned on July 18th, and the horses were packed. Sickness early made its appearance, the stock of provisions was getting low, the horses long failing in strength were dying of weakness, and their flesh was used as food.
On November 10th, or upwards of five months after leaving Rockingham Bay, having made less than 400 miles in a direct line towards their destination, and three of the party having been completely knocked up, and the remainder in a feeble state; nineteen of their horses dead, and their provisions reduced to one sheep, forty-six pounds of flour, and less than one pound of tea–Mr. Kennedy resolved to form a light party consisting of himself, three men, and the aboriginal Jackey-Jackey, and push on for Cape York, distant about 150 miles, to procure assistance for the remainder, and save them from impending death by the combined influences of sickness, exhaustion, and starvation.
On November 13th Kennedy started, leaving eight men at the camp at Weymouth Bay. Near Shelburne Bay one of the party accidentally shot himself, and another was too ill to proceed; consequently, it was determined to leave them behind in charge of the third man, with a horse for food, while Kennedy and the black pushed on for Port Albany. At length near Escape River, within twenty miles of Cape York, a tribe of natives with whom they had had some apparently friendly intercourse, tempted by their forlorn condition and a savage thirst for plunder, attacked them in a scrub and with too fatal success, as the gallant leader of this unfortunate expedition breathed his last after receiving no less than three spear wounds. The affecting narrative of what passed during his last moments as related by his faithful companion, is simply as follows: “Mr. Kennedy, are you going to leave me?” “Yes, my boy, I am going to leave you,” was the reply of the dying man, “I am very bad, Jackey; you take the books, Jackey, to the Captain, but not the big ones, the Governor will give anything for them.” “I then tied up the papers;” he then said, “Jackey, give me paper and I will write.” “I gave him paper and pencil, and he tried to write; and he then fell back and died, and I caught him as he fell back and held him, and I then turned round myself and cried; I was crying a good while until I got well; that was about an hour, and then I buried him; I dug up the ground with a tomahawk, and covered him over with logs, then grass, and my shirt and trousers; that night I left him near dark.”
About eight days after, Jackey-Jackey, having with wonderful ingenuity succeeded in escaping from his pursuers, contrived to reach Port Albany, and was received on board the vessel, which immediately proceeded to Shelburne Bay to endeavour to rescue the three men left there. The attempt to find the place was unsuccessful, and from the evidence furnished by clothes said by Jackey to belong to them, found in a canoe upon the beach, little doubt seemed to exist as to their fate. They then proceeded to Weymouth Bay, where they arrived just in time to save Mr. Carron, the botanical collector, and another man, the remaining six having perished. In the words of one of the survivors: “the men did not seem to suffer pain, but withered into perfect skeletons, and died from utter exhaustion.”
Such was the fate of Kennedy’s expedition, and in conclusion, to use the words of the Sydney Morning Herald, “it would appear that as far as earnestness of purpose, unshrinking endurance of pain and fatigue, and most disinterested self-sacrifice, go, the gallant leader of the party exhibited a model for his subordinates. But the great natural difficulties they had to encounter at the outset of the expedition so severely affected the resources of the adventurers, that they sunk under an accumulation of sufferings, which have rarely, if ever been equalled, in the most extreme perils of the wilderness.”
SAIL ON OUR SECOND NORTHERN CRUISE.
Our stay in Sydney was protracted to the unusual period of three months and a half, affording ample time for refreshing the crews after their long and arduous labours, thoroughly refitting both vessels, and completing the charts. The object of our next cruise, which was expected to be of equal duration with the last, was to undertake the survey of a portion of the Louisiade Archipelago, and the south-east coast of New Guinea. For this purpose we sailed from Sydney on May 8th, deeply laden, with six months provisions on board, arrangements having also been made for receiving a further supply at Cape York in October following.
The Bramble joined us at Moreton Bay, where we did not arrive until May 17th, our passage having been protracted beyond the usual time by the prevalence during the early part of light northerly winds and a strong adverse current, which on one occasion set us fifty-one miles to the southward in twenty-four hours. We took up our former anchorage under Moreton Island, and remained there for nine days, occupied in completing our stock of water, and obtaining a rate for the chronometers–so as to ensure a good meridian distance between this and the Louisiade. Since our last visit, the pilot station had been shifted to this place from Amity Point, the northern entrance to Moreton Bay being now preferred to that formerly in use.
One night while returning from an excursion, I saw some fires behind the beach near Cumboyooro Point, and on walking up was glad to find an encampment of about thirty natives, collected there for the purpose of fishing, this being the spawning season of the mullet, which now frequent the coast in prodigious shoals. Finding among the party an old friend of mine, usually known by the name of Funny-eye, I obtained with some difficulty permission to sleep at his fire, and he gave me a roasted mullet for supper. The party at our bivouac, consisted of my host, his wife and two children, an old man and two wretched dogs. We lay down with our feet towards a large fire of driftwood, partially sheltered from the wind by a semicircular line of branches, stuck in the sand behind us; still, while one part of the body was nearly roasted, the rest shivered with cold. The woman appeared to be busy all night long in scaling and roasting fish, of which, before morning, she had a large pile ready cooked; neither did the men sleep much–for they awoke every hour or so, gorged themselves still further with mullet, took a copious draft of water, and wound up by lighting their pipes before lying down again.
At daylight everyone was up and stirring, and soon afterwards the men and boys went down to the beach to fish. The rollers coming in from seaward broke about one hundred yards from the shore, and in the advancing wave one might see thousands of large mullet keeping together in a shoal with numbers of porpoises playing about, making frequent rushes among the dense masses and scattering them in every direction. Such of the men as were furnished with the scoop-net waded out in line, and, waiting until the porpoises had driven the mullet close in shore, rushed among the shoal, and, closing round in a circle with the nets nearly touching, secured a number of fine fish, averaging two and a half pounds weight. This was repeated at intervals until enough had been procured. Meanwhile others, chiefly boys, were at work with their spears, darting them in every direction among the fish, and on the best possible terms with the porpoises, which were dashing about among their legs, as if fully aware that they would not be molested.
HISTORY OF PREVIOUS DISCOVERIES ON THE SOUTH COAST OF NEW GUINEA.
On May 26th, we sailed from Moreton Bay–but, before entering into the details of this, the most interesting portion of the Voyage of the Rattlesnake, a brief but connected account of the progress of discovery on the south-east coast of New Guinea, and the Louisiade Archipelago, will enable the reader more clearly to perceive the necessity then existing for as complete a survey of these shores and the adjacent seas as would enable the voyager to approach them with safety. A glance at any of the published charts will show a vague outline of coast and islands and reefs, with numerous blanks–a compilation from various sources, some utterly unworthy of credit; and of the inhabitants and productions of these regions, nothing was known beyond that portion at least of them were peopled by a savage and warlike race.
LUIZ VAEZ DE TORRES.
The first navigator who saw the shores in question, appears to have been Luiz Vaez de Torres, in the Spanish frigate La Almiranta, coming from the eastward, in August 1606. In latitude 11 1/2 degrees South, Torres came upon what he calls the beginning of New Guinea, which, however, appears to have been a portion of what is now known as the Louisiade Archipelago. Being unable to weather the easternmost point of this land (Cape Deliverance) he bore away to the westward along its southern shores. “All this land of New Guinea,” says he, in his long-forgotten letter to the king of Spain (a copy of which was found in the Archives at Manila, after the capture of that city by the British, in 1762) “is peopled with Indians, not very white, much painted, and naked, except a cloth made of the bark of trees. They fight with darts, targets, and some stone clubs, which are made fine with plumage. Along the coast are many islands and habitations. All the coast has many ports, very large, with very large rivers, and many plains. Without these islands there runs a reef of shoals, and between them (the shoals) and the mainland are the islands. There is a channel within. In these parts I took possession for your Majesty.
“We went along 300 leagues of coast, as I have mentioned, and diminished the latitude 2 1/2 degrees, which brought us into 9 degrees. From hence we fell in with a bank of from three to nine fathoms, which extends along the coast above 180 leagues. We went over it along the coast to 7 1/2 South latitude, and the end of it is in 5 degrees. We could not go further on for the many shoals and great currents, so we were obliged to sail out South-West in that depth to 11 degrees South latitude.”
By this time Torres had reached the Strait which now bears his name, and which he was the first to pass through. He continues: “We caught in all this land twenty persons of different nations, that with them we might be able to give a better account to your Majesty. They give much notice of other people, although as yet they do not make themselves well understood.”*
(*Footnote. Burney’s Chronological History of Voyages and Discoveries in the South Sea or Pacific Ocean Volume 2 Appendix page 475.)
M. DE BOUGAINVILLE.
M. de Bougainville, in June 1768, with two vessels, La Boudeuse and L’Etoile, was proceeding to the eastward towards the coast of Australia, when the unexpected discovery of some detached reefs (Bougainville’s reefs of the charts) induced him to alter course and stand to the northward. No land was seen for three days. “On the 10th, at daybreak,” says he, “the land was discovered, bearing from east to North-West. Long before dawn a delicious odour informed us of the vicinity of this land, which formed a great gulf open to the south-east. I have seldom seen a country which presented so beautiful a prospect; a low land, divided into plains and groves, extended along the seashore, and afterwards rose like an amphitheatre up to the mountains, whose summits were lost in the clouds. There were three ranges of mountains, and the highest chain was distant upwards of twenty-five leagues from the shore. The melancholy condition to which we were reduced* neither allowed us to spend some time in visiting this beautiful country, which by all appearances was rich and fertile, nor to stand to the westward in search of a passage to the south of New Guinea, which might open to us a new and short route to the Moluccas by way of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Nothing, indeed, was more probable than the existence of such a passage.”** Bougainville, it may be mentioned, was not aware of the previous discovery of Torres, which indeed was not published to the world until after our illustrious navigator Cook, in August, 1770, had confirmed the existence of such a strait by passing from east to west between the shores of Australia and New Guinea.
(*Footnote. They were beginning to run short of provisions, and the salt meat was so bad that the men preferred such RATS as they could catch. It even became necessary to prevent the crew from eating the LEATHER about the rigging and elsewhere in the ship.)
(**Footnote. Voyage autour du Monde par la Fregate du Roi La Boudeuse et la Flute l’Etoile en 1766 a 1769 page 258. See also the chart of the Louisiade given there, which, however, does not correspond very closely with the text.)
The Boudeuse and Etoile were engaged in working to windward along this new land (as it was thought to be) until the 26th, when, having doubled its eastern point, to which the significant name of Cape Deliverance was given, they were enabled to bear away to the North-North-East. The name of Gulf of the Louisiade was bestowed by Bougainville upon the whole of the space thus traversed by him, extending between Cape Deliverance and that portion of (what has since been determined to be) the coast of New Guinea of which he gives so glowing a description, and calls the Cul de Sac de l’Orangerie upon his chart.
CAPTAIN EDWARDS.
The next addition to our knowledge of these shores was made in August, 1791, by Captain Edwards in H.M.S. Pandora, shortly before the wreck of that vessel in Torres Strait, when returning from Tahiti with the mutineers of the Bounty. In the published narrative of that voyage the following brief account is given. “On the 23rd, saw land, which we supposed to be the Louisiade, a cape bearing north-east and by east. We called it Cape Rodney. Another contiguous to it was called Cape Hood: and a mountain between them, we named Mount Clarence. After passing Cape Hood, the land appears lower, and to trench away about north-west, forming a deep bay, and it may be doubted whether it joins New Guinea or not.”* The positions assigned to two of these places, which subsequent experience has shown it is difficult to identify, are:
Cape Rodney: Latitude 10 degrees 3 minutes 32 seconds South, Longitude 147 degrees 45 minutes 45 seconds East.
Cape Hood: Latitude 9 degrees 58 minutes 6 seconds South, Longitude 147 degrees 22 minutes 50 seconds East.**
(*Footnote. Voyage round the world in His Majesty’s frigate Pandora, performed under the direction of Captain Edwards in the years 1790, 1791 and 1792 by Mr. G. Hamilton, late surgeon of the Pandora, page 100.)
(**Footnote. Ibid page 164. Krusenstern assumes these longitudes to be 45 minutes too far to the westward, adopting Flinders’ longitude of Murray’s Islands, which differs by that amount from Captain Edwards’.)
CAPTAINS BLIGH AND PORTLOCK.
In the following year, Captains Bligh and Portlock, in the Providence and Assistance, conveying breadfruit plants from Tahiti to the West Indies, saw a portion of the south-east coast of New Guinea, when on their way to pass through Torres Strait. A line of coast extending from Cape Rodney to the westward and northward about eighty miles, the latter half with a continuous line of reef running parallel with the coast, is laid down in a chart by Flinders,* as having been “seen from the Providence’s masthead, August 30th 1792.”
(*Footnote. Flinders’ Voyage to Terra Australis Atlas Plate 13.)
ADMIRAL D’ENTRECASTEAUX.
The northern portion of the Louisiade Archipelago was yet unknown to Europeans, and for almost all the knowledge which we even now possess regarding it, we are indebted to the expedition under the command of Rear-Admiral Bruny d’Entrecasteaux, who, on June 11th, 1793, with La Recherche and L’Esperance, during his voyage in search of the unfortunate La Perouse, came in sight of Rossel Island. The hills of that island were enveloped in clouds, and the lower parts appeared to be thickly wooded with verdant interspaces. A harbour was supposed to exist in the deep bay on the north coast of Rossel Island, but access to it was found to be prevented by a line of breakers extending to the westward as far as the eye could reach. D’Entrecasteaux passed Piron’s Island, which he named, as well as various others, and on St. Aignan’s observed several huts, and the first inhabitants of the Louisiade whom they had seen, for, at Renard’s Isles, a boat sent close in to sound, had observed no indications of natives, although smoke was afterwards seen rising from the largest of the group. At the Bonvouloir Islands, they had the first communication with the natives, who came off in a very large canoe and several others which approached near enough for one of the officers of L’Esperance to swim off to them. The natives showed much timidity and could not be induced to come on board the frigate. Some sweet-potatoes and bananas were given in return for various presents. No arms were seen among them, and these people did not appear to understand the use of iron.* The remainder of the voyage does not require further notice here, as the D’Entrecasteaux Isles of the charts belong to the north-east coast of New Guinea.
(*Footnote. Voyage de Bruny D’Entrecasteaux envoye a la recherche de la Perouse. Redige par M. de Rossel, ancien Capitaine de Vaisseau, tome 1 page 405 et seq. See also Atlas.)
In June 1793, Messrs. Bampton and Alt, in the English merchantships Hormuzeer and Chesterfield, got embayed on the south-east coast of New Guinea, and after in vain seeking a passage out to the north-east, were forced to abandon the attempt and make their way to the westward, through Torres Strait, which they were no less than seventy-three days in clearing. Among other hydrographical results, was the discovery of large portions of the land forming the north-west shores of this bay, extending from Bristow Island to the northward and eastward for a distance of 120 miles.
M. RUALT COUTANCE.
In 1804, M. Rualt Coutance, commanding the French privateer L’Adele, made several discoveries on the south-east coast of New Guinea which were recorded by Freycinet, from the manuscript journal of Coutance, in the history of Baudin’s voyage.* A portion of this is unquestionably the land seen by Captain Bligh in 1792–but in addition detached portions of the shores of the great bight of the south-east coast were seen, as in the neighbourhood of Freshwater Bay and elsewhere.
(*Footnote. Voyage de decouvertes aux Terres Australes, execute sur les corvettes Le Geographe, Le Naturaliste, et la goelette La Casuarina–pendant les annees 1801 a 1804, sous le commandement du Capitaine de vaisseau N. Baudin. Redige par M. Louis Freycinet. Navigation et Geographie page 462 and Atlas plate 1.)
Mr. Bristow, the master of an English merchant vessel, visited the northern part of the Louisiade Archipelago in 1806, but added nothing of consequence to our knowledge of the group, although various islands were named anew, as if discoveries of his own. His Satisfaction Island is clearly Rossel’s, and Eruption Island is St. Aignan’s of D’Entrecasteaux.*
(*Footnote. See Krusenstern’s Recueil de Memoires Hydrographiques etc. page 154.)
CAPTAIN DUMONT D’URVILLE.
Since Bougainville’s voyage the southern shores of the Louisiade remained unvisited until the year 1840, when Captain Dumont d’Urville, with the French corvettes L’Astrolabe and La Zelee, during his last voyage round the world, determined upon attempting their exploration. On May 23rd, the expedition (coming from the eastward) rounded Adele Island and Cape Deliverance, at the distance of about twenty miles. Next morning, the thickness of the weather prevented them from clearly distinguishing the features of the land. They steered towards South-east Island, but found close approach prevented by an immense continuous reef, supposed to be part of that seen on the previous day to the southward of Rossel Island. On Conde’s Peninsula, some natives and a small village were observed. In the evening a long line of islands (the Calvados group) appeared to the north, and the reef, which before had been continuous, with the exception of some small openings, now existed only as a few isolated patches. D’Urville stood off to sea for the night, and next morning passed close to some low woody islets (Montemont) enclosed by a reef stretching to the eastward, and supporting upon it many scattered islands covered with verdure. Bougainville’s chart was found of very little assistance; in the evening, however, they recognised the low wooded isle which he had called Ushant. Several high rocks (Teste Isles) in sight when they stood off for the night served next morning as a connecting point.
On the 26th, a crowd of small islands, mostly inhabited, were seen at a short distance off, and in the background some high mountain summits were visible. Approaching more closely, D’Urville observed numerous channels intersecting the coast which they appeared to divide into a multitude of islands, and it seemed doubtful whether the land seen belonged to the Louisiade or to New Guinea. On the 27th, the two ships reached the Cul de sac de l’Orangerie–the appearance of the land at this place was considered to “agree perfectly with the pompous description” of Bougainville. D’Urville would willingly have searched for an anchorage here, but sickness prevented him from delaying much longer on this coast. Many canoes had been seen during the day, and one with six men at length came off, followed by some smaller ones, each carrying two or three people. The natives could not be induced to venture on board, and for a long time hesitated to receive some presents conveyed to them on a plank, in return for coconuts, a stone axe, and some shells. These natives appeared to be unarmed; by signs they invited the Frenchmen to visit them on shore. D’Urville was now anxious to determine whether, as represented by his charts,* a passage existed between this portion of the Louisiade of Bougainville, and what was then considered to be the south-east extremity of New Guinea, in the neighbourhood of Cape Rodney. Next day, however (28th) a high chain of mountains was seen to occupy the space assigned to the supposed passage. On the 29th, a barrier reef was found extending to the eastward in the direction of the coastline; they were unable to clearly identify Cape Rodney and Point Hood, of the English charts. In the evening D’Urville saw a chain of high mountains which he named Mount Astrolabe, and a well marked headland (Cape Passy) beyond which the coast appeared to trend to the northward. The expedition now shaped a course for Torres Strait, having in seven days made a running survey extending over a space of 450 miles in length, without anchoring or communicating with the inhabitants.**
(*Footnote. This matter had been discussed by the Russian Admiral Krusenstern; see Receuil de Memoires Hydrographiques pour servire d’analyse et d’explication a l’Atlas de l’Ocean Pacifique page 60. Also in his Atlas, a general chart of the Pacific Ocean, and two others of New Guinea, and the Louisiade Archipelago, published in 1824.)
(**Footnote. Voyage au Pole Sud et dans l’Oceanie sur les corvettes L’Astrolabe et la Zelee pendant les annees 1837 a 1840. Sous le commandement de M. J. Dumont D’Urville. Histoire du Voyage tome 9 pages 208 a 215. Atlas Hydrographique Plate 1.)
CAPTAIN F.P. BLACKWOOD.
During his survey of the northern and eastern entrances of Torres Strait, Captain F.P. Blackwood, in H.M.S. Fly, spent two months in 1845, upon the south-east coast of New Guinea, 140 miles of which, including that part seen by Bampton and Alt in 1793, was surveyed as completely as the time and means would permit. This country presented a great sameness of aspect; low muddy shores covered at first with mangroves, and, further back, with dense forests, were found to be intersected by numerous channels of fresh water, the mouths, there is reason to suppose, of one or more large rivers, of which this great extent of country is the delta. Great mudbanks, extending from ten to twenty miles out to sea, prevented approach except in the boats. Several of these channels were entered by the surveying parties, and one (Aird River) was ascended by Captain Blackwood to the distance of twenty miles from its mouth. Many villages were seen scattered along the coast and on the river banks. The natives, apparently closely resembling the Torres Strait Islanders, appeared to be a savage and warlike race, and refused to have any friendly intercourse with the white men, whose boats they attempted to cut off on various occasions. They seemed to be perfectly naked, and their principal weapons were observed to be bows and arrows and wooden sword-like clubs.*
(*Footnote. Narrative of the Surveying Voyage of H.M.S. Fly, commanded by Captain F.P. Blackwood, R.N. by J.B. Jukes, Naturalist to the Expedition, volume 1 page 282 etc.)
LIEUTENANT C.B. YULE.
In the following year, a further addition to the survey of the south-east coast of New Guinea was made by Lieutenant C.B. Yule, while in command of H.M. Schooners Bramble and Castlereagh. This survey was commenced at Cape Possession, and continued to the westward and northward as far as Cape Blackwood, where the Fly’s work ended, a distance equal to two degrees of longitude.* Many large river mouths were observed, the fresh water on one occasion extending two or three miles out to sea. The country had ceased to present the low monotonous appearance shown to the westward, and had become more broken with wooded hills, and on the extreme east, ranges of lofty mountains were seen in the distance; one of these (Mount Yule) attains an elevation of 10,046 feet. Landing was attempted only once, on which occasion the whole party–their two boats having been capsized in the surf, and their ammunition destroyed–were set upon by a large body of natives and plundered of everything, even to their clothes, but not otherwise injured, although completely at the mercy of these savages.
(*Footnote. See Admiralty Chart Number 1914.)
In company with the Bramble we sailed from Moreton Bay for the Louisiade on May 26th. Next day it began to blow fresh, commencing at south-east and coming up to east, and on the 28th the wind had increased to a heavy gale from East-South-East to East. On the following morning the gale broke, the wind having suddenly fallen and shifted round from East to North-East and North-West by West until it became variable, and at night died away altogether. On June 3rd we picked up the south-east trade-wind in latitude 20 degrees 8 minutes South; and next day and those following until we made the land, having left the beaten track from Sydney to the outer passages leading to Torres Strait,* we hauled on a wind at night so as to avoid going over unexplored ground. No reefs, however, were seen between Moreton Bay and the Louisiade.
(*Footnote. See a very useful chart of the Coral Sea, constructed by Mr. J.O. Evans, formerly master of H.M.S. Fly.)
ARRIVE AT THE LOUISIADE ARCHIPELAGO.
On June 10th (our noon position of that day being latitude 11 degrees 38 minutes South and longitude 154 degrees 17 minutes East) at daylight, high land was seen extending from North to North-west, distant about twenty-five miles. It proved to be the largest Ile du Sud-Est of D’Urville’s chart, and Rossel Island, the latter forming the eastern termination of the Louisiade Archipelago. Next day we fell in with the Bramble in the neighbourhood of Cape Deliverance of the English chart (by Laurie) her rendezvous in case of separation; we had parted company during the late gale, in which she lost her jib-boom and stern-boat.
FIND ACCESS PREVENTED BY A REEF.
The whole of June 12th was spent in working to windward to weather the eastern end of Rossel Island–Cape Deliverance of Bougainville–the barrier reef to the southward of the two large islands in sight preventing us from closely approaching the land from that quarter.
ROSSEL ISLAND.
June 13th.
Having gained a good offing, we bore up at daylight, and stood in for Rossel Island with the Bramble ahead. We passed at a distance Adele Island (so named after Coutance’s ship) low and woody, situated at the eastern extreme of the barrier reef surrounding Rossel Island, at a variable distance from the land. The southern portion of this great coral reef here makes a sharp turn round the islet, and runs back ten miles to connect it with Rossel Island, where it loses the character of a barrier, becomes narrow and fringing and almost disappears for a time. Passing Cape Deliverance* and getting into smooth water on the northern side of Rossel Island, we ran along it at a distance from the shore of about two miles and a half.
(*Footnote. As the longitude of Cape Deliverance varies considerably in different charts, its determination by the three best authorities may here be given:
D’Entrecasteaux places it in longitude 154 degrees 26 minutes East of Greenwich.
D’Urville places it in longitude 154 degrees 26 minutes East of Greenwich.
Owen Stanley places it in longitude 154 degrees 20 minutes East of Greenwich.)
Rossel Island (named after one of D’Entrecasteaux’ officers) is 22 miles in length from east to west, and 10 1/2 in greatest width; it is high and mountainous, and thickly wooded, with occasional large, clear, grassy patches. Towards the western end the hills become lower and more detached, but present the same features. The mountain ridges, one of which, but not the highest elevation (which was obscured by clouds) is 2,522 feet in height–form sharp narrow crests and occasional peaks, but the outline is smooth and the rock nowhere exposed, even the steepest ridges being covered with vegetation. Some of the trees appeared to be of great dimensions, others were tall and straight, branching only near the top, and many, probably Melaleuca leucodendrum–were conspicuous from the whiteness of their trunks. Large groves of cocoa-palms scattered about from the water’s edge to halfway up the hills, formed a pleasing break in the sombre green of the forest scenery. The shores are either bordered with mangroves with an occasional sandy beach, or clothed with the usual jungle of the island.
As we advanced to the westward the reef gradually extended out from the island with a short space inside, and this appearance continued for several miles, until, upon the land trending away to the south-west, the line of reef left it and ran out to the westward as far as the eye could reach, in an apparently unbroken line of surf. This is Rossel Reef of the charts along which we ran for* 35 miles, sounding occasionally, but although within a mile of its edge, no bottom was got with upwards of 100 fathoms of line. From the masthead we could see the surf of the southern border of this great reef, the space between being a lagoon of apparently navigable water. At the western extremity of the reef there appeared to be a clear opening, but the day was too far advanced to admit of entering it to search for an anchorage, and the ship was hove to for the night.
(*Footnote. It extends 17 miles beyond the westernmost point of Rossel Island.)
ITS INHABITANTS.
Rossel Island, judging from the little we saw of it, appears to be well inhabited. The first natives seen were a party of five men, apparently naked, who came out upon the beach from a grove of coconut trees, and stood gazing at the unusual sight to them of two vessels passing by. Opposite a pretty creek-like harbour, the windings of which we could trace back a little way among the hills, several canoes of various sizes were seen, each with an outrigger on one side, and one of them furnished with a large mat-sail of an oblong shape, rounded at the ends. The people, of whom there were usually about six or seven in each canoe, appeared to be engaged in fishing in the shoal water. One man in a very small canoe was bailing it out with a large melon-shell so intently that he appeared to take no notice whatever of the ship which passed within a quarter of a mile of him. We saw many huts close to the beach, usually three or four together, forming small villages. They appeared to be long and low, resting on the ground, with an opening at each end, and an arched roof thatched with palm-leaves. The most picturesque situations were chosen for these hamlets in the shade of the coconut-trees, and about them we could see numbers of children, but no women were made out, and most of the men were fishing on the reef. At one place we observed what appeared to be a portion of cultivated ground; a cleared sloping bank above the shore exhibited a succession of small terraces, with a bush-like plant growing in regular rows.
June 14th.
In the morning we found ourselves so far to leeward of the opening seen last night, with a strong breeze and a considerable head sea, that the attempt to work up for it was abandoned, and we kept away to the westward to look for an anchorage.
PIRON ISLAND.
We then ran along the northern side of Piron* Island, which is five miles in length, and one and a half in breadth, of moderate elevation, and sloping gently towards each extreme. It exhibits a range of low grassy hills, with smooth rounded outline, a straggling belt of wood–often mangroves–along the shore, patches of brush here and there in the hollows, and on the hilltops, scattered along the ridge, a few solitary tall bushy trees with silvery-looking foliage. The bright green of the tall grass gave a pleasing aspect to the whole island, large tracts of which appeared like fields of unripe grain. We saw few natives, the opposite, or southern shore, being probably that chiefly inhabited. Close approach to Piron Island was prevented by a second barrier reef, which we followed to the North-North-West for several miles beyond the end of the island, anxiously looking out for an opening into the fine expanse of pale blue water seen to extend to the southward as far as the large south-east island.** At length an opening in the reef was observed, and the ship hauled off and hove to, while Lieutenant Yule examined it in one of his boats.
(*Footnote. Piron was draughtsman to D’Entrecasteaux’s Expedition.)
(**Footnote. This is 41 miles long, and 10 1/2 in greatest width.)
ENTER CORAL HAVEN.
In the afternoon the Bramble having made the signal passage clear but narrow, was directed to enter, and we followed her through a fine opening 400 yards wide, and were immediately in soundings, which 111 fathoms of line had failed to procure only a short distance outside. After standing on the southward for two miles we anchored in 15 fathoms water. The name of Coral Haven was bestowed upon this new harbour. We remained here all next day, during which the natives in their canoes came off to the Bramble, and one or two of the boats away sounding, but would not venture to approach the ship.
June 16th.
The ship was moved in one and a half miles to the southward, towards the land, and anchored in ten fathoms, close to a reef covered at high-water, and about a mile distant from a small bank of dead coral and sand; the former of these was selected by Captain Stanley as the starting point of the survey, and on the latter magnetical observations were made by Lieutenant Dayman.
PIG ISLAND.
In the afternoon I took a passage in a boat sent with a party to Pig Island–the name afterwards given to that nearest us–to search for water, and endeavour to communicate with the natives. A party of eight men, fishing upon the reef surrounding a small islet, allowed us to approach within a short distance, but upon our attempting to leave the boat they became alarmed and retreated to their canoe in which they paddled off in great haste to a landing-place under a small village in sight of the ship. This consisted of three or four long barn-like huts, raised from the ground on posts. A large village was also seen on Joannet Island, situated, like the other, on the brow of a hill in a commanding position.
COMMUNICATE WITH NATIVES OF PIG ISLAND.
Five of our party landed about half a mile from where the canoe had disappeared, apparently in some creek of a mangrove swamp; while walking along the muddy shore we were met by about a dozen natives, who gradually fell back as we approached. Seeing them apparently afraid of our number and weapons–they themselves being unarmed–I left my gun behind, and, advancing alone, holding up a green branch in each hand, was allowed to come up to them.
THEIR APPEARANCE.
They were apparently in a state of great agitation, and very suspicious of our intentions. The spokesman of the party was much lighter in colour than the others, and I at first fancied he spoke some Malay dialect from the similarity in sound and intonation of his words, nor was it until I had used some of the commonest and least changeable Malay words–as those meaning fire, water, etc.–without being understood, that I was convinced of my mistake. Two others of our party were allowed to come up one by one, and some trifling articles were exchanged for various ornaments. Still they would not suffer anyone with a gun to approach, although anxious to entice us singly and unarmed to their village towards which they were gradually leading us, and where they could be reinforced by another party, whom we saw watching us on the edge of the mangroves.
But it was not considered expedient to waste more time upon the natives, so we turned back and walked along the eastern side of the island one and a half miles, with the boat in company outside. A small stream of fresh water was found, not sufficient, however, for our wants, nor was the place suitable for the approach of boats. The rock on Pig Island, where exposed at some of the points, is mica slate, soft and splintery in many places, with frequent veins of quartz. The hills,* although often running in ridges, have a rounded outline, and the soil on the smooth grassy places–comprising three-fourths of the island–is composed of disintegrated rock mixed with pieces of undecomposed quartz, any considerable accumulation of vegetable mould being probably prevented by the heavy rains. The grass is very luxuriant without being rank; it was not known to me, for, unlike most of the other plants, I had not met with it in Australia. Indeed the frequency of the coconut-palm was the only non-Malayo-Australian feature in the vegetation. As no botanist had previously visited the Louisiade, a few of the principal plants may be mentioned. These are Guilandina bonduc, Tournefortia argentea, Morinda citrifolia, Paritium tiliaceum, Casuarina equisetifolia, and Clerodendrum inerme,* among the trees and shrubs, which were often overgrown with Lygodium microphyllum, and Disemma coccinea. The only birds seen were the sacred kingfisher, the sulphur-crested cockatoo, and the Australian crow. The shells on the reef were all Australian likewise, but under some decaying logs, on the beach, I found single species of Auricula, Truncatella, Scarabus, and Melampus.
(*Footnote. The highest part of the island, measured up to the tops of the trees, is 479 feet.)
(**Footnote. These are all common to Polynesia, the Indian Archipelago, and tropical Australia.)
The men we saw today were dark copper coloured, with the exception of the spokesman, whose skin was of a light-brownish yellow hue. The hair in nearly all was frizzled out into a mop, in some instances of prodigious size; the light-coloured man, however, had his head closely shaved.* The physiognomy varied much; some had a savage, even ferocious aspect. The nose was narrower and more prominent, the mouth smaller, the lips thinner, the eyes more distant, the eyebrows less overhanging, the forehead higher, but not broader, than in the Australian, with whom I naturally compared them as the only dark savage race which I had seen much of. They used the betel, or something like it, judging from the effect in discolouring the teeth and giving a bloody appearance to the saliva; each man carried his chewing materials in a small basket, the lime, in fine powder, being contained in a neat calabash with a stopper, and a carved piece of tortoise-shell like a paper-cutter was used to convey it to the mouth.
(*Footnote. This allowed us to observe its contour, which was remarkable. The forehead was narrow and receding, appearing as if artificially flattened, thereby giving great prominence and width to the hinder part of the skull. Altogether this man appeared so different from the rest, that for some time he was supposed to belong to a different class of people, but I afterwards often observed the same configuration of head combined with dark coloured skin and diminutive stature.)
None had the artificial prominent scars on the body peculiar to the Australians, or wanted any of the front teeth, but the septum of the nose was perforated to admit an ornament of polished shell, pointed and slightly turned up at each end. The lobe of the ear was slit, the hole being either kept distended by a large plug of rolled-up leaf, apparently of the banana, or hung with thin circular earrings made of the ground down end of a cone-shell (Conus millepunctatus) one and a half inches in diameter, with a central hole and a slit leading to the edge. A piece of cloth-like substance, the dried leaf of the Pandanus or some palm was used by all as a breech cloth–it passes between the legs and is secured in front and behind to a narrow waist-band.
FIND NATIVES APPARENTLY FRIENDLY.
June 17th.
I formed one of the party in the second cutter, sent in command of Lieutenant Simpson, on a similar mission to that of yesterday. As we passed along the north side of Pig Island we saw small groups of natives upon the grassy ridges watching the boat, and, upon our closely approaching the north-west point of the island, one of them, whom we recognised as our light-coloured acquaintance of yesterday, came running down to the top of a bank inviting us by gestures to land.
Four of our party got on shore with difficulty after a long wade upon the reef, up to the waist in water, but, on ascending the bank, the red man, as we provisionally named him, retired to a small group of natives who were coming up. Following them as they gradually fell back in the direction of the village, in a short time the two foremost, Messrs. Huxley and Brierly,* the latter having laid down his rifle, were allowed to approach and parley. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Simpson and I remained behind watching the natives who quickly surrounded the two others, offering tortoise-shell, green plantains, and other things for barter, and hustling them in no very ceremonious way while intent upon sketching, and having to keep their subjects in good humour by treating them to sundry scraps of extempore melodramatic performance. Newcomers were continually making their appearance, and all the party were now suddenly observed to have furnished themselves with spears, none of which had been seen at first, and which had probably been concealed among the long grass at the spot to which they had led us. These weapons are made of polished coconut-wood, eight to ten feet long, sharp at each end, and beautifully balanced, the thickest part being two-fifths of the distance from the point; one end was usually ornamented with a narrow strip of palm leaf, fluttering in the breeze like a pennon as usually carried. One man was furnished with a two-edged carved and painted instrument like a sword. Most of these people had their face daubed over with broad streaks of charcoal down the centre and round the eyes. Occasionally variegated with white, giving them a most forbidding aspect. At length a live pig was brought down from the village, slung on a pole, and was purchased for a knife and a handkerchief. This was a masterstroke of policy, as the natives well knew that it would take two of us to bear off our prize to the boat, thus rendering our little party less formidable.
(*Footnote. A talented marine artist who accompanied us upon this and the preceding cruise, as Captain Stanley’s guest.)
THEIR SUSPICIOUS CONDUCT AFTERWARDS.
The number of men had been gradually increasing until it amounted to about thirty, all with spears. They were also becoming more rude and insolent in their behaviour, and seeing this I left my post on a hillock, and joined Simpson to take part in the expected fray. The natives were now evidently bent on mischief, and we fully expected they would not much longer delay making an attack, with the advantage of a commanding position on a hillock which we must descend to return to the boat. At this crisis one of our party discovered that he had lost a pistol from his belt, and attempted to recover it by showing another and making signs evincing great anxiety to recover the lost weapon. On this there was a general movement among the natives, who began drawing back into a cluster, balancing their spears and talking to each other very earnestly. It being evident that the pistol had been stolen, and not dropped accidentally among the grass, it was also apparent that by attaching undue importance to its loss our safety might be supposed to depend upon its possession. We then slowly commenced our retreat, two in advance carrying the pig, and the remainder covering the retreat. Being the last of our party, as I slowly descended the hillock sideways, watching every motion of what we might fairly consider as the enemy, with spare caps between my teeth, and a couple of cartridges in one hand, I was in momentary expectation of receiving a spear or two, which probably would have been the case, had I stumbled or turned my back to them for a moment. As we drew back along the ridge and dipped into the first hollow a party of the natives detached themselves from the rest as if to come round upon our flank, but this fortunately was formed by a steep ascent covered with dense jungle which would have occupied them some time to get through.
REACH THE BOAT.
Arriving at the bank above the boat, the pig-carriers with their burden speedily reached the bottom, all three rolling down together. When they were well clear we followed, keeping a sharp lookout behind in case of any advantage being taken of our position. The boat had grounded upon the reef with the falling tide, but with some difficulty was got afloat, when we left the place.
After rounding the point we opened a large bay on the west side of the island where we saw the mouth of a small stream pointed out by the natives during our last interview, but, on approaching within 300 yards, it was found that boats could not get any closer in at low-water, the shore being everywhere fringed by a reef. This is the most beautiful and sheltered portion of the island, well wooded, with a sandy beach, clumps of coconut-trees, and a village of four or five huts. We landed on a small islet connected with the south-west point of Pig Island by a reef, and strolled about with our guns while the boat’s crew were having their dinners. Several Megapodii were seen and one was shot–it afterwards proved to be the M. duperreyi, previously known as a native of Port Dorey on the north-west coast of New Guinea. While holding on to the reef a party of natives, apparently from Brierly Island, paddled up in a canoe, and, after some hesitation at first, came alongside calling out kelumai-kelumai, which we conjectured to be their word for iron. For a few trifling articles we obtained a spear or two, and some cooked yams, and parted good friends, after which we returned to the ship, having completed the circuit of the island without finding a practicable watering-place.
CANOES VISIT THE SHIP.
June 18th.
Five canoes came off this morning with seven or eight natives in each, but apparently not with the intention of bartering, although they remained for a short time near the Bramble; it was thought that some allusions were made by them to the pistol stolen yesterday, but this did not appear to be certain. After a while they crossed over to the ship, and from a respectful distance–as if afraid to come closer–used many violent gesticulations, talking vehemently all the while, and repeatedly pointed to the break in the reef by which we had entered Coral Haven, waving us off at the same time. Our red friend from Pig Island made himself as conspicuous as on former occasions, and none shouted more loudly or wished to attract more attention to himself. Unfortunately his eloquence was quite thrown away upon us, nor had his threatening gestures the desired effect of inducing us to leave the place and proceed to sea.
NO PASSAGE TO THE EASTWARD.
June 20th.
I returned to the ship after a short cruise in the pinnace sent away with Lieutenant Simpson to ascertain whether a passage for the ship to the eastward existed between Piron Island and South-east Island. Independently of numerous detached coral patches, the channel was found to be completely blocked up by a reef stretching across from one island to the other, beyond which, separated by an extensive tract of shoal water, a heavy surf was breaking on what is probably an outer barrier. Many snakes were seen on the surface of the water, and large shoals of skipjacks (Caranx) playing about in long extended lines occasionally presented the appearance of a breaking reef. The fish were attended by flocks of terns and noddies, the former the beautiful Sterna melanauchen.
June 21st.
Landed on the neighbouring Observation Reef, and spent some hours there searching for shells, but nearly all were Torres Strait species. The reef is margined with blocks of coral, but the centre is mostly smooth and covered with sand part of which dries at low-water; the rise and fall, ascertained by a tide-pole set up here, was only four feet.
NATIVE MODE OF FISHING.
I had a good opportunity of witnessing the mode of fishing with the seine practised by the natives of the Louisiade. One of these nets, apparently of the usual dimensions, measured 130 feet in length, with a depth of a yard only. The upper border is supported, when in the water, by numerous small thin triangular floats of light wood, and the lower margin is strung with a series of perforated shells–chiefly single valves of Arca scapha–serving as sinkers. The cordage is of a white colour, very light, and neatly laid up, the meshes are an inch wide, and the centre of the net ends in a purse-like bag. A party of eight men poled along the shallow margin of the reef in their canoe, using the seine at intervals. When a shoal of fish is seen, three men lay hold of the net and jump out into the water–it is run out into a semicircle, the men at the extremes moving onwards with one person in advance on each side splashing the water with long poles and stones to drive the fish towards the centre. The canoe now makes a sweep and comes up to the opening, when the net is closed in upon it, and hauled inboard with its contents. This mode of fishing would appear to be practised also at some of the islands of Polynesia, for similar seines are exhibited in the ethnological gallery of the British Museum from the Feejees and elsewhere. In addition to the seine, we had occasionally observed in canoes alongside the ship a small scoop-net with a very long handle, and once procured a fishing hook of singular construction. This last is represented by the right hand figure of the accompanying woodcut. It is seven inches in length, made of some hard wood, with an arm four and a half inches long, turning up at a sharp angle, and tipped with a slightly curved barb of tortoise-shell projecting horizontally inwards an inch and a half.
POISONOUS FISH.
During the afternoon one of the crew of a boat upon the reef, while incautiously handling a frog-fish (Batrachus) which he had found under a stone, received two punctures at the base of the thumb from the sharp dorsal spines partially concealed by the skin. Immediately severe pain was produced which quickly increased until it became intolerable, and the man lay down and rolled about in agony. He was taken on board the ship in a state of great weakness. The hand was considerably swollen, with the pain shooting up the arm to the axilla, but the glands there did not become affected. The pulse fell to as low as 40 beats in the minute, with a constant desire to vomit. Large doses of opium in the course of time afforded relief, but a fortnight elapsed before the man was again fit for duty.
SEARCH FOR A WATERING-PLACE.
June 23rd.
I accompanied Mr. Brown, the master, who was sent to examine and report upon a watering-place said to have been found a day or two ago on South-east Island, about four miles north from the ship. We found the coast thereabouts fringed with mangroves, a gap in which, margined by forest trees, indicated the place which we were in search of. The ebb-tide was scarcely beginning to make, yet a narrow band of shingle off the entrance of the creek had barely water enough upon it to allow the boat to cross. Beyond the bar we got into deep water, and after pulling up for 300 yards found it only brackish. Our further progress, however, was impeded by the narrowing of the creek, which besides was blocked up with dead trees and some rocks in its bed a few yards ahead of us. The fresh water being thus unattainable without much trouble, and the bar at the entrance adding to the difficulty of watering the ship there, we turned back to search elsewhere. While standing along shore to the eastward, opposite an opening in the low hills behind the coast we observed another breach in the mangroves backed by trees of a different description, and thought it worthy of examination. Tacking inshore we found a small bight, with shoal water, on a bank of mud extending right across, beyond which the entrance of a creek fringed with mangroves was discovered. Our hopes were still further raised, when, ascending about 200 yards, with a depth of two and three fathoms, the surface water was found to be quite drinkable. While passing the entrance on our return a great lizard, about five feet in length, rushed out from an adjacent swamp across a narrow strip of sandy beach and plunged into the water after receiving an ineffectual charge of small shot. The boat’s crew pronounced it confidently to have been a young alligator, but, although in a very likely haunt for these animals, it was probably only a monitor.
ROUND ISLAND.
We then crossed over to Round Island, small, uninhabited, 230 feet in height, thickly covered with trees and underwood, and connected on the eastern side with the reef running across to Piron Island. The rock here is still mica slate, varying much in texture and composition, often highly ferruginous; the strata run East-South-East and West-North-West with a northerly dip of about 45 degrees.
June 24th.
In the course of the day no less than seven canoes with natives, including several women and children, came off to the ship boldly and without hesitation, as if confidence were now established. At one time we had five canoes alongside, with a brisk and noisy traffic going on. The people parted very readily with their weapons and ornaments, also coconuts in abundance, and a few yams and bananas, for strips of calico and pieces of iron hoop. Axes, however, were more prized than any other article, and the exhibition of one was certain to produce great eagerness to procure it, amidst much shouting and cries of kelumai! The purpose to which they applied the iron hoop we found was to substitute it for the pieces of a hard greenstone (nephrite) in the heads of their axes and adzes. The one figured above represents the usual form of these instruments. The V-shaped handle is a single piece of wood, and the stone, previously ground down to a fine edge, is fixed in a cleft at the end of the short arm, and firmly secured by cordage. This axe is usually carried by being hooked over the left shoulder with the handle crossing the breast diagonally.
Among our visitors today I noticed two who had large white patches on the skin, as if caused by some leprous complaint–one man had lost his nose, and in addition was affected with elephantiasis of the left foot.
NATIVES SHOW THIEVISH PROPENSITIES.
After leaving us two of the canoes paddled up to the tide pole on the neighbouring reef, and before a boat could reach them, the natives managed to secure the pigs of iron ballast with which it was moored. They communicated with two canoes, coming from the direction of Piron Island, which soon afterwards came under the stern. As one of the stolen pigs was seen partially concealed in the bow of one of the last comers the jollyboat was manned to recover it, when the canoes left in great haste with the boat in chase. As the boat approached a coconut was thrown overboard from the canoe, as if to cause delay by stopping to pick it up, but, the intended effect not being produced, the stolen ballast also was thrown out, when the boat of course returned. By Captain Stanley’s orders two musket shots were fired over the canoes, while about 300 yards distant, to show that although in fancied security they were still within reach. The splash of the first bullet caused them to paddle off in great haste, and, when they again stopped, a second shot, striking the water beyond the canoes, sent them off to the shore at their utmost speed.
CANOES OF CORAL HAVEN DESCRIBED.
With a single exception, to be afterwards noticed, the canoes seen by us in Coral Haven are of the following description. The usual length is about twenty-five feet, and one of this size carries from seven to ten people. The body is formed by the hollowed-out trunk of a tree, tapering and rising at each end, short and rounded behind, but in front run out into a long beak. A stout plank on each side raises the canoe a foot, forming a gunwale secured by knees, the seam at the junction being payed over with a black pitch-like substance. This gunwale is open at the stern, the ends not being connected, but the bow is closed by a raised end-board fancifully carved and painted in front of which a crest-like wooden ornament fits into a groove running along the beak. This figurehead, called tabura, is elaborately cut into various devices, painted red and white, and decorated with white egg-shells and feathers of the cassowary and bird of paradise. The bow and stern also are more or less profusely ornamented with these shells, which besides are strung about other parts of the canoe, usually in pairs. An outrigger extends along nearly the whole length of the left or port side of the canoe. In its construction there are employed from six to eight poles, two inches in diameter, which rest against one side of the body of the canoe and are secured there, then passing out through the opposite side about five feet, inclining slightly upwards at the same time, are connected at the ends by lashing to a long stout pole completing the strong framework required for the support of the float. This last is a long and narrow log of a soft and very light wood (probably a cotton tree) rising a little and pointed at each end so as to offer the least possible resistance to the water. Four sticks passing diagonally downwards from each of the transverse poles are sunk into the float and firmly secure it. A strip of the inner portion of the outrigger frame is converted into a platform by long sticks laid lengthways close to each other–here the sails, masts, poles, spears, and other articles are laid when not in use. The paddles vary slightly in form but are usually about four feet in length, with a slender handle and a pointed lance-shaped blade. The number of men able to use the paddles is regulated in each canoe by that of supporting outrigger poles, the end of each of which, in conjunction with one of the knees supporting the gunwale, serves as a seat. One sitter at each end, being clear of the outrigger, is able to use his paddle on either side as requisite in steering, but the others paddle on the right or starboard side only. The man seated at the stern closes with his body the opening between the ends of the raised gunwale and thus keeps out the spray or wash of the sea. Still they require to bail frequently, using for this purpose the large shell of the Melo ethiopica. In calms and light airs these canoes of Coral Haven may be overtaken without difficulty by a fast-pulling ship’s boat, but on going to windward with a moderate breeze and a little head-sea they appeared to have the advantage. The sails are from twelve to fifteen feet in length and a yard wide–made of coarse matting of the leaf of the coconut-tree stretched between two slender poles. The mast is stepped with an outward inclination into one of three or four holes in a narrow shifting board in the bottom of the canoe, and is secured near the top to a slender stick of similar length made fast to the outside part of the outrigger; a second pole is then erected stretching diagonally outwards and secured to the outer one near its centre. Against the framework thus formed the sails are stuck up on end side by side to the number of three or four, occasionally even five, and kept in their places by long sticks placed transversely, their ends as well as those of the mast being sharpened to serve as skewers which in the first instance secure the sails. While under sail either the bow or stern of the canoe may be foremost, this being regulated by the necessity of having the outrigger on the weather side, unless in a very light wind. From the sail being placed so far forward these canoes do not lay up close to the wind, but when going free considerable speed may be obtained.
CANOES OF ROSSEL ISLAND DESCRIBED.
Among the canoes which visited the ship one was of a quite different construction from the rest and resembled some of those which we had seen while passing along the northern side of Rossel Island. It contained seven men, and came from the eastward–probably from Piron Island. The body of a canoe of this class is formed like the other, or more common kind, of the hollowed out trunk of a large tree, tapering to a point and rising slightly at the ends, which, however, are alike and covered over by a close-fitting piece of wood, each end being thus converted into a hollow cone. The sides are raised by a plank two feet high and end-boards forming a kind of long box, with the seams pitched over. One side is provided with an outrigger similar to that already described, and on the other is a small stage, level with the gunwale, six feet long, planked over, and projecting four feet or thereabouts. The mast is a standing one stepped into a board in the bottom–it is lashed to a stout transverse pole, and is further supported by two fore and aft stays. The halyards reeve through a hole in a projecting arm a foot long at the masthead. But the sail forms the most curious feature in the whole affair.* It measures about fifteen feet in width by eight in depth and is made of rather fine matting stretched between two yards and rounded at the sides. The sail when not in use is rolled up and laid along the platform–when hoisted it stretches obliquely upwards across the mast, confined by the stays, with the lower and foremost corner resting on the stage and the tack secured to the foot of the mast. Both ends being alike, the mast central, and the sail large and manageable, a canoe of this description is well adapted for working to windward. Tacking is simply and expeditiously performed by letting go the tack, hauling upon the sheet, and converting one into the other. The large steering paddles are eight or nine feet long, with an oblong rounded blade of half that length.
(*Footnote. The annexed illustration represents this kind of sail–it was not however taken from the canoe in question, but on a subsequent occasion, and at another part of the Louisiade Archipelago.)
WATERING-CREEK ON SOUTH-EAST ISLAND. ITS SCENERY.
June 26th.
Yesterday afternoon the Rattlesnake was removed to the neighbourhood of the proposed watering-place on South-east Island, and anchored in seventeen fathoms, mud, a mile off shore. Soon after daylight I accompanied Captain Stanley and a party in two boats to ascend the neighbouring creek and determine whether a practicable watering-place existed there. For several hundred yards above the entrance we found the channel preserving a nearly uniform width of about fifteen yards, with low muddy shores covered with mangroves, some of which attained the unusual dimensions of 60 to 80 feet in height, with a circumference at the base of 6 to 8 feet.
DESCRIPTION OF COUNTRY.
To this succeeded during our upward progress a low bank of red clay backed by rising ground and tangled brush, with very large trees at intervals, and others arching over the stream, their branches nearly touching the water. Gigantic climbers hung down in long festoons passing from branch to branch, and the more aged trunks supported clumps of ferns and parasitical plants. Here and there an areca palm shot up its slender stem surmounted by a cluster of pale-green feathery leaves, or the attention was arrested for a moment by a magnificent pandanus–its trunk raised high above the ground by the enormous supporting root-like shoots–or some graceful tree-fern with dark widely-spreading foliage exceeding in delicacy the finest lace.
Meanwhile the creek had slightly narrowed, the dead trees in the water became more frequent and troublesome, and the thickets on the banks encroached more and more upon the channel so as not to allow room for the oars to pass, obliging the men to use them as poles. At every turn in the windings of the stream (still too brackish to be fit to drink) some beautiful glimpse of jungle scenery presented itself as we passed upwards–long vistas and stray bursts of sunshine alternating with the gloomy shadows of the surrounding woods. A deep silence pervaded the banks of this water never before visited by civilised man. Its monotony broken only by the occasional brief word of command, the splash of the oars, or the shrill notes of some passing flights of parrots. The river, for now it might fairly be called one, retained the same character until we had gone up about a mile, when further progress was stopped by a ridge of rocks stretching across from side to side marking the limits of the tidal influence. Over this the rush of fresh water formed a strong rapid backed by a deep, sluggish, winding stream, draining a large basin-like valley bounded behind by the central ridge of the island, the principal hills of which attain an elevation of from 992 to 1,421 feet, and one, Mount Rattlesnake, is 2,689 feet in height. At times the body of water discharged here must be immense, judging from the quantity of driftwood and other detritus lodged in the trees twelve feet above the present level of the stream, probably during the inundations of the rainy season. These floods must also spread over the low land on the margin of the river to a considerable distance, the deep red clay there, evidently the washings of the hills, bearing the marks of having been under water. The jungle in places is very dense, but, with the exercise of a little patience and labour, it can be penetrated at almost every point. On rising ground it is often bordered by a thicket of creeping and climbing plants mixed up with bushes and patches of Hellenia coerulea. The low wooded hills are covered with tall grass growing on very poor soil–of partially decomposed mica-slate with lumps of quartz.
It being considered practicable to water the ship at this place, we returned on board. In the afternoon the first load of water was brought off, and in the course of the week we procured 78 tons with less trouble than had been anticipated. I afterwards repeatedly visited the watering-creek, and a brief account of the productions of its neighbourhood may here be given as a popular contribution to the natural history of the little-known Louisiade Archipelago.
The rock is scarcely ever exposed on the banks of the river except at the rapid before alluded to. Though still mica-slate, it is there of much greater hardness and denser texture than on Pig and Round Islands, and stretches across the stream like a dyke, running nearly north and south with a westerly dip of about 60 degrees. Elsewhere, along the shores of Coral Haven, this mica-slate is of a leaden hue and glistening lustre, yielding to the nail, with a slight greasy feel, especially in some pieces of a shining ash-grey, acted upon by salt-water. From hand specimens alone it is difficult to assign a name to this rock, as it partakes more or less of the characters of mica, chlorite, and talc-schists.
PLANTS.
Among the botanical productions Nepenthes destillatoria, the famous pitcher-plant of the East, deserves mention. It grows abundantly among the tall grass on the skirts of the jungle, and the pitchers invariably contained a small quantity of limpid fluid of a slightly sweetish taste, with small insects floating on its surface. The finest of the tree-ferns (Hemitelium) grew alone near the watering-place, and was cut down to furnish specimens. The trunk measured fifteen feet in height, with a diameter at the base of eight inches.
ANIMALS.
No mammalia were procured on South-east Island–indeed the only one seen was a flying-squirrel which I caught a glimpse of one evening at the river-mouth as it sprung off among the mangroves from the summit of a dead tree–it appeared to be of the size of an ordinary rat, and was probably a Petaurus. Wild pigs must be very numerous–as indicated by fresh marks where they had been wallowing in the beds of the ditch-like rivulets, their footprints everywhere, and well-beaten tracks through the jungle. But none of the animals themselves, probably from their extreme shyness and partially nocturnal habits, were ever encountered by our shooting parties. I was afterwards informed by Mr. Inskip that while in the Bramble, in the neighbourhood of Conde Peninsula, a native in a canoe alongside having his attention directed to a very large boar’s tusk which he wore as an ornament, described, by pantomimic gestures, that the animal had cost much trouble in killing it, having repeatedly charged him, and received no less than eight spear wounds before it fell.
Birds were plentiful, but owing to the difficulty of seeing them among the thick foliage, few, comparatively, were shot. The most interesting specimen procured was one of a very handsome scarlet Lory, closely allied to Lorius domicellus, a bird widely spread over the Indian Archipelago. It was usually seen in small flocks passing over the tops of the trees, uttering a loud sharp scream at intervals. Another parakeet, not so big as a sparrow, of a green colour, was sometimes seen in flocks, but we could not succeed in getting one. The Torres Strait and Nicobar pigeons, also Duperrey’s Megapodius were common enough, as well as many other birds, twelve species of which are also found in Australia–a most unlooked-for occurrence.
No snakes were seen during our rambles, but small lizards occurred everywhere. A large lizard, apparently Monitor gouldii, was shot from a tree on the banks of the river.
INSECTS.
Although not troubled by mosquitoes, such of us as strolled about much in the bush were sadly tormented by sandflies–a minute two-winged insect whose bite raises a small swelling followed by much itching. On going to bed one night, I counted no less than sixty-three of these marks on my left leg from the ankle to halfway up the thigh, and the right one was equally studded with angry red pimples. Among many kinds of ants I may mention the green one, which is found chiefly on trees and bushes, of the leaves of which it makes its nest. Should one unconsciously disturb them by getting entangled among the branches in the neighbourhood of a nest, he may expect a whole swarm upon him before he can extricate himself, and is first made aware of their presence by feeling sharp stinging pains in various places, especially the neck, caused by their bites. A small firefly (a species of Lampyris) is plentiful, showing out at night like a twinkling phosphorescent spark, slowly flitting about from tree to tree or resting on the leaves wet with dew. Nor must I omit a very splendid day-flying moth (Cocytia durvillei) which is common on the skirts of the woods and thickets; several even came on board the ship at various times.
Very few fish were caught at this anchorage, but on the mudflat at the mouth of the creek, shoals of mullet and guard-fish were seen daily. In the fresh water I observed several small species of Cyprinidae rising at flies, but, not being provided with the requisite tackle, none were caught.
SHELLS.
The muddy mangrove-covered banks of the lower part of the creek furnished the collection with an Auricula and a very fine Cyrena, apparently the same as the Australian and New Guinea C. cyprinoides. Many freshwater shells were found in the neighbourhood of the watering-place–three kinds of Melania, a Mytilus, a Navicella, and five species of Neritina–but most of these have been already described as inhabitants of the Feejee Islands and other places in Polynesia, and elsewhere. One might reasonably have anticipated a rich harvest of land-shells in the damp forests of South-east Island, yet diligent search on the trunks of the trees and among the dead leaves about their roots produced only four species, all of which however are new. The finest of these is a Pupina, the giant of its race, of a glossy reddish pink colour with red mouth.
BARTER WITH NATIVES.
During our stay here the ship was daily visited by canoes from Pig Island and its vicinity, also from a village or two on South-east Island, a few miles to the eastward of our anchorage. They usually made their appearance in the morning and remained for an hour or so, bartering coconuts, yams, ornaments and weapons for iron hoop, knives, and axes. After leaving us, those coming from the eastward, as the wind was unfavourable for their return, landed at the mouth of the creek and waited for the floodtide. Our intercourse throughout was peaceful, which was fortunate for both parties, for, if inclined to be hostile, the natives might frequently have attacked our watering-boats while passing up and down the river, impeded occasionally by dead trees and shoals, with a dense forest on each side. Latterly, however, as if suspicious of our intentions or tired of our protracted stay, they fired the grass on the hill at the entrance of the creek, possibly to deter us from entering. Still we thought this might have been done without reference to us, but afterwards two or three men with spears were seen by passing boats skulking along the banks of the river on their way to the rapid, where they again set fire to the grass as if to smoke us out or prevent our return. But the grassy tracts along the tops of the low hills in the vicinity being intersected by lines and patches of brush the fire did not extend far, as had also been the case lower down, so caused us no inconvenience.
Among our numerous visitors we occasionally saw a woman or two, but none were favourable specimens of their kind. Unlike the men, whose only covering was the breech-cloth formerly described, the women wore a short