Notes:Italics in the book have been capitalised in the eBook. Illustrations in the book have not been included in the eBook. This eBook uses 8-bit text. MY TROPIC ISLE BY E. J. BANFIELD AUTHOR OF "THE CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER" T. FISHER UNWIN LONDON: ADELPHI TERRACELEIPSIC: INSELSTRASSE 20 1911 TO MY WIFE "What dost thou in this World? The Wilderness For thee is fittest place. " MILTON. "Taught to live The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt sweet life. " MILTON. PREFACE Much of the contents of this book was published in the NORTH QUEENSLANDREGISTER, under the title of "Rural Homilies. " Grateful acknowledgmentsare due to the Editor for his frank goodwill in the abandonment of hisrights. Also am I indebted to the Curator and Officers of the Australian Museum, Sydney, and specially to Mr. Charles Hedley, F. L. S. , for assistance inthe identification of specimens. Similarly I am thankful to Mr. J. Douglas Ogilby, of Brisbane, and to Mr. A. J. Jukes-Browne, F. R. S. , F. G. S. , of Torquay (England). THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS CHAPTER. I. IN THE BEGINNINGII. A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHYIII. MUCH RICHES IN A LITTLE ROOMIV. SILENCESV. FRUITS AND SCENTSVI. HIS MAJESTY THE SUNVII. A TROPIC NIGHTVIII. READING TO MUSICIX. BIRTH AND BREAKING OF CHRISTMASX. THE SPORT OF FATEXI. FIGHT TO A FINISHXII. SEA WORMS AND SEA CUCUMBERSXIII. SOME MARINE NOVELTIESXIV. SOME CURIOUS BIVALVESXV. BARRIER REEF CRABSXVI. THE BLOCKADE OF THE MULLETXVII. WET SEASON DAYSXVIII. INSECT WAYSXIX. INTELLIGENT BIRDSXX SWIFTS AND EAGLESXXI. SOCIALISTIC BIRDSXXII. SHARKS AND RAYSXXIII. THE RECLUSE OF RATTLESNAKEXXIV. HAMED OF JEDDAHXXV. YOUNG BARBARIANS AT PLAYXXVI. TOM AND HIS CONCERNSXXVII. DEBILS-DEBILSXXVIII. TO PARADISE AND BACKXXIX. THE DEATH BONE ILLUSTRATIONS(Not included in this eBook) "AT ONE STRIDE COMES THE DARK" Photo by Caroline HordernCOCONUT AVENUE Photo by Caroline HordernTHE BUNGALOWFERN OF GODPARASITIC FERNTHE COVE, PURTABOIBRAMMO BAY, FROM GARDENPANDANUS PALMPECTINARIAN TUBESCLAM SHELL (Tridaena gigas) EMBEDDED IN CORALFIRE FISH (Pterois lunulata). TRIGGER FISH (Balistapus aculeatus)CORALSEGG CAPSULES OF BAILER SHELLDEVELOPMENT OF BAILER SHELLEGG CAPSULES OF MOLLOSC, ATTACHED TO FAN CORALHARLEQUIN PIGFISH (Kiphocheilus fasciatus)"FAERY LANDS FORLORN, " TIMANA. NEST OF GREEN TREE ANTMATCH-BOX BEANSPALL-KOO-LOOWHERE SWIFTLETS BUILDSWIFTLETS' NESTS H. Barnes, Jun. , Photo. Australian MuseumUMBRELLA TREE (Brassaia actinophylla) Photo by Caroline HordernHAMED OF JEDDAHBLACKS' TOYS--1. PIAR-PIAR; 2. BIRRA-BIRRA-GOO; 3. PAR-GIR-AHTURTLE ROCK, PURTABOIDISGUISES OF CRABSWYLO DEFIANTTHE DEATH BONEYANCOO'S LAST RITE MY TROPIC ISLE CHAPTER I IN THE BEGINNING Had I a plantation of this Isle, my lord-- * * * * * I' the Commonwealth I would by contrariesExecute all things; for no kind of trafficWould I admit . . . Riches, povertyAnd use of service, none. SHAKESPEARE How quaint seems the demand for details of life on this Isle of Scent andSilence! Lolling in shade and quietude, was I guilty of indiscretion whenI babbled of my serene affairs, and is the penalty so soon enforced? Canthe record of such a narrow, compressed existence be anything but dull?Can one who is indifferent to the decrees of constituted society; who isaloof from popular prejudices; who cares not for the gaieties of thecrowd or the vagaries of fashion; who does not dance or sing, or drink totoasts, or habitually make any loud noise, or play cards or billiards, orattend garden parties; who has no political ambitions; who is not apainter, or a musician, or a man of science; whose palate is as aversefrom ardent spirits as from physic; who is denied the all-redeeming viceof teetotalism; who cannot smoke even a pipe of peace; who is a casual, anonentity a scout on the van of civilisation dallying with the universalenemy, time--can such a one, so forlorn of popular attributes, so weakand watery in his tastes, have aught to recite harmonious to the, ear ofthe world? Yet, since my life--and in the use, of the possessive pronoun here andelsewhere, let it signify also the life of my life-partner--is beyond therange of ordinary experience, since it is immune from the ferments whichseethe and muddle the lives of the many, I am assured that a familiarrecord will not be deemed egotistical, I am scolded because I did notconfess with greater zeal, I am bidden to my pen again. An attempt to fulfil the wishes of critics is confronted with risk. Cosyin my security, distance an adequate defence, why should I rush into theglare of perilous publicity? Here is an unpolluted Isle, without history, without any sort of fame. There come to it ordinary folk of soberunderstanding and well-disciplined ideas and tastes, who pass their liveswithout disturbing primeval silences or insulting the free air with theflapping of any ostentatious flag. Their doings are not romantic, orcomic, or tragic, or heroic; they have no formula for the solution ofsocial problems, no sour vexations to be sweetened, no grievance againstsociety, no pet creed to dandle. What is to be said of the doings of suchprosaic folk--folk who have merely set themselves free from restraintthat they might follow their own fancies without hurry and withouthindrance? Moreover, if anything be more tedious than a twice-told tale, is it notthe repetition of one half told? Since a demand is made for more completedetails than were given in my "Confessions, " either I must recapitulate, or, smiling, put the question by. It is simplicity itself to smile, andcan there be anything more gracious or becoming? Who would not rather doso than attempt with perplexed brow a delicate, if not difficult, duty? I propose, therefore, to hastily fill in a few blanks in my previoussketch of our island career and to pass on to features of novelty andinterest--vignettes of certain natural and unobtrusive features of thelocality, first-hand and artless. This, then, is for candour. Studiously I had evaded whensoever possiblethe intrusion of self, for do not I rank myself among the nonentities--men whose lives matter nothing, whose deaths none need deplore. Howgreat my bewilderment to find that my efforts at concealment--to makemyself even more remote than my Island--had had by impish perversity acontrary effect! On no consideration shall I part with all my secrets. Bereave me of my illusions and I am bereft, for they are "the stardust Ihave clutched. " One confessedly envious critic did chide because of the calculatednon-presentation of a picture of our humble bungalow. So small a pleasureit would be sinful to deny. He shall have it, and also a picture of theone-roomed cedar hut in which we lived prior to the building of the houseof comfort. Who could dignify with gilding our utterly respectable, our limp history?There is no margin to it for erudite annotations. Unromantic, unsensational, yet was the actual beginning emphasis by the thud of abullet. To that noisy start of our quiet life I meander to ensurechronological exactitude. In September of the year 1896 with a small par of friends we camped onthe beach of this Island--the most fascinating, the most desirable on thecoast of North Queensland. Having for several years contemplated a life of seclusion in the bush, and having sampled several attractive and more or less suitable scenes, we were not long in concluding that here was the ideal spot. From thatmoment it was ours. In comparison the sweetest of previous fancies becamevapid. Legal rights to a certain undefined area having been acquired inthe meantime, permanent settlement began on September 28, 1897. For a couple of weeks thereafter we lived in tents, while with clumsyhaste--for experience had to, be acquired--we set about the building of ahut of cedar, the parts of which were brought from civilisation ready forassembling. Houses, however, stately or humble, in North Queensland, aresacrificial to what are known popularly as "white ants" unless specialmeans are taken for their exclusion. Wooden buildings rest on piles sunkin the ground, on the top of which is an excluder of galvanised iron inshape resembling a milk dish inverted. It is also wise to take theadditional precaution of saturating each pile with an arsenical solution. Being quite unfamiliar with the art of hut-building, and in a frailphysical state, I found the work perplexing and most laborious, simpleand light as it all was. Trees had to be felled and sawn into properlengths for piles, and holes sunk, and the piles adjusted to a uniformlevel. With blistered and bleeding hands, aching muscles, and stiffjoints I persevered. While we toiled our fare, simplicity itself, was eaten with becoming lackof style in the shade of a bloodwood-tree, the tents being reserved forsleeping. When the blacks could be spared, fish was easily obtainable, and we also drew upon the scrub fowl and pigeon occasionally, for thevaunting proclamation for the preservation of all birds had not beenmade. Tinned meat and bread and jam formed the most frequent meals, forthere were hosts of simple, predestined things which had to be painfullylearned. But there was no repining. Two months' provisions had beenbrought; the steamer called weekly, so that we did not contemplatefamine, though thriftiness was imperative. Nor did we anticipate makingany remarkable addition to our income, for the labour of my own hands, however eager and elated my spirits, was, I am forced to deplore, oflittle advantage. I could be very busy about nothing, and there wereblacks to feed, therefore did we hasten to prepare a small area of forestland, and a still smaller patch of jungle for the cultivation of maize, sweet potatoes, and vegetables. Fruit, being a passion and a hobby, wasgiven special encouragement and has been in the ascendant ever since, tothe detriment of other branches of cultural enterprise. I have said that our Island career began with an explosion. To thatstarting-point must I return if the narration of the tribulations ouryouthful inexperience suffered is to be orderly and exact. While we camped, holiday-making, the year prior to formal and rightfuloccupancy, in a spasm of enthusiasm, which still endures, I selected theactual site for a modest castle then and there built in the accommodatingair. It was something to have so palpable and rare a base for thefanciful fabric. All in a moment, disdaining formality, and to the, accompaniment of the polite jeers of two long-suffering friends, Iproclaimed "Here shall I live! On this spot shall stand the probationarypalace!" and so saying fired my rifle at a tree a few yard's off. But thestolid tree--a bloodwood, all bone, toughened by death, a few rubycrystals in sparse antra all that remained significant of pastlife--afforded but meagre hospitality to the, soft lead. "Ah!" exclaimed one of my chums, "the old tree foreswears him! The Islandrefuses him!" But the homely back gate swings over the charred stump of the boorishtree burnt flush with the ground. Twelve months and a fortnight after thefiring of the shot which did not echo round the world, but was merely alocal defiant and emphatic promulgation of authority, a fire was set tothe base of the tree, for our tents had been pitched perilously close. Space was wanted, and moreover its bony, imprecating arms, long sincebereft of beckoning fingers, menaced our safety. I said it must fall tothe north-east, for the ponderous inclination is in that direction, andtherein forestalled my experience and delivered the whole camp ashostages into the hands of fortune. In apparent defiance of the laws of gravity the tree fell in the middleof the night with an earth-shaking crash to the south-east. There was noapparent reason why it did not fall on our sleeping-tent and in one actput an inglorious end to long-cogitated plans. Because some graciousimpulse gave the listless old tree a certain benign tilt, and becausesundry other happenings consequent upon a misunderstanding of the laws ofnature took exceptional though quite wayward turnings, I am still able tohold a pen in the attempt to accomplish the task imposed by imperiousstrangers. And while on the subject of the clemency of trees, I am fain to disposeof another adventure, since it, too, illustrates the brief intervalbetween the sunny this and the gloomy that. Fencing was in progress--afence designed to keep goats within bounds. Of course, the idea waspreposterous. One cannot by mere fencing exclude goats. The proof ishere. To provide posts for the vain project trees were felled, the buttsof which were reduced to due dimensions by splitting. A dead tree stoodon a slope, and with the little crosscut we attacked its base, cutting alittle more than half-way through. When a complementary cut had been madeon the other side, the tree, with a creak or two and a sign which endedin "swoush, " fell, and as it did so I stepped forward, remarking to thetaciturn black boy, "Clear cut, Paddy!" The words were on my lips when a"waddy, " torn from the vindictive tree and flung, high and straight intothe inoffensive sky, descended flat on the red stump with a gunlikereport. The swish of the waddy down-tilted the frayed brim of mycherished hat! The primary bullet is not yet done with, for when the tree which hadreluctantly housed it for a year was submitted to the fires ofdestruction among the charcoal a blob of bright lead confirmed myscarcely credited story that the year before the datum for our castle, then aerial and now substantial, had been established in ponderous metal. What justification existed for the defacement of the virginal scene by anunlovely dwelling--the, imposition of a scar on the unspotted landscape?None, save that the arrogant intruder needed shelter, and that he wasneither a Diogenes to be content in a tub nor a Thoreau to find in boardsan endurable temporary substitute for blankets. It was resolved that the shelter should by way of compensation beunobtrusive, hidden in a wilderness of leaves. The sacrifice of thosetrees unhaply in prior occupation of the site selected would be atonedfor by the creation of a modest garden of pleasant-hued shrubs andfruit-trees and lines and groves of coconut-palms. My conscience at leasthas been, or rather is being, appeased for the primary violation of thescene, for trees perhaps, more beautiful, certainly more useful, standfor those destroyed. The Isle suffers no gross disfigurement. Except fora wayward garden and the most wilful plantation of tropical fruit-trees, no change has been wrought for which the genius of the Isle need demandsatisfaction. Though of scented cedar the hut was ceilingless. Resonant corrugated ironand boards an inch thick intervened between us and the noisy tramplingsof the rain and heat of the sun. The only room accommodated someprimitive furniture, a bed being the denominating as well as theessential feature. A little shambling structure of rough slabs and ironwalls contrived a double debt to pay--kitchen and dining-room. From the doorsteps of the hut we landed on mother earth, for the verandaswere not floored. Everything was as homely and simple and inexpensive asthought and thrift might contrive. Our desire to live in the open airbecame almost compulsory, for though you fly from civilisation and itsthralls you cannot escape the social instincts of life. The hut becamethe focus of life other than human. The scant hut-roof sheltered morethan ourselves. On the narrow table, under cover of stray articles and papers, greybead-eyed geckoes craftily stalked moths and beetles and other fanaticworshippers of flame as they hastened to sacrifice themselves to thelamp. In the walls wasps built terra-cotta warehouses in which to storethe semi-animate carcasses of spiders and grubs; a solitary beeconstructed nondescript comb among the books, transforming a favouritecopy of "Lorna Doone" into a solid block. Bats, sharp-toothed, and withpin-point eyes, swooped in at one door, quartered the roof with briskeagerness, and departed by the other. Finding ample food and safe housing, bats soon became permanent lodgers. For a time it was novel and not unpleasant to be conscious in the nightof their waftings, for they were actual checks upon the mosquitoes whichcame to gorge themselves on our unsalted blood. But they increased sorapidly that their presence became intolerable. The daring pioneer whichhad happened during its nocturnal expeditions to discover the veryparadise for the species proclaimed the glad tidings, and relatives, companions, and friends flocked hither, placing themselves under ourprotection with contented cheepings. Though the room became mosquitoless, serious objections to the scavengers developed. Before a writ of ejectioncould be enforced, however, a sensational cause for summary proceedingsarose. In the dimness of early morning when errant bats flitted home to cling tothe ridge-pole, squeaking and fussy flutterings denoted unwonteddisturbance. Daylight revealed a half concealed, sleeping snake, whichseemed to be afflicted with twin tumours. A long stick dislodged theintruder, which scarce had reached the floor ere it died violent death. Even the snake spectre did no seriously affright the remaining bats, though it confirmed the sentence of their immediate banishment. In theeye of the bats the sanctuary of the roof with an odd snake or two waspreferable to inclement hollow branches open to the raids ofundisciplined snakes. Definite sanitary reasons, supplemented by the factthat where bats are there will the snakes be gathered together, and apious repugnance to snakes as lodgers, made the casting out of the bats ajoyful duty. So we lived, more out of the hut than in it, from October, 1897, untilChristmas Day, 1903. We find the bungalow, though it, too, has noceiling, much more to our convenience, for the hut has become crowded. Itcould no longer contain our content and the portable property whichbecame caught in its vortex. In the designing of the bungalow two essentials were supreme, cost andcomfort--minimum of cost, maximum of comfort. Aught else was as nothing. There was no alignment to obey, no rigid rules and regulations as tostyle and material. The surroundings being our own, we had compassion onthem, neither offering them insult with pretentious prettiness nordomineering over them with vain assumption and display. Low walls, unaspiring roof, and sheltering veranda, so contrived as to create, nottickling, fidgety draughts but smooth currents, "so full as seem asleep, "to flush each room so sweetly and softly that no perceptible differencebetween the air under the roof and of the forest is at any timeperceptible. Since the kitchen (as necessary here as elsewhere) is not only of my owndesign but nearly every part of the construction absolutely the work ofmy unaided, inexperienced hands, I shall describe it in detail--notbecause it presents features provocative of pride, but because the ideasit embodies may be worth the consideration of others similarly situatedwho want a substantial, smokeless, dry, convenient appurtenance to theirdwelling. Two contrary conditions had to be considered--the hostility ofwhite ants to buildings of wood, and the necessity for raising the floorbut slightly above the level of the ground. A bloodwood-tree, tall, straight, and slim, was felled. It provided threelogs--two each 15 feet long and one 13 feet. From another tree another13-foot log was sawn. All the sapwood was adzed off; the ends were"checked" so that they would interlock. Far too weighty to lift, the logswere toilfully transported inch by inch on rollers with a crowbar as alever. Duly packed up with stones and levelled, they formed thefoundations, but prior to setting them a bed of home-made asphalt(boiling tar and seashore sand) was spread on the ground where they weredestined to lie. Having adjusted each in its due position, I adzed theupper faces and cut a series of mortices for the studs, which wereobtained in the bush--mere thin, straight, dry trees which had succumbedto bush fires. Each was roughly squared with the adze and planed andtenoned. Good fortune presented, greatly to the easement of labour, two splendidpieces of driftwood for posts for one of the doors. To the sea also I wasindebted for long pieces to serve as wall plates, one being the jibboomof what must have been a sturdily-built boat, while the broken mast of acutter fitted in splendidly as a ridge-pole. For the walls I visited anold bean-tree log in the jungle, cut off blocks in suitable lengths, andsplit them with maul and wedges into rough slabs, roughly adzed awaysuperfluous thickness, and carried them one by one to the brink of thecanyon, down which I cast them. Then each had to be carried up the steepside and on to the site, the distance from the log in the jungle beingabout three hundred yards. Within the skeleton of the building I improvised a rough bench, uponwhich the slabs were dressed with the plane and the edges bevelled sothat each would fit on the other to the exclusion of the rain. Upon theuprights I nailed inch slats perpendicularly, against which the slabswere placed, each being held in place temporarily until the panel wascomplete, when other slats retained them. The rafters were manipulated ofodd sorts of timber and the roof of second-used corrugated iron, theprevious nail holes being stopped with solder. A roomy recess with abeaten clay floor was provided for the cooking stove. Each of the twodoors was made in horizontal halves, with a hinged fanlight over thelintel, and the window spaces filled with wooden shutters, hinged fromthe top. The floor (an important feature) is of asphalt on a foundationof earth and charcoal solidly compressed. But before carting in thematerial boards were placed temporarily edgeways alongside the bedlogsround the interior. Then when the earthen foundation was complete theboards were removed, leaving a space of about an inch, which was filledwith asphalt, well rammed, consistently with the whole of the floorspace. All this laborious work--performed conscientiously to the best of myability--occupied a long time, and from it originated much backache andgeneral fatigue, and at the end I found that I had been so absorbed inthe permanence rather than the appearance of the dwelling that one of thecorner posts was out of the perpendicular and that consequently thebuilding stood awry. Grace of style it cannot claim; but neither "whiteants" nor weather trouble it. And to what sweet uses has adversity made us familiar! When I bought aboat to bring hither I knew not the distinguishing term of a singlehalyard, save the "topping lift, " and even that scant knowledge was idle, for I was blankly ignorant of the place and purpose of the oddly-namedrope. Necessity drove me to the acquirement of boat sense, and now Imanage my home-built "flattie"--mean substitute for the neat yacht whichnecessity compelled me to part with--very courageously in ordinaryweather; and I am content to stay at home when Neptune is frothy at thelips. A preponderant part of the furniture of our abode is the work of my ownunskilled hands--tables, chairs, bookshelves, cupboards, &c. There ismuch pleasure and there are also, many aches and pains in the designingand fashioning serviceable chairs from odd kinds of bush timber. In the making of a chair, as in the building of a boat by one who has hadno training in any branch of carpentry, there is scope for the personalelement. Though the parts have been cut and trimmed with minute care andall possible precision, each, according to requirements, being theduplicate of the other, when they come to be assembled obstructiveobstinacy prevails. One of the most fiendish things the art of mancontrives is a chair out of the routine design made by a rule-of-thumbcarpenter. Grotesque in its deformities, you must needs pity your ownmishandling of the obstinate wood. Have you courage to smile at themisshapen handiwork, or do you cowardly, discard the deformity you havecreated? How it grunts and groans as pressure is applied to its stubbornbent limbs! Curvature of the spine is the least of its ills. It limps andcreaks when fixed tentatively for trial. Tender-footed, it stands awry, heaving one leg aloft--as crooked and as perverse as Caliban. In goodtime, botching here, violent constraint there, the chair finds itself oris forced so to do, for he is a weak man who is not stronger than his ownchair. So, after many days' intense toil--toil which even troubled thenight watches, for have I not lain awake with thoughts automaticallyconcentrated on a seemingly impossible problem, plotting by what illicitand awful torture it might be possible for the tough and stubborn partsto be brought into juxtaposition--there is a chair--a solid, sitablechair, which neither squeaks, nor shuffles, nor shivers. May be you areashamed at the quantity of mind the dull article of furniture hasabsorbed; but there are other reflections--homely as well as philosophic. CHAPTER II A PLAIN MAN'S PHILOSOPHY "'Be advised by a plain man, (said the quaker to the soldier), 'Modes andapparels are but trifles to the real man: therefore do not think such aman as thyself terrible for thy garb nor such a one as me contemptiblefor mine. '"--ADDISON. Small must be the Isle of Dreams, so small that possession is possible. Achoice passion is not to be squandered on that which, owing toexasperating bigness, can never be fully possessed. An island of bolddimensions may be free to all--wanton and vagrant, unlovable. Such is notfor the epicure--the lover of the subtle fascination, the dainty moods, and pretty expressions of islands. The Isle must be small, too, becausesince it is yours it becomes a duty to exhaustively comprehend it. Familiarity with its lines of coast and sky, its declivities and hollows, its sunny places, its deepest shades, the sources of its streams, themeagre beginning of its gullies cannot suffice. Superficial intimacy withfeatures betrayable to the senses of any undiscriminating beholder isnaught. Casual knowledge of its botany and birds counts for little. All--even the least significant, the least obvious of its charms arethere to, give conservative delight, and surly the soul that woulddespise them. If you would read the months off-hand by the flowering of trees andshrubs and the coming and going of birds; if the inhalation of scents isto convey photographic details of scenes whence they originate; if youwould explore miles of sunless jungle by ways unstable as water; if youwould have the sites of camps of past generations of blacks reveal thearts and occupations of the race, its dietary scale and the pastimes ofits children; if you desire to have exact first-hand knowledge, to revelin the rich delights of new experiences, your scope must be limited. The sentiments of a true lover of an Isle cannot without sacrilege beshared. The love is an exclusive passion, not of Herodian fierceness, misgiving, and gloom, but of joyful jealousy, for it must be well-nighimpossible to every one else. Such is this delicious Isle--this unkempt, unrestrained garden where thecenturies gaze upon perpetual summer. Small it is, and of variedcharms--set in the fountain of time-defying youth. Abundantly sprinkledwith tepid rains, vivified by the glorious sun, its verdure tolerates notrace of age. No ill or sour vapours contaminate its breath. Bland andever fresh breezes preserve its excellencies untarnished. It typifies allthat is tranquil, quiet, easeful, dreamlike, for it is the, Isle ofDreams. All is lovable--from crescentric sandpit--coaxing and consenting to thevirile moods of the sea, harmonious with wind-shaken casuarinas, tinklingwith the cries of excitable tern--to the stolid grey walls and blocks ofgranite which have for unrecorded centuries shouldered off the whitesurges of the Pacific. The flounces of mangroves, the sparse, grassyepaulettes on the shoulders of the hills the fragrant forest, the dimjungle, the piled up rocks, the caves where the rare swiftlet hatches outher young in gloom and silence in nests of gluten and moss--all are mineto gloat over. Among such scenes do I commune with the genius of theIsle, and saturate myself with that restful yet exhilarating principlewhich only the individual who has mastered the art of living theunartificial life perceives. When strained of body and seared of mind, did not the Isle, lovely in lonesomeness, perfumed, sweet in health, irresistible in mood, console and soothe as naught else could? Shall Inot, therefore, do homage to its profuse and gracious charms and exercisethe rights and privileges of protector? "When thus I hail the moment flying, Ah! still delay, thou art so fair!" Sea, coral reefs, forest, jungle afford never ending pleasure. Look, wherethe dolorous sphinx sheds gritty tears because of the boldness of the sunand the solvency of the disdainful sea. Look, where the jungle clothesthe steep Pacific slope with its palms and overskirt of vines andcreepers! Glossy, formal bird's-nest ferns and irregular mass ofpolypodium edged with fawn-coloured, infertile fronds fringe the sea-wardending. Orchids, old gold and violet, cling to the rocks with the whiteclaws of the sea snatching at their toughened roots, and beyond theextreme verge of ferns and orchids on abrupt sea-scarred boulders are thestellate shadows of the whorled foliage of the umbrella tree, in variedpattern, precise and clean cut and in delightful commingling andconfusion. Deep and definite the shadows, offspring of lordly light andsteadfast leaves--not mere insubstantialities, but stars deep sculpturedin the grey rock. And when an intemperate sprite romps and rollicks, and all the featuresof prettiness and repose are distraught under the bluster and lateralblur of a cyclone, still do I revel in the scene. Does a mother love herchild the less when, contorted with passion, it storms and rages? Shegrieves that a little soul should be so greatly vexed. Her affection isno jot depreciated. So, when my trees are tempest-tossed, and the greyseas batter the sand-spit and bellow on the rocks, and neither bird norbutterfly dare venture from leafy sanctuary, and the green flounces aretattered and stained by the scald of brine spray, do I avow my serenity. How staunch the heart of the little island to withstand so sturdy abuffeting! In such a scene would it not have been wicked to have delivered ourselvesover to any cranky, miserly economy or to any distortion or affectationof thrift? Had fortune smiled, her gifts would have been sanelyappreciated, for our ideas of comfort and the niceties of life are notcramped, neither are they to be gauged by the narrow gape of our purse. Our castles are built in the air, not because earth has no fit place fortheir foundations, but for the sufficient reason that the wherewithal forthe foundations was lacking. When a sufficiency of the world's goods hasbeen obtained to satisfy animal wants for food and clothing and shelter, happiness depends, not upon the pleasures but the pleasantnesses of life;not upon the possession of a house full of superfluities but in theattainment of restraining grace. It might be possible for us to live for the present in just a shade"better style" than we do; but we have mean ambitions in otherdirections than style. Style is not for those who are placidlyindifferent to display; and before whom on a comely, scornful Isle shallwe strut and parade? "You and I cannot be confined within the weak listof a country's fashions, " for do we not proclaim and justify our own? Arewe not leaders who have no subservient, no flattering imitators, nosycophantic copyists? The etiquette of our Court finds easy expression, and we smile decorously on the infringements of casual comers. Once a steamer anchored boldly in the bay--a pert steamer with a saucy, off-duty air. Certain circumstances forewarned us of a "formal call. " Sothat the visit should not partake of an actual surprise a boat containingladies and gentlemen was rowed ostentatiously across to land awkwardly atsuch a point as would herald the fact and afford a precious interim inwhich we were plainly invited to embellish ourselves--to assume areceptive style of countenance and clothes and company manners. Carelessof dignity, the charitable prelude was lost upon us. Our self-consciousand considerate visitors dumbly expressed amazement at their informalreception and our unfestive attire. Yet my garments were neat, sufficient, and defiantly unsoiled. Had I donned a full, white suit, withneat tie and Panama hat, and stood even barefooted on the beach, conspicuous, revealed as a "gentleman" even from the decks of the defiantsteamer, the boat-load would have come straight to the landing smiling, and chatting, to drop "their ceremonious manna in the way of starvedpeople. " They would have been elated had I assumed robes of reverence--auniform indicative of obligation--a worthy response to their patronage. With compliments expressed in terms of functionary clothes they had hopedto soothe their vanity. White cotton and a tinted tie would have beensmilingly honoured; and the mere man was not flattered to perceive thathe was less in esteem than the drapery common to the species. I never willbe content to be a supernumerary to my clothes. Our visitors reflected not on their intrusion. My precious privacy wasgratuitously violated, and in such circumstances that my holiday humourwas put under restraint for the time being. Though I do profess love forhuman nature, for some phases I have but scant respect. But our house was open. None of the observances of the rites ofhospitality was lacking. Gleams of good humour dispersed the gloom on thefaces of our guests. They had penetrated the thin disguise of clothes, and it was then that I silently wished in Portia's words that "God mightgrant them a fair departure. " Another class of visitor came on a misty morning in a fussy littlelaunch. After preliminary greetings on the beach he remarked on my name, presuming that I belonged to a Scotch family. "A good family, I do not question. " "Oh, yes. A family of excellent and high repute. " "Then, I cannot be any connection, for I am proud to confess that ourfamily is distinguished--greatly distinguished--by a very bad name. Itcomes from Kent. I am a kinsman of a king--the King of the Beggars!" "Ah! Quite a coincidence. I remarked to my friend as we came up to yourIsland: 'If the exile is a descendant of the King of the Beggars, thisis just the kind of life he would be likely to adopt. '" "Exactly. I am indeed complimented. Blood--the blood of the vagabond--willtell!" And my friendly visitor--a man whom the King had delighted tohonour--with whimsical glances at my clothes, which tended to "sincerityrather then ceremony, " strolled along the beach. If we were disposed to vaunt ourselves, have we not, in this simplicityand lack of style, the most persuasive of examples? Indifferent to style, we do indulge in longings--longings pitifullyweak--longings for the preservation of independence toilfully purchasedduring the poisonous years of the past. Beside all wishes for books andpictures and means for music and the thousands of small things which makefor divine discontent, stands a spectre--not grim and abhorrent andforbidding, but unlovely and stern, indicating that the least excess ofexotic pleasures would so strain our resources that independence would bethreatened. If we were to buy anything beyond necessities, we might notbe certain of gratifying wants, frugal as they are, without once morebeing compelled to fight with the beasts at some Australian Ephesus. Rather than clog our minds with the thought of such conflict and offighting with flaccid muscles, dispirited and almost surely ingloriously, we choose to laugh and be glad of our liberty, to put summary checks uponarrogant desires for the possession of hosts of things which wouldmaterially add to comforts without infringing upon pleasures, and find inall serene satisfaction. We have not yet pawned our future. No sort of tyranny, save that which isprimal, physical, and of the common lot, puts his dirty foot on ourhaughty, sun-favoured necks. "It is still the use of fortune To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow An age of poverty. " May Heaven and our thrift avert the fate! The nervous intensity, the despotic self-sufficiency of this easy andindifferent existence may expose us to taunts; but how sublimelyineffective the taunts which are never heard and which, if heard throughechoing mischance, would provoke but serene smiles; for have we notavoided the aches of uniformity, the seriousness of prosperity, most ofthe trash of civilisation, and the scorn of Fortune when she sniggers? How magnificently slender, too, is our boasted independence! What superbeconomists are we! Astonishment follows upon an audit of our slipshodaccounts at the amount spent unconsciously on small things which do notdirectly affect the actual cost of living. Taking the mean of severalyears' expenditure, the item "postage stamps" is a little larger thanthe cost of my own clothing and boots. The average annual cost ofstamps has been £5 4s. ; clothing and boots, £4 12s. Indeed, thislatter item is inflated, since, while I have stamps worth only afew shillings on hand, clothes are in stock sufficient (in maindetails) to last twelve months. The "youthful hose, well kept, " withother everlasting drapery brought from civilisation, is still wearable. The original clothing, such as conformity with the rules of the streetsimplies, remains serviceable, however obsolete in "style, " which isanother word for fashion, "that pitiful, lackey-like creature whichstruts through one country in the cast-off finery of another. " For theprivilege of citizenship in what, at present, is the freest country inthe world my direct taxation amounts to £1 5s. Per annum; and, since"luxuries" are not in demand, indirect contributions to State andCommonwealth are so trivial that they fail to excite the most sensitiveof the emotions. All our household is in harmony with this quiet tune, and yet we have not conquered our passion for thrift but merelydisciplined it. A young missionary who became a great bishop, after some experience of"the wilds, " expressed the opinion that there were but sixnecessaries--shelter, fuel, water, fire, something to eat, and blankets. Our practical tests, extending over twelve years, would tend to thereduction of the list. For the best part of the year one item--blankets--issuperfluous. Water and fuel are so abundant that they count almost ascheaply as the air we breathe; but we do lust after a few clothes--a veryfew--which the good missionary did not catalogue. Our essentials wouldtherefore be--shelter, something to eat, and a "little" to wear. Fire isincluded under "something to eat, " for it is absolutely unnecessary forwarmth. We do still appreciate a warm meal. Our house contains no meansfor the production of heat, save the kitchen stove. Fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs, poultry, fish, and nearly all the meatconsumed--emergency stocks of tinned goods are in reserve--are as cheap aswater and fuel. Our unsullied appetites demand few condiments. Whyolives, when if need be--and the need has not yet manifested itself--asshrewd a relish and as cleansing a flavour is to be obtained from thepale yellow flowers of the male papaw, steeped in brine--a decoration anda zest combined? Our mango chutney etherealises our occasional saltedgoat-mutton--and we know that the chutney is what it professes to be. What more wholesome and pleasant a dish than papaw beaten to mush, saturated with the juice of lime, sweetened with sugar, and madefantastic with spices? What more enticing, than stewed mango--golden andsyrupy--with junket white as marble; or fruit salad compact of pineapple, mango, papaw, granadilla, banana, with lime juice and powdered sugar? We lack not for spring chicken or roast duck whenever there is the wish;for the best part of the year eggs are despicably common. Every low tideadvertises oysters gratis, and occasionally crabs and crayfish for thepicking up. Delicate as well as wholesome and nutritious food is ours atso little cost that our debt to smiling Nature, if she kept records andtendered her accounts, would be somewhat embarrassing. And if Naturefrowns with denial and there are but porridge and goat's milk and eggsand home-made bread and jam, thank goodness she blesses such fare withunjaded appreciation! Since deprived of the society of blacks, our domestic expenditure hasdwindled by nearly one-half. Indeed, it is almost as costly to feed andclothe three blacks as to provide essentials for three whites of frugaltastes. Here are a few items of annual domestic expenditure, profferednot in the spirit of gloating over our simplicity or of delighting ineconomy of luxuries, but to illustrate how few are the wants which Nature(with a little assistance) leaves unsatisfied. The figures are presentedwith the utmost diffidence, but with indifference alike to the censure ofthose who may scent obsequiousness to the stern philosophy of Thoreau inthe matter of diet, or to the jeers of others who despise small things: Flour £ 4 5 0Groceries, lighting, &c. 40 0 0Sundries 12 0 0 --------Total £56 5 0 And the irreducible minimum has yet to be reached. For many years myexacting personal needs demanded the luxury of coffee. Pure andunadulterated, I quaffed it freely, and (being no politician) neitherdid it enhance my wisdom nor enable me to see through anything withhalf-shut eyes. Yet did it make me too glad. Under such vibrant, emphaticfingers my frail nerves twanged all too shrilly, and of necessity coffeewas abandoned--not without passing pangs--in favour of a beverage directfrom Nature and untinctured by any of the vital principles of vegetables. Thus is economy evolved, not as a foppish fad but as due obedience tothe polite but imperious decrees of Nature. And having confessed--far too literally, I fear--to so much on theexpenditure side of the simple life in tropical Queensland, it might beanticipated that the items of income would be stated to the completion ofthe story. The affairs of the busy world were discarded, not upon thestrength of large accumulated savings or the possession of means byinheritance or by the success of investments or by mere luck, but uponmerely imperative, theoretic anticipations upon the cost of living thesecluded life. We had little in reserve, how little it would beunbecoming to say. Our theories proved delusive, though not bewildering. Some of the things abandoned with unphilosophic ease at the outset provedunder the test of experience to be essential. Others deemed to be needfulto desperation were forsaken unconsciously. Under the light of experienceforecasts as to actual requirements were quite as vain as ourpreconceptions contrariwise. No single item which was not subjected toregulation. Without imposing any more impatient figures, be it said, then, that, though all preliminary estimates of ways and means underwentsummary evolution, the financial end was close upon that on which we hadcalculated. Compulsion had all to do with the result. During each of theyears of Island life our total income has never exceeded £100 and hasgenerally fallen considerably below that amount. From the beginning wefelt--and the foregoing lines have failed of their purpose if thisacknowledgment has not been forestalled "To be thus is nothing, But to be safely thus"; and to draw again from the unplumbed depths of Shakespeare: "What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find. " CHAPTER III "MUCH RICHES IN A LITTLE ROOM" "Go and argue with the flies of summer that there is a power divine yetgreater than the sun in the heavens, but never dare hope to convince thepeople of the South that there is any other God than Gold. "--KINGLAKE. No "saint-seducing gold" has been permitted to ruffle this placidity. Gold! Our ears were tickled by the tale that good folks had actuallythrilled when we slunk away to our Island. Rumour wagged her tongue, abusing God's great gift of speech, until scared Truth fled. Shesaid--how cheap is notoriety!--that secret knowledge of hidden wealthwhich good luck had revealed during our holiday camp had induced us tosurreptitiously secure the land, that in our own good time we mightselfishly gloat over untold gold! Some came frankly to prospect our hillsand gullies, others shamefacedly, when our backs were turned; for had itnot been foretold that gold was certain to be found on the Island, andwere not the invincible truths of geology verified by our covert ways?Had not one of the natives told of a lump so weighty that no man mightlift it and on which hungry generation after hungry generation hadpounded nuts? Had not another used a nugget as a plummet for hisfishing-line? It mattered not that the sordidly battered lump proved tobe an ingot of crude copper--probably portion of the ballast from someancient wrecks--and that Truth was sulking down some very remote wellwhen the fable of the golden sinker was invented. Ordinary men--men ofthe type whom Kinglake designated "Poor Mr. Reasonable Man"--men withcommon sense, in fact, the very commonest of sense--were not to bebeguiled by the plain statement that apparently sane individuals wilfullyventured into solitude for the mere privilege of living. Gold must be thereal attraction--all else fictitious, said they. "They have" [Rumour isspeaking] "the option of an unwitnessed reef, sensationally, romanticallyrich, or know of a piratically and solemnly secreted hoard. " Indeed, wedid think to enjoy our option, but over something more precious thangold. But one visitor was so confidentially certain about the gold that heboldly made a proposition to share it. A fair exchange it was to be. Hewould, then and there, lead to a shaft 60 feet deep, and deep in thejungle, too, at a spot so artfully concealed that no mortal man couldever unguided hope to find it, where was to be revealed a reef--a richreef blasted by the mere refractoriness of the ore, a disadvantage whichwould vanish like smoke before a man of means. To this sure and certainsource of fortune he would provide safe and speedy conduct if on our partwe would with like frankness confide in him our secret. Our lack of secret, was it not boldly writ on our faces? But it was fairto assume an air of mystery. "Our secret, " said we, "is more desirablethan gold, yea, than much fine gold. Yours, at the best, is but dross!" The very worst that could happen would be the discovery on this spot ofanything more precious than an orchid. Gold, which would transform theIsle into a desert, is therefore selfishly concealed, and the reason forthe concealment remains an incomprehensible enigma. Was it not thepinnacle of folly to retire to an Island where gold was not to be gotteneither by the grace of God or by barter or strife with man? So bold afoolishness was incredible. Yet we get more out of the life of incrediblefolly than the wise who think of gold and little else but gold. The singular perfection of our undertaking--"the rarity to run madwithout a cause, without the least constraint or necessity, " the exerciseof that "refined and exquisite passion"--stamped me a disciple of DonQuixote, and such I remain. Some ancient said that the more folly a man puts into life the more helives--a precept in which I steadfastly believe, provided the folly is ofthe wholesome kind and on a sufficient and calculated scale. For several years prior to our descent no blacks had been resident on theIsland. After the blotting out of the great multitude, the visits of itsdescendants had been irregular and brief. Therefore--and the assurance isalmost superfluous--most of the evidences of the characteristics of therace had, in the course of nature, been obliterated. A few frescoesadorning remote rock shelters, a few pearl shell fish-hooks, stone axesand, hammers, a rude mortar or two (merely granite rocks in which shallowdepressions had been worn by the pounding of nuts), shells on the sitesof camps, scars of stone axes on a few trees--these were the only relicsof the departed race. Has a decade of occupation by wilful white folks wrought any permanentchange in the stamp of Nature? None, save the exotic plants, that time, fire, and "white ants" might not consume. My kitchen midden is lessconspicuous than those of the blacks, and, decently interred, glass andchina shards the only lasting evidence thereof, for the few fragments ofiron speedily corrode to nothingness in this damp and saline air. Unwittingly the blacks handed down specimens of their handicraft--thepearl shell fish-hooks, a thousand times more durable in this climatethan hooks of steel. Geologists tell us that shells with iridescentcolours are found in clays of such ancient date that if stated incenturies an indefinite number of millions would have to be assigned tothem. It is not strange, then, that some of my pearl shell hooks are aslustrous and sharp to-day as when the careless maker mislaid them in thesand for me to find half a century later. We leave no records on the landitself which would betray us after the lapse of half a dozen years. Is itnot humiliating to find that the white man as the black records his mostdurable domestic history in rubbish, easily expungible by clean-fingeredtime? Is humanity ever free from worries? What it has not it invents. Remotethough we are from the disturbance of other folk's troublous cries, theocean does not afford complete exemption from the sight of the shockinginsecurity of the street. One memorable day, casually glancing at the mainland, I saw on the beachsomething moving at astonishing speed. Whereupon the telescope wasbrought to bear, and to my dismay revealed, actually and without fiction, a practical spring cart, drawn by a real horse at a trot, which horse wasdriven (as far as the telescope was credible) by a man! Over four yearshave elapsed since I saw any wheeled vehicle other than my ownbarrow--the speed of which is sedate (for I am a sedate and determinedman, and refuse to be flurried by my own barrow). Nervousness andexcitement began to play. Thank the propitious stars, two miles and moreof mighty ocean separated me from the furious car. Otherwise, who maysay? I might in my confusion have been unable to avoid disaster. Thisplace is becoming thrilling. Let me move farther from the rush andbewilderment of traffic. Let me flee to some more secluded scene, wheremy sight, unsoiled hitherto by motor-car, may for ever preserve mostexcellent virginity. I have since made inquiries, and have been assuredthat the nerve-shocking juggernaut of the opposite beach ispalsied--liable, indeed, to dissolution at any moment. When the collapseoccurs I propose to venture across to inspect the remains and renewyouthful memories of the species of conveyance to which it belonged. How do we spend our day? How fill up the blank spaces? Goats are to bemilked', fowls to be fed, dough to be kneaded, breakfast to be prepared, firewood to be cut, house to be looked after. Most of the substantialimprovements have long since been finished, but there is no place but hasto be kept in repair. One day, a week practically, is bestowed on thesteamer. All odd moments and every evening are devoted to books. During the cool season, when day tides range low, hours are passed on thecoral reef, as often as conscience permits, in contemplation of the lifeof that crowded area. Seldom do we leave the Island, and rarely does anybut a casual visitor break in on our privacy. Satisfied of theunpotentiality of wealth, here we materialise those dreams of happinesswhich are the enchantment of youth, the resolve of maturity, the solaceof old age. Let other questants abandon hope, for I have found thephilosopher's stone. My concerns are far too engrossing to permit my mind to wander on thetrivial, unreal, incomprehensible affairs of the Commonwealth, for thecommand of which practical politicians continuously grapple, though, I amone of those who mourn for democracy, since democracy has chosen toindulge in such hazardous experiments. The Government of a country whichgives equal voice in the election of its representatives to universityprofessor and unrepentant Magdalene is not altogether in a wholesome way, even though over a dozen Houses of Parliament clamour to manufacture itslaws. It is enough for me to possess the Isle of Desire--the evergreen islethat "sluttish time" has never besmeared with ruin--where one may wanderwhithersoever the mood of the moment wills, or loll in the shade ofscented trees, or thread the sunless mazes of the jungle--that region ofshadow where all the leaves are dumb--listening for faint, ineffectivesounds, or bask on the sand--on clean, unviolated, mica-bespangledsand--dreamily gazing over a sea of flashing reflections where fitfulzephyrs, soft as the shadows of clouds, alone make blueness visible. The individual whose wants are few--who is content, who has no treasureto guard, whose rights there is none to dispute; who is his ownmagistrate, postman, architect, carpenter, painter, boat-builder, boatman, tinker, goatherd, gardener, woodcutter, water-carrier, and generallabourer; who has been compelled to chip the superfine edges of hissentiments with the repugnant craft of the butcher; who, heedless of ruleand method, adjusts the balance between wholesome toil and whole-heartedease; who has a foolish love for the study of Nature; who has a sense offellowship with animate and inanimate things; who endeavours to learn thecharacter and the purpose of varied forms of life; whose jurisdictionextends over fifteen sacrosanct isles; who is never happier than whenreading--need never bewail the absence of human schemes and sounds orfret under the galling burden of idleness. Here is no bell to affright;nor are we subject to the bidding or liable to the assault of any passerby. Smooth-flowing time knows not mud or any foulness, while itsimpassive surface, burnished by August sunshine, reflects fair scenes andsilent doings. The freedom from care, the vague sense of selfish property in the wholescheme of Nature, the delicious discovery of the virtues of solitude, theloveliness of this most gay and youthful earth, and the tones of thepleasant-voiced and often surly sea fill me with joy and embellishhope--vague and unsubstantial--for is not this Isle the "place where onemay have many thoughts and not decide anything"? For all my occupations, I am often driven to "dialogue with my shadow"for lack of less subservient auditor, and though, as the years pass, Ifind that I become more loose of soul and in broad daylight indulge theliberty of muttering my affairs and addressing animals and plants and ofconfiding secrets to the chaste moon--poets and dramatists term suchincontinence of speech soliloquy and employ it for the utterance ofedifying inspiration--it is because it is impossible to be ever quitealone. Not so very long ago in Merrie England if a person muttered tohimself it was enough on which to establish a charge of wizardry; but itis also said that real witches and wizards, though subject to the mostticklish tests, never perspired--a default which hastened conviction. Therein is my hope of salvation. If it be my fate some day to be found "With age grown double, Picking dry sticks and mumbling to myself. " I shall claim a profuse prerogative, and continue to saunter down intothe gloom at the foot of the hill of life unblinking in the sun. CHAPTER IV SILENCES "Who has not hearkened to Her infinite din?"--THOREAU. Free alike from the clatter of pastimes and the creaks and groans oflabour, this region discovers acute sensibility to sound. Silence in itsrarest phases soothes the Isle, reproaching disturbances, though never sotemperate. All the endemic sounds are primitive and therefore seldomharsh. Even the mysterious fall of a tree in the jungle--not an unusualoccurrence on still days during the wet season--is unaccompanied by thudand shock. Encompassing vines and creepers, colossal in strength andoverwhelming in weight, which have strained the tree to breaking point, ease their burden down, muffling its descent, though now and again theprimal rupture of trunk or branch rings out a sharp protest, andfollowing the fall is silence--that varying, elusive sensation not to heexpressed by the absence of actual noise. There are silences which tinkle or buzz in the ears, causing them to achewith stress and strain; silences dull and sad as a wad of wool; silencesas searching as the odour of musk--as soothing as the perfume of violets. The crisp silence of the seashore when absolute calm prevails is asdifferent from the strained, sodden, padded silence of the jungle as thesavour of olives from the raw insipidity of white of egg, for thecumbersome mantle of leafage is the surest stifler of noise, the truestcherisher of silence. The most imperious hour of this realm of silence is three o'clock in theafternoon, when the sun has absorbed the energies of the most volatile ofbirds and insects. An hour later all may begin to assert themselves aftera reviving, siesta; yet during the intensest hour of silence any abruptnoise--a call, or whistle, or bark of a dog--finds an immediate response. No sound has been heard for an hour. All the birds have been strickendumb or have been banished, yet as an echo to any violation of thesilence comes the sweet, mellow, inquisitive note of the "moor-goody" (touse the black's name, for the shrike thrush). The bird seems fond ofsound and will answer in trills and chuckles attempts to imitate itscall. The condition of perfect silence is not for this noisy sphere. The artistin so-called silences merely registers certain more or less delicatesound-waves flowing in easy contours, which others have not the leisureto distinguish. Often have I found myself as I strolled gloating over theexquisite absence of sound--enjoying in full mental relish the quaint andrefined sensation. Yet when I have stopped and listened determinedly, viciously analysing my sensations, have I become aware of a hubbub offrail and interblended sounds. That which I had thought to be distilledsilence, was microphonic Babel--an intimate commingling of analogousnoises varying in quality and intensity. By wilful resistance to whatFalstaff called "the disease of not listening, " I have been privileged tobecome aware of the singing of a quiet tune, some of the phrases of whichwere directly derivative from inarticulate vegetation--the thud of glossyblue quandongs on the soft floor of the jungle, the clicking of adiscarded leaf as it fell from topmost twigs down through the strata offoliage, the bursting of a seed-pod, the patter of rejects from themillion pink-fruited fig, overhanging the beach, the whisper of leaves, the faint squeal where interlocked branches fret each other unceasingly, the sigh of phantom zephyrs too elusive to be felt. Echoes from vistas of silence far in the jungle lost their individualityin a sob. Grasshoppers clinked in the forest, the hum of bees andbeetles, the fluty plaint of a painted pigeon far in the gloom, thefurtive scamper of scrub fowl among leaves made tender by decay, thesplash of startled fish in the shadows, commingled and blended to theaccompaniment of that subdued aerial buzz by which Nature manifests themore secret of her functions and art--that ineffable minstrelsy to whichher silent battalions keep step. Preoccupation, the whirl of my owntemperate thoughts, scared silence, while as soon as the mental machinewas stilled, the very trees became vocal. Thus have I caught fleetsilences as they passed in chase of fugitive sounds. Since the morning stars sang together, absolute silence has not visitedthe uneasy earth. In this Silent Isle the ears-- "Set to small measure, deaf to all the beats Of the large music rolling o'er the world"-- become almost supernaturally alert, catching the faintest sound. Kinglake, who heard in the Syrian desert while dozing on his camel andfor ten minutes after awakening "the innocent bells of Marlen, "attributed the phenomenon to the heat of the sun, the perfect dryness, the deep stillness, "having rendered the ears liable to tingle under thepassing touch of some mere memory that may have swept across my brain ina moment of sleep. " Homesick sailors, too, lost in the profound stillnessof mid-ocean, have listened with fearful wonder to the phantom chiming oftheir village bells. Apart from the tricks which memory plays upon the solitary individual, inviting him by scents and sounds to scenes of the past, I find that themoist unadulterated atmosphere is a most compliant medium for thetransmission of certain sorts of sound waves. The actual surface of thesea--differing from its resonant bulk--seems to sap up, rather thanconvey sounds, though on given planes above its level sounds travelunimpeded for remarkable distances. The resonance of the atmosphereappears at times to be dependent on the tone and quality rather than onthe abruptness and loudness of the sound. I have listened with strangedelight to the rustle of the sea on the mainland beach--two and a halfmiles distant--when the air has been so idle that the sensitivecasuarinas--ever haunted by some secret woe upon which to moan andsob--have been mute and unable to find excuse for the faintest sigh. Thebranches which thinly shaded me hung limp and still and yet the soft, white-footed sea marking time on the harder sands of the mainland setdistance at naught in one continuous murmur. However listless the air, the coral-reef, though its crowded life isinarticulate and mute is ever brisk with minor but strenuous noises. Splashes and gurgles, sighs and gasps, coughs and sneezes, sharp clicksand snaps and snarls--telling of alarms, tragic escapes, and violentdeath-dealings--blend with the continuous murmur of the sea, and areoccasionally punctuated by sudden slaps and thuds as a blundering, hammer-head shark pursues a high-leaping eagle-ray, or the red-backed seaeagle dashes down upon a preoccupied bream, the impact of its firm breastembossing a white rosette on the blue water. In the absence of vibratory media the noises of the reef are isolated. Furtive, echoless--staccato accidentals and dull dissonances out of tunewith the soothing theme of the sea. Hence, when, as I wandered absorbedin an inspection of minor details, and a mellow whistle, constant butvarying in volume, broke in upon my musings, it was vain to repress thethrill of excitement. A sound so foreign and incongruous also had acertain element of mystery. In a flash unsensational ponderings weredisplaced by a picture of a steamer in distress far away. Had I not on asimilar occasion of a secret-disclosing tide heard through seven miles ofinsulted and sullen air the flop of an inch or so of dynamite exploded bya heartless barbarian for the illicit destruction of vivacious fish? HadI not listened with amazement to the buzz of a steamer's propeller andthe throb of her engines six miles away when unaccustomed "nigger-heads"of coral showed yellow in the sun? The calm, shallow sea conveyed thesounds with marvellous fidelity and surety. Yet this unaccountable callcame from a quarter whence steamers may not venture, and was I not theonly whistler within a range of many miles? No steamer ever gloated orwarned or appealed in so fluty a note--plaintive, slightly tremulous, nervously imploring. Alert, I tracked the strange sound along an eccentric course to itshaunt, finding nothing more than the empty shell of a huge sea urchin, which in accord with a whim of the sea had floated and was now held aloftslantwise to the lips of the wind, firm in the branching tines ofstag's-horn coral. A rustic pipe--giving forth a sonorous moan, nowcooing and crooning, now bold and confident, and again irresolute andunschooled. Not too sure of instrumentalism, oft the note was hesitating, soliciting a compliant ear as became a modest wooer of the muses, polishing his unceremonious serenade to some, shy mermaid, or hooting atshyer silence. A new art, a rare accomplishment! So the musician was diffident, half-ashamed, half-shocked at his audacity, wholly self-conscious;earnest to please yet doubtful of the reception awaiting his untutored, artless play. Gathering courage, the breeze moistened his lips and atriumphant spasm of sound boomed out, and again the tremulous undertoneprevailed. It was more than a serenade--a primitive sensation fromprimitive matter--a vital function, for as long, as the wind blew anduntil the lapping sea gurgled in its throat and its note ceased with thebursting of a bubble, there, held fixedly by living coral, the dead shellcould not choose but whistle. So I left it to its wayward pipings, happyto have been the sole auditor to a purely natural, albeit mechanical, monotone. Upon such an instrument did the heavenly maid beguile the timewhen she was yet uncouthly young--at the hoydenish age when men alsocajoled her with clicking sticks and the beating of hollow logs, andmusic was but a variety of noise. CHAPTER V FRUITS AND SCENTS "The pot herbs of the gods. "--THOREAU. Those branches of the cultural enterprise which depend upon my ownunaided exertions fail, I am bound to confess, consistently. Howeverpartial to the results of the gardener's art, I admit with lamentationslack of the gardener's touch. Since bereft of black labour by theseductions of rum and opium, the plantation of orange-trees has sadlydegenerated; the little grove of bananas has been choked with grossover-bearing weeds, the sweet-potato patch has been absorbed, thecoffee-trees elbowed out of existence. But how may one man of manyavocations withstand acres of riotous and exulting weeds? Therefore do Iattempt atonement for obvious neglect by the scarcely less laboriousdelight of acclimatising plants from distant tropical countries. A valued and disinterested friend sends seeds which I plant for thebenefit of posterity. Who will eat of the fruit of the one durian which Ihave nurtured so carefully and fostered so fondly? Packed in granulatedcharcoal as an anti-ferment, the seed with several others which failedcame from steamy Singapore, and over all the stages of germination Ibrooded with wonder and astonishment. Since the durian is endemic in avery restricted portion of the globe, and since those who have watched thevital process may be comparatively few in number and therefore unlikelyto be jaded by the truisms of these pages, a few words in explanation maynot be resented. The seed of the durian is roughly cordate, about an inchand a quarter long. In the form of a disproportionately stout andblundering worm the sprout of my seed issued from the soil, peered vaguelyinto daylight, groped hesitatingly and arched over to bury its apex in thesoil, and from this point the delicately white primal leaves sprang, andthe growth has been continuous though painfully slow ever since. Perhaps the deliberate development of the plant is gauged by eagernessand anticipation. Do I not occasionally indulge the hope of living longenough to sample the first fruits? When in such humour I long for theyears to come, and thus does my good friend stimulate expectations:-- "I have been spending a small fortune in durians, they are relativelycheap and very good this season in Singapore. Like all the good thingsin Nature--tempests, breakers, sunsets, &c. Durian is indescribable. It is meat and drink and an unrivalled delicacy besides, and you may gorgeto repletion and never have cause for penitence. It is the one case whereNature has tried her hand at the culinary art and beaten all the CORDONBLEUE out of heaven and earth. Would to Heaven she had been more lavishof her essays! "Though all durians are, perhaps, much alike and not divided like applesand mangoes into varieties, the flavour varies much according to size andripeness. In some the taste of the custard surrounding the heart-likeseeds rises almost to the height of passion, rapture, or mild delirium. Yesterday (21st June, 1907) about 2 p. M. I devoured the contents of afruit weighing over 10 lb. At 6 p. M. I was too sleepy to eat anything, and thence had twelve hours of almost unbroken slumber. " Since my friend is not an enthusiast in regard to tropical fruits, hisreverie is all the more reasonable. The Dyaks, who are passionately fond of the durian, distinguished it bythe title of DIEN, which signifies the fruit PAR EXCELLENCE. Under suchcircumstances my anticipations are justifiable. To my friend I am alsoindebted for several young plants of the sapodilla plum (ACHRAS SAPOTA), sold in some parts of India under the spurious title of MANGOSTEEN, andconsidered to be one of the most luscious fruits of the tropics. Like thedurian, the sapodilla plum grows all too slowly for my precipitatetastes, though I console myself plenteously with mangoes. Now, the mango in its infinite variety possesses charms as engaging asthose of Cleopatra. Rash and vain though it be, I am in such holidayhumour in respect of the sweet anticipation of the durian that I cannotrefrain from an attempt to chant the praises of the "little lower"fruit. Yet it is "Beyond the power of language to enfold The form of beauty smiling at his heart" whose palate is tickled with such dulcet, such fantastic flavours. How may one hope to externalise with astringent ink the aestheticsensation of the assimilation of gusts of perfume? A mango might be designated the unspeakable eatable, for who is qualifiedto determine the evanescent savours and flavours which a prime specimenof the superb fruit so generously yields? Take of a pear all that ismellow, of a peach all that is luscious, of a strawberry all that isfragrant, of a plum all that is kindly, of an apricot all its aroma, ofcream all its smoothness. Commingle with musk and honey, coriander andaniseed, smother with the scent of musk roses, blend with cider, and themixture may convey a dim sense of some of the delectable qualities of onekind of mango. To do justice to the produce of the very next tree anotherlist of triumphant excellences might be necessary. A first-class mango iscompact of so many sensations to the palate, its theme embraces such rareand delicate surprises, that the true artist in fruit-flavours is fain toindulge in paraphrase and paradox when he attempts to record its virtuesand--yes, its vanities. There are mangoes and mangoes. The very worst is not to be whollydespised. For the best there are due moods and correct environments. Forsome, the lofty banquet-hall, splendid with reflected lights and theflash of crystal and silver and the triumphal strains of a full bandhidden by a screen of palms and tree-ferns. There are others best to beeaten to slow, soft music in a flower-bedizened glade of fairy-land. September is the season of scents. Partly as a result of the dryness ofthe month, the mango trees continue to bloom as though each haddetermined (for the time being) to abandon all notion of utility and todevote itself solely to the keeping up of appearances. Appearancesare well worth maintaining, for however trivial from a florist's pointof view the flower of the mango in detail, yet when for six weeks on endthe trees present uniform masses of buff and pink, varied with shadesof grey and pale green, and with the glister of wine-tinted, ribbon-likeleaves, and the air is alert with rich and spicy odour, there is ampleapology ever ready for the season and the direct results thereof. Thetrees are manifestly over-exerting themselves, in a witless competitionwith others which may never boast of painted, scented fruit. There isnot a sufficient audience of aesthetics to tolerate the change of whichthe mango seems ambitious. In Japan, where the cultured crunch hard and gritty fruits, peach andplum trees may be encouraged to expend all their force and prime in theproduction of bloom. Vagrant Englishmen are still so benighted that thedesire for sweet and aromatic fruit vaunts over that which gives delightmerely to the eye. But to assume indifference to present conditions, todecline to accept in full measure the redolence of the season whichstands for spring in tropical Australia, to refuse to be grateful for itall, would be inhuman. The limes have flowered and scattered their petals; the pomeloes (theforbidden fruit) display posies of the purest white and of the richestodour, an odour which in its depth and drowsy essence epitomises theluxurious indolence of the tropics; the lemons and oranges are adding tothe swectness and whiteness, and yet the sum of the scent of all thesetrees of art and cultivation is poor and insipid compared with the resultsof two or three indigenous plants that seem to shrink from flaunting theirgraces while casting sweetness on the desolate air. Just now, in some situations, the old gold orchid rivals the mango inshowiness and fragrance; the pencil orchid dangles white aigrettes fromthe trunks and branches of hundreds of trees, saturating the air with asubtle essence as of almonds and honey; and the hoya hangs festoons fromrocks and trees in such lavish disregard of space and the breathings ofless virile vegetation, that the sensual scent borders on the excessive. On the hill-tops, among rocks gigantic of mould and fantastic of shape, a less known orchid with inconspicuous flowers yields a perfumereminiscent of the violet; the shady places on the flats are showy withgiant crinum lilies. It is the season of scents, and the native, untended, unpampered plantsare easily and gracefully first in an uncatalogued competition. Hauntingconceit on the part of the mango will not permit acknowledgment ofdefeat; but no impartial judge would hesitate in making his selectionfrom among plants which in maturing make no formal appeal whatever toman, but in some cases keep aloof from notice and renown, whiledissipating scents which fertilise the brain, stimulating the flowers offancy. Not all the scents which sweeten the air are salubrious. Severalare distinctly injurious. Men do not actually "die of a rose in aromaticpain, " though many may become uncomfortable and fidgety by sniffingdelicious wattle-blossom; and one of the crinum lilies owes its specifictitle, (PESTILENTIS) to the ill effects of its stainless flowers, thosewho camp in places where the plant is plentiful being apt to be seizedwith violent sickness. An attractive fruit with an exalted title(DIOSPYROS HEBECAPRA) scalds the lips and tongue with caustic-likeseverity, and a whiff from a certain species of putrescent fungus producesalmost instantaneous giddiness, mental anguish, and temporary paralysis. The most elemental of all incenses--that which arises from warm, dry soilsprinkled by a sudden shower--is undoubtedly invigorating. The spirituousscent of melaleuca-trees burdens the air, not as an exhalation but as anarrogant physical part of the Isle, while a wattle (ACACIA CUNNINGHAMI)shyly proclaims its flowering by a scent as intangible and fleeting as aphantom. "The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. " Not so inrespect of the organ of smell. The more educated, the more practised nosedetects the subtler odour and is the more offended by grossness. And uponwhat flower has been bestowed the most captivating of perfumes? Not therose, or the violet, or the hyacinth, or any of the lilies or stephanotisor boronia. The land of forbidding smells produces it; it is known toEuropeans as the Chinese magnolia. Quaint and as if carved skilfully inivory, after the manner of, the inhabitants of its countrymen, the petalstumble apart at the touch, while fragrance issues not in whiffs but insallies, saturating the atmosphere with the bouquet of rare old portcommingled with the aroma of ripe pears and the scent of musk roses. Some of the flowering plants of old England here dwell contentedly, leafage being free, however few and dwarfed in some cases the bloom. Roses, violets, honeysuckle, pansies, cosmos, phlox, balsams, sunflowers, zinnias, blue Michaelmas daisies, dianthus, nasturtiums, &c. , are oncommon ground with purely tropical plants, while ageratum has become apestiferous weed. An early or late arrival among flowers and fruit cannot be hailed orchidden where there is but trifling seasonable variation. Withoutbeginning and without end, the perpetual motion of tropical vegetation isbut slightly influenced by the weather. Who is to say that this plant isearly or that late, when early or late, like Kipling's east and west, are one? It is not that all flowering trees and plants are of continuousgrowth. Many do have their appointed seasons, producing flowers and fruitaccording to date and in orderly progress, leaving to other species theduty of maintaining a consecutive, unbroken series which defies themechanism of cold countries with their cast-iron calendars. Here but three or four trees deign to recognise the cool season by theshedding of their leaves. FICUS CUNNINGHAMI discards--by no meansconsistently--its foliage in obedience to some spasmodic impulse, when themany thin branches, thick-strewn with pink fruit, stand out against thesky as aerial coral, fantastically dyed. But in two or three daysburnished brown leaves burst from the embraces of elongated buds which, rejected, fall--pink phylacteries--to decorate the sand, while ina week the tree wears a new and glistening garment of green. Theflame-tree (ERYTHRINA INDICA) slowly abandons its foliage; but before thelast yellow-green leaf is cast aside the fringe of the blood-red robe soonto overspread has appeared. The white cedar (MELIA CONFERTA) permits itsleaves to become yellow and to fall lingeringly, but its bareness ismerely for a week or so. So also does the foliage of the moo-jee(TERMINALIA MELANOCARPA) turn to deepest red and is discarded, but soorderly is the disrobing and the never varying fashion of foliage thatthe tree averts the scorn of the most respectable of neighbours. Month after month of warm days and plenteous rain during the early partof 1909 produced an effect in the acacias which cannot be too thankfullyrecorded. The blooming season extended from March 29th to July 17th, beginning with ACACIA CUNNINHHAMI and ending with the third flush of A. AULACOCARPA. During a third of the year whiffs of the delicious perfumeof the wattle were never absent, for two flushes of A. FLAVESCENS filledin the brief intervals between those of AULACOCARPA. This latter, thecommonest of the species on the island, produces its flowers in longspikes in the axils of the leaves on the minor branches, weighting suchbranches with semi-pendulous plumes laden with haunting perfume. Thefragrance of the bounteous, sacrificial blooms saturates miles of air, while their refuse tricks out the webs of spiders great and small withfictitious favours, and carpets the earth with inconstant gold. CHAPTER VI HIS MAJESTY THE SUN "And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol, In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd Amidst the ether, whose medicinable eye Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil. " SHAKESPEARE. Twelve years of open-air life in tropical Queensland persuade me that Iam entitled to prerogative of speech, not as an oracle or a prophet onthe prodigious subject of the weather at large, but of the effect thereofon my sensations and constitution, since the greater part of that periodhas been spent under conditions calculated to put them to the test. Especially has the sun given penetrating tastes of his quality andbestowed enduring marks of his favour. During these twelve joyful yearsthe annual rainfall has averaged over 131 inches, the average number ofdays on which rain has fallen being 134. Of the heat of the sun during thehottest month of the year let two unstudied records speak. As January 29, 1907, gave early promise of exceptional heat, I watched the thermometerclosely, noting the consistency with which its ups and downs tallied withmy perceptions These are the readings: Deg. 6 a. M. 7510 a. M. 94Noon 9612. 30 p. M. 971 p. M. 983 p. M. 974 p. M. 885 p. M. 856 p. M. 82 In the sun at 1 p. M. The glass registered 108°, at 2 p. M. 110°, andat 3 p. M. 107°. A thunderstorm accounted for the rather earlyculmination of the temperature and its rapid decline. The shade temperature of January, 1910, at 6. 30 a. M. Was 73°, at 3p. M. 88°. The sun registered 98° on the hottest day of that monthwhen my diary tells me I took part in the erection of rough fencing, horse-driving, and lifting and carrying logs. This salubrious sun does not excuse man from day labour in unshadedscenes. During January, I, who am blessed with but slight muscularstrength and no inherent powers of resistance to noontide flames, havetoiled laboriously without registering more than due fatigue. Thoseaccustomed to manual work experience but little inconvenience. It wouldbe palpably indiscreet and vain to say that outdoor work in excessiveheat involves no discomfort, but it may be truthfully asserted thatmidday suspension therefrom, though pleasant, is not absolutely necessary, at any rate where the environment is such as this. Bounteous rain and glorious sunshine in combination might seem toconstitute a climate unsuitable to persons of English birth, or at leasttrying to their preconceptions of the ideal. My own experience isentirely, enthusiastically favourable. I proffer myself as an example, since there is none other upon whom publicity may be thrust, and reallyin the spirit of performing an inevitable duty, such duty beingcomprehended in the fervent desire to proclaim from the lowly height ofmy housetop how health unbought and happiness unrealisable may be enjoyedin this delicately equable clime. When I landed feebly on September 28, 1897, and crawled up on the beachbeyond the datum of the most recent high tide to throw myself prone onthe consoling sand I was worn, world-weary, and pale, and weighed 8 st. 4lb. Now my weight is 10 st. 2 lb. , and my complexion uniformly sun-tinted. Perhaps it would be more exact to say that my uniform has been bestowedby the sun, because having early discovered the needlessness ofclothes--that "the body is more than raiment"--most of the apparel inwhich civilisation flaunts was promptly discarded, and through the fewthin things retained the sun soon worked his will. Latterly while in theopen air I have abandoned the principal part of the superfluous remnant, to the enjoyment of additional comfort and the increase ofself-complacency. As a final violation of my reserve be it proclaimedthat to the super-excellence of the air of the Island, to the tonic of thesea, and to the graciousness of his Majesty the Sun--in whose radiancehave I gloried--do I owe, perhaps, salvation from that which tributaryfriends in their meed of tenderness predicted--an untimely grave. It is natural that those who live in cold climates and who wear for theircomfort clothing designed to exclude the air from all parts of the bodysave the face should be steeped in conservatism; but the farther oneventures from the chaste opinion of the world the less subserviency heshows to customs and habits authoritative and relevant amongcentury-settled folk, and the more readily he adapts himself to hisenvironment the sooner does he become a true citizen of the country whichhe has chosen. Preconceptions he must discard as unfit, if not fatal. Heis an alien until he learns to house, feed, and dress himself inaccordance with the inviolable laws which Nature prescribes to each andevery portion of her spacious and discordant realm. Was I to remain fully clad and comfortless, or the reverse? Theindulgence of my sensations has brought about revolutionary changes ofcostume and custom. Such changes were bound to react mentally, for arethey not merely the symbols of ideas? Once it was unseemly, if notuncleanly, to perspire freely. Now the function is looked upon asnecessary, wholesome, and the sign of one's loyalty to the sun. The suncompels thoughts. Daily, hourly does he exact homage and reign supremeover mind, body, and estate. So commanding is his rule, so apparent hisgoodwill, so speedy his punishment for sins of disobedience, soinfluential his presence, that I have come to look up to him as thetranscendent manifestation of that power which ordains life and allits privileges and abolishes all the noisesomeness of death. Alive, he nourishes, comforts, consoles, corrects us. Dead, all that is mortalhe transforms into ethereal and vital gases. Obey him, and he blesses;flout him, and you perish. An old historian of sport quaintly expressed a correct theory as to thevirtue of profuse perspiration: "And when the hunters do their officeon horseback and on foot, they sweat often; then if they have any evil inthem it must come away in the sweating; so that he keep from cold afterthe heat. " So does the wise man in the tropics regard perspiration--not asan offensive, certainly not as a pleasant function, but as one that isreally inevitable and conducive to cleanliness and health. Can the man who swathes his body in ever so many separate, superimposed, artificial skins, and who is careful to banish purifying air from contactwith him, save on the rare occasions of the bath, be as healthful as hewho furnishes himself with but a single superfluous skin, and that asthin and penetrable as the laws which hold society together permit? The play of the sterilising sun on the brown, moist skin is not onlytolerable but delightful--refreshing and purifying the body, while evenlight cotton clothing saturated to the dripping stage with perspirationrepresents the acme of discomfort, and if unchanged a good deal of theactually unwholesome. All the hotter hours of the day have I worked in the bush felling trees, sawing and splitting logs, and adzing rough timber, the while November'sunclouded sun evaporated perspiration almost as speedily as it flowedfrom high-pressure pores. There was no sensation of overheat, althoughthe arms might weary with the swinging of the heavy maul and the backrespond with aches to the stiffened attitude imposed by the adze. Then at sundown to plunge into the tepid sea, to frolic and splashtherein, while the red light in the west began to pale and the pink andsilver surface of the ocean faded to grey; then to a vigorous soaping andscrubbing in the shady creek, where the orange-tinted drupes ofpandanus-palms give to the cool water a balsamic savour; then, clad inclean cotton, to the evening meal with a prodigious appetite; and to bedat nine o'clock to sleep murmurlessly for eight hours--tell me if thusyou are not fitted for another day's toil in the sublimating sunshine! A medical man on the staff of one of the earliest of European voyages inthe Pacific Ocean expressed the opinion that the "cutaneous disorderswhich so generally affect the inhabitants in the neighbourhood of theequator are caused by an acrimonious alteration of the humours brought onby the great heat of these climates"; and he adds: "I have no doubtthat the constant action of the air and sun upon the skin of the peoplewho go continually naked contributes much to these maladies, and rendersthem more obstinate. " Though it would be presumptuous to pose as counselfor the defence of his Majesty the Sun, one who is blessed with so manyof the privileges he bestows cannot ignore so scandalous albeit musty alibel which time, the only dispassionate judge, has long since condemnedin respect of the generality of manhood. It is surprising, too, thatByron, though he revelled in the sea, was also under a delusion as to themore vitalising element, for he fancied the scorching rays to be"impregnate with disease, " whereas the sun, the sea, and, in lesserdegree, the torrid sand do actually represent "the spice and salt whichseason a man, " and are the elements whence are derived many of hiscleanest, superfine thoughts. Kinship with his Majesty the Sun of the tropics is not to be claimedoffhand. The imperious luminary does not grant his letters-patent to all. Very few does he permit to wanton in his presence without exactingprobation. He is a rare respecter of persons. Though there are faces, like King Henry V. 's, which the sun will not condescend to burn, sometimes he smites savagely. He makes of the countenances of his foes afry and of their bodies a comprehensive granulation. But if you findfavour in his eyes--in those discriminating, ruthless, sight-absorbingglances which none may reciprocate--accept your privileges with a thrillof chastened pride that you may bask in his presence and be worthy hislivery and of gladsome mind. The harpings of the sweet singer of Israelcould not have been more effectual in the dispersal of depression thanthe steadfast beams of the sun supreme in tropic sky. Let the sun scorch the skin and blister it until it peels, and scorchesand peels again, and scorches and peels alternately until, having no moredominion over the flesh, it tinctures the very blood and transmutes mereruddiness to bronze. Thereafter you know not for ever the pallor of thestreet for have you not the gold of the sun in your blood and his ironin your bones? Of the graciousness of the sun a special instance has been preserved inmy erratic diary. Here it is: November 24, 1908: Spent from 10 a. M. To1. 15 p. M. On the beach and on the Isle of Purtaboi, bare-limbed, bare-bodied, save for scant cotton pants. Above high-water mark the sandwas scorchingly hot to the feet. The heat of the glowing coral drift onthe Isle forced me promptly to amend my methodic gait to a quick step, though my hardened soles soon became indifferent. Nutmeg pigeons werenesting plentifully on trees and shrubs amongst masses of orchids, and onledges almost obscured by grass. Brown-winged terns occupied cool nooksand crannies in the rocks, and other species of terns had eggreserves--they cannot be called nests--on the unshaded coral bank. Aftergazing intently on the white drift, eagerly making mental notes of anyremarkable mutations in the colouring of the thickly strewn eggs, andadmiring the fortitude or indifference with which the fledglings enduredthe sizzling heat, I found myself subject to an optical illusion, forwhen I looked up and abroad the brightly gleaming sea had been changed toinky purple, the hills of the mainland to black. Though absolutelycloudless, the sky seemed oppressed with slaty gloom, and the leaves ofthe trees near at hand assumed a leaden green. For a few seconds I wasconvinced that some almost unearthly meteorological phenomenon, beforewhich the most resolute of men might cower, had developed withtheatrical suddenness. Then I realised that the intense glare of thecoral, of which I had been unconscious, and the quivering heat rays hadtemporarily deprived my vision of appreciation of ordinary tints. Saturated by vivid white light, my bemused sight swayed under temporaryaberration. I was conscious of illusion creating symptoms, tipsy withexcess of sunshine. This condition passing, I found the atmosphere, though hot, pleasant and refreshing, the labour of rowing across thebay involving no unusual exertion or sense of discomfort. During mybrief absence the beach of the island seemed to have absorbed stillmore effectively solar rays. "Scoot" (my terrier, exulting companionon land and sea) skipped in sprightly fashion across the burning zone, while I was fain to walk on the grass, the sandy track being impracticableto bare feet. In the house protests against the intolerance of the sunwere rife. Crockery on the kitchen shelves seemed to have beenartificially heated, while the head of an axe exposed to the glare wasblisteringly hot. Yet to me in the open air, most scantily draped andwearing a frayed, loopholed, and battered straw hat, the sunbath hadbeen a pleasant and exhilarating indulgence in no way remarkable on thescore of temperature. Dress, other than fulfils the dictates of decency, is not onlyunimportant but incongruous and vexatious. During bright but cloudlessdays the less worn the higher the degree of comfort, and upon comforthappiness depends. Sick of a surfeit of pleasures, the whining monarch, counselled by his soothsayers, ransacked his kingdom for the shirtof a happy subject. He found the enviable man--a toil-worn hind who hadnever fidgeted under the discomfort of the badge of respectability. In his native state the black fellow is nearer the ideal than the whitealien in his body clothes, starched shirt, high collar, cloth suit, andfelt hat. The needs and means of the black are non-existent. His dresscorresponds, whereas the white usurper of his territory--servile to themalignant impositions of custom and fashion--suffers from generalsuperfluity and winces under his sufferings. Would he not be wiser owningsubservience to the sun, and adopting dress suitable to actual needs andthe dominant characteristics of the land of the sun? He would pant less, drink less, perspire less, be more wholesome and sweeter in temper, andmore worthy of citizenship under the sun, against whose sway there canbe no revolt. Kings and queens are under his rule and governance. Hiscompanionship disdains ceremonious livery, scorns ribbands, and scoffs atgew-gaws. Bronze is his colour, native worth the only wear. Whosoever has seen (himself unseen) an unsophisticated North Queenslandblack parading his native strand has seen a lord of creation--an inferiorspecies, but still a lord. His bold front, fluent carriage, springy step, alert, confident, superior air proclaim him so, innocent though he be ofthe frailest insignia of civilisation. The monarch arrayed in sevencolours ascends the steps of his throne with no prouder mien than that inwhich the naked child of the sun lords it over the empty spaces. In civility to his Majesty the Sun do I also proudly testify to histranscendent gifts as a painter in the facile media which here prevail. Look upon his coming and his going--an international, universal property, an ecstatic delight, an awesome marvel, upon which we gaze, of which wecannot speak, lacking roseate phrases. A landscape painter also is he, for have I not seen his boldest brush at work and stood amazed at themagnificence of his art? Do those who live in temperate and cold climates realise the effect ofthe sun's heat on the sea--how warm, how hot, blessed by his beams, thewater may become? The luxuriousness of bathing in an ocean having atemperature of 108° is not for the multitude who crowd in reeking citieswhich the sun touches tremulously and slantwise. On November 21, 1909 (far be it from me to bundle out into an apatheticworld whimpering facts lacking the legitimacy of dates), we bathed atMoo-jee in shallow water on the edge of an area of denuded coral reeffully two miles long by a mile broad. For three hours a considerableportion of the reef had been exposed to the glare of the sun, and theincoming tide filched heat, stored by solar rays, from coral and stonesand sand. The first wallow provoked an exclamation of amazement, for thewater was several degrees hotter than the air, and it was the hottesthour (3 p. M. ) of an extremely hot day. No thermometer was at hand toregister the actual temperature of the water, but subsequent tests at thesame spot under similar conditions proved that on the thermometerlessoccasion the sea was about 108° F. --that is, the surface stratum of aboutone foot, which averaged from 4° to 6° F. Hotter than the air. Beneath, the temperature seemed ordinary--corresponding with that of the water ahundred yards out from the shore. This delectable experience revealed thatin bathing something more is comprehended than mere physical pleasure. Ittouched and tingled a refined aesthetic emotion, an enlightenedconsciousness of the surroundings, remote from gross bodily sensations. For the time being one was immersed, not in heated salt water only but inthe purifying essence of the scene--the glowing sky, stainless, pallid, and pure; the gleaming, scarcely visible, fictitious sea and the bold blueisles beyond; the valley whence whiffs of cool, fern-filtered, odorousair issued shyly from the shadowed land of the jungle through theembowered lips of the creek. The blend of these elements reacted on theperceptions, rendering the bathe in two temperatures that of a lifetimeand a means also whereby the clarified senses were first stimulated andthen soothed. With an occasional lounge on the soft sand, when the bodybecame clad in a costume of mica spangles and finely comminuted shellgrit, the bathe continued for two hours, with an after effect of sleekand silky content. Another date (January 10, 1910) may verify details of such a sybariticsoak in the sea as is to be indulged in only in the tropics and remotefrom the turmoil of man. Between noon and 3 p. M. The thermometer hangingon the wall of the house under the veranda, five feet from the corrugatediron roof, wavered between 89° and 90°, while the unshaded sun registered98°. My noontide bath failed to detect any difference in temperaturebetween air and water, and putting my perceptions to scientific testfound the sea to be heated to 90°. With the bulb buried in the sand sixfeet from the edge of the water, the mercury rose to 112° in a fewseconds and remained stationary. It being far more blissful to lounge in the sea than on the veranda, Isat down, steeped chin deep in crystal clearness, warmth, and silence, passively surrendering myself to a cheap yet precious sensation. Aroundme were revealed infinitely fragile manifestations of life, scarcely lesslimpid than the sea, sparkling, darting, twisting--strong and vigorous ofpurpose. Tremulous filaments of silver flashed and were gone. No spacebut was thickly peopled with what ordinarily passes as the invisible, butwhich now, plainly to behold, basked and revelled in the blaze--productsof the sun. Among the grains of sand and flakes of mica furtivebubblings, burrowings, and upheavals betrayed a benighted folk to whomthe water was as a firmament into which they might not venture to ascend. Sought out by the sun, translucent fish revealed their presence byspectral shadows on the sand, and, traced by the shadows, becamediscernible, though but little the more substantial. This peace-lulled, beguiling, sea, teeming with myriad forms scintillatingon the verge of nothingness--obscure, elusive, yet mighty in their waywardway--soothed with never so gentle, so dulcet a swaying. Thissmooth-bosomed nurse was pleased to fondle to drowsiness a loving mortalresponsive to the blissfulness of enchantment. Warm, comforting, stainless, she swathed me with rose-leaf softness while whisperinga lullaby of sighs. Her salty caresses lingered on my lips, as Igazed dreamily intent upon determining the non-existing skyline. Yet, with no demarcation of the allied elements this rimless, flickeringmoon, to what narrow zone, I pondered, is man restricted! He swimsfeebly; if he but immerse his lips below the shining surface for a spaceto be measured by seconds, he becomes carrion. On the mountain-tops he isdeadly sick. Thus musing, the sorcery of the sea became invincible. Mythoughts drifted, until I dozed, and dozing dreamt--a vague, incomprehensible dream of floating, in some purer ether, some diviner airthan ever belonged to wormy earth, and woke to realities and a skate--alittle friendly skate which had snoodled beside me, its transparentshovel-snout half buried in the sand. Immune from the opiate of the sea, though motionless, with wide, watery-yellow eyes, it gazed upon me as afascinated child might upon a strange shape monstrous though benign, andas I raised my hand in salutation wriggled off, less afraid than curious. Beyond, a shadow--a disc-shaped shadow--drifted with a regular pulsatingmotion. Shadowlike, my thoughts, too, drifted, but how remote from thescene! They transported me to Thisbe--Thisbe who "Saw the lion's shadow ere himself And ran dismayed away. " How different the shadow of the moment from that of the king of beastswhich led to the tragedy under the walls of Babylon, where the blood ofthe lovers dyed the mulberry red! It is the evidence of a bloodless thing, a rotund and turreted medusa, the leader of a disorderly procession, soundless and feeble as becomes beings almost as impalpable as the seaitself. Shadows of fish exquisitely framed flit and dance. I see naughtbut shadows, dim and thin, for I doze and dream again; and so fantastictime, whose footfalls are beads and bubbles, passes, and grosser affairsbeckon me out of the sunlit sea. Oh, great and glorious and mighty sun! Oh, commanding, majestical sun!Superfine invigorator; bold illuminator of the dim spaces of the brain;originator of the glow! which distils its rarest attars! Am I not thytrue, thy joyful knight? Hast thou not touched my toughened, unflinchingshoulders with the flat of thy burnished sword? Do I not behold itsjewelled hilt flashing with pearls and precious stones as thou sheathestit for the night among the purple Western hills? Do I not hail its goldengleams among the fair-barked trees what time each scented morn I milkmy skittish goats? CHAPTER VII A TROPIC NIGHT "Come and compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air, Nor fix on fond bodies to circumscribe thy prayer. " BYRON. For a week the wet monsoon had frolicked insolently along the coast, theintermittent north-east breeze, pert of promise but flabby of performance, giving way to evening calms. Then came slashing south-easters which, having discourteously bundled the cloud banks over the mountains, retiredwith a spasm upon the reserves of the Pacific. All day long the sea had been pale blue with changeful silvery lights, and now the moon, halfway down on her westward course, shines over ascene solemn in its stillness--the peace and repose more impressive thanall the recent riot and haste. Here on the verge of the ocean, at the extreme limit of the spit of soft, shell-enamelled sand, where the breakers had roared in angry monotone, the ears thrilled with tender sounds. Though all the winds were dead theundertones of the sea linger in lulling harmonies. The tepid tide on thewarm sand crisply rustles and hisses as when satin is crumpled andsmartly rent. Weird, resonant tappings, moans, and gurgles come from ahollow log drifting, with infinite slowness. Broken sighs and gasps tellwhere the ripples advancing in echelon wander and lose their way amongblocks of sandstone. As the tide rose it prattled and gurgled, toyingwith tinkling shells and clinking coral, each tone separate and distinct, however thin and faint. My solitary watch gives the rare delight ofanalysing the night thoughts of the ocean, profound in its slumber thoughdreamily conscious of recent conflict with the winds. All the frailundertones suppressed, during the bullying day now have audience. Soundswhich crush and crowd have wearied and retired. The timid and shyventure forth to join the quiet revelry of the night. On its northern aspect the sand spit is the steeper. There the folds ofthe sea fall in velvety thuds ever so gentle, ever so regular. On thesouthern slope, where the gradient is easy, the wavelets glide up withheedless hiss and slide back with shuffling whisper, scarce moving thegarlands of brown seaweed which a few hours before had been torn from theborders of the coral garden with mischievous recklessness. The sounds of this most stilly night are almost wholly of the faintlypulsing sea--sibilant and soft. Twice have the big-eyed stone ploverspiped demoniacally. Once there were flutterings among the nutmeg pigeonsin the star-proof jungle of the crowded inlet to the south. A cockatoo hasshrieked out in dismay at some grim nightmare of a snake. Two swamppheasants have assured each other in bell-like cadences that the night isfar spent, and all is well. As the moon sinks a ghostly silence prevails. Even the subdued tones ofthe sea are hushed. Though I listen with aching intentness no sense ofsound comes to my relief. Thus must it be to be bereft of hearing. Thisdeath-like pause, this awful blank, this tense, anxious lapse, thispulseless, stifling silence is brief. A frail moan, just audible, comesfrom the direction of the vanishing moon. There is a scarcely perceptiblestir in the warm air--a sensation of coming coolness rather than ofmotion, and a faint odour of brine. A mile out across the channel a blackband has settled on the shining water. How entrancing these night-tinted sights and soft sounds! While I lolland peer and listen I am alert and still, for the primitive passions ofthe universe are shyly exercised. To be sensitive to them all thefaculties must be acutely strained. With this lisping, coaxing, companionable sea the serene and sparkling sky, the glow beyond theworlds, the listening isles--demure and dim--the air moist, pacific andfragrant--what concern of mine if the smoky messenger from the stuffy townnever comes? This is the quintessence of life. I am alive at last. Suchkeen tingling, thrilling perceptions were never mine before. Now do Irealise the magnificent, the prodigious fact of being. Mine not only apart in the homely world, but a fellowship with the glorious firmament. It is night--the thoughtful, watchful, wakeful, guardian night, with nocloud to sully its tremulous radiance. How pretty a fable, I reflect, would the ancients have associated with the Southern Cross, shimmeringthere in the serene sky! Dare I, at this inspiring moment, attempt whatthey missed, merely because they lacked direct inspiration? Those whoonce lived in Egypt saw the sumptuous southern jewel, and it may againglitter vainly for the bewilderment of the Sphinx if the lazy worldlurches through space long enough. Yes, let me invent a myth--and not tellit, but rather think of the origin of the Milky Way and so convincemyself of the futility of modern inventions. Juno's favourite flowers were, it is written, the dittany (a milk-likeplant), the flaunting poppy, and the fragrant lily. Once, as she slept, Jupiter placed the wonderfully begotten Hercules to her alien, repugnantbreasts. Some of the milk dripped and as it fell was dissipated in theheavens--and there is the Milky Way. Other drops reached the earth and, falling on the lily, which hitherto had been purple, purified it towhiteness. In similar guise might the legend of the Southern Cross beframed--but who has the audacity to reveal it! And have not theunimaginative blacks anticipated the stellar romance? As I gaze into those serene and capricious spaces separating the friendlystars I am relieved of all consciousness of sense of duration. Time wasnot made for such ecstasies, which are of eternity. The warm sand nursesmy body. My other self seeks consolation among the planets. "Thin huge stage presenteth naught but show Whereon the stars in secret influence comment. " A grey mist masks the winding of a mainland river. Isolated blotchesindicate lonely lagoons and swamps where slim palms and lank tea-treesstand in crowded, whispering ranks knee-deep in dull brown water. Themist spreads. Black hilltops are as islands jutting out from a greysupermundane sea. Come! Let me bid defiance to this clumsy dragon of vapour worming itsever-lengthening, ever-widening tail out from the close precincts of amangrove creek. Shock-headed it rolls and squirms. Soft-headed, too, forthe weakest airs knead and mould it into ever-varying shapes. Now it hasa lolling, impudent tongue--a truly unruly member, waggingdisrespectfully at the decent night. Now a perky top-knot, and presentlyno head at all. Lumbering, low-lying, cowardly--a plaything, a toy, amockery, a sport for the wilful zephyrs. Now it lifts a bully head as itcreeps unimpeded across the sea and spreads, infinitely soft, all-encompassing. As if by magic the mainland is blotted out. The sea isdark and death-like, the air clammy, turgid, and steamy. Heavy vapoursettles upon the hills of the Island, descending slowly and with thepassivity of fate, until there is but a thin stratum of clear air betweenthe gloomy levels and the portentous pall. Lesser islands to the south are merely cloud-capped. This lower level withblurred and misty edges may not be further compressed, but the air iswarm, thick, sticky, and so saturated with vegetable odours that even thesalt of the sea has lost its savour. A low, quavering whistle heralds the approach of a nervous curlew, running and pausing, and stamping, its script--an erratic scrawl offleurs-de-lis--on the easy sand. Halting on the verge of the water, itfurtively picks up crabs as if it were a trespasser, conscious of ashameful or wicked deed and fearful of detection. It is not night nor yetquite day, but this keen-eyed, suspicious bird knows all the permanentfeatures of the sand-spit. The crouching, unaccustomed shape bewildersit; it pipes inquiringly, stops, starts with quick, agitated steps, snatches a crab--a desperate deed--and flies off with a penetrating cryof warning. A long-billed shore plover takes up the alarm, and blunderingly racestowards instead of from me, whimpering "plin, plin" as it passes and, still curious though alert, steps and bobs and ducks--all its movementsand flight impulsive and staccato. The grey mist whitens. A luminous patch indicates the east. The lightincreases. The cumbersome vapour is sopped up by the sun, and thecoo-hooing of many pigeons makes proclamation of the day. Detached anderratic patches of ripples appear--tiptoe touches of sportful elvestripping from the isles to the continent, whisking merrily, the faintestflicks of dainty toes making the glad sea to smile. Parcelled intoshadows, bold, yet retreating, the dimness of the night, purple on theglistening sea, stretches from the isles towards the long, orange-tintedbeach. Let there be no loitering of the shadows. The gloomy isles have changedfrom black to purple and from purple to blue, and as the imperious sunflashes on the mainland a smudge of brown, blurred and shifting, in thefar distance--the only evidence of the existence of human schemes andagitations--the only stain on the celestial purity of themorning--betokens the belated steamer for the coming of which thejoy-giving watches of the tropic night have been kept. CHAPTER VIII READING TO MUSIC "Silence was pleased. " As I lounged at mine ease on the veranda, serenely content with the pagesof a favourite author, I became conscious of an unusual sound-vague, continuous, rhythmic. Disinclined to permit my thoughts to wander fromthe text, at the back of my mind a dim sensation of uneasiness, almost ofresentment, because of the slight audible intrusion betrayed itself. Close, as firmly as I could, my mental ear the sound persistedexternally, softly but undeniably. Having overcome the first sensation ofuneasiness, I studied the perfect prose without pausing to reflect onthe origin of the petty disturbance. In a few minutes the annoyance--ifthe trivial distraction deserved so harsh an epithet--changed, givingplace to a sense of refined pleasure almost as fatal to my complacency, for it compelled me to think apart. What was this new pleasure? Ah! I wasreading to an accompaniment--a faint, far-off improvisation just on theverge of silence, too scant and elusive for half-hearted criticalanalysis. This reading of delightful prose, while the tenderest harmony hummed inmy cars, was too rare to be placidly enjoyed. Frail excitement foreign tothe tranquil pages could not be evaded. The most feeble and indeterminateof sounds, those which merely give a voice to the air eventually, quickenthe pulse. An eloquent and learned man says that the mechanical operation of soundsin quickening the circulation of the blood and the spirits has moreeffect upon the human machine than all the eloquence of reason andhonour. So the printed periods became more sonorous, the magic of thewords more vivid. The purified meaning of the author, the exaltation hehimself must have felt, were realised with a clearer apprehension. Butthe very novelty of the emotional undertaking drew me reluctantly fromthat which was becoming a lulling musical reverie. Still, fain to read, but with the niceties of the art embarrassed, Ibegan to question myself. Whence this pleasant yet provoking refrain? Notof the sea, for a glassy calm had prevailed all day; not of the rainwhich pattered faintly on the roof. This sound phantom that determinedlybeckoned me from my book--whence, and what was it? Listening attentively and alert, the mystery of it vanished. It was thecommotion, subdued by the distance of three-quarters of a mile, ofthousands of nutmeg pigeons--a blending of thousands of simultaneous"coo-hoos" with the rustling and beating of wings upon the thin, slackstrings of casuarinas. The swaying and switching of the slender-branchedand ever-sighing trees with the courageous notes of homing birds hadcreated the curious melody with which my reading had fallen into tune. And the sound was audible at one spot only. The acoustic properties ofthe veranda condensed and concentrated it within a narrow area, beyondwhich was silence. Chance had selected this aerial whirlpool for myreading. Again taking my ease, the mellow "roaring" of the multitude of gentledoves commingling with the aeolian blandness of trees swinging under theweight of the restless birds, became once more an idealisticaccompaniment to the book. I read, or rather declaimed inarticulately, tothe singularly pleasing strain until light and sound failed--the one assoftly and insensibly as the other. I had enjoyed a new sensation. Relieved of the agreeable pressure of the text, my thoughts turned to theconsideration of bird voices--more to the notes of pigeons, their varietyand range. There are sounds, little in volume and rather flat than sharp, rather moist than dry, which seem to carry farther under favouringatmospheric conditions than louder and more acute noises. The easycontours of soothing sounds created in the air seem to resemble the lazyswell of the sea; while fleeter though less sustained noises may becompared to jumpy waves caused by a smart breeze. Pitched in a minor keysounds roll along with little friction and waste, whereas a louder, shriller stinging note may find in the still air a less pliant medium. The cooing of pigeons--a sound of low velocity--has a longer range thanthe shrieking of parrots. My pet echo responds to an undertone. A loudand prolonged yell jars on its sensitiveness--for it is a shy echo, little used to abrupt and boisterous disturbances. A boy boo-hooting intoan empty barrel soon catches the key to which it responds. He adjusts hisrhythms to those of the barrel, which becomes for the time being hisbutt. "Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps, " he girds at itsacoustic soul until it finds responsive voice and grunts or babbles orbellows in consonance with his. Only when the vibrations--subdued orlusty--correspond with the vocal content of the barrel are the responsessensitive and in accord. On this stilly, damp evening the air in thecorner of the veranda happened to be resilient to the mellow notes offar-away pigeons. Thus reflecting, I was less astonished that the coo-hooing of thecongregation had reached me through three-quarters of a mile of vacantair. There was no competing noise. It was just the fluid tone that filledto the overflowing otherwise empty, shallow spaces. The nutmeg pigeon has the loudest, most assertive voice of the severalspecies which have their home in my domain, or which favour it withvisits. Though the "coo-hoo" is imperative and proud, to overcome thespace of a mile the unison of thousands is necessary. But when the wholecommunity takes flight simultaneously the whirr and slapping of wingscreates a sound resembling the racing of a steamer's propeller, but offar greater volume. The nutmeg is one of the noisiest of pigeonsindividually and collectively. CHAPTER IX THE BIRTH AND BREAKING OF CHRISTMAS "He doubted least it were some magicall Illusion that did beguile his sense; Or wandering ghost that wanted funerall, Or aery spirite under false pretence. " SPENSER. He was a tremulous long-legged foal on the Christmas Day we became knownto each other. I accepted him as an appropriate gift, and he regarded mewith a blending of reserve, curiosity, and suspicion, as he snoodledbeside his demure old mother. The name at once suggested itself. It seemsthe more appropriate now, for he is whitish, with flowing mane andsweeping tail, of a fair breadth, and open countenance. Can the biography of a horse be anything but crude, lacking reference toancestry? On this point there is the silence of a pure ignorance, and therecord will be deficient in other essentials. Moreover, none of thephrases of the cult are at command, nor can a purely domestic story bedecorated with clipped, straw-in-the-mouth, stable-smelling terms. Christmas's mother was a commonplace cart creature with a bad cough. Itwas a chronic cough, and in course of time its tuggings took her on avery long journey. She passed away, assisted towards the end with acruel yet compassionate bullet, for in my agitation I made a fluky shot. She died on the beach, and as the tide rose we floated her carcass intothe bay to the outer edge of the coral reef. The following morning thesea gave up the dead not its own. Once more we towed it away into thecurrent which races north. Some time before these reiterated ceremonies Christmas had been born, and I was grateful to the old mare, whose chronic cough had become one ofthe sounds of the Island, for he is an ornament, a chum, a companion, and a real character. I find myself confronted by inherent disadvantage, for I cannot even describe his points in popular language. He is a"clean-skin. " That is the only horsey (or should it be equine?) phrase inmy vocabulary. He is a "clean-skin, " and in more than one sense. Cleandescribes him--character and all--and I like the word. He is 5 ft. 4½ in. At the shoulders, barefooted, for he has never known a shoe, and his toesare long; his waist measurement is 6 ft. 8 in. , his tail sweeps theground, his forehead is broad, his eyes clear, with just a gleam ofwickedness now and again; his ears neat, furry, and very mobile; hiscolour a greyish roan, tending more to white in his maturity, which nowis. Lest the detail might prejudice him in his love affairs, of which heis as yet entirely innocent, I am determined not to mention his age, evenin the strictest confidence, and though the anniversary of his birth isat hand. Though he spends most of his time in the forest, he takes astoundinginterest in maritime affairs, watching curiously passing sailing boatsand steamers. More than once he has been first to proclaim, "A sail!"for when he flourishes his head and tosses his mane and gives asemi-gambol with his hind quarters, we know that he sees somethingstrange, and look in the direction in which he gazes. But I am ahead of my story. When he was in his shy, frisky foalage--asnervous and twitchy as might be--one lucky day I offered him from adistance of thirty yards one of the luscious bananas I was enjoying as Istrolled down the path to the beach. The aroma was novel, and apparentlyvery pleasant, for to my astonishment he walked towards me gingerly, butwith a very decided interest in the banana. As he approached on the pinsand needles of alertness, I extolled the qualities of the banana. Hestopped, and started again, anxious to taste the hitherto unknowndelicacy, but not at all trustful. Soon he came boldly up, and taking thebanana from my hand, ate it with the joy of discovery in his features, and calmly demanded another. Thus began the breaking of Christmas, and ifI had had sense enough to have followed up his education on similarlines, a deal of hard work, risk to life and limb, and the loss of somelittle personal property might have been saved. Ever after, Christmascould not resist the decoy of a banana. When he was two and a half years old we decided to break him in. He wasbig, and strong, and wilful, and how was a feeble man with no experienceand a black boy confessedly frightened of the big horse to accomplishsuch purpose? Tom is at home on a boat, and enjoys outwitting fish andturtle and dugong. However unstable his craft and surly the sea, he keepscalm; but with a tempestuous horse, who was wont to play about on theflat, pawing the air like a tragic actor, and kicking it with devastatingviciousness, well--"Look out!" As was the horse, so was the yarddesigned--big and strong. Some of the posts are one foot in diameter, andfour and a half feet in the ground. As neither of us had built a yardbefore, there may be original points about this one; but I would admonishothers not to imitate them unless they have time, heaps of time, and anoppressive stock of enthusiasm, and I may add, fascinating experience, upon which to draw. The last-mentioned quality is invaluable in all suchenterprises. If you have it, full play is permitted the speculative, ifnot the imaginative, faculties. If you have it not, then the work ismerely a brutal exercise, in which a dolt might excel. During the building of the yard I frequently reflected whether, thoughChristmas lived to enjoy a long and laborious age, would all the work heperformed compensate for the strains and aches and bruises suffered. Circumstances prevented the completion of the yard in exact accordancewith plans, for experience, that harsh stepmother, proved that theenclosure was unnecessary. The yard exists as a monument to profanemisunderstanding of Christmas's character. Had I realised hishigh-mindedness, his amiability, his considerateness and shrewdness, theyard would never have been built; a month of fearful over-exertion, andmany pains would have been obviated, and poor Christmas saved muchphysical weariness and perplexity. At the cost of three ripe bananas allthe virtue of the yard might, had we but known, have been purchased. High and strong, and especially ponderous where it was weak, the yardwas at last ready. The next process was to induce Christmas to enter it. We had another horse, Jonah, the nervous, stupid, vexatious skew-ball. Inthe absence of saddle and bridle, Tom deemed it wise not to attempt toround up Christmas. I admired his wisdom without exactly committingmyself, and we resorted to strategy. Naturally Christmas is inquisitive. He watched the building of the yardso intently that we half expected his curiosity might prompt him to tryif it were adapted to his tastes and requirements. But when we chuckledand coaxed he grew suspicious, behaved quite disdainfully with his heels, and took a marine excursion to a neighbouring island. When he came backafter three days, a banana tempted him. He was a prisoner before herealised. We giggled. The next thing was to rope him. Our perversityconverted a trustful, gentle creature temporarily into a ramping rogue. Twice he snapped a new Manilla rope of like make and dimensions to thatwhich is used in the harpooning of whales. For two days the conflictcontinued. Sullen and suspicious, Christmas ate scantily of the greengrass we cut for him and drank from a bucket when we were not looking. At last a crisis came. Tom lassooed him once more. Nelly (Tom's spouse)assisted me to take up the slack round a blockwood tree as Tomcautiously, but with great demonstrations of evil intentions, hunted theweary horse into the corner, where we designed to so jam him that ahalter might be put on with a minimum of risk to ourselves. Christmasmade a supreme effort. He roared and reared, and when the rope throttledhim, in rage and anger dashed his head against the foot-thick corner-post. The shock loosened it, so that two rails sprang out (just missing myscalp) and stunned Christmas. As he lay on the ground with twitching lips, with frantic haste we cutthe rope, and in a few seconds he rose to his feet, discovering that hewas in the land of the living with a joyful whinnying. If he had not beenendowed with the suavity of a gentleman and the long-suffering of asaint, he would have walked off, for the yard was in a disreputable stateof repair, and we were all shaky from the effects of nerve-shock. But no, in spite of abuse and misunderstanding, he was resolved at cost ofwhatever discomfort to himself to give us further lessons in the scienceof horse-breaking. He stood patiently while we patched up the fence. Then, taking the halter, and my courage, in both hands, I walked to his head, and with a few comforting words put it on. The good horse looked down atme with wondrous eloquence. His sensitive upper lip spoke, and hissneering nostrils; his twitchy ears told his thoughts as truly assemaphores; his clear eyes under sagacious white lashes transmittedemotions I could not fail to comprehend. "Is that what you wanted me todo?" said he. "Why didn't you do it before? We have quite misunderstoodone another! And what an exciting time we have had! I thought you weregoing to garrotte me. Yes, give me a banana. Follow you? Yes, of course, with pleasure; but don't attempt to hang me again or else there'll betrouble. Another banana if you please. Now, don't be frightened, I'm notgoing to run over you. I'm not that sort of horse. If I were there mighthave been a beastly mess in this yard any time the last two days. I wasbeginning to feel quite peevish. I don't know what might happen if Ibecame really vexed. Another banana. Certainly you took great risks fora little man. We are beginning to understand one another. Are there anymore ripe bananas handy?" He said all this and more, as he looked round, cheerfully accepting peace-offerings and listening to many consolatorywords. The next morning he showed us how a young and not foolish horseshould accept bit and bridle. Several other episodes embellish the early career of Christmas as aworking horse, all of them, I conscientiously confess, arising from grossmisunderstanding. He knew in what manner a good-natured, competent, lustyhorse should be handled and trained. We didn't, and necessarily had tolearn. He trained himself while we took hearty lessons in holding him. Once he decided to gallop with a sled. It was a mere whim--a gay littleprank--but Tom couldn't stop him. He ran too, holding on to the reins atarm's length, contrary to my counsel, urged from discreet distance. Christmas ran faster, and by and by Tom sat down on his chin, andChristmas went on without him. He didn't quite remember the widthof the sled. Consequently when with a careless flourish he whiskedbetween two bloodwoods the sled struck one with a shock that for amoment "dithered" the Island. It was just like that sucking earthquakewhich went off bang under Kingsley's bed when he was in Italy. Thebruise is on the tree now, and the sled wasn't worth taking home forfirewood. Christmas went on but just as the passion of the moment calmeddown, the trailing reins--fit to hold a whale, be it repeated--caughtin a tough sapling, and it was Christmas that went down. It was only atrip, but as he got up and faced about looking for the remains of thesled, the harness, tugged by the reins, crowded on his neck--backband, collar, hames, chains and all. Then began a merry-go-round, forChristmas, properly bedevilled, lost his presence of mind, and in a fancycostume of the Elizabethan age--a ruff of harness--waltzed mostfantastically. Again a few soothing words and two bananas calmed his affrighted andangry soul. Great is the virtue of the banana! A goodly hour was spentin untying the knots, and Tom made the one joke of his life. "My word, that fella Christmas he no good for boat. He make'm knot--carn let goquick!" Christmas is not petulant, though he is occasionally indignanton a large and complicated scale. Early in his career Christmas showed and materialised the quality ofmasterfulness, his chief trait. He bullied Jonah, now banished to "anodd angle of the Isle, " courted encounters with a huge nondescript dogbelonging to the blacks which once disrespectfully snapped at his heelsand for ever after took a distorted view of things on account of alop-sided jaw, and was wont to scatter the goats with a wild gallopthrough the flock. How meek and gentle his demeanour when he whinniesover the gate for bananas, or screws his head beneath the kitchen shutterand shuts his eyes and opens his lips, tempting his mistress to treat himto unknown dainties! And for all his masterful spirit did he not oncefly from Jonah? During one of Tom's many absences ex-trooper George waschief assistant in the administration of the affairs of the Island, between whom and Christmas cordial companionship was manifested; forGeorge, in his understanding of horses, knew how to flatter and gratifyChristmas with small attentions. More at home in the saddle than on foot, having improvised bit andbridle, he rode off on Jonah into the bush, unobserved of Christmas, whohad never beheld one of his species so hampered by a human being. WhileGeorge was away it occurred to one of us to suggest that a high-mettled, never-ridden steed might be flustered when confronted with novel andincomprehensible circumstances. When George cantered home, Christmasgazed, horror-struck, for a moment, bounded into the air, snorted, andwith flowing mane and flying tail fled to the most secluded corner ofthe paddock with strides that seemed to gulp the ground. In a fewminutes he returned at the trot, inquisitive, high-stepping, tossinghis head, flinging little clods of earth far behind, snorting, andtail trailing like a plume of steam from a locomotive. Again he looked, baulked, and with a contemptuous fling of heels raced up the paddock. Retreating to him was not running away, nor was staying wisdom whendanger overbalanced hope. Again he made a gallant effort to vanquishhis fear, but at the critical moment Jonah, under the stimulus ofGeorge's heels, charged, and Christmas, with a squeal of terror, thundered blindly among the trees. Now was he convinced of thegrisliness of the visitation. That downtrodden, servile Jonah, from whomhe exacted prompt obedience to every passing whim, should be thustranslated and so puffed up with audacity as to chase him was proof ofthe presence of incredible mischief from which the most valorous mightwith discretion retire; and without pause he galloped--free and wild asthe blast of a tempest--round the paddock time and again, keeping thegreatest possible space between himself and the pursuing apparition. George kept up the fun until Christmas, beginning to reflect, swervedfrom fear to the attitude of anger, and to paw the ground and to sniffdefiantly the air. Trotting boldly up towards Jonah, he neighedimperatively, but George waved off his assurance with his hat, andChristmas collapsing with fright, made furious haste for non-existingsolitude. Once more he ventured, with bolder, more menacing front. Hereared, pranced, kicked, savaged the air--not an item of all his pentupwickedness being undemonstrated. Then George dismounted suddenly, andcalling in soothing tones, Christmas realised that the appallingcreature was but a temporary compound of his playmate and the abjectJonah. Cautiously advancing in a series of contours dislocated withstaccato stops and starts and frothy exclamations, he seemed to recognisethe whole episode as a practical joke, of which he had been the victim, and to promise retaliation upon Jonah, for no sooner was that meek animalat liberty than he became the sport and jeer. From the catalogue of the more theatrical doings of Christmas one moremay be cited. Within a week of his yarding he had taught us so much, inspired us with such confidence in his resourcefulness and ability, thatwe resolved to give him a treat in the plantation dragging round aminiature disc-harrow, a particular brand of agricultural implementknown as the "pony dot. " Being so, in fact and appearance, it was quitea misfit for Christmas--a mere toy with which a gay young horse mightcondescend to beguile a few loose hours. It was a charming morning. Birds were vulgarly sportful. Honey-eaters whistled among the trees, scrub-fowl chuckled in the jungle. Christmas, too, was bent on amusinghimself, and he was so lusty and jocund, and the toy jangled andclattered so cheerfully that neither Tom nor myself could bestowmuch attention to the birds. What was gentle exercise to Christmaswas quite sensational to us. He did not mind what stumps and logswere in the way. We did. Our agility was distinctly forced. But itwas a charming morning, and Christmas was out for pleasure. In anhour or so the monotony of the picnic began to pall on Christmas, and as Tom began to chirp at him familiarly, if not quite authoritatively, I sat down in the shade to reflect that while Christmas had beenviolently exercising me, some of the charm of the day had filteredthrough my aching fingers. How pleasant it was to think that thediscordant labour of the tropical agriculturist was past! This charmingmorning had settled it all. Tom and Christmas and the "pony dot" wouldkeep the whole plantation as innocent of weeds as the Garden of Eden. Thus to muse in the dim arcade of the jungle absorbing the sounds of thebirds, and of the murmuring sea, while a horse did all the work, inholiday humour, was the very bliss of the tropical farmer. In the midst of a soothing, inarticulate soliloquy the "pony dot"burst out into a furious jangle. Tom yelled. Quick hoofs thudded on thesoil, and Christmas swept through the banana-plants like a destroyingangel, in a glorious bolt for home. The picnic had palled; and Tom, shouting rebukes, orders, and suggestions from behind a tree, showed byhis dun-coloured skin that he had been dragged ignominiously through thefreshly tilled soil. A remarkable feature of the plantation is a steepbank, the original strand line of the Island. Christmas, with the reinssoaring like lassos, and harness welting his fat sides, stampeded to hisfate. In a flash I saw what a ludicrous misfit the "pony dot" was. Theimpish invention--malignant purpose in its incompassionate metallicheart--furiously pursued Christmas twenty feet at a bound, discs whirling, every bearing squeaking with spite and fury. Struck with bewilderment, the honey-eaters became dumb, the dismayed doves forgot to coo, thescrub-fowl ceased their chuckling, and three cockatoos flew from theblue-fruited quandong-tree shrieking abominable sarcasms. As Christmasheaved over the banks the reins thrashed him. Resenting the insult, hisheels flew high. The "pony dot" flew higher and jangled and screeched withaccumulating vindictiveness. To what fearsome figure had this hastyflight transformed the mean little emblem of rusticity? A tipsy goblin?No--rather a limping aeroplane of the Stone Age; and it rattled like abelfry under the shock of bombardment. Could there be any crueller deviceto tie an unsophisticated horse to, and a horse whose single thought hadbeen a merry morning? It would, when the crisis came, leap frenziedly onChristmas and slice him with keen, whizzing blades. Tom raced past--a five-act tragedy in pantomime! A terrible jangle andcatastrophic silence! No groan from misused Christmas. No remarks fromthe dumbfounded birds! With the vicious aeroplane hopping after him, hehad galloped for the narrow aisle through the ribbon of jungle concealingthe beach. There he had met his fate! Yes, the "pony dot" anyhow andeverywhere, and Christmas all of a heap beyond. With imprecations on all"pony dots" in my mind, I hastened to inspect the mangled remains. Theygroaned, struggled to their feet, shook themselves and went placidlyhome as soon as we had unhitched the chains. One scratch on the mostrotund part of the body was the only record of the "brief, eventfulhistory, " and Christmas smiled in Tom's face as he munched asoul-soothing banana. CHAPTER X THE SPORT OF FATE "A populous solitude of bees and birds And fairy-formed and many-coloured things. " BYRON. Was ever a more glorious season for butterflies, and, alas! be it said, for sand and fruit and other flies of humble bearing but questionablecharacter? Light-hearted, purely ornamental insects, sober and industrious, ugly, mischievous, destructive, all have revelled--and the butterfly brings theart of inconsequent revelling to the acme of perfection--in thecomparatively dry air, in the glowing skies, and in the succession ofserene days. Moreover there has been no off-hand, untimely destructionof the nectariferous blossoms of millions of trees and shrubs. Frail assome flowers are, others linger long if unmolested by profane winds, offering a protracted feast of honey, pure and full-flavoured. The lightsprinklings of rain have served to freshen the air and moisten the soilwithout diluting the syrupy richness of floral distillations. All thegenerous output has been over-proof. Gaudy insects, intoxicated and sensuous, have feasted and flirtedthroughout the hours of daylight, and certain prim moths, sonorous offlight, find subtly scented blossoms keeping open house for them thelivelong night. Let others vex their souls and mutter the oddest sorts of imprecationsbecause the fruit-fly cradles its pampered young in the juiciest of theiroranges. Me it shall content to watch butterflies sip the nerve-shakingnectar of the paper-barks, and in their rowdy flight cut delirious scrollsagainst the unsullied sky. Shall not I, too, glory in the superb season, and its scentedtranquillity? Even though but casual glances are bestowed on the daintysettings of the pages on which Nature illustrates her brief but brillianthistories, understanding little, if aught, of her deeper mysteries, butthankful for the frankness and unaffectedness of their presentation--shallnot I find abundance of sumptuous colour and grace of form for myenjoyment, and for my pondering texts without number? What more fantastic scene than the love-making of the great green andgold and black Cassandra--that gem among Queensland butterflies-when foursaucy gallants dance attendance on one big, buxom, sober-hued damsel ofthe species, and weave about her aerial true lovers' knots, livingchains, festoons, and intricate spirals, displaying each his bravestfeathers, and seeking to dazzle the idol of the moment with audaciousagility, and the beauty of complex curves and contours fluid as billows? The red rays of the Umbrella-tree afford a rich setting to the scene. Therival lovers twirl and twist and reel as she--the prude--flits withtremulous wings from red knob to red knob--daintily sampling the spanglesof nectar. Not of these living jewels in general, but of one in particular, werethese lines intended to refer--the great high-flying Ulysses, firstobserved in Australia on this very island over half a century ago. It wasbut a passing gleam, for the visiting scientist lamented that it flew sohigh over the treetops that he failed to obtain the specimen. True toname, the Ulysses still flies high, and wide--a lustrous royal blue withblack trimmings and dandified tails to his wings that answer the dualpurpose of use and ornament. When Ulysses stops in his wanderings for refreshment he hides hisgorgeous colouring, assuming similitude to a brown, weather-beaten leaf, and then the tails complete the illusion by becoming an idealistic stalk. He is one of the few, among gaily painted butterflies that certain birdslike and hawk for. When in full flight, by swift swerves and doubles, hegenerally manages to evade his enemies, but during moments ofpreoccupation is compelled to adopt a protective disguise. As the boat floated with the current among the bobbing, slender spindlesof the mangroves--youthful plants on a voyage of discovery for newlands--there appeared a brown mottled leaf on the surface. A secondglance revealed a dead Ulysses--an adventurous creature which hadsuccumbed to temporary weakness during a more than usually ambitiousmaritime excursion. Here was a flawless specimen, for the wings ofbutterflies, in common with the fronds of some delicate ferns, have theproperty of repelling water, and do not readily become sodden, But as Iessayed to take it up tenderly the wings boldly opened, displaying justthe tone of vivid blue for which the silvery sea was an ideal setting. It was sad to be weary and to fail; to experience gradual but inevitablecollapse; to flop helplessly to the water to drown; but the lightesttouch of the hand of man was a fate less endurable--too, frightful by farto submit to without a struggle. So, with a grand effort the great insectrose; and the sea, reluctant to part with such a rare jewel, retained inbrown, dust-like feathers the pattern of the mottling of the undersurface of the wings. What finicking dilettantism--was ever such "antic, lisping, affecting fantastico?"--that rough Neptune, who in blind furybombards the stubborn beaches with blocks of coral, should be delicatelysusceptible to the downy print of a butterfly's wings! Though languid and weary, the butterfly was resolute in the enjoyment ofthe sweetness of life, Its flight, usually bold, free, and aspiring, wasnow clumsy, wavering, erratic. Three-quarters of a mile away was anislet. Some comely instinct guided it thitherwards, sometimes staggeringlow over the water, sometimes flitting splendidly high until distance andthe glowing sky absorbed it. My, course lay past the islet, and I stood in the boat that I might seethe coral patches slipping past beneath, the shoals of tiny fish, and theswift-flying terns, the broad shield of the sea, and the purple mountains. Close to the islet what I took to be the tip of a shark's fin appeared. It seemed to be cutting quick circles, rising and dipping as does thedorsal fin when a shark is closely following, or actually bolting itsprey. As the boat approached, the insignia of a voracious shark changedto the spent Ulysses, making forlorn and ineffectual efforts to rise. Once again, however, the fearsome presence of man inspired a virileimpulse. Ulysses rose, flapping wildly and unsteadily but with gallantpurpose. The islet was barely twenty yards away. Would the brave andlovely emblem of gaiety reach it and rest? It rose higher and higher inlurching spirals, and having gained the necessary elevation, swoopedsuperbly for the sanctuary of the tree-lined beach. Rest and safety at last! But at that moment ironic Fate--having twiceaverted drowning, twice waved off the hand of man--flashed out in theguise of a twittering wood swallow. In the last stage of exhaustion noevading swerve was possible. Two blue wings on the snow-white coral marked where the wanderings ofUlysses had ended, while at the corner of the little cove a dozenheedless Cassandras rioted amongst the rays of the umbrella-tree in curvesand swoops of giddy flight. CHAPTER XI FIGHT TO A FINISH "Dire and parlous was the fight that was fought. " With logic as absolute as that of the grape that can "the two-and-twentyjarring sects confute, " Nature sets at naught the most ancient of axioms. How obvious is it that the lesser cannot contain the greater! Yet thatNature under certain circumstances blandly puts her thumb unto her noseand spreads her fingers out even at that irrefragable postulate, let thisplain statement of fact stand proof. Where the grass was comparatively sparse a little lizard, upon whosebronze head the sunlight glistened, sighted on a chip a lumbering "March"fly dreaming of blood, and with a dash that almost eluded observationseized and shook it. With many sore gulps and excessive straining--for thelizard was young and tender--the tough old fly was swallowed. While thelizard licked its jaws and twirled its tail with an air of foppishself-concern and haughty pride, a withered leaf not three inches awaystirred without apparent cause, and in a flash a tiny death addergrappled the lizard by the waist. The grey leaf had screened itsapproach. Both rolled over and over, struggling violently. For a minute or twothere was such an intertwining and confusion of sinuous bodies that itwas impossible to distinguish one from the other. The grip of the deathadder was not to be lightly shaken off. When "time" was called, thetruce lasted several minutes. Then the wrestling was continued in aminiature cyclone of sand and grass-chips. All the energy was on the partof the lizard. The death-adder kept on doing nothing in a dreadfullydetermined way. In fighting weight the combatants seemed to be fairlyequally matched, but in length the lizard had the advantage by at leasttwo inches. The adder was slightly the bulkier. At times the lizard, fullof pluck, would scamper away a few inches, dragging the adder, or wouldclaw the sand into tiny, ineffectual furrows in vain efforts. The adderwas never able to shake the lizard; it merely maintained its grip. Allthe wit and sprightliness of the fight was on the part of the lizard, who lashed its foe with its pliant tail, and endeavoured so to swerveas to bite. Both were light weights. One was all dash and sportiveagileness; the other played a dull waiting game with admirable finesse. In spite of the greater activity and muscular power of the lizard, thecombat seemed unfair, for in the cunning persistency of the frail butdetermined little snake there was something uncanny and nerve-shaking. For fully ten minutes the fight continued. The violent antics of thelizard became less and less frequent. Obviously the tactics of the snakewere wearing it down. Though the lizard seemed to have lost none of itsspirit, the flesh was becoming weak. While it panted, its eyes twinkledwith inane ferocity, and the snake, with that peculiar fearsome, glidingmovement--neither wriggle nor squirm--typical of the species, slowly edgedits victim under the shadow of a tussock. There both reposed, the snakecalm in craft and design, the lizard waiting for the one chance of itslife. Swallowing the lizard under any circumstances seemed an impossiblefeat. To begin the act in the middle of the body was absolutely beyondaccomplishment. There would come a time when the death-adder must releaseits hold to re-seize its prey by the head or tail, and if the soul of thelizard could possess itself in patience until that moment, and takeadvantage of it, all might be well. Now, it seemed to me, the only witness to this fateful fray, that bothparties to it knew that the crisis had yet to come. The lizard reservedall its energy for a supreme effort--for one leap to liberty andlife--while its impassive foe stolidly concentrated its powers in thedirection of an instantaneous release and a fresh grip at a convenientpart. Thus they lay. A thrill of excitement possessed me as I watched. The flashing alertness of a fly-catching lizard, is it not proverbial?Which was to be the master--the more muscular creature with four legs, thewhole previous existence of which had depended upon its agility, or thesubtle, slow, snake, which moves under ordinary circumstances not verymuch faster than a clammy worm? As I watched with all possible keenness agrey blur followed by bewildering wrigglings and contortions indicated anew manoeuvre. Then instead of two reptiles at right angles, thereappeared to be but one, and with a tail at each end. The head of thelizard was in the jaws of the death-adder. The fatal quickness of thesnake had decided the combat. But the lizard was not yet resigned to its fate. It rolled and reared andwriggled, tossing and tumbling the adder; but all in vain. Alas! light-hearted lizard, servant and trustful companion of man, thouart joined in woeful issue! There can be no deliverance for thy jewelledhead from that slow, all-absorbing chancery! No striving, no pushing withfrenzied fingers, no lashing with that whip-like tail may now avail. Never more may you bask and blink in the glare, or doze in theknife-edged shadows, or pounce upon gauze-winged flies. Thou hast learnedtoo late that snakes, like democracy, never restore anything. I waited for the finish, which came with painful slowness. The sides ofthe victim heaved and quivered even as they slowly disappeared and theend of that once foppish tail twitched sadly as it hung limply from thejaws of the gorged snake. Although it had practically demonstrated that the lesser can contain thegreater, the snake was but triflingly increased in girth. It was just inthat phenomenal condition which entitled it to the honour of preservationin a solution of formalin. CHAPTER XII SEA-WORMS AND SEA-CUCUMBERS From the tinted tips of fragile corals to the ooze on the edge of thebeach sand there is seething life. Exposed by the ebb tide, thesun-caressed slime glitters and shimmers, so that if the observer iscontent to stand still for a few moments he shall see myriads ofobscure activities, graceful and uncouth, of the existence of which hehas not previously dreamt and among which his footsteps make adesolating track. Perhaps in no other earthly scene do the gradations oflife blend so obviously in form and appearance. This mud is primal, fertile with primitives, for similitude of environment checks variations. In such tepid slime primordial life began, and in it even in these latterdays the far beginning of superior things may be discovered activelypursuing their craft and purpose in the order of the universe. Worms areabundant, and among them certain genera which might be taken as aptillustrations of the more significant facts of evolution. Studying them, the parting of the ways between two distinct orders, each having aconspicuous feature in common while differing in appearance and habitsgenerally, is made strangely plain, and I propose in my unversed way todemonstrate the line of upward development in a few examples. Accepting as a primitive form that deplorably thin, phantasmal worm whichexcavates in the ooze an appropriately narrow shaft indicated by adimple, or, in some cases, a swelling mound with a well-defined craterand circular pipe, the ascent of the genealogical tree is not beset withany great difficulty. These worms are grey in colour and shoddy intexture, merely a tough description of slime with a crude head and long, simple filaments. The sides of the shafts are smooth, and on the leastalarm the nervous inhabitant retracts with surprising alertness. Slightlysuperior in grade, but in uninterrupted succession, is a similar wormwhich solidifies its shaft with a kind of mortar and carries it up abovethe level of the ooze about an inch or so--a crude effort in thedirection of the acquirement of some ease of circumstance. These flue-likeprojections are more frequent on the verge of the sandy beach. The next in order--still slim, though of a slightly more robust habit ofbody--has acquired the art of spinning (caterpillar-like) a cocoon, andof causing to adhere to the exterior thereof grains of sand and minutechips of shell. Though this vestlet is very frail and though the sandyouter coat is liable to drop off (when it collapses altogether), it seemsto me to indicate distinct progress, a successful accomplishment in thedirection of isolation, independence, and security. Does it not signifythat the animal has a certain perception of the knowledge of good andevil such as dawned upon Eve as she ate the diverting apple? Eveforthwith took to fig-leaves; the slim worm knitted a shoddy wrapper andreinforced it with grains of sand when it realised that there wassomething better than slush for a dwelling. The sandy coverlet isevidence of the gift of discrimination. A still more highly endowed relation spins a similar fabric, upon whichare loosely agglutinated numbers of small dead shells, grit, and evenopercula a quarter of an inch in diameter. In weight, size, and number ofits constituents this exterior armour is altogether disproportionate tothe extreme tenuity of its foundation. Too unsubstantial to sustain itsown weight, it sprawls, like the track of a tipsy snail, indeterminately, slowly developing its sinuosities over the irregular surface of a rock, and slightly adherent thereto, throughout its whole length. Of this thereseem to be several nicely shaded grades, some in the form of gallerieslaboriously built of a mixture of mud and sand, and each indicatingsuperiority to the naked denizen of the clement mud. They seem to besuperior in appearances also, for some of the animals display brightlycoloured plume-like tentacles, long and capable of being ostentatiouslyfluttered. The individual worm next to be described typifies such a wonderfuladvance that it might almost be designated a subsequent and intrusivesport, no marked are the distinctions it exhibits. It is one of theshell-binders (PECTINARIA), but its mansion of mosaics is unique andbeautiful. In the universal struggle for place, self-preservation, andfood, the animal has acquired a higher order of intelligence and keenerperceptions of safety and of the niceties of life than its fellows. Living in sand and mud, in obedience to some gracious instinct, itgathers numbers of small shells, grit, and fragments of coral wherewithto construct a tube, somewhat similar in shape to the horn of cornucopia, and from three to six inches long. The materials are cemented together inaccordance with a symmetrical design, the interior being lined with atransparent substance, which, when dry, is readily separable from thecasing! This creature accomplishes by calculation, choice, and dexteritythat which a subtle chemical process does unconsciously for the moreadvanced mollusc, and that it practised the art of the interlocking ofatoms ages before the birth of Macadam can scarcely be doubted. My imagination loves to dwell on the perceptive faculties possessed bythis lowly creature, a creature soft and delicate, merely such and such alength of gelatinous substance, slightly stiffened and toughened andgraced with a pair of tentacles glittering like tinsel extended from amarvellously constructed tube. In certain structural details the animal (which in appearance has greaterresemblance to a caterpillar than a worm) is even more remarkable thanthe ornate dwelling it constructs, for it is an actual though livingprototype of the fabled race (catalogued by Othello with theanthropophagi)-- "Whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. " The paradox exists, not as a whim or grimace on the part of Nature butfor a definite and vital end. In default the animal would be unable toobey the first law of Nature--self preservation--for it is soft-bodied andits dwelling has the serious defect of being open at both ends. In suchplight lacking special organs it would be at cruel advantage in thestruggle for existence. The posterior segment of the body is thereforedeveloped into an operculum-like organ, smooth and of horny texture, which closes the narrow end of the tube. The other extremity is moreelaborately guarded, the anterior segment being fringed with a frontalmembrane, while the second segment forms a disc, the minute mouth orificewith the true tentacles and gills being debased to the third segment. Confronted by danger, the animal closes its front door by retractinguntil the disc presses immovably against the circumference of the tube, the retraction being so sudden that a frail spurt betrays the whereaboutsof an otherwise secret dwelling-place. In the centre of the disc is thefirst segment, from which the frontal fringe is extended in the form ofan array of keen bristles as a defensive weapon. With the lid at one endand the armed disc at the other the animal enjoys security and comfort, and when unsuspicious the "shoulders" protrude, the head meeklyfollowing. The tentacles are serrate and glitter like tinsel, possiblyfor the fascination of the minute forms of life which the tube-dwellerconsumes. To enable it to retract and emerge quickly the animal isprovided with a series of tufts of bristles on the back and on theventral surface of the body with a row of toothed "pads, " which fulfilthe dual office of grapplers and feet. With what skill and patience does this pectinarian construct its ornatehabitation! How artfully does it pick and choose among the tiny shellsand grit! With what rare discretion rejects the unfit, and with whatsatisfaction retains a neat and dainty item of building material! Howdeftly does it arrange its courses and bonds, cementing each fragment inits place until a perfect cylinder, proportionate in dimensions, uniformly expanding in circumference, smooth within, rugged without, scientifically correct in design, is the result! How apt, too, thefrictionless lining! And all this laborious neatness and precisionabsorbed in the construction of a tenement which has no time! Does theinmate possess any sense of duration? Addison (quoting a Frenchauthority) says that it is possible some creatures may think half an houras long as we do a thousand years! The magnificent mind of the modernbiologist regards a million of years as a mere fag-end of time. Theindustrious worm which has built so choice a home may have enjoyed thesense of comfort and security for a period representing an honourableage, while, according to the standards of man, the home was not worth thebuilding for so short a tenancy. Do we not see in this astonishing example a highly successful effort of amarine worm to improve on the condition and habits of its barbarousancestors? Analyse a bulk sample of the building material, and you shallfind it not dissimilar from the shell of a mollusc, and the interiorfilm--no doubt a secretion of the animal--is to be safely accepted asanalogous to the silky smoothness which molluscs (often of rough andrugged exterior) obtain by nacreous deposit and which finds itsculmination in the goldlip mother-of-pearl? Still higher in the series, so far as the construction of a tenement isconcerned, is that known as the SERPULA, a worm which constructs acalcareous tube more or less loosely convoluted and adherent to a shellor stone or coral, or sometimes entwined into a self-supporting colony. Another worm builds of sand or mud, with a rough casting of fine graveland shell-grit, a habitation similar in design to that of the serpula, though on a less complete and authoritative model; indeed, it wouldalmost seem that the latter had designed its tenement after the fashionof that of its poor relation--that the one made a study in mud which theother reproduced in carbonate of lime. But the most curious fact is thata true mollusc (VERMETUS) so far departs from the fashion prevalent inthe molluscan world of building a spiral shell, that after beginning onein proper spiral mode it elongates itself in vermiform manner and formsan irregular serpuloid tube on the surface of larger shells or stonesjust as the SERPULA does; so that without examination of the animal onemay easily be mistaken for the other. What a contrast is here--on the one hand a lowly worm learning to build asolid if rude shelly covering for its tender body, on the other arelative of the elegant, many-whorled TURRITELLA forgetting its highstation and degenerating to the likeness of a worm. No doubt it is reallya case of degeneration from the acquirement of fixed habits, just as whena lively young crustacean larva gives up its free independent life andglues its head to a stone--what happens? Why, he becomes a mere barnacleinstead of a spritely shrimp as he might have been! Let mankind takenote and beware. Another group of worm-like or snaky creatures common on a coral-reef arethe sea-cucumbers or bêche-de-mer. In my experience the most singularbranch of the family is at once the longest and thinnest, for itresembles a snake so closely that at first sight the observersubconsciously assumes an attitude of hostility. There seem to be twovarieties of the species. One is much more ruddy in appearance than theother, and its body is the smoother; but they are much alike in physiqueand helplessness. The figure of a sausage-skin four or five and even sixfeet long, and capable of elongation to almost double, containing muddywater in circulation and one end exhibiting a set of ever-wavingtentacles, conveys a not unflattering notion of the animal as it liescoiled among the coral, half hidden with algae. Far too feeble to beoffensive, it suffers collapse on alarm--that is to say, if such a violentmental and physical ill can befall an animal of such crude organism. Atleast, the tentacles are withdrawn, nor will they be protruded untilsome sense--unlikely to be either sight, hearing, taste, or touch, butprobably nervous tension acutely susceptible to vibrations--tells thatdanger is past. Then the tentacles are shyly exhibited and the agitationsof the animal are renewed. Throughout the length of the body of the more remarkable of the twospecies of which I may speak on first-hand knowledge are four rows ofbosses, closely spaced, which when the animal has dragged its slow lengthalong to the utmost limit diminish into mere wrinkles, and disappearaltogether when it is slung across a stick, and the fluid contents, beingprecipitated, congest and woefully weight each end, sometimes to thebursting-point. The bosses of repose seem to indicate so much length inreserve. A dozen simple tentacles, sword-shaped, with frayed edges, andabout an inch and a half long, indicate the head without decorating it, for they are of an inconspicuous neutral tint, closely resembling thealga among which the animal slowly winds its way. The progress of all species of bêche-de-mer is sedate and cautious, andthis, probably the longest and the weakest and limpest of all, surpassesthe race in deliberateness. It cannot move as a whole, so it progressesin sections. When the head has been advanced to its utmost, about themiddle of the body an independent series of succeedant ripples orwrinkles manifests itself and travels consistently ahead, while farthertowards the rear another series follows, and so on, until the laggingtail is enabled to wrinkle itself along. But the animal is endowed withthe capacity of quite suddenly retracting its forepart like the bellowsof a concertina, and when so compressed to heave it backward or in anydirection, so that an immediate change of route is possible. Theretraction and uplifting of the foreshortened part is astonishingly rapidin view of the methodic movements of the animal as a whole. It is alsonotable that when the retraction takes place the tentacles are entirelywithdrawn, otherwise they are for ever anxiously exploring every inch ofthe toilsome way. Scientific men have entitled one of thespecies--possibly the very one blunderingly introduced--SYNAPTA BESELLII, and brief reference is made to it elsewhere. One member of the great "sea-cucumber, " or BÊCHE-DE-MER, family isespecially noticeable because it is decorated with colours of which agaily plumaged bird might be envious, though it has no other claim tocomeliness. Most primitive in form--merely a flattened sac, oval and fourinches long by three inches broad, with a purple and white mouth puckeredas if contracted by a drawn string. Its general tint is grey;longitudinal bands of scarlet, green, violet, and purple radiate from theposterior and converge at the mouth, the hues blending rainbow-like. Thebrighter colours seem to have been carelessly and profusely applied, forthey run when touched and smear the fingers. Among a family generallysad-hued and shrinking so conspicuous an example is quite prodigal andinvites one to ponder upon the sportfulness of Nature. What specialoffice in her processes does this fop of the species with prismaticcomplexion perform? The functions of bêche-de-mer are not only interesting, but requisite inthe commonwealth of the coral reef, however purposeless to the observerintent upon the obvious and external only; while the genera are sonumerous that doubtless to each species is consigned the performance ofa special office. Some seem to delight in a diet of slush of theconsistency of thin gruel; others prefer fine grit; others, again, coarseparticles of shell and coral grit and rough gravel. Peradventure theactual food consists of the micro-organisms in the slush and on thesuperficies of the unassimilatable solids. When submitted to the sun on the dry beach death is speedy, anddecomposition in the case of some species complete to obliteration in afew hours. An apparently solid body, weighty in comparison with its sizeand apparently of such nature that rapid desiccation would convert itinto a tough, leathery substance, it melts at the sight of the sun, leaving as a relic of existence its last meal--a handful of grit-coveredwith a transparent film of varnish, which the first wavelet of theflowing tide dissolves. Yet on the reef in a pool such an individualendures complacently water heated to a temperature of 108°. Thoughfeeble and of such readily dissolvable texture, bêche-de-mer may beregarded as among the mightiest agents in the conversion of the waste ofthe coral reef into mud--the sort of mud of which some of the toughest ofrocks are compounded. Graded by this and that species, the debris isreduced to fine particles, which upon sedimentation help to raise thelevel of the reef and thus prepare foundations for dry land. For richness of colour and diversity of design some of the lovely coralsand sponges, which seem to counterfeit the inventions and contrivances ofman, and the algae, and those anomalous "growths" which fixedly adhereto the under surface of stones and blocks of coral debris, are not to besurpassed. These dull stones, partly buried in sand, reveal in blotches, daubs, and smears the crude extravagances of a painter's palette. Can itbe that such brilliant colours and tints, so profuse and delicate, arenecessary features of animals of such crude organisms that they appear tobe merely disembodied splashes and driblets from the brush of the GreatArtist? Look at this fantastic patchwork, brightening the obscurity ofan upturned stone with glowing orange. In perfectly regular minute dots apattern of quartered squares, raised slightly in the centre, is beingworked out. Many of the squares are finished, but the fabric is rugged atthe edges, where, with miraculous precision, the design is beingfollowed, each tiny stitch the counterpart of its fellow. Unless thisgross and formless blotch of sage green interferes or this disc of royalblue expands, the whole under surface of the stone may be covered with anorange coloured quilt as dainty as if wrought by fairy fingers. Why, again, is this particular miniature dome of coral so preciselyspirally fluted, like the dome of a Byzantine cathedral? Why of so pure amauve and bespangled with so many millions of snow-white crystals?Why--where no eyes see them--should parti-coloured algae flaunt suchgraceful, flawless plumes? What marvellous fertility of imagination inform and design is exhibited in every quiet coral garden! Stolidbattlemented walls, massive shapeless blocks, rollicking mushrooms, tipsytoadstools; narrow fjords, sparklingly clear, wind among and intersectthe stubborn masses. Fish, bright as butterflies and far more alert, flash in and out of mazes more bewildering than that in which Rosamond'sbower was secluded. Starfish stud the sandy flats, a foot in diameter, red with burnished black bosses, and in all shades of red to pink andcream and thence to derogatory grey. Here is a jade-colouredconglomeration of life resembling nothing in the world more than a loosehandful of worms without beginning and without end, interloped andwrithing and glowing as it writhes with opalescent fires; and here atiny leafless shrub, jointed with each alternate joint, ivory, white, andruby-red respectively; again this tracery of gold and green and salmonpink decorating a shiny stone, in formal and consistent pattern. What isit? why is it? and why are such luminous tints so sordidly concealed? CHARTER XIII SOME MARINE NOVELTIES "And call up unbound In various shapes old Proteus from the sea. " MILTON. During the cool season the tides on the coast of North Queensland offerpeculiar facilities to the observer of the thousand and one marvels ofthe tropic sea. Spring tides throughout the warm months range low atnight and high during the day. In other words, the lowest dayspring-tide in winter exposes far more of the reefs than the lowest daytide of summer, while the highest night tide of summer sweeps away thedata of the corresponding tide of winter. When, therefore, the farreceding water makes available patches of coral reef exposed at othertimes of the year merely to the cool glimpses of the moon, I am driven toexplore them with an eagerness, if not of a treasure-seeker or in thefrenzies of naturalistic fervour, at least with the enthusiasm of anardent student. It may be that most of the sights which are revealed are of commonknowledge among scientific men, and if one is inclined to preach alittle sermon on the text of the living stones and polyps and animatedjelly, and if such text be trite, let it be granted that the sermon is atleast original. Necessarily the sermon will lack commentary andapplication, and be very imperfect in many other details. If it possessesany virtues, you must apply them personally, for the preacher is notenlightened enough to expound them even to his own, much less to thesatisfaction of others. In many places on this reef little secrets, well kept throughout the restof the year, are boldly proclaimed when the sea retreats. A fairly commonone is a huge anemone of a rich cobalt blue which opens out like asoup-plate with convoluted edges. Another has a form something resemblinga hyacinth-glass. The more public parts are not unlike a dwarf growth ofthat old-fashioned flower the Prince of Wales's feather, save that thecolour is a rich brown. Being an animal, it possesses senses in which themost highly specialised vegetable is deficient. It has the power ofwaving its spikelets, and of the thousand of truncated tentacles whichcover the spikelets each seems to possess independent action. Though all, no doubt, contribute to the sustenance of the animal, they, at will, restfrom their labours or assume great activity. It is natural to suppose that the diet of such an animal must be ofmicroscopic proportions. The other day I happened on one which had seizeda fish about four inches long, and seemed to be greedily sucking it todeath. The fish was still alive, and as it looked up at me with apathetic gleam in its watery eyes, I released it. It was verylanguid--indeed, so feeble and faint that it could not swim away. Aid hadcome too late. The fish was the legitimate prey of the anemone. Myinterference had been at variance from the laws of property and right. Asthe vestige of life which remained to the fish was all too fragile forsalvation, and as I saw the chance of ascertaining whether the anemonehad consciously seized it, or whether it had by mishap blundered againstthe anemone and had been arrested for its intrusion, I placed the fishclose to the enemy. I am certain the anemone made an effort to reach it. There was a decided swing of one of the spikes in the direction of thefish, and decided agitation among the hundreds of minute tentacles. WhenI, in the interests of remorseless truth, placed the fish in the anemoneit was immediately held fast, the activity on the part of the tubessubsiding with an air of satisfaction at the same moment. It is well known that sea anemones do assimilate such robust and richdiet as living fish. If one's finger is presented the spikelets adhere toit. I cannot describe the sensation as seizure, for it is all toodelicate for that; but at least one is conscious of a faint suckingpull. If the finger is rudely withdrawn, some of the tentacles whichhave taken a firm hold are torn away. Again, the animal is often foundapparently asleep, for it is languid and listless, and will not respondto the bait of a finger, however coaxingly presented. There is another giant anemone (DISCOMA HADDONI) known to the blacks as"pootah-pootah, " whose inner, reflexed, convoluted edges are covered withtentacles of brown with yellow terminals. This is friendly to fish--atany, rate to one species. It is the landlord or host of one of theprettiest fish of all the wide, wide sea, and seems proud of the companyof its guest, and the fish is so dependent upon its host as to be quitehelpless apart from it. The fish (AMPHIPRION PERCULA) "intel-intel" ofthe blacks, is said to be commensal (literally, dining at the same tablewith its host), as distinguished from the parasite, which lives on itshost. The good-fellowship between the dainty fish--resplendent in carmine, with a broad collar, and waist-band of silvery lavender (or rather silvershot with lavender) and outlined with purple--and the great anemone isapparent. If the finger is presented to any part of the latter, itbecomes adherent; or if the anemone is not in the mood for food, itcurls and shrinks away with a repulsive demeanour. But the beautifulfish on the least alarm retires within the many folds of its host, entirely disappearing, presently to peep out again shyly at the intruder. It is almost as elusive as a sunbeam, and most difficult to catch, for ifthe anemone is disturbed it contracts its folds, and shrinks away, offering inviolable sanctuary. If the fish be disassociated from itshost, it soon dies. It cannot live apart, though the anemone, as far ascan be judged from outward appearances, endures the separation without apang. However, it is safe to assert that the association between the stolidanemone and the painted fish--only an inch and a half long--is for theirmutual welfare, the fish attracting microscopic food to its host. And whyshould one anemone greedily seize a fish, and another find pleasure inthe companionship of one of the most beautiful and delicate of thetribe? This hospitable anemone occasionally takes another lodger--very frail andbeautiful. All that is visible on casual inspection is an irregular smearof watery, translucent violet, flitting about in association withdisjointed threads--stiff, erratic, and delicately white. There is noapparent connection between the spectral patch of colour and the animatedthreads, though they are in company. If, determined to investigate themystery, the finger is presented, the colour evades it. It is consciousand abhors the touch of man. Follow it up in the pellucid water, and makeof your hand a scoop, and you will find that you have captured, not aphantom but a prawn, compact of one bewildering blotch--and that is a wordof doubtful propriety in connection with so elfin an organism--a mereshadow tinted the palest violet, and transparencies, with legs andantennae frail as silken threads. "Substance might be called what shadow seemed, For each seemed either. " So far I have never seen this lovely lodger in the same anemone with thepainted fish. The latter, perhaps, admires it too ardently and literally. Another marvel, the sea-hare (APLYSIA), is a crudely wedge-shaped bodybut incomparable in its ruggedness to that or any other model, and thecolour of mud and sand and of coral, dead and sea-stained. It reposes, with its back flush with the surface, beside a block of coral or stonedefiantly indistinguishable from the ocean floor--a stolid, solid, inertcreature, eight or ten inches long, the under part smooth, presenting theappearance of wet chamois-leather, and irresponsive to touch--"themother tongue of all the senses. " Ugly, loathsome, and tough of texture, it is so helpless that if it is placed on the sand it is extremelydoubtful whether of its own volition it could regain its naturalposition. The surge of the sea might roll it over, and it might then beable to regain the grovelling attitude essential to life. Otherwise, Iam inclined to think fatal results would follow the mere placing of thecreature sideways on the sand. It seems to possess but the feeblest sparkof life, and yet it has its sentiments and love for its kind, for oftenthree or four are huddled together. And how, it may be asked, is thiscreature, so apt at concealment and so completely disguised, made visibleto human eyes? The answer is that if by chance the animal is disturbed it makes asupreme effort at further concealment, and that impulse--perfect as it maybe when set in opposition to the wit of the creature's nervous andapprehensive enemies--reveals it most boldly to man. From a funnel-shapedopening between two obscure flaps on the back--ordinarily invisible--thereis emitted a gush of liquid, royal purple in hue, which stains the seawith an impenetrable dye for yards around. The colour, which isdelightfully gorgeous, mingles with the water in jets and curlingfeathery sprays, enchanting the beholder with unique and ever-changingshapes until a glorious cloud is created and he forgets the ugliness andforgives the humility of the originator in the enjoyment of an artistictreat. If the cloud which Jupiter assumed was of the imperial tone and ofthe fascinating fashion which the groveller in the mud creates, Aeginawould have been superfeminine had she not joyously surrendered. Betweenthe neutral tints of the squalid sprawler and the fluid which it excretesthe contrast is so surprising that one involuntarily raises his hat byway of apology for any slighting thoughts which may have arisen fromfirst and imperfect acquaintance. There are grounds for the entertainment of the belief that the ejectedfluid not only effectually conceals the scarcely discernible animal butthat it harshly affects the sensibilities of fish. In a partially submerged coral grotto were two small spotted sharks(Wobbegong, CROSSORHINUS sp. ) notoriously sluggish and averse fromeviction from their quarters during daylight. The larger callouslydisregarded the tickling of a light fish spear, but lashed out vigorouslywhen a decisive prod was administered. In its flurry it must havedisturbed one of the dye-secreting molluscs, which had escaped my notice, for in a few seconds the water was richly imbued. Thereupon both thesharks began to manifest great uneasiness, and eventually with flusterand splashing they worked among the fissures of the coral and shot outinto the unimpregnated sea. The sharks seemed to find the presence of theforlorn groveller in the mud unendurable when it stained the water red, though apparently indifferent to its presence as long, as it remainedquiescent, which facts lend confirmation to the popular opinion that thefluid possesses a caustic-like principle violently irritative to theskin. And why should this uncouth creature with scarcely more of life than alump of coral have within it a fountain filled with Tyrian dye? Why?Because it has enemies; and though it seems to be SANS mouth, SANS eyes, SANS ears, SANS everything it is instinct with the first law ofNature--self-preservation. A fairly common inhabitant of the sandy shallows diversifying the coralreef is a slim snake (? AIPYSINAS FUSCUS), sand-coloured, with aconspicuous dark brown stock, defined with white edgings, a whitish noseand pectoral fins so large as to remind one of those defiant collarswhich Gladstone was wont to wear with such excellent effect. Blacksinvariably give the snake and its retreat a wide berth on the principleenunciated by Josh Billings: "Wen I see a snaik's hed sticking out of ahole I sez that hole belongs to that snaik. " Among them this species hasthe reputation of attacking off-hand whosoever disturbs it, and of beingprovided with deadly venom. My experience, however, bids me say that thepretty snake has the typical dread of the family of man, which dreadexpresses itself in frenzied efforts to get out of the way when suddenlymolested. For the most part it lives in a neat hole, oubliette-shaped, andin its eagerness to locate and reach its retreat it darts about with animbleness which almost eludes perception. These frantic quarterings, Ibelieve, led to the opinion that the snake is specially savage, whereasit is merely exceptionally nervous and eager for the security of itshome. Twice recently when I have startled one in an enclosed pool it hasdarted hither and thither in extreme excitement, even passing between mylegs without offering any violence or venom, and has eventuallydisappeared in a miniature maelstrom of mud, as the reptile often does. Like that lively fellow of whom Chaucer tells: "He is heer and there, He is so variant, he bideth nowhere. " Dickens had in his mind a similarly elusive character when he wrote: "Youlook at him and there he is. You look again--and there he isn't. " This habit of furiously seeking a lair might pass casually but for anastonishing detail, of which I was not well assured until it wasconfirmed by repeated observations and by knowledge current among theblacks. When the scared snake descends into its own well-defined well, very little disturbance and no discoloration of the water takes place. But when in desperation it disappears down a haphazard hole, a denselittle cloud of sediment is created. By careful watching I discoveredthat the snake entered its home head first, but in any other hole thetail had precedence, and that the frantic wriggling as it bored its waydown caused the obscuration. Moreover the snake--as subtle as any beast ofthe field--first detects a befitting temporary retreat from apparent orfancied danger, and then deliberately turns and enters tail first. Doesthe fact justify the conclusion that the creature, in the momentintervening between the detection of a present refuge in time of troubleand its dignified retreat thereinto, calculates the possibility that theunfamiliar habitation may be so narrow as to prevent the act of turninground? Does this sea-snake match its wonderful nimbleness of body with anequally wonderful nimbleness of brain? I do not presume to theorise onsuch a conundrum of Nature, but mention an undoubted fact for others toponder. One of the salt sea snakes is distinguished by its odd, deceptiveshape--a broad, flattened tail whence the body consistently diminishesto the head, which is the thinnest part. Other aquatic snakes havepaddle-shaped tails. Another singular denizen of the reef is a species of Acrozoanthus (?)--acompound animal having a single body and several heads. The body iscontained in a perpendicular, parchment-like, splay-footed tube a footand a half or two feet long, whence the heads obtrude alternately asbuds along a growing branch. Many of the tubes are vacant--the skeletonsof the departed. From those which are occupied the heads appear asbosses of polished malachite veined and fringed with dusky purple, andyellow-centred. SPAWN OF THE SEA "The dewdrop slips into the shining sea. " So Edwin Arnold. Here is an observation illustrating the manner in whichcertain pellucid sea-drops materialise and ultimately shed themselves asliving organisms "into the shining sea. " On November 6, 1908, the sea tossed up on the beach an exceptionallylarge and absolutely perfect specimen of the egg-cluster of that spaciousand useful mollusc known as the Bailer Shell (MELO DIADEMA or CYMBIUMFLAMMEUM). Its measurements were: length, 16¼ in. ; circumference atbase, 12¾ in. ; at middle, 11¼ in. ; at apex 7 1/8 in. It weighed 1¾ lb. Andcomprised 126 distinct capsules. The photograph presents a candidlikeness. During the same month and the first two weeks of December portions ofseveral other egg-clusters came ashore, and as they were in nicelygraduated stages of development I was enabled to indulge in anexceptionally entertaining study--no less than the observation of thetransformation of glistening fluid into solid matter and life. In passingit may be mentioned that the first and the last two months of the yearappear to constitute the period when the offspring of the species see thelight of day, proving that the natural impulses of some molluscs aresubject to rule and regulation similarly to those of birds and otherterrestrial forms. Each of the capsules composing the cluster is a cone with the apex freeand interior, while the base is external and adherent to its immediateneighbours, but not completely so throughout its circumference. Itfollows, therefore, that the cluster of capsules is hollow and that waterflushes it throughout. In appearance it resembles a combination of thepineapple and the corncob, and to the base a portion of the coral-stem towhich it had been anchored by its considerate parent was firmly attached. When the cluster of capsules (the substance of which is tough, semi-transparent, gelatine, opal-tinted, soon to be sea-stained ayellowish green) is slowly expelled from the parent's body--I have beenwitness to the birth--each contains about one-sixth ounce of vitalelement, fluid and glistening. Physical changes in this protoplasmmanifest themselves in the course of a few days. The central portionbecomes a little less fluid, and from an inchoate blur a resemblance to adiaphanous shell develops and floats, cloud-like, in a perfectly limpidatmosphere. Gradually it becomes denser though still translucent, as itseemingly absorbs some of the fluid by which it is surrounded. The modelof the future animal, exact even to the dainty contours and furrows aroundthat which represents the spire of the ultimate shell, is still withouttrace of visible organs. That, however, its substance is highly complex isobvious, for as imperceptible development progresses the exterior istransformed into a substance resembling rice tissue-paper--an infinitelyfragile covering--which from day to day insensibly toughens in texture andbecomes separate from the animal. Faint opaque, transverse ribs are atthis stage apparent, though disappearing later on. Opacity is primarilymanifested at the aperture of the infant mollusc where a seemingresemblance to an operculum forms, possibly for the protection of vitalorgans during nascency. This plaque of frail armour is, however, soondismantled, and of course much more happens in the never-ceasing processthan is revealed to the uninitiated. As the calcareous envelope becomes opaque and solid, the animal withinloses its transparent delicacy, and coincidentally the apex of thecapsule opens slightly. In the meantime the fluid contents havedisappeared, as if the animal had resulted from its solidification. Theanimal, too, is a very easy fit in its compartment, and incapable, in itsextreme fragility of withstanding the pressure of a finger. Now it beginsto increase rapidly in bulk and sturdiness; the shell becomes hard, andas the exit widens it screws its way out of a very ragged cradle, emerging sound and whole as a bee from its cell, all its organs equippedto ply their respective offices. With pardonable affectation of vanity it has finally fitted itself forappearance in public by the assumption of three or four buff and browndecorations upon its milk-white shell, which quickly blend into a patternvarying in individuals, of blotches and clouds in brown, yellow, andwhite. In maturity the mollusc weighs several pounds, its shell has acapacity for as much as two gallons of water, and is coloured uniformlybuff, while in old age infantile milk-white reasserts itself. It is not for such as I am in respect of the teachings of science to saywhether the development of the perfect animal from a few drops oftranslucent jelly--as free from earthly leaven as a dewdrop--is to be moredistinctly traced, in the case of this huge mollusc than in otherelementary forms. All that it becomes an unversed student of life'smysteries to suggest is that this example gives bold advertisement to themarvellous process. Many of the secrets of life are written in script so cryptic and obscurethat none but the wise and greatly skilled may decipher it, and theyonly, when aided by the special equipment which science supplies. In thiscase the firm but facile miracle is recorded in words that he that runsmay read. Independent of microscope the unskilled observer may tracecontinuity in the transformation of jelly to life. The sea-drop, lovely in its purity, knowing neither blemish nor flaw, becomes an animal with form and features distinctive from all others, with all essential organs, means of locomotion, its appetite, itsdislikes, its care of itself, its love for its kind, its inherent malicetowards its enemies--all evolved in a brief period from the concentratedessence of life. "If, as is believed, the development of the perfect animal fromprotoplasm epitomises the series of changes which represent thesuccessive forms through which its ancestors passed in the process ofevolution" (these are the words of Professor Francis Darwin) what agraphic, what a luminous demonstration of evolution is here presented! In a brief previous reference to this mollusc it was stated that theinfants in their separate capsules were in a state of progressivedevelopment from the base to the apex of the cluster, those in the basebeing the farther advanced. Investigations lead to a revision of suchstatement. No favour seems to be enjoyed by first-born capsules. Development is equable and orderly, but as in other forms of life thecontents of certain capsules seem to start into being with a morevigorous initial impulse than others, and these mature the more speedily. A sturdy infant may be screwing its way out of its cradle, while in aweakly and degenerate brother alongside the thrills of life may be farless imperative. The pictures illustrate isolated scenes in the life-history of themollusc, which in a certain sense offers a solution to, the conundrumstated by job "Who, hath begotten the drops of dew?" PROTECTIVE COLORATION July 17, 1909. Found a small cowry shell of remarkable beauty on dead coral in the Bay. At first sight it appeared as a brilliant scarlet boss on the browncoral, and upon touching it the mantle slowly parted and was withdrawn, revealing a shell of lavender in two shades in irregular bands andirregularly dotted with reddish brown spots; the apertures were richlystained with orange, and the whole enamel exceedingly lustrous. Most ofthe molluscs of the species conceal themselves under mantles so closelyresembling their environments as to often render them invisible. In thiscase the disguise assumed similitude to a most conspicuous but commonobject of anomalous growth, seeming to be a combination of slime andsponge. CHAPTER XIV SOME CURIOUS BIVALVES Though certain species of molluscs have their respective habitats, andthat which is considered rare in one part may be common in another, thereare few which have not a general interest for the scientificconchologist. Collectors prize shells on account of their rarity andbeauty; the man of science because of the assistance they afford in theworking out of the universal problems of nature. Neither a collector nora scientific student, my attitude towards marine objects is that of amere observer--an interested and often wonder-struck observer--so thatwhen I classify one species of mollusc as common and another as rare I amjudging them in accordance with my own environment and information, notfrom a general knowledge of one of the most entertaining branches ofnatural history. From this standpoint I may refer to four or five specieswhich stand out from the rest in interest and comparative rarity. An oyster (OSTREA DENDOSTREA FOLIUM), too mean of proportions, too dulland commonplace of colour to be termed pretty, worth nothing, andjustifying, in appearances its worthlessness, is remarkable for theexercise of a certain sort of deliberate wit in accordance with specialconditions. Nature provides various species of the great oyster familywith respective methods of holding their own in the sea, and in the caseunder review she permits the individual to exercise a choice of twodifferent methods of fixture as chance and the drift of circumstancesdecide its location. From the bases of the valves spring three or morepairs of hook-like processes which, if Fate decides upon a certain coralhost, encircle a slim "twig, " creating for the mollusc a curiousresemblance to a short-limbed sloth hugging tightly the branch of a tree. When the spat happens to settle in places where coral is not availablethe hooks or arms are but crudely developed. It becomes a club-footedcripple, its feet adherent by agglutination or fusion to a rock or otherand larger mollusc, dead or alive. In fact, the shrewd little oysterresponds to its environment, clasping a twig with claws or cementingitself to an unembraceable host in accordance as contingencies insist. Another mollusc (AVICULA LATA), sometimes found in company with theclinging oyster, resembles, when the fragile valves are expanded, adecapitated butterfly, brick-red in colour, with an overshirt of fine andelaborate network, orange tinted. The interior is scarcely lessattractive, the nacre having a pink and bluish lustre, while the "lip" isdark red. This is found (in my experience) only in association with acertain species of coral (GORGONIA), which flourishes in strong currentson a stony bottom three or four fathoms deep. Apart from the unusualshape and pleasing colours of the shell, it is remarkable becauseit seems to be actually incorporated with its host. The foot of themollusc is extended into a peduncle, consisting of fibres and tendons, bywhich the animal is a fixture to a spur of coral. At the point of union(to facilitate which there is a hiatus in the margins of the peduncle)the sarcode or "flesh" of the coral is denuded, its place beingoccupied by ligaments, which by minute ramifications adhere so intimatelyto the coral stock or stem that severance therefrom cannot be effectedwithout loss of life to the mollusc. On a single spray of ruddy Gorgonia several of these commensal molluscsmay occur in various stages of development--the smaller no bigger than thewing of a fly and almost as frail, the larger three and four inches long, and each whatsoever its proportions securely budded on and growing from aspur, while frequently the valves of the large are bossed with limpetsand other encumbrances. In appearance the shell represents a deformity inusurpation of a thin pencilate "growth" of coral a foot long, for theexterior colouration is that of the coral. Quite independent of theirhost for existence, these molluscs are not to be stigmatised asparasites, though the individual spur to which each is attached isinvariably destroyed by the union, merely sufficient remaining for thesupport of the intruder. Natural science provides many illustrations ofsymbiosis, or the intimate association of two distinct organisms. Thisexample may be out of the common, and therefore worthy of inclusion in ageneral reference to the life of the coral reef. A third species, rare in a certain sense only, is of a most retiring, notto say secretive, disposition. For several years I sought in vain aliving specimen of a flattened elongated bivalve (VALSELLA), buff-coloured externally, very lustrous within, with a hinge the centreof which resembles a split pearl. The blacks could offer no informationbeyond that which was delightfully indefinite. "That fella plenty alongareef. You look out. B'mbi might you catch 'em!" "Tom, " who neverwilfully parades his ignorance, boldly asserted that they favoured rocks, but he had no name for them, and no living specimen was ever forthcomingto substantiate confident opinions. An exceptionally low tide revealed several hitherto cautiously preservedsecrets of the reef, among them the location of a species of sponge, darkbrown, some semi-spherical, some turreted in fantastic fashion. Embeddedupright in the sponges, like almonds in plum-puddings, so that merely theextremities of the valves were visible as narrow slits, were thelong-sought-for molluscs. Judging by the extreme care of the species forits own protection--for it is ill-fitted in model and texture for arough-and-tumble struggle for existence--one is inclined to the opinionthat it must have many enemies. The valves are frail and brittle, andonly when they gape are they revealed, and the gape is self consciouslypolite. The sponge embraces the slender mollusc so maternally that rudeyawning is forbidden. It may lisp only and in smooth phrases, such as"prunes" and "prisms"; and, moreover, the host further insures itagainst molestation by the diffusion of an exceptionally powerful odour, which, though to my sense of smell resembles phosphorus, is, I aminformed on indubitable authority, derivable from the active form ofoxygen known as ozone. Experimentally I have placed these molluscs infresh water, to find it quickly dyed to a rich amber colour whileacquiring quite remarkable pungency. Even after the third change thewater was impregnated. Interest in the mollusc became secondary upon the discovery of the hostand in consideration of the part it plays in the production of one of thespecial effects of coral reefs; but the mollusc serves another andtimely purpose--purely personal and yet not to be disregarded. Itindicates a dilemma with which the wilful amateur in the first-hand studyof conchology is confronted. Although, as I have said, no local knowledgeof identity was available, reference to a well-disposed expert securedthe information that its title in science is VULSELLA LINGULATA; thatsome twenty species are known; that they all associate with sponges, andthat possibly different species inhabit different kinds of sponges. Itmay seem unpardonably gratuitous on the part of one professedly ignorantto offer general observations upon natural phenomena; but as I findmyself among the great majority who do not know and who may be more orless interested and anxious to learn, I claim justification in describingthat which to me is novel and rare. In this splendid isolation I cannothope to illuminate primary investigations with the searching light inwhich science basks unblinkingly, for the nearest library of text-booksis close on a thousand miles away. Nor can I keep all my observations tomyself. There are some which, like murder, "will out, " conscious though Iam of meriting the censure of the learned. With this off my mind, let me return to the tenement sponges, which maybe likened to so many independent and flourishing manufactories of ozone. Apart from the odour of brine common to every ocean and the scents of thealgae and some of the flowering plants of the sea, which are similar allover the world, a coral reef has a strong and specific effluence. Theskeletonless coral (ALCYONARIA) has a sulphurous savour of its own, andthe echini and bêche-de-mer are also to be separately distinguished bytheir fumes. Anemones, great and small, seem to disperse a recognisablescent as from a mild and watery solution of fish and phosphorus. But ofall the occupants of the reef none are so powerful or so characteristicin this respect as sponges. Puissant and aggressive, these exhalationsare at times so strong as to almost make the eyes water, while excitingvivid reminiscences of old-fashioned matches and chemical experiments. Substantial, wholesome, and clean--though generated by a wet, helplesscreature having no personal charms, and which, having passed the phase oflife in which it enjoyed the gift of locomotion, has become a plant-likefixture to one spot--the gas mingles with other diffusions of the reef, recalling villanous salt-petre and sheepdips and brimstone and treacle tothe stimulation of the mental faculties generally. Invariably an afternoon's exploration of the coral reef is followed by adrowsy evening and a night of exceptionally sweet repose. No ill dreamsmolest the soothing hours during which the nervous system is burnishedand lubricated, and you wake refreshed and invigorated beyond measure. Ihave endeavoured to account for the undoubted physical replenishment andmental exhilaration largely from the breathing of air saturated withemanations from the coral and sea things generally. In the course of three hours' parade and splashing in the tepid water, ever so many varieties of gas more or less pungent and vitalising--gaswhich seems to search and strengthen the mechanism of the lungs withchemically enriched air, to tonic the whole system, and to brighten theperceptive faculties, have been imbibed. Exercise and the eagerness withwhich wonders are sought out and admired may account in part for presentelation and balmy succeeding sleep, but the vital functions seem, if myown sensations are typical, to receive also a general toning up. Twice amonth at least a man should spend an afternoon on a coral reef for thebetterment of body and brain. On the face of it this is counsel ofperfection. Only to the happy few is such agreeable and blest physicproffered gratis. Yet the whole world might be brighter and better ifcoral reefs were more generously distributed. Breathing such subtle andsturdy air, men would live longer; while the extravagant life of thereef, appealing to him in fine colours and strange shapes, would averthis thoughts from paltry and mean amusements and over-exciting pleasures. The pomp of the world he would find personated by coral polyps; itsvanities by coy and painted fish; its artfulness represented by crabsthat think and plan; its scavenging performed by aureoled worms. Although students of conchology are familiar with several species ofLIMA, I am eager to include it in these haphazard references, because myfirst acquaintance with a living specimen afforded yet another experienceof the versatility of the designs of Nature. It is truly one of the"strange fellows" which Nature in her time has framed. Living obscurelyin cavities, under stones, inoffensive and humble, the Lima enjoys thedistinction of being, the permanent exemplification of the misfit, itsbody being several sizes too large as well as too robust for its fragile, shelly covering. The valves are obtusely oblong, while the animal isalmost a flattened oval, the mantle being fringed with numerous brightpink tentacles, almost electrical in their sensitiveness. Though anything but rotund, so full in habit (comparatively speaking) isthe body of the lima that the valves cannot compress it. Except at thehinges they are for ever divorced, an unfair proportion of the bulgingbody being exposed naked to the inclemency and hostility of the world. "All too full in the bud" for those frail unpuritanical stays, the animalseems to be at a palpable disadvantage in the battle of life, yet thelima is equipped with special apparatus for the maintenance of its rightto live. By the expansion and partial closing of the valves it swims oris propelled with a curiously energetic, fussy, mechanical action, whilethe ever-active pink rays--a living, nimbus--beat rhythmically, imperiously waving intruders off the track. The appearance and activities of the creature are such as to establishthe delusion that it is not altogether amicable in its attitude towardseven such a bumptious and authoritative product of Nature as man. Itsagitated demonstrations--whatever their vital purpose may be--to thesuperficial observer are danger signals, a means of self-preservation, asa substitute for the hard calcareous armour bestowed upon other molluscs. The fussy red rays may impose upon enemies a sense of discretion whichconstrains them to avoid the lima, which, though hostile in appearance, is one of the mildest of creatures. The tentacles, too, have a certainsort of independence, for they occasionally separate themselves from theanimal upon the touch of man, adhering to the fingers, while maintainingharmonic action, just as the tip of a lizard's tail wriggles and squirmsafter severance. Most of the blocks of submerged, denuded coral are the homes of certainspecies of burrowing molluscs, the most notable of which are the "datemussels" (LITHOPHAGA). The adult of that designated L. TERES is over twoinches long and half an inch in diameter; glossy black, with the surfacedelicately sculptured in wavy lines; the interior nacreous, with a bluishtinge. This excavates a perfectly cylindrical tunnel, upon the sides ofwhich are exposed the stellar structure of the coral. A closely relatedspecies (STRAMINEA), slightly longer, and generally of smooth exterior, partially coated with plaster, muddy grey in colour, adds to the comfortand security of existence by lining its tunnel with a smooth material, adistinction which cannot fail to impress the observer. In each case themollusc is a loose fit in its burrow, having ample room for rotation, butthe aperture of the latter is what is known as a cassinian oval, andgenerally projects slightly above the surface of the coral. The animal is a voluntary life prisoner, for the aperture has the leastdimension of the tunnel. The genus is known to be self luminous--a decidedadvantage in so dark and narrow an habitation. It seems to me to beworthy of special note that an animal enclosed by Nature in tightlyfitting valves should also be endowed with the power of mixing plaster orsecreting the enamel with which its tunnel is lined and of depositing itwith like regularity and, smoothness to that exhibited in its morepersonal covering which grows with its growth. The mollusc in itsburrow in the depths of a block of coral, white as marble, with its ownlight and its self-constructed independent wall, appeals to my mind asevidence of the care of Nature for the preservation of types, while fromsuch retiring yet virile creatures man learns earth-shifting lessons. Aquotation from Lyell's "Principles of Geology" says that theperforations of Lithophagi in limestone cliffs and in the three uprightcolumns of the Temple of Jupiter Serapis at Puzzuoli afford conclusiveevidence of changes in the level of sea-coasts in modern times--theborings of the mollusc prove that the pillars of the temple must have beendepressed to a corresponding depth in the sea, and to have been raisedup again without losing their perpendicularity. The date-mussels play an important part in the conversion ofsea-contained minerals into dry land. Massive blocks of lime secreted bycoral polyps being weakened by the tunnels of the mussels are the moreeasily broken by wave force; and being reduced finally to mud, the lime, in association with sand and other constituents, forms solid rock. A feature of another of the coral rock disintegrating agents is itsextreme weakness. It is a rotund mollusc with frail white valves, closelyfitting the cavity in which it lives. As it cannot revolve, theexcavation of the cavity is, possibly, effected by persistent butnecessarily extremely slight "play" of the valves; but the animalappears to be quite content in its cramped cell with a tiny circularaperture (generally so obscured as to be invisible), through which itaccepts the doles of the teeming, incessant sea. CHAPTER XV BARRIER REEF CRABS "Reasoning, oft admire How Nature, wise and frugal, could commit Such dispositions with superfluous hand. " MILTON. So much of the time of the Beachcomber is spent sweeping with hopefuleyes the breadths of the empty sea, policing the uproarious beaches, overhauling the hordes of roguish reefs, and the medley concealed in cosycaves by waves that storm at the bare mention of the rights of privateproperty, that he cannot avoid casual acquaintance with the scores ofanimated things which ceaselessly woo him from the pursuit of hiscalling. Should he be inclined to ignore the boldly obvious distractionsfrom serious affairs, there are others, not readily discernible, whichhave singularly direct and successful methods of fixing attention uponthemselves. Roseate or sombre your humour as you patrol the reefs, it is liable to bechanged in a flash into clashing tints by inadvertent contact with awarty ghoul of a sea-urchin, a single one of whose agonising spines neverfails to bring you face to face with one of the vividest realities oflife. A slim but shapely mollusc known as Terebellum or augur, to mentionanother conceited little disturber of your meditations, stands on itsspire in the sand, and screws as you tread, cutting, a delightfullysymmetrical hole in the sole of your foot, and retaining thecore--perfect as that of a diamond drill. Many and varied are the inconspicuous creatures with office to remind thebarefooted trespasser that no charter of the isles and their wrecks isflawless, and that they are prepared to inflict curious pains and limpingpenalties for every incautious intrusion on their domicile. Few of thedenizens of the unkempt coral gardens are more remarkable than the crabs. By reef and shore I have come literally into contact with so many quaintspecimens, and they have so often afforded exhilarating diversion andsent brand-new startling sensations scurrying along such curious andcomplicated byways, that courtesy bids me tender a portrait of one of thefamily which (in appearance only) may be described as a dandy, and totell of two or three others whose intimacy is invariably enlivening. Shall I dispose of the dandy first? Perhaps it were better so, for Iconfess to a very slight acquaintanceship with him, and as I am ignorant, too, of its ceremonious as well as familiar title, the pleasure of aformal introduction is denied. In the portrait the rulingpassions--modesty and meekness--are graphically displayed. When it liesclose--and it moves rarely, and then with a gentle lateral swaying--thefancy dress of seaweed is a garment of invisibility. It is far more trueto character alive than as a museum specimen, for its natural complexionis a yellowish grey, the neutral tint of the blending of sand and coralmud upon which it resides. The preserving fluid added a pinkish tinge tothe body and limbs. Blame, therefore, the embalmer for theover-conspicuous form which is not in the habit of the creature as itlived. Neither are the plumes those of pomp and ceremony, but merely theinsignia of self-conscious meekness--the masquerade under which theshrinking crab moves about, creating as little din and stir as possible, in an ever-hungry world. With such unfaltering art does it act its partthat it is difficult to realise the crab's real self unless aided bymischance. Conscious of the terrors of discovery, it rocks to and fro, that its plumes may sway, as it were, in rhythm with the surge of thesea. Can there be such a thing as an unconscious mimic? If not, then theportrait is that of an ideal artist. Those who know only the great flat, ruddy crabs with ponderous pincersand pugnacious mien, which frequent fish shop windows, can form but a veryunflattering opinion of the fancy varieties which people every mile ofthe Barrier Reef. The struggle for existence in this vast, crowded, and most cruel ofarenas is so appalling that the great crab family has been battered bycircumstances into weird and fantastic forms. Only a few come up to thehuman conception of the beautiful either in figure or colouring. Whilesome shrink from observation, others, though themselves obscure to thevanishing-point, seem to be endowed with a vicious yearning fornotoriety. A certain cute little pursuer of fame is absolutely invisible until youfind it stuck fast to one of your toes with a serrated dorsal spur aquarter of an inch long. It is invisible, because Nature sends it intothis breathing world masquerading, as she did Richard III, deformed, unfashioned, scarce half made-up. In general appearance it closelyresembles a crazy root-stalk of alga--green and not quite opaque, andclinging to such alga it lives, and lives so placidly that it cannot bedistinguished from its prototype except by the sense of touch. When youpick it gingerly from between your toes there is a malicious gleam in thepin-point black eyes, and then you understand that it is one of the manyinventions designed for the torment of trespassers. I have often sought specimens of this poor relation of the fish-shopwindow aristocrat, but invariably in vain, until I have found myselfsuddenly shouting "Eureka!" while balancing myself on one foot eagerfor the easement of the other, and the giggling demeanour of the imp asit parts company with his spur gives a sort of comic relief to thethrilling sensations of the moment. Upon examination this imp seems to bean example of arrested development. Whimsical fate has played upon it agrim practical joke, flattering it primarily by resemblance to agrotesquely valorous unicorn, and then, having changed her mood to merepettishness, finished it offhand by adding a section of semi-animateseaweed. Although among the commonest of the species, the grey sand crab, whichburrows bolt-holes in the beaches, is by no means an uninterestingcharacter. Surrounded by enemies, and yet living on the bare, coverlessbeach, its faculties for self-preservation are exceptionally refined. The eyes are elongated ovals, based on singularly mobile pivots, whilethe pupils resemble the bubble of a spirit-level. Not only is the rangeof vision a complete circle, but the crab seems able to concentrate itsgaze upon any two given points instantly and automatically. To spite allits skill as a digger, to set at naught its superb visual alertness, thesand crab has a special enemy in the bird policeman which patrols thebeach. Vigilant and obnoxiously interfering, the policeman has a long andcuriously curved beak, designed for probing into the affairs of crabs, and unless the "hatter" has hastily stopped the mouth of its shaft witha bundle of loose sand--which to the prying bird signifies "Out! Pleasereturn after lunch!"--will be disposed of with scant ceremony and nograce, for the manners of the policeman are shocking. This quick-footed sand-digger enhances its reputation by the performanceof feats of subtlety and skill. Its bolt-hole is sometimes three feetdeep, generally on an incline. Piled in a mound the spoil wouldinevitably betray the site of the operations to the policeman, thusseriously facilitating the duties of that official towards thesuppression of the species. From remote depths the crab carries a bundleof sand. You remember the trenchant way in which Pip's sister cut thebread and butter, her left hand jamming the loaf hard and fast againsther bib? Just so the crab with its bundle of loose sand, though it hasthe advantage in the number of limbs which may be pressed into service. The feat of carrying an armful of sliding sand in proportion to bulkabout one-third of the body, is far away and beyond the capacities ofhuman beings, but to the crab, which has acquired the trick of temporaryconsolidation by pressure, it is merely child's play. Arrived at themouth of the shaft, it elevates its eyes (which in the dark have restedin neatly fitting recesses) for the purpose of a cautious yet sweepingsurvey. Seeing nothing alarming, it emerges with the alertness of ajack-in-the-box, races several inches, and scatters the load broadcast asthe sower of seed who went forth to sow. Then, as suddenly, the crabpauses and flattens itself--its body merging with its surroundings almostto invisibility--preparatory for a spurt for home. During theseexertions the intellect of the crab has been concentrated for outwittingthe vigilance of enemies, for the plodding policeman is not singular inappreciation. The lordly red-backed sea-eagle occasionally condescends tosuch humble fare, and the crab must needs be alert to evade the scrutinywith which the eagle searches the sand. This passing reference to the wit and deftness of the crab would be quiteuncomplimentary in default of special notice of the plug of sand withwhich it stops its burrow. As a rule it is about an inch thick, and incontent far more than a crab could carry in a single load. How does thecreature, working from below and with such refractory material, soarrange that the plug shall be flush with the surface and sufficientlyconsolidated to retain its own weight? Of what art in loose masonry hasthe crab the unique secret? Shakespeare speaks of stairs of sand, and Poelaments the "how few" grains of golden sand which crept through hisfingers to the deep; but who but a crab possesses the secret for thebuilding of a roof of the material which is the popular emblem ofinstability and shiftiness? The impartial student must not restrict his notions as to thepossibilities of sand to the admirable accomplishments of crabs. He mayalso inspect with profit the handicraft of a lowly mollusc whichagglutinates sand-grains into a kind of plaque, in the substance ofwhich numerous eggs are deposited. To attribute manual dexterity and a calculating mind to a mere crab, is, no doubt, an insult to the intelligence of those who "view all culogiumon the brute creation with a very considerable degree of suspicion andwho look upon every compliment which is paid to the ape as high treasonto the dignity of man. " But the truthful historian of the capabilitiesof crabs, the duty of one who stands sponsor to some of the species andwho has the hardihood to indite some of the manifestations of theirintelligence, wit, and craft, must discard the prejudices of his race, abandon all flattering sense of superiority, forbear the smiles ofpatronage, and contemplate them from the standpoint of fellowship andsympathy. In this spirit he watches another expert digger which has a sharp-edgedshovel affixed to the end of each of its eight legs, and is so deft intheir use that it disappears in the sand on the instant of detection, without visible effort, and almost as quickly as a stone sinks in water. Unless a crab is a giant in armour, or is endowed with almostsupernatural alertness, or is an artist in the art of mimicry, or unlessit cultivates some method of rapid disappearance, it has little chance ofholding its own in the battle raging unceasingly over the vast areas ofthe Great Barrier Reef. CHAPTER XVI THE BLOCKADE OF THE MULLET "Up with a sally and a flash of speed As if they scorned. " The rains which came at the New Year flooded all the creeks of theIsland. Accumulations of sand usually form beds through which the sweetwater slowly mingles with the salt, but with the violence and impetus ofa downpour of ten inches during the night, each torrent had cut achannel, through which it raced from the seclusion of the jungle to thefree, open sea. Twice in the twenty-four hours the impassive flowing tidesubdued the impertinence of each of the brawlers, smothered its gurgling, and forced it back among the ferns and jungle and banana-plants whichcrowded its banks. The largest stream at high water was four feet deep. As I prepared towade across George, the black boy, shouted over his shoulder towards aslowly swaying cloud in the deep pool overhung with foremost flounces ofthe jungle. The cloud was a shoal of sea mullet. Save for a clear marginof about three feet, the fish filled the pond--an alert, greyish-blue massedged with cream-coloured sand. There were several hundred fish, allbearing a family resemblance as to size as well as to feature. It was slack water. The fish were, no doubt, about to move down-stream tothe sea, for all headed that way when the disturbing presence of manblocked the passage. A thrill went through the phalanx, and it swayed tothe left and then to the right. The movement--spontaneous andmechanical--slightly elongated the formation, and three scouts in singlefile slid down to reconnoitre, and with a nervous splash as they scenteddanger, dashed back and blended imperceptibly with the mass. "We catch plenty big fella mullet!" George exclaimed, as he gleefullysplashed the water, and the cloud contracted and shrank back. The streamwas about ten feet wide. Our equipment for sport consisted of a tomahawkand a grass-tree spear so frail that any of the mullet could have swumoff with it without inconvenience. Straddling the stream side by side we splashed and "shooed" when theslightest symptom of a sally on the part of the fish was betrayed. A fewbrave leaders darted down, generally in pairs, and flashed back in frightat our noisy demonstrations, and so the blockade of the mullet began. While I stood guard shouting and "shooing" and making such commotion as Itrusted would convince the fish that the blockading force was ever somuch stronger and more truculent than it really was, George began toconstruct a pre-eminently practical wall. Its design was evolved agesupon ages ago by black students of hydrostatics and fish. George hadimbibed the principles of its construction with his mother's milk. He cutdown several saplings, and, screwing the butt ends into the soft sandabout a foot apart, interlaced them with branches of mangrove andbeach-trailers and swathes of grass. But the tide began to ebb. Thepent-up current, strong and rapid, frequently carried portions of thestructure away. George had to duck and dive to tie the vines and creepersto the stakes close down to the sandy bottom. Though armfuls of leafagefloated to the surface and rolled out to sea, George worked with joyfuldesperation. Presently the fish began to make determined rushes. Shoutingand splashing, tearing down branches, capturing driftwood, diving andgasping, his efforts were unceasing. Understanding the guile of the fish, he sought to make the deeper part of the weir secure, and for an hour orso he laboured in the water with head, hands, and feet. While with deftfingers he weaved creepers and branches to the stakes, his feet beat thesurface into surf and surge to the scaring of the fish to the remotelimits of their retreat. But the tighter the weir became, the more thepressure was on it. Fast as repairs were made at one spot gaps appearedin another which demanded immediate attention. The quantity of materialthat our works absorbed was scarcely to be realised. But a double-ended, amphibious black boy can work every-day wonders. Not a single fish hadescaped. We had the whole shoal at our mercy, for George had confidentlyprovided against all contingencies. Buoyant on the bosom of the stream came a good-sized log with raking, shortened limbs. Under its cover the fish sallied forth a hundred strong, strenuous in bravery and resolution. The log swept past me, making aterrible breach in our weir, through which many fish shot. Some leapedhigh overhead. Two landed on the sand, helplessly flapping and gasping. George occupied the breach, and as he waved his arms and shouted, afour-pounder, leaping high, struck him on the forehead. He sat downemphatically, and another gap was made. As he struggled to his feet thevanquished members of the assaulting party fled to the main host. Honourswere with the besieged. Blood oozed from a lump on George's forehead, there were cruel breaches in the weir, the fish had gained confidenceand knowledge of our works, and only two were prisoners. Now the sallies became frequent. Sometimes the fish came as scouts, moreoften in battalions, and in the dashes for liberty many were successful. George toiled like a fiend. His repairs looked all right on the surface, but ever and anon considerable flotsam indicated vital gaps. In spite ofsplashing and "shooing" and the complications of the weir, we had hadthe mortification of seeing hosts escape. Then George changed his tactics. Abandoning his faith in the weir, heconverted it into what he called, in his enthusiastic excitement, "abed. " He laid branches of the weir so that the leaves and twigsinterlaced and crossed, buttressing the structure with another row ofpalisades. His theory was that the fish, as the water became shallower, would cease their efforts to wriggle through, and, leaping high, wouldland on the bed and be easily captured. No preliminary shouting andsplashing affected the solidity of that determined array. Mullet knew allabout blackfellows' weirs and their beds. Some slid through. Many leaped, and, curving gracefully in the air, struck the "bed" at such an anglethat it offered no more resistance to them than a sheet of damptissue-paper. They sniggered as they went through it, and splashed wildlyto the sea. They were grand fish--undaunted, afraid of no man or hispaltry obstacles to liberty, up to every cunning manoeuvre. Were we to be beaten by a lot of silly, slippery fish in a shallowstream? Never! January's unsheltered sun played upon my tanned, wet, andshameless back; the salt sweat coursed down my shoulders and dripped frommy face. The scrub fowl babbled and chuckled, cockatoos jeered from thetopmost branches of giant milkwood trees and nodded with yellow crestsgrave approval of the deeds of the besieged; fleet white pigeons flewfrom a banquet of blue fruits to a diet of crude seeds, and not a singleone of the canons of the gentle art of fishing but was scandalouslyviolated. It was a coarse and unmanly encounter--the wit, strategy, finesse, and boldness of fish pitted against the empty noise and blusterof inferior man and the flimsiness of his despicable barriers. In silence and magnificent resolve they came at us. We fought withsticks and all the power of our lungs. Rest was out of the question. Theleafy dyke and "bed" stood ever in need of repair; the sallies werecontinuous and determined. The "bed" was not made for those knightlyfish to lie ignobly upon. A single fish would slip down-stream, and, gathering speed and effort, leap with the glitter of heroism in its eyes. One such George caught in his arms. Another slipped through my fingersand struck me on the shoulders, and I bore the mark of the assault for aweek. George's brow was bleeding. Indeed, all his blood was up. His"heroic rage" was at bursting point. We had toiled for two hours andcounted but three fish, while as many hundred had battled past our siegeworks. Quite as many remained, and time, as it generally does, seemed tobe in favour of the attacking party. Was Charles Lamb right when he spoke of "the uncommunicating muteness offishes"? These beleaguered mullet surely exchanged ideas and acted withdeliberation and in concert. All swayed this way or that in accordance, so it seemed, with the will of the front rank. A tremor there wasrepeated instantly at the rear. When a detachment made a bid for libertyit was in response to a common impulse. When a single individual startedon a forlorn hope the others seemed to watch our hostile demonstrationsas it leaped--flashing silvery lights from its scales--to prove theunworthiness of weirs and beds, and we, of the ranks of Tuscany, cheeredif its deed of derring do was neatly and successfully achieved. Fish to the number of five having fallen into our clutches, we stood byand watched the rest. Most of them leaped gloriously to liberty. Someignominiously wriggled. Others remained in the pool, their nerves soshattered by bluster and assault that they had not the melancholy courageto slip away. In his wrath--for blood still oozed from his forehead--George would have exterminated the skulkers, and, checked in hisbloodthirstiness, he showered upon them contemptible titles while hecooked two of those we had captured. Wrapped in several folds of bananaand "ginger" leaves, and steamed in hot sand, the full flavour of thefish was retained and something of the aroma of the leaves imparted. Iwas not, therefore, astonished when George, having eaten a three-pounder, finished off my leavings--nothing to boast of, by the way--and proceededto cook another (for the dog); and Barry, I am bound to say, got fairlyliberal pickings. The weather was close, and being satisfied, and, foronce, frugal, George cooked the two remaining fish, and swathing themneatly in fresh green leaves, sauntered away, cooing a corroboree ofcontent. CHAPTER XVII WET SEASON DAYS "The north-east spends his rage; he now shut up Within his iron cave, the effusive south Warms the wide air and o'er the vault of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent. " THOMSON. Just as in the spring a young man's fancies lightly turn to thoughts oflove, so at the beginning of each new year in tropical Queensland theminds of the weather sages become sensitive and impressionable. All thetarnish is rubbed off the recollection of former ill manners on the partof the weather, when about the middle of January the wind begins tobluster and to abuse good-natured trees, shaking off twigs and whirlingbranches like a tipsy bully striving to dislocate a weak man's arm at theshoulder. We remember dubious events all too vividly when the recitationof them does not make for mutual consolation. In January, 1909, for two days the sea burst on the black rocks of theislet in the bay in clouds of foam. It was all bombast, froth andbubble, or rather a gentle back-hander, for the cyclone was playing allsorts of naughty pranks elsewhere. But why were we apprehensive? Indisobedience to the scriptural injunction, we had observed the clouds andthe birds. Twice a flock of lesser frigate-birds, those dark, fish-tailedhigh-fliers which are for ever cutting animated "W's" in the air withlong lithe wings--had appeared. Seldom do they come unless as harbingersof boisterous weather. On each recent occasion they had been absolutelytrustworthy messengers. Watching them soaring and swooping, we said oneto another: "Behold the cyclone cometh!" But it did not. With apassing flick of its tail it passed elsewhere. Altogether, however, we had very queer weather and two or three "rum"sorts of nights. On the 19th the morning was calm, the sky brilliantlyclear. A north-east breeze sprang up at noon. Deep violet thunder-cloudsgathered in the west, and, muttering and grumbling, rolled across thenarrow strait slowly and sullenly. Australia scowled at our penitentIsland, threatening direful inflictions--lightning, thunder, and anoverwhelming cataclysm. Behind that frowning Providence there was asmiling face. The good storm, albeit black and angry, behaved benignly. Gentle rain came, and a picturesque little electrical display to ahumming accompaniment of far distant thunder, followed by a soothinglycool south-westerly breeze. Just at sundown the weather-god, repenting ofhis frown, bestowed a glorious benediction. All afternoon a damp pall had overhung the Island, mopping up feeblesounds and strangely muffling the stronger. Now it was translated. Lifting so that the summits only of the hills were capped, the haze (forit became nothing more) assumed a luminous yellow saffron suffused withsage green. Against this singularly lovely, ample "cloth" branches andleaves of steadfast trees stood out in high relief. All the lower levelsbecame transparently clear, the definition of distant objects magicallysharpened, spaces translucent. In a sea which shone like polished silverthe islet was a gem--green enamel, amethyst rocks, golden sand. The boldwhite trunks of giant tea-trees glowed; the creamy blooms of bloodwoodswere as flecks of snow; the tips of the fronds of coco-nut palmsflickered vividly as burnished steel; the white-painted house assumedspeckless purity. All light colours were heightened; ruddy browns andsombre greens seemed to have been smartened up by touches of fresh paintand varnish. An idealistic artist had revealed for once living tints anduncomprehended hues. Was it not a landscape fresh from Nature's brush divinely transmogrifiedby one bold smudge of yellow-green haze? Or was the effect partly due tothe dust raised by the golden fringe of the blue mantle which the suntrailed over the glowing hills? I know naught of the chemistry of colours, nor why this yellow-green medium should so clarify and etherealise theatmosphere. But was ever clear sunset half so affecting? This tinted, luminous cloud had bewitched the commonplace, converting familiarsurroundings into fairyland itself. If all the world's a stage, this trulywas one of the rarest transformation scenes. What was about to happen? Surely this mysterious colouring portended someastounding phenomena? Again, nothing did happen, save a stilly night andgrey. VEGETATION AND MOISTURE It seems fitting and quite safe to point a moral, by allusion to certainconditions prevalent during 1907. Between January 1st and June 30th80. 80 inches of rain were registered. July, August, September, and Octoberprovided only 1. 74 inches, which quantity bespeaks quite a phenomenaldraught. The catchment area of the creek which discharges into Brammo Bayis less than forty acres, and for the most part consists of exceedinglysteep declivities. The head of the creek is seven hundred feet abovesea level, and its total length less than three-quarters of a mile. Yet, notwithstanding the circumscribed extent of the catchment, the steep, in places almost precipitous, descents, and that for months the rain wasinsufficient to cause a surface flow, the creek which had cut a gully orcanyon forty feet deep across the plateau, never ceased running, theturbulence of the wet season having merely subsided into a tinklingtrickle. During the dry period the atmosphere was the reverse of humid;but the almost impenetrable shield of vegetation--the beauty and glory ofthe Island--discounted loss by evaporation. One can well imagine that inthe absence of this gracious protection the creek would cease to flow aweek or so after the cessation of rain. The marked but consistent decrease of water in the creek by day and itsrise during the night having excited interest, a series of measurementswas taken, the result being somewhat astonishing. One day's readingswill suffice, for scarcely any variation from them was recorded forweeks, concurrent meteorological conditions undergoing no sudden ordecided change while the experiment was in progress: Sunday, November 10, 1907. Inches. 6. 30 a. M. 10 1/49 " 10Noon (high tide) 6 5/83 p. M. 35. 30 p. M. 1 1/26. 10 " (sundown) 1 1/27. 10 " 3 7/89 " 10 1/8 At 7 a. M. On the 11th and 12th the water stood at 10 1/4 inches and Iassume that to have been the constant level throughout the night. The conclusion I draw (rightly or wrongly) from the fact emphasised bythese figures is that the mass of vegetation exercises a direct andimmediate effect upon the flow of water by gravitation from thecatchment. A continual and increasing demand for refreshment existingduring the day, the root spongioles are in active operation interceptingthe moisture in its descent and absorbing it, while with the lessening ofthe temperature on the going down of the sun reaction begins, the stomataof the leaves exercise their functions, and by the absorption of gasreact on the root films, which for the time relax their duty of arrestingthe passage of minute particles of water, with a very definite result onthe nocturnal flow. THE ODOUR OF THE DEATH ADDER February 2, 1909. Whenever I take my walks abroad I have the companionship of a couple ofIrish terriers, enthusiastic hunters of all sorts of "vermin, " from thejeering scrub fowl, which they never catch, to the slothful, spinyant-eater, which they are counselled not to molest. Lizards andoccasionally snakes are disposed of without ceremony, though in the caseof the snakes the tactics of the dogs are quite discreet. Several yearsago the dogs (not those which now faithfully attend my walks, for morethan one generation has passed away) attracted attention by yappingenthusiastically. I flatter myself that I understand the language of myown dogs sufficiently to enable me to judge when they have detectedsomething demanding my co-operation in the killing. When assistance isneeded, there are notes of urgent appeal in their exclamations. As arule my opinion is not asked in respect of lizards, or rats, or the like;but snakes are invariably held up until an armed force arrives. On the occasion referred to I found them in a frenzy of excitement, feinting and snapping at something sheltering at the base of a tussock ofgrass. Peering closely, I saw, half concealed beneath grass, sand, andleaves, what I took to be a death adder, which I summarily shot. Then itbecame apparent that the dogs had blundered, for the reptile was alizard. The mistake in identity, was, however, excusable, for in size, shape, colouring, and marking it so closely resembled an adder that I wasnot readily convinced to the contrary. Placing the two pieces into whichthe shot had divided the creature in juxtaposition, I sympathised withthe dogs more strongly, feeling certain that no one would have hesitatedto give the harmless lizard a very bad character. Before firing the fatalshot the distention of the body had confirmed my opinion as to identity, and the method of partial concealment and of lying inert were significantof the dangerous little snake. I had no doubt at the time, too, that itemitted a deceptive odour, which, being similar to that of the adder, hadbeen chiefly instrumental in exciting extraordinary suspicion on the partof the terriers. Dogs of another generation were concerned in a repetition of thisexperience in its significant details more recently. Having crossed acreek ahead, frantic appeals were made, but before I could reach the spotthe excitement got beyond bounds, and I saw one of them snap upsomething, shake it viciously, and toss it away with every manifestationof repugnance and caution. Again I presumed the squirming reptile to bean adder, for the dogs, with bristling backs and uplifted lips, walkedround it gingerly, sniffing and starting as if it were most fearsome anddetestable. The bulk of the reptile gradually subsided, confirming theopinion that the dog had actually killed an adder, a feat I had neverknown it perform. Investigation again proved that an innocent lizardparading as an offensive snake had lost its life. Does not this evidencesuggest that the lizard assumes the similitude and the odour of theadder, its tactics of concealment, and its characteristic habit ofpuffing itself out in order to warn off its foes? The spontaneous, unsuborned, and independent evidence of two sets of dogs cannot be whollydisregarded. Testimony confirmatory of the contention that adders do diffuse aspecific odour, too subtle for man's perception though readily detectableby the sensitive faculties of lower animals, and that such odouraffrights and therefore protects them from the reptiles, is contained inCaptain Parker Gillmore's work, "The Great Thirst Land. " Having killed asmall specimen of the horned adder--the "poor venomous fowl" with whichCleopatra ended her gaudy days--and having handled it to examine thepoison glands and returned to his pony, he writes: "As soon as Iadvanced my hand to his head-stall to reverse the reins over his head, heshied back as if in great alarm, and it required some minutes before hewould permit me to closely approach. The reason of this conduct in sostaid and proper-minded an animal is obvious. In handling the adder someof the smell attached to its body must have adhered to my hands. " When four dogs and one horse, all apparently honourable and well broughtup, agree on such a point, to theorise to the contrary would beungracious. NEPTUNE'S HANDICRAFT February 16, 1909. An easterly breeze coincident with a flowing tide occasionally (thoughnot invariably) creates a gentle swirl in Brammo Bay, a swirl so placidas to be imperceptible in default of such indices as driftwood. Undersuch a condition Neptune makes playthings which possibly in some futureage may puzzle men who happen to ponder seriously on first causes. Irecall an afternoon when such playthings were being manufacturedabundantly. Globular, oval, and sausage-shaped dollops of dark-grey mudwere twirling and rolling on the fringe of listless wavelets. Theuniformity of the several models and their apparent solidity excitedcuriosity. Upon investigation all the large examples were more or lesscoated with sand. Some were so completely and smoothly enveloped thatthey appeared to be actual balls of sand and shell grit. The mass, however, was found to be mud mixed with fine sand, with generally ashell or portion thereof, or a fragment of coral as a kernel or core. Infact, each of the dollops was a fair sample of the material of the oceanfloor extending from the inner edge of the coral to the beach. With so many samples in view one could observe the whole process offormation. The crescentic sweep of the wavelets rolled fragments of shellor coral in the mud, successive revolutions adding to the respectivebulks by accretion. As the tide rose each piece was trundled on to thesloping beach, to be rolled and compressed until coated with a mosaic ofwhite shell chips, angularities of silica and micaceous spangles, thefinished article being cast aside as the tide receded. Sometimes the wavelets did the kneading and rolling so clumsily that thenodule was malformed, but the majority were singularly symmetrical, evidencing nice adjustment between the degree of adhesiveness of the"pug" and the applied force of the wave. Several weighed nearly a quarterof a pound, while the majority were not much bigger than marbles, and theoval was the most frequent form. Is it reasonable to conjecture that some of these singular formationswhich Neptune turned out by the score during an idle afternoon may bepreserved--kernels of sedimentary rock each in a case of sandstone--throughout the wreck of matter to form the texts of scientifichomilies in ages to come? THE ATROCITY OF THE SNAKE September 28, 1909. A red snake discovered in a coop with a hen and clutch of chicks. Thecoop had been deemed snake-proof, but the slim snake had easily passed inat the half-inch mesh wire-netting in front. Upon investigation it wasfound that the snake had swallowed one chick (and had thereby become aprisoner), had killed three others and maimed a fifth so that it died, and that the hen had killed the snake by pecking its head. The snake (anon-venomous species) was about a yard long and had killed the chicks byconstriction. If snakes are in the habit of killing more than they caneat of the broods of wild birds, how enormous the toll they take! CHAPTER XVIII INSECT WAYS "Some day ere I grow too old to think I trust to be able to throw away all pursuits, save natural history, and to die with my mind full of God's facts instead of men's lies. "--CHARLES KINGSLEY. August 2, 1909. A lanky grasshopper with keeled back and pointed prow flew before me, settling on a leaf of blady grass, at once became fidgety and restless;flew to another blade and was similarly uneasy. It was bluff in colourwith a narrow longitudinal streak of fawn, while the blades of grasswhereon it rested momentarily were green. Each time it settled itadjusted itself to the blade of grass, became conscious of discomfort orapprehensive of danger, and sought another. Presently it settled on ayellowing leaf, the tints of which exactly corresponded with its own. Thelongitudinal streak became absorbed in the midrib of the blade, and theinsect rested secure in its invisibility. The event demonstrated thepurpose of its previous restlessness. CARNIVOROUS WASPS October 6, 1909. This morning the soda siphon (which had not been used for a couple ofdays) refused duty, owing to a plug of terra-cotta-coloured clay. Upon the spout being probed the gush of gas expelled a quantity ofclay and thirty-five small spiders, representative of about sixdifferent species. The spout had been converted into a nursery andlarder by a carnivorous wasp, for in addition to the moribund spidersstored for the sustenance of future grubs were several unhatchedeggs. Such wasps are exceedingly common, some building "nests" aslarge as a tea-cup, the last compartment being fitted with anelegantly fashioned funnel, the purpose of which is not obvious. If these nests are broken up, after the hatching out, the grubs arefound-several in each compartment--feasting on the comatose spidersor caterpillars stored for their refreshment. Others of the species builda series of nests, detached or semi-detached, and shaped in resemblanceto Greek amphora. Another species selects hollows in wood in which theeggs and insects are scaled. The larger wasps are not fearful ofattacking so-called tarantulas, one sting rendering them paralytic. November 10 1909. Blue has a decided fascination for the bloodsucking "March" flies. Inthe "blue" tub of the laundry hundreds are lured to suicide, while theother tubs alongside count no voluntary victims. Blue clothing attractsscores, whereas the effect of any other colour is normal upon theappreciative sense of the flies. I am not well assured whether an attackof the "humph"--"the humph which is black and blue"--is not alsodiagnosed by the contemplative insects and forthwith attended to. Certainly if one has the misfortune to have become associated for thetime being with devils of cerulean hue, the company of the flies seemsall the more persistent and provocative of vexation. Imagination reelsbefore the consequences of a blue costume, "all's blue, " and the thriceintensified attacks of the indolent but persevering blood-suckers. November 16, 1909. Found a flat hairy spider, about 1 in. In diameter of body, mottled palebrown and grey, brooding over a flat egg capsule almost of the same tintsas itself. It was on the trunk of the jack fruit tree, and so closelyresembles the egg-capsule produced by contiguous fungi as to beabsolutely invisible unless the gaze happened to be concentrated on thespot. No doubt in my mind that the similitude of the spider, togetherwith its egg-capsule, to the adjacent discs of fungi enabled it to escapedetection. When disturbed the spider whisked into absolute invisibility. I inspected the trunk of the tree for several minutes before I found it, within six inches of its original resting-place, perfectly still, actingthe part of an obscure vegetable. TARANTULAS AND TARANTISMUS A few months ago I read in a text-book a dogmatic assertion to the effectthat the so-called tarantulas were perfectly innocent of venom, andformidable only to the insects on which they prey. The great, good-tempered fellow, as uncouth in its hairiness as Nebuchadnezzarduring his lamentable but salutary attack of boanthropy, is regarded witha good deal of suspicion, if not dread, though it pays for its lodging byreason of its large appetite, which latter statement seemsself-contradictory. To satisfy its pangs of hunger it captures numbers ofsmall insects which, willy nilly, tenant our homes. In well-ordered establishments the aid of a tarantula or two in thesuppression of insignificant undesirable creatures should, it might beargued, be unnecessary. Indeed, does not the presence of a fat, flatfellow lurking behind a rafter or in some gloomy corner, ever ready toseize cockroach or beetle, imply lack of order? Yet I have known homeswhere the tarantula was an honoured, if not a petted, lodger. When it hadcleared one room it was coaxed on to a card and thereon transported tothe next, and so it went the rounds. The children were wont to say thatit knew its carriage, and would sidle on it whenever it was presented. Tothose of us who live in the bush, and who suffer fresh incursions almostevery hour of the day, the help of a long-limbed, obese-bodied spiderwhose docility is beyond question, whose non-poisonous character isvouched for by high authorities, is by no means unwelcome. But in spite of negative knowledge I have had my suspicions that thetarantula was not altogether wholesome in his anger, and now I have proofin support of my doubts. In a cool, dark cavity under a log in the bushwere two huge representatives of the race. Each had its own compartment, a smooth, worn gallery, and they appear to have been on good terms untilthe moment of disturbance, for which each seemed to blame the other. Theyfought. It was a very brief, casual, and unentertaining encounter; butin less than half a minute one was dead, shrivelled and shrunk as thoughfire had passed over it. As no dismemberment or wound was apparent, Iwas fairly well satisfied that poison, very rapid in its effect, was atthe service of the tarantula when its anger was aroused. The next fact settled the point. Tom, the black boy, felt a nip on thearm as he put on a clean shirt an evening or two ago, and, reversing thesleeve, found a tarantula. Blood was oozing from two tiny incisions, thespace between which was slightly raised. For two days Tom suffered painin the arm, which became slightly swollen, headache, and greatuneasiness. Reading my text-book, I found that the original tarantula spider (fromwhich the Australian species are misnamed) is so called from the town ofTarentum, in Italy. Among the inhabitants of the town and neighbourhoodit was a deeply-rooted belief that if any one was bitten by a tarantulahe would be instantly inflicted with a singular disease known astarantismus, which exhibited itself in two extremes, the one being aprofound and silent melancholy and the other a continual convulsivemovement of the whole body. It was thought that this disease could onlybe cured by music, and that a certain tune was needful in each particularcase. This was the legend. It will be remembered that among the tales told by "a great traveller" toPepys was one on the subject of the tarantula. He says that all theharvest long (about which time they are most busy) there are fiddlers goup and down the fields everywhere in expectation of being hired bythose who are stung. Of the disease there is no doubt, and that it could be cured by dancingstimulated by music is a natural conclusion. Each patient indulged inlong and violent exercise, which produced profuse perspiration; he thenfell exhausted, slept calmly, and awoke cured. For the best part of a day Tom lay stretched on his face in the sun. LikeDavid the psalmist, he refused to be comforted. A profound and silentmelancholy subdued the wandering spirit which invariably manifestsitself on Sunday. He just "sweated out" the day he usually devotes tohunting, and on Monday was himself again, save for a greyish blue tingeencircling each of the little wounds on his arm. Though it is certain that the tarantula of Italy and the spider whichrobbed Tom of his Sunday are of different species, yet one is struck bythe similarity of the toxic effects of the bite with that of themanifestations of the disease of tarantismus. The fact that after a goodsweating--hot sand and unshaded sun are fairly active sudorifics--alluntoward effects (physical and mental) passed away seems to suggest closeintimacy between the symptoms of the poison of tarantula and the disease. I do not apologise for thus gravely recording an incident of the bushwhich has neither humour nor romance to recommend it, because I think, friendly as I am to the "tarantula, " the truth--the whole truth andnothing but the whole truth--should be told about him. Like the petpussy-cat, "if you don't hurt him he'll do you no harm"; but put himin a tight corner and offer him violence and he will heroically defendhimself and be very nasty about it. Having studied Tom's demeanour whileunder the effects of the poison, I am satisfied that if one desires avisit from "divinest melancholy" without any of the thrills of poetry, let him provoke an angry tarantula to assault him. All "vain, deludingjoys" will pass away, and for twenty-four hours he will be as dull as alog, and as sweatful as a fat Southerner in a canefield. The local name of the house-haunting "tarantula, " though befitting andunique, imposes a singularly slight strain upon the resources of thealphabet. What combination of eight letters could be softer and morecoaxing? And yet the startled Eves of Dunk Island were wont not only tospecialise the spider but to shriek out affright at its unexpectedpresence by the exclamation "Oo-boo-boo!" To prove that the "Oo-boo-boo" is not always victorious in the fightswhich take place in the dark, let me tell of a combat between a giantand a slim-waisted orange and black wasp. The latter buzzed aboutangrily, and, following up a feint, stung the "Oo-boo-boo, " which becamenerveless on the instant and fell. As it was all too heavy to fly awaywith, the wasp dragged it along the ground with much labour and incessantfuss. The terra-cotta larder was in a hollow log, and only after immenseexertions and many failures was the limp carcass tugged to the spot. Thenthere was more buzzing than ever, for the wasp discovered that its preywas many sizes too large for the clay compartment prepared for it. Noamount of trampling and shoving of the limp tarantula was of any avail. Several minutes elapsed before the obvious fact dawned upon the baffledinsect. Then it abandoned its efforts at compression, and with many loadsof moist clay moulded a special compartment in which the tarantula, stillin a state of suspended animation, was snugly stowed. Just one more. A wasp dropped on the bench a few inches from my nose--atiny wasp with a rollicking gait. Closer inspection showed half a wasponly. It had been neatly severed at the delicate waist and on the thatchabove was an Oo-boo-boo--a big Oo-boo-boo--and it seemed to me to bebeaming with that broad, self-satisfied expression that the cat wearswhen it has eaten the canary. CHAPTER XIX INTELLIGENT BIRDS I. A BIRD SCOUT Among those birds of North Queensland jungles which have markedindividualistic characters is that known as the koel cuckoo, which theblacks of some localities have named "calloo-calloo"--a mimetic termimitative of the most frequent notes of the bird. The male is lustrousblack, the female mottled brown, and during most parts of the year bothare extremely shy, though noisy enough in accustomed and quiet haunts. The principal note of the male is loud, ringing, and most pleasant, butits vocabulary is fairly extensive. Sometimes it yelps loud and long likea puppy complaining of a smart whipping, sometimes in the gloom of theevening it moans and wails pitifully like an evil thing tortured mentallyand physically, sometimes it announces the detection of unwelcomeintruders upon its haunts with a blending of purr and hiss. When "calloo-calloo" comes to the islands, resident blacks look to theflowering of the bean-tree, for the events are coincident; while as theyunderstand all its vocal inflections an important secret is oftenrevealed to them by noisy exclamations. Living in flowerland among thetops of the trees, the bird is favourably located for the discovery ofsnakes, but being strong and lusty there is reason to believe that thepresence of slim green and grey arboreal species is ignored. Theimportant office that it holds in the domestic economy of the blacks isin the detection of carpet snakes, which to them form an ever welcomearticle of diet. Thus when "calloo-calloo" shouts "snake" in excited, chattering phrases they run off in the hope of being able to find thegame, and generally one suffices to rid the bird of a deceitful andimplacable enemy and to provide the camp with a substantial meal. A few months ago a friend who owns a fruitful estate fronting one of therivers of the mainland, who was not aware of the aptitude of the bird, was working with his blacks when "calloo-calloo" gave voice. "That's one!"exclaimed Dilly Boy, as he rushed into a thick patch of jungle; "hebin lookout snake!" The boss, concluding that Dilly Boy had merelyinvented a plausible excuse for a spell, smiled to himself when he cameback in half an hour wearing an air of philosophic disappointment. "Thatfella snake along a tree; bin lookout; too much leep [leaf]. Thatcalloo-calloo, him sing out proper. Him no more humbug!" Huge carpet snakes frequently coil themselves so carefully amongparasitic ferns and orchids in the trees that it is impossible to detectthem from below. A couple of days after work was proceeding in the samelocality when a snake, 12 feet long, was found and killed, but the factwas then not accepted as proof of the theory of the blacks. In the courseof a few days the bird again proclaimed "snake, " and all the blackshastened to the spot to set about a systematic search. Applying thedetective principle of isolation to various parts of the tree in which bygeneral consent (corroborating the evidence of the bird) the snake wasconcluded to be, the blacks at last decided that the only possible placeof concealment was a mass of elk's-horn fern encircling the trunk about40 feet from the ground. One of them thereupon climbed the tree, and soona carpet snake, 14 feet 6 inches long and 12 inches in girth, waswrithing on the ground. It is well known that these snakes are frequentlyfound in pairs, and no doubt the "calloo-calloo" had signified thepresence of the mate on the occasion of the first alarm. Other instances of the shrewdness of the bird and its care for thewellbeing of the order generally by detecting and proclaiming thepresence of the universal enemy might be cited. One authority assertsthat the bird and the snake are nearly always found together, and seemsto imply that a friendship exists between them, for the bird is referredto as a "messmate" of the snake. "The bird, " he writes, "flies overthe snake with a 'clucky' chirp, and whenever the natives hear it inthe dense scrubs they sneak in to discover the reptile, which is caughtby being grabbed at the back of the head. " In heralding the flower of the bean-tree, and thus awakening thoughts ofthe beans, and in indicating snakes (both desirable and indeed essentialarticles of food), the "calloo-calloo" performs such valuable servicethat it is highly commended. Those who are familiar with the unreflectiveomnivority of the blacks and their indelicate appetites generally, maywith difficulty credit the fact that in those districts in which the birdis recognised as a trustworthy guide it is honoured, and under nocircumstances will they kill it. Of course, the blacks of NorthQueensland in native worth have not much art in the killing of birds, butin every case "calloo-calloo" is tabu. One instance may be quoted. A great outcry was heard on the edge of thejungle, and upon investigation a grey falcon and a "calloo-calloo" werefound in such preoccupied "holts" that both were captured. Here was anopportunity for a meal. The birds were parted, and the falcon given overto the custody of a gin for execution, while the "calloo-calloo, " whichwas dazed, was petted and revived until it at last flew away with a gladcall, the blacks assuring a witness, "B'mbi that fella look out snakebelong me fella!" II. DO BIRDS PLAY? A somewhat too rigorous critic of the antics of birds has expressed theopinion that playfulness is unknown among them, that their occasionalfriskiness is not an exhibition of lightness of heart, but merely amartial exercise. The corroboree of native companions (ANTIGONEAUSTRALASIANA) may certainly be the practice of a defensive manoeuvre, though it has the appearance of a graceful dance. A partially disabledbird will pirouette on tiptoes and flap its wings wildly in the face ofits foe, and it is reasonable to imagine that the great birds incommunity would keep themselves well trained in their particular methodsof self-defence. A flock of dotterels bobbing, bowing, skipping, and shouldering oneanother may be merely practising some evolution with serious intent, though it is far more natural to conclude that the frail little birdsare in holiday humour. For all their exercises, they have but one resortin the presence of a superior foe or an alert single enemy, and that isin hasty and inconsiderate flight. From my own experience may be drawn proof of the contention that birds dopractise defensive and offensive tactics, and also that they have theirmoments of unreflecting play. The cassowary (CASUARIUS AUSTRALIS) is a skilful fighter. It hits outwith such force and precision that a weaponless man who stands before thebird when it is angry and vicious is ridiculously overmatched. The greatbird is so quick that you do not realise that it has got its blow infirst until you see the blood flow. It strikes with its middle toe, andthat toe is a lance, keen if not bright. How does the regal bird of thejungles of North Queensland acquire this lightning-like stroke? Theanswer is, by constant and intelligent practice while young. A year ortwo ago I had frequent opportunities for observing a pair of youngcassowaries patiently, yet playfully, performing martial exercises. Theywere about the size of a full grown bustard (say, 28 lb. Weight); but iftheir bulk had been in ratio to their lightheartedness and playfulness, they would have loomed large as bullocks. Their favourite spot was round and about a stout post about three feethigh, the ground encircling which had been beaten down by constant use topolished smoothness. That the ruling passion of the young birds duringtheir idle hours was determination to acquire skill and alertness therecan be no doubt. Invariably the game began in a particular way. One ofthe pair striding round the post--apparently oblivious of itsexistence--would lurch against it as a man inspired with rum might treat alamp-post intent on getting in his way. Leering at the post for a second, the bird would march round again to shoulder it roughly a second time. Then a queer look of simulated petulance and indignation would spreadover its features, and, taking in its measure, the bird would lash out atthe post with grim earnestness. A cyclonic attack ensued. With manyfeints and huddling up of its neck, and dodges, and ducks, and lateralmovements of the head quick as thought, the post was chastised for itsinsolence and stolid stupidity. It seemed to be hit in several places atone and the same moment. Its features bore ever increasing scores andfurrows, for it was used for hours every day as a punching-ball. When one bird grew tired the other imitated most laughably the antics ofits brother, first ignoring the presence of the post, and then, havinglurched dreamily against it, assaulting it with unrestrained fury. Playand significant offensive tactics were undoubtedly blended in thepastimes of the cassowary. Before the boldest of these birds grew to maturity it became such anexpert boxer and so pugnacious and truculent that it was declared unfitto be at large, and as the State offered no secure asylum the deathpenalty was pronounced and duly carried into effect. By good luck Ihappened along before all the roast leg had been disposed of, and inspite of testimony to the contrary have pleasure in declaring that, notwithstanding the heroic training to which the youthful bird hadsubjected itself, the flesh was as tender and as gamey as that of a youngplain turkey. The other case in point may be briefly cited. While yet young there cameinto our possession a magpie (GYMNORHINA TIBICEN), to which as soon as itwas fit for responsibilities full liberty was cheerfully granted. Breakfast, several tiffens, lunches, and afternoon snacks, and a fullevening's dinner was provided. The dish of scraps was always available. At will the pet flew in and out of the kitchen, and if by chance food wasnot spread out at the accustomed place it protested loudly, and alwayseffectively. Although a large quantity of food was self-earned, there wasalways a substantial meal in reserve. The bird spent many wayward hours endeavouring to sing. No culturedrelative was present to teach the notes of its kind, so that in defaultit learned the complete vocabulary of the domestic poultry, besides themore familiar calls and exclamations of its mistress, the varied barks oftwo dogs, the shrieks of many cockatoos, the gabble of scrub fowls. The bird also began to play in semi-human style, performing marvellousacrobatic feats on the clothes-line, and lying on its back juggling witha twig as some "artists" do with a barrel in the circus. A white-earedflycatcher took up its abode near the house, and the magpie, after adecent lapse of time, admitted the stranger to its companionship. Thewild, larderless bird, however, had little time to play. All its wit andenergies were devoted to the serious business of life. It knew none ofthe games that the magpie invented save one, and that was a kind ofaerial "peep-bo" to which the brainier bird lured it by means of aprize. The magpie found a moth, big of abdomen, fat, and brown, a temptingmorsel to any insectivorous bird. Envious of the dainty, the wagtailfluttered and skipped about the magpie with cheerful chatter; but thefluttering moth, daintily held by the extremity of its body, wasalternately presented and denied. They danced about a bush, the magpietantalisingly holding the moth for acceptance and hopping off as thewagtail was about to snatch it. To the tame bird, fortified by knowledgethat its meals were provided, it was all fun. To the hungry wild one themoth dangled temptingly before it and whipped disappointingly away was ameal almost to be fought for. It was a game equally sincere but of variedinterest. The one assumed a whimsical air, chuckling in encouragingtones; the other took it all in earnest. At last, unable to restrain an exclamation of delight, the magpieunwarily slackened its hold, and the moth fluttered off to be snapped upon the instant by the wild bird and gulped without ceremony. After thisthe game was frequently played, but the magpie had invariably to make itworth the while of the wagtail by offering a prize in the shape of sometit-bit. Do not these cases support the theories that birds sharpen theirfaculties by the exercise of defensive and offensive tactics, and alsothat they do indulge in irresponsible play? III. BIRDS WHICH HAVE REASONED If one begins to reflect upon the mental attributes of inferior animals, how aptly is evidence in support of a favourite theory presented? Arethe actions of birds due to automatic impulses or hereditary traits? Isinstinct merely "lapsed intelligence, " or do birds actually reflect? Arethey capable of applying the results of habit and observations in respectof one set of circumstances to other and different conditions? JohnBurroughs expresses the opinion that birds have perceptions, but notconceptions; that they recognise a certain fact, but are incapable ofapplying the fact to another case. I am almost convinced that some birdsare capable of logical actions under circumstances absolutely new tothem, and as a bright and shining affirmation quote "Baal Burra. " Beautiful in appearance, for it was what is generally known as a bluemountain parrot (red-collared lorikeet), its cleverness and affectionatenature were far more engaging than all the gay feathers. It came as thegift of a human derelict, who knew how to gain the confidence of dumbcreatures, though society made of him an Ishmaelite. Vivacious, noisy, loving the nectar of flowers and the juices of fruits, Baal Burra wasphenomenal in many winsome ways, but in a spirit of rare self denialI refrain from the pleasure of chronicling some of them in order togive place to instance and proof of the reasoning powers of anastonishingly high order. Are apologies to be offered, too, for the homeliness of the example--itsunrelieved domesticity? I must begin at the very beginning lest somenecessary point be lost, and the beginning is porridge! A small portionwas invariably left for Baal Burra. On the morning of this strangehistory a miniature lagoon, irregular in shape, of porridge and milk hadsettled in the very centre of the dry desert of plate. In response tocustomary summons to breakfast, Baal Burra skipped along the veranda. Itwas a daily incident, and no one took particular notice until unusualexclamations on the part of the bird denoted something extraordinary. Bycircumnavigating the plate and at the same time stretching its neck tothe utmost it had contrived to convert the shapeless lagoon into aperfectly symmetrical pond just out of the reach of the stubby tongue. Hence the scolding. Three witnesses--each ardently on the side of thebird--watched intently. Decently mannered, it refused to clamber on to theedge of the plate, for it was ever averse from defilement of food. Thetit-bit was just beyond avaricious exertions--just at that tantalisingdistance and just so irresistibly desirable as might be directlystimulative of original enterprise towards acquirement. The chatter and abuse continued for a couple of minutes. Then the birdstood still while seeming to reflect, with wise head askew after themanner of other thinkers. Hurrying, to its playthings--which happened tobe at the far end of the veranda--it selected a matchbox, dragged itclatteringly along, ranged it precisely close to the plate, mounted it, and from the extra elevation sipped the last drop with a chuckle ofcontent. That the bird on deliberation conceived the scheme forover-reaching the coveted food I have not the slightest doubt. Baal Burra bestowed frank friendship on a fat, good-humoured, yellow cat, fond of luxury and ease during the day, a "rake-helly" prowler atnight. Into Sultan's fur Baal Burra would burrow, not without occasionalresult, if the upbraiding tongue was to be believed. Baal Burra wouldfill its lower mandible with water from a drinking dish and tip it neatlyinto the cat's ear, and scream with delight as Sultan shook his sleepyhead. To dip the tip of the cat's tail into the water and mimic thescrubbing of the floor was an everyday pastime. In addition to being anengineer and a comedian the bird was also a high tragedian. In the coolof the evening upon the going down of the sun the cat and the bird wouldset out together to the accustomed stage. Baal Burra burrowing throughthe long grass, painfully slow and cheeping plaintively, while Sultanstalked ahead mewing encouragingly. The tragedy, which was in one act, was repeated so often that each became confidently proficient, while thesetting--free from the constraints of space--helped towards that degree ofdeception which is the highest form of art. Often we feared lest Sultan, carried away by enrapt enthusiasm, would unwittingly sustain his parteven to the lamentable though natural DÉNOUEMENT. Baal Burra was, of'course, the engaging and guileless victim, while Sultan, with triumphantrealism, rehearsed a scene ruthlessly materialised elsewhere. Climbing into a low-growing bush, Baal Burra would become preoccupied, innocently absorbed in an inspection of the young shoots and tenderleaves which it seemed to caress. Assuming a ferocious mien, Sultanapproached soliloquising, no doubt, "Ah, here is another silly wild-fowl!Come, let me indulge my bloodthirstiness!" His eyes glittered as hecrouched, his tail thickened and swayed, his ears were depressed, hiswhiskers and nose twitched, his jaws worked, his claws were unsheathedand sheathed spasmodically as he crept stealthily towards the apparentlyunconscious bird. After two or three preliminary feints for the perfectadjustment of his faculties and pose, he bounded into the air withdistended talons well over his screeching playmate. The scene would berehearsed several times before Sultan, tired of mummery and eager foractualities, slunk yawling into the bush, while Baal Burra, whimpering inthe dusk, waddled home to be caged. Towards the further justification of the argument two cases in whichscrub fowl (MEGAPODIUS DUPERREYI TUMULUS) are concerned may be cited. Being a previously recorded fact, the first is excusable only on thegrounds of its applicability to a debatable point. 1. On a remote spot in a very rough and rugged locality, hemmed in byimmense blocks of granite, is a large incubating mound. Save at one pointit is encompassed by rocks, but the opening does not grant facilitiesfor the accumulation of vegetable debris, yet the mound continuallyincreases in dimensions. At first glance there seems no means by whichsuch a large heap could have been accumulated for the birds do not carrytheir materials, but kick and scratch them to the site. A hasty surveyshows that the birds have taken advantage of the junction of twoimpending rocks which form a fortuitous shoot down which to send therubbish with the least possible exertion on their part. The shoot isalways in use, for the efficacy of the mound depends upon the heatgenerated by actually decaying vegetation. Did the birds think out thissimple labour-saving method before deciding on the site for the mound, orwas it a gracious afterthought--one of those automatic impulses by whichNature confronts difficulties? 2. As I wandered on the hilltops far from home I was astonished when Tom, the cutest of black boys, dropped on his knees to investigate a crevicebetween two horizontal slabs of granite filled with dead leaves and loam. The spot, bare of grass, was about twenty yards from the edge of a fairlythick, low-growing scrub where scrub fowls are plentiful. I was inclinedto smile when he said, "Might be hegg belonga scrub hen sit down!" Hescooped out some of the rubbish--the crevice was so narrow that it barelyadmitted his arm--and finally dug a hole with his fingers fully fourteeninches deep, revealing an egg, pink with freshness. A more unlikely spot for a scrub fowl to lay, could hardly be imagined. There was no mound, the crevice being merely filled flush, and thevegetable rubbish packed between the flat rocks did not appear to besufficient in quantity to generate in its decay the temperature necessaryto bring about incubation. Yet the egg was warm, and upon reflecting thatthe sun's rays keep the granite slabs in the locality hot during the day, so hot, indeed, that there is no sitting down on them with comfort, Iperceived that here was evidence on which to maintain an argument of raresagacity on the part of the bird, and that the hypothesis might be thusstated: This cool-footed cultivator of the jungle floor had during thecasual rambling on sunlit spaces become conscious of the heat of therocks. Being impressed, she surveyed the locality, and of her deliberatepurpose selected a spot for the completion of her next ensuing maternalduties which, while it scandalised the traditions of her tribe, presentedunrealised facilities. This was a natural incubator, certainly, but superior to those in commonuse in that the solar heat stored by the stone during the day renderedsuperfluous any large accumulation of vegetable matter. Surely it is buta short and easy step from the perception of solar heat to the conceptionthat such heat would assist in the incubation of eggs. None but amound-builder who, of course, must have general knowledge on the subjectof temperatures and the maintenance thereof, could conceive that theseheated rocks would obviate the labour of raking together a mass ofrubbish. Further, her inherent perception that moist heat due to thefermentation was vital towards the fulfilment of her hopes of posteritywould avert the blunder of trusting to the dry rocks alone. The hot rocksand a small quantity of decaying leaves stood in her case for a hugemound, innocent of extraneous heat. Having, therefore more time toscratch for her living, she would naturally become a more robust bird, more attractive to the males, and the better qualified to transmit herexceptional mental qualities to her more numerous offspring. These are the bare facts. Let those who believe that birds are capable oftaking the step from the fact to the principle continue the trains ofthought into which they inevitably lead. Will this particular scrub fowlby force of her accidental discovery start a revolutionary change in thelife-history of mound-builders generally? Or will the bird----? But thereare the facts to conjure or to play with. CHAPTER XX SWIFTS AND EAGLES I. A RARE NEST Among the resident birds one of the most interesting from anornithological standpoint is that known as the grey-rumped swiftlet(COLLOCALIA FRANCICA), referred to by Macgillivray as "a swallow whichMr. Gould informs me is also an Indian species. " That ardent naturalistis, therefore, entitled to the credit of discovery. Sixty-one years hadpassed since Macgillivray's visit, during which no knowledge of thelife-history of the bird which spends most of its time hawking forinsects in sunshine and shower had been revealed, when a fragment of anest adhering to the roof of a cave on one of the highest points of theIsland attracted attention. Submitted to an expert (Mr. A. J. Campbell, of Melbourne, Victoria), the identity of the builder was guessed. Subsequently I had the satisfaction of finding a colony close to thewater's edge, on the weather side, where the birds had frequently beenseen darting among blocks of granite almost obscured by jungle. No nests were found in crevices deemed to be favourable spots, thoughthe predilection of the genus for gloom was appreciated, but upon theexploration of a confined cave the excited flutterings of invisible birdsbetrayed a hitherto well-kept secret. When my eyes became accustomed tothe dimness I saw that the roof of the cave (which is fairly smooth andregular with an inclination of about thirty degrees) was studded withnests. Fifty-three were placed irregularly about the middle of the roof, some in pairs, none on the walls. Some were not quite finished; twentycontained a single white egg each; none contained young. All wereadherent to the stone by a semi-transparent white substance resemblingisinglass, with which also the fine grass, moss, and fibre composing thenests were consolidated. The vegetable material of the first fragmentarynest (found September 17, 1908) was quite green and the gluten moist andsticky. Those now described (two months later) were dry and tough, thedimensions being 2 to 2½ inches across and about ¾ inch deep. The cave isonly about 30 feet above high-water mark and the entrance the birdsfavour is, strange to say, averse from the sea and much obscured byleafage. After the first fright the birds became quiet and confident. A young oneflew into my half-closed hand, and I detained it for a while and itnever struggled. Another tried to snoodle into the shirt-pocket of theblack boy who accompanied me. Several brushed against our faces. Cloudspartially obscured the sun and what with the screen of foliage and theprevailing gloom of the cave we could not always distinguish the nests. When the sun shone brightly all were plainly discernible, those with thesingle pearly egg being quaintly pretty. As they flitted in and out ofthe cave, the birds were as noiseless as butterflies save when theywheeled to avoid each other. Those which were brooding, as they flittedover the nests or clung to the edges, uttering a peculiar note hard tovocalise. To my cars it sounded as a blending of cheeping, clinking, andchattering, yet metallic, and not very unlike the hasty winding up of aclock. One bird flew to her nest a foot or so from my face and clung to it. Totest its timidity or otherwise I approached my face to within two inches, but she continued to scrutinise me even at such close quarters withcharming assurance. Then I gently placed my hand over her. She struggled. But not wildly, for a few seconds and then remained passive with brighteyes glinting in the gloom. She was a dusky little creature, theprimaries, the back of the head, neck, the shoulders, and tail beingblack, but when the wings were extended the grey fluff of the base of thetail was conspicuous. After a few minutes I put her back on the nest, and she clung, to it having no shyness or fear. I noticed that the beakwas very short, the gape very large, the legs dwarfed, and the toesslender. We remained in the cave for about half an hour, during which time thebirds came and went indifferent to our presence. As far as I am awaremembers of the species never rest save in their headquarters, clinging tothe roof or the nests and never utter a sound except the reassuring, prattle upon alighting on the edge of the nest. It was interesting tonote that while many young birds were fluttering about in the cave noneoccupied a nest, and eggs were in successive stages of incubation, asproved by appearance and test. The fact that the nests of these swifts are cemented with coagulatedsaliva establishes analogy with that other member of the family whichbuilds in the caves of frowning precipices near the sea, making ediblenests greatly appreciated by Chinese gourmands, some of whom maintain thefantastic theory that the swift catches quantities of a small, delicatelyflavoured fish which it exposes on rocks until desiccated, to beafterwards compounded into nests. The ancients were wont to believe inthe existence of hostile mutuality between the swifts and thebêche-de-mer, though they have little in common in respect of appearance, attributes, and habits. If memory serves, one of the genera had thespecific title of HIRUNDO, founded on the faith that the swift, by flyingover the sea-slug exposed by receding tide, and vexing it by jeers, caused it to exude glutinous threads which the swift seized and bore awayto its cave to be consolidated and moulded into a nest. To the fable wasappended a retributive moral, viz. , that the bêche-de-mer occasionallyrevenged itself by expelling such a complicated mass of gluten that itbecame a net for the capture of the swift, which was slowly assimilatedby its enemy. The Chinese, it may be said, with but slight perversion offact, show equal partiality for the respective emblems of speed andsloth. Since the dates mentioned it has been ascertained by personal observationthat the breeding season of the swiftlet extends over four months, during which probably four young are reared, each clutch being single. The nests do not provide accommodation for more than one chick, whichbefore flight is obviously top large for its birthplace. Looking downinto the cave, the eggs well advanced towards incubation seem to have aslight phosphorescent glow. The earliest date so far recorded of thediscovery of a newly laid egg is October 14th, but there is reason tobelieve that the breeding season begins at least a month earlier. OnJanuary 10th this year (1910) half the nests in the cave originallydescribed contained eggs, in most of which (judging by opacity)incubation was far advanced, while in several were young birds, somenewly hatched, others apparently ready to depart from their gloomy, foul-smelling quarters. These latter clung so determinedly to their nestswith needle-like toes that the force necessary to remove them wouldcertainly have caused injury. It may be remarked that the breeding season of the nutmeg pigeon is alsoprotracted over a third of the year--from September to the end ofJanuary, two or three single successive clutches being reared. The pigeonis a visitor, the swift a resident. II. THREE FISHERS At the outset it is almost incumbent to announce that this is not a fishstory. It is not even a story, though fish play a secondary part in it. Therefore it should not make shipwreck of the faith of those who smileand sniff whensoever a fish or a snake is informally introduced in print. The imagination of some observers of the wonders of natural historypaints incidents so extravagantly that their illustrative value isdepreciated if not entirely distorted. As I would wish to establish a sort of general confidence with any chancereader of these lines who, like myself, finds no need for exaggerationin the chronicling of observations, being well aware that Nature with theease of consummate art outwits the wisest and laughs at the blotches ofthe boldest impressionist, it seems but common politeness to explain thatthough the Island may be romantic, the art of romancing is alien from itsshores, albeit (as some one has hinted) that in imagination reverentlyapplied lies the higher truth. The distance from the mainland is not so great as to deprive the Islandof generally distinctly Australian characteristics. It was, no doubt, inthe remote past, merely a steep and high range of hills separated fromother hills and mountains by plains and lagoons. Delicate land shells, salt-hating frogs, and subtle snakes are among the living testifiers topast connection with Australia, but while all the animals and nearly allthe birds native to the island are common on the mainland, severalmainland types are conspicuously absent. If, therefore, the birds and mammals seem in these literal chronicles tohave little ways of their own, may they not owe obedience to true andabiding circumstances--a kind of unavoidable fate--due to isolation? Itwould indeed be singular if an island so long separated from Australia asto possess no marsupial did not impress certain idiosyncrasies upon itsfauna and flora. It would be absurd to contend that as a rule, theuntamed creatures carry any marks of distinction, but I have had theopportunity of studying facts of which I have never been fortunate tohave confirmation either by reading or by "swapping lies" with otherstudents of Nature. Occasionally when bewilderment has come I call to mind what Mrs. Jarleysaid of her waxwork, and let the case pass: "I won't go so far as tosay that, as it is, I've seen waxwork quite like life but I've certainlyseen some life that was exactly like waxwork. " When I see a crab noteasily distinguishable from a piece of sponge and a piece of sponge farmore like a crab generally than the crab, that unconsciously mimics it, and possessing just as much apparent animation, I am content to betricked in many other ways by the good mother of us all. Having ventured so far by way of preface, it is quite possible that thereader may have concluded that something exceptionally marvellous is tofollow. Disappointment was inevitable from the first. The relation ofsome of the quaint distinguishing traits of the Island fauna must be leftuntil the historian imagines that he has established a reputation forsubduing, rather than heightening, the tone of his facts. Thisintroduction has not a particular but a wide bearing. Chief among the birds of prey are the osprey, the white-headed sea-eagle, and the white-bellied sea-eagle. The great wedge-tailed eagle (eagle-hawk)is a rare visitor, and is not a fisher. The others are resident and areindustrious practisers of the art which, according to theirinterpretation, is anything but gentle. As they indulge in it, the sportis so rough and boisterous and clumsy that one wonders that so many fishshould be caught. Each soars over the sea in circles at a height ofabout 60 feet or 80 feet, and when fish are seen flies down and, plunginginto the water, seizes its prey with its talons. Unless the bird iswatched closely its attitudes while preparing for the downward cast andduring the descent are misunderstood. "And like a thunderbolt he falls"is quite, according to local observations, an erroneous description ofthe feat performed by the fishing eagle. Take as an example of the othersthe actions of the noble bird the white-headed sea-eagle. As it circlesover the blue water its gaze is fixed and intent. Flight seemsautomatic--steady, fairly swift, rippleless. Immediately a fish issighted, attitudes and poses become comparatively strained and awkward. Flight is checked by the enormous brake-power of outspread tail, andbackward beating wing. The eagle poises over the spot, stretches out itslegs, and extends its talons to the utmost; flies down in a series ofzig-zags, and with the facial expression of the dirty boy undergoing thetorture of face-washing, plunges breast first with outstretched wingswith a mighty splash into the water. Disappearing for four or fiveseconds, it finds it no easy task to rise with a two-pound mullet. Splendid as the feat undoubtedly is, it does not coincide with thedescription usually given. Have we not often been told of the headlong, lightning like drop that almost baffles eyesight? The circumstance thatbaffles is that fish are so unobservant or so slow that they do notalways, in place of sometimes, escape. For the excuse of the fish it mustbe acknowledged that very few members of the tribe are fitted with eyesfor star-gazing. The eagle captures a dinner, not by the exercise of anyvery remarkable fleetness or adaptiveness or passion for fishing, butbecause of certain physical limitations on the part of the fish. "As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. " The subserviency of fish to the osprey was noted by the ancients, whoattributed a fabulous power of fascination to the bird so that as it flewover the ponds the fish "turned their glistering bellies up" that itmight take liberal choice. Certainly some limitation on the part of thefish seems to operate in favour of the osprey, otherwise the clumsyfisher would oft go hungry. It goes against the grain to speak slightingly of the knightly, white-headed sea-eagle--a friend and almost a companion; but as any onemay see that it fishes not for the sport but for the pot, and that theplunge into the water is a shock that is dreaded, no injustice is done. Some birds--and they the most graceful--seem to fish for sport alone. Thesethree fishers fish because, like Kipling's kangaroo, they have to--onlythe kangaroo hopped. Now, the white-headed sea-eagle, which seems, and with good reason, to beproud of its ruddy back, appears to have no enemy of its kind. While theosprey and the white-bellied sea-eagle fall out and chide and fight, itlooks down from some superior height and placidly watches the fishtrap, for though knightly it is not above accepting tribute, for it likesfish though it hates fishing. The great osprey seldom crosses the bay without a challenge from itsstealthy foe, the white-belly. The voices of both are alike in theirdissonance though different in quality and tone, and the smaller bird isinvariably the aggressor. This is how they fight, or rather engage in avulgar brawl which has in it a smack of tragedy. The osprey, with steadybeat of outstretched wing, flies "squaking" from its agile enemy, whoendeavours to alight on the osprey's back. Just as white-belly stretchesits talons for a grip among the osprey's feathers, the osprey turns--andturns without a tremor in its long, sweeping wings--to shake hands withwhite-belly. For a moment the huge bird rests on its back, silhouettedagainst the luminous sky, to interlock talons with its nimble foe. Butwhite-belly is fully alive to the risk of getting "into hoults" with soheavy a weight, for on the instant it swoops up with a harsh cry of rageor disappointment. With but a single flap and no quiver of wing theosprey rights itself and sails away (a methodic, unflurried flight) withfleeter white-belly in pursuit, which when within striking distanceswoops again, to be faced by the grim, outstretched talons of the osprey, who has turned in flight with machine-like precision. So swift and suddenis the discreet upward swoop of the white-belly that it almost appears tobe a rebound after contact with the bigger bird. So the scrimmage, or, tobe exact, screamage, proceeds, for each party to it tells the wholeIsland of its valour, and business stands still as the series of mostgraceful, yet savage, aerial evolutions is repeated until the rivals areblotted out by distance. Once I saw a bunch of feathers fly from the osprey's back. The aerialcapsize had not been timed with accustomed accuracy. Weight told, and itspeedily shook itself free; but I am waiting for the day when, inmid-air, the osprey and the white-bellied sea-eagle shall clasp hands. Itwill be an exciting moment for the sea-eagle. The osprey is a cuter aswell as a heavier bird, and, in the phrase of the blacks, "That fellacarn let go!" When the osprey comes skirting the hollows of the hills for cockatoos, its hunger will be unsatisfied until, by elaborate and disdainfulmanoeuvres, the cockatoos are induced to take flight. Perched on the topof a tree, they may jeer in safety as long as they like; but let theflock fly into the open and the osprey will be surprised if it does notget one, and that which is singled out it follows "like a grim murdererstill steady to his purpose. " Now is the time for this, greatest of thethree fishers, to, wax fat and become pompous, for its diet is to bevaried with nutmeg pigeons, and the pigeons have come in their thousandsand tens of thousands, and if the eaglets do lack and suffer hunger, itwill be on account of the laziness of their parents. For all its laborious fishing, the red-backed sea-eagle is sometimesdeprived of its spoil by a bird much inferior in size and weight andwhich has not the slightest pretensions to the art. An eagle had captureda "mainsail" fish (banded dory) which loomed black against its snowybreast as in strenuous spirals it sought to gain sufficient height whenceto soar over the spur of the hill to its eyrie. The fish, though notweighty, was awkward to carry, and the presence of the boat ratherbaffled the bird, which was shadowed in envious though discreet flight bya white-bellied eagle. Low over the water, close to the fringe of junglethe eagle flew, when a grey falcon dashed out, snatched from its talonsthe wriggling fish, and with one swoop disappeared under ayellow-flowered hibiscus bush overhanging the tideway. The falcon is nomatch for the eagle; but, most subtle of birds of prey, it had watchedthe perplexity of its lord and master, and with audacious courage takenadvantage of a moment's embarrassment. CHAPTER XXI SOCIALISTIC BIRDS Repeated observations and diary records have established August 12th asthe beginning of the local "bird season. " About that date two of the mostnotable birds arrive from the North--the nutmeg pigeon (MYRISTICIVORASPILORRHOA) and the metallic starling (CALORNIS METALLICA). Having spentfive months in Papua, Java, Borneo, and the Malay Peninsula, the formerrevisit the islands for incubating purposes. Where the metallic starlings spend their retreat I know not; but theyreturn with impetuous haste, as if absence had been disciplinary and notfor pleasure. They assemble in glittering throngs, shrilly discussingtheir plans for the season, without reserve debating important concernsof house and home. Shall the tall Moreton Bay ash in the forest be againoccupied and the shabby remnants of old nests designedly destroyed beforedeparture last season be renovated, or shall a new settlement beestablished and the massive milkwood-tree overtopping the jungle beselected as a capital site? Discussion is acidulous and constant. Fordays the majority of the burnished citizens do little else but talk, while the industrious few begin, some to build nests on the sites of theold, others to lay hasty foundations among the leaves of the milkwood. Each faction wishes to carry its point, for ever and anon both rejoin themain body and proclaim and testify. Then all adjourn to the disputedsites successively and join in frantic commotion until some sage makes anentirely original proposition, and off they all go on a flight ofinspection and abruptly end all differences of opinion by favouring atree which appears to have no distinctive merits. These delightfully engaging birds have been known to nest in a particulartree for a quarter of a century, and again they may select a differentsite every year. Though I have no evidence in confirmation of the theory, I am inclined to think that arboreal snakes are influential in causingchanges. Although the domed nests must be difficult for even a snake toenter so large a congregation of noisy birds would inevitably attractthese slim nocturnal marauders. Moreover, a case may be cited in support of the theory. In a Moreton Bayash (EUCALYPTUS TESSELARIS), not far from this spot, there nested a pairof white-headed sea eagles, a pair of cockatoos, and a colony of metallicstarlings, four or five hundred strong. The memory of man knows not thefirst settlement of this amicable community, which remained until duringtemporary absence the blacks were suborned to climb the tree to securethe eggs of the eagle. They also helped themselves to a few of the callowstarlings. The sea eagles and cockatoos discarded the tree forthwith, andthe starlings in a couple of years. And why? Because, in my opinion atleast, the eagles had policed the tree, killing offhand any green or greysnake which had the stupidity to sneak among the nests. When thepolicemen went to another beat the snakes took to frightening theunprotected birds and to the burgling of their nest. This incident causeda revision of the protective laws. They are much more explicit, and thepains and penalties for the violation of them are now absolutely unholyin their truculence. During the 1909 season a serious diminution was noted in the number ofmetallic starlings and nutmeg pigeons. In the case of the former I am ata loss to account for the cause of the comparatively few visitors--alwayshighly esteemed and admired and preserved from interference--except onthe theory of the outbreak of an epidemic or in the possible fact thatthey are falling victims to the feminine passion for fine feathers. The Grouse Disease Commission has found a recognised period in thefluctuations of the number of those game birds. During a cycle of sixtyyears there recur the good year, the very good year, the record year, thebad disease year, the recovery, the average, and the good average. Theround is said to be almost invariable. So may it be with the metallicstarling. With the nutmeg pigeons the case is different. Here we have directevidence of the desolating effects of the interference of man. Congregating in large numbers on the islands to nest, and only to nest, these birds offer quite charming sport to men with guns. They are theeasiest of all shooting. Big and white, and given to grouping themselvesin cloudy patches on favourable trees, I have heard of a black boy, witha rusty gun, powder, and small stones for shot, filling a flour-sack fullduring an afternoon. It is, therefore, not strange that men shoot 250 inan hour or so. The strange thing is that "men" boast of such butchery. Onthe very island where this bag Of 250 was obtained a little black boy, twelve years old, killed four pigeons with a single sweep of a longstick. He did not boast--to his father and mother and himself the fourbirds represented supper; but in the case of the sportsman it might beasked, how many of the butchered doves went into the all-redeeming pot? These pigeons are one of the natural features of the coast of NorthQueensland, in the conservation of which the State and the Commonwealthare concerned. It may be contended that the extermination of a speciesrepresented by such multitudes is impossible. But while the history ofthe passenger pigeon of North America is extant such argument carries noweight. When the birds are, so to speak, shot on their nests or sitting in theircrowded dormitories a whole season's natural increase may be discountedby an afternoon's wretched "sport. " If nutmeg pigeons are to be preservedas one of the attractions and natural features of the coast of NorthQueensland, extensive sanctuaries must be established. Strict prohibitionmight be enforced for a period of, say, five years to enable the coloniesto regain their population, and thenceforward they might--if the shootingof sitting birds is still deemed to be "sport"--be allowed a "jubilee"every second year. If the unrestricted molestation is permitted, the day is not far distantwhen indignation will arise and lovers of Nature will ask passionatelywhy a unique feature of the coast was allowed to be obliterated in blood. True sportsmen would unanimously rejoice in the permanent preservation ofbirds elegant and swift of flight, not very good to eat, and which visitus at a time when inhospitality is a wanton crime. For this indulgence of my feelings I have, I am aware, laid myself opento censure. It is foreign to, indeed, quite out of place in, a book whichprofesses neither message nor mission. Yet, mayhap, some kindred spirithaving influence and judicious eloquence at command may read these lines. Then the birds need not much longer fear the naughty local man. Long maythe dulcet islands within the Barrier Reef burst morn and eve into snowybloom as the pigeons go and come! So having soothed my fretfulness by irresponsible scolding, consignedcountless white pigeons to inviolable sanctuary and thereby confirmed toperpetuity the charter under which a bustling interchange of seeds andthe kernels of fruit-trees between isle and mainland is maintained, I amat liberty to chronicle certain every-day incidents in the establishmentof a colony by those other companionable birds, metallic starlings, alsounder engagement to Nature as distributing agents. Whereas the bulk of the traffic of the pigeons is with the mainland, thatof the metallic starlings is purely local, though, perhaps, just asimportant. The insular communities do not venture for their merchandiseacross the water, and those of the mainland have no dealings with theisles. Reference has been made to the disappointment occasioned by the violationof a colony at the instance of a semi-professional egg-snatcher, and ofthe subsequent abandonment of the tree which had been used as a buildingsite by the birds as far back as the memory of the blacks went. The tree was in the midst of the forest, and season after season upon thereturn of the members of the colony they assembled in the vicinity, butnever again built in the neighbourhood. Last season, however, the pent-upexasperation of years found a certain sort of relief, for a new colonywas started in a Moreton Bay ash-tree not a hundred yards away and infull view from my veranda. There are five other colonies of thesesocialistic, disputative birds on this Island; but they happen to be inout-of-the-way spots, where continuous detailed observation of theirhabits and customs would be impossible. Hence, when I saw the noisythrong gather together discussing the imperious business of nesting, Iwatched with eager and hopeful anticipation. About the third day from thefirst demonstration in favour of the particular tree building operationsbegan, and thenceforward daily notes were taken of the doings of thecolony. Great pleasure was found in being the spectator of theestablishment of a new colony. In 1908 the earliest arrivals appeared, on August 2nd--eight days beforethe herald of the nutmeg pigeons. The colony the history of which it isproposed to relate was no doubt an offshoot of the first brood of thosewhich had arrived on that date. Circumstances exist which persuade methat the shining Calornis rear two broods during the season. Nutmegpigeons rear as many as three young successively. Just about the time the site of the new colony was selected young birdswere fairly numerous, so that it seems safe to assume that, expelled fromparental nests, they determined to set up an establishment on their ownaccount forthwith. In their industry they seemed to display the defectsand advantages of the quality of youth--enthusiasm, impulsiveness andvigour, inexperience, haste, and irrelevance. Let the diary notes tell of the enterprise as scrutinised through thetelescope: Nov. 15. Shining Calornis (all young birds, mottled grey and black withgreen sheen on back) busy surveying tree (Moreton Bay ash) on plateau tothe north. 16. Birds seem inclined to build. 17. Notice that the birds are in pairs; no old, full-plumaged among them. 18. First beginning of nests. About thirty birds. All seem very excitedand full of business. 20. Several nests well forward. Other parts of the tree now beingoccupied. 22. Seventeen nests; some nearly complete 23. Eighteen nests; several apparently complete, save for the overhangingentrance. Many quarrels and squabbles in the family, for the nests are ingroups and in close quarters. 27. Three new nests, or rather foundations thereof. Dec. 1. Now 25 nests. Those which appeared to be near completion arestill being added to. Many have entrances, so that one of the pair worksfrom inside, placing and threading the materials. Sometimes one sits fora long time with the head protruding, as if testing the comfort of thenest. Squabbles are frequent. The backs of some betray a lovely greensheen in the sunshine, with rich purple at the base of the neck. 4. After two days' heavy rain the birds are as busy as ever. Manyflirtations. The great want of the colony seems to be insect powder. 5. The tree now is in full flower. I watch the birds making feints atbees and butterflies visiting the blooms but they do not seem to catchinsects. Fruit, seeds, and nuts form their diet. The nests, which arecomposed of tendrils and pliant twigs elaborately intertwined, are domed, and in size somewhat less than a football. 6. Birds very busy. Most of the nests appear to be fit for habitation. Work is suspended at sundown. They do not roost in the tree. Have notdetected their resting-place; but it seems to be some distance in thejungle. 7. Sunset (6. 45). The birds disappeared from vicinity of the tree almostimmediately, though twilight lasted half an hour. 8. Three minutes before sunrise (5. 48) birds' voices heard as theyapproached trees. They were in three or four companies in abloodwood-tree, where they flirted and fussed and made violent love; thenin a trailing mob flew noisily and began work in haste and excitement, one eager bird manipulating a long, slender, partly dry leaf, industriously trying to fit it in various spots. Finding its due place, the limp leaf was thrust in among the compact twigs and tendrils. Theleaf was seized close to the stalk, which was deftly inserted, then itwas gripped a trifle farther back and pushed and re-gripped, the processbeing repeated rapidly until nothing but the tip remained visible. 9. Most of the exterior of the nests is now finished. Work continuesbriskly on the lining, though the material used therefor does not seem tobe different from the bulk. When one of a pair has disappeared inside ofthe tunnel-like entrance, if the other arrives it clings to the thresholduntil its mate emerges, and then briskly enters. This evening work wassuspended at 6. 40--cloudy. A few butterflies still flitting about theflowers. 10. Another new nest. As with the others, a few tendrils are laid acrossdependent sprays of leaves, engaging and intertwining them. Theserepresent the foundations upon which the superstructure is partly built, but both sides and dome are made to entangle other frail branches andleaves, so that the nest is supported throughout its various parts. Aconsiderable quantity of material is lost from each nest, owing to thedifficulty of contriving to make initial tendrils engage the leaves andpedicels. The space for the circular entrance is sketched out at quite anearly stage. In this colony with few exceptions it faces the south, andis so overhung by a veranda as to be undiscernible except fromimmediately below. The situation of the nests on the extremities of the outermost branches, parts of some being lower than the leaves to which they are attached, isno doubt an illustration of acquired sagacity. Such impetuous birdsliving in large communities, and thus compounding a savour calculated toattract arboreal snakes, would in the course of nature take precautions. The nests in position and design represent the crystallisation of the witof the bird in antagonism to the wile of the snake. In the morning, fuss, fierce purpose, and hurry are shown. As theafternoon wears on, less and less industry prevails. Work is suspended at6. 45 p. M. When the last of the crowd hastily departed. Before sundown allare spent and weary. Some of the birds begin to darken on the sides ofthe upper part of the breasts. The purple sheen on the back of the neckis more brilliant. There is a glowing patch, too, at the base of thetail, though the other parts of the back are dingy with a green tinge inreflected light. The nuptial costume is fast becoming, more attractive. 14. Nests were not deserted until 7. 30 p. M. The last half-dozen birds, alert and anxious, dashed off upon a common impulse noisily. They roostin the jungle adjoining. 15. A more sedate condition prevails in the demeanour of the birds, dueperadventure to domestic responsibilities. Fewer are about, and theyspend leisure moments on the top of or near the nests, while others popin and out. Are these signs of the beginning of egg-laying? 17. Egg-laying undoubtedly begins, though improvements to nests, whichseemed to be finished over a week ago, occupy odd moments. 20. Two past days have been dull and showery. Quietude reigns; a tendrilor twig is occasionally threaded or poked into the nests. The male museson the top of the nest, or closely adjacent thereto. The female pops inand out of apparently cosy quarters. Circumstances point to theconclusion that most of the nests contain eggs. 21. Good deal of rain, which bothers the birds. They play about excitedlyin one company. Towards evening very few are about. The nests aredeserted, though five or six birds in one mob are in a neighbouring tree. 22. Heavy rain and never-ceasing squalls. No sign of the birds, though afew notes of passers-by were heard. Finer evening. 23. Fine and calm. Nests deserted all morning. Late afternoon manyreturned, though not, I think, the full company. They seem to beinspecting and repairing the nests. 24. Did not see any of the birds. 25. At 3 p. M. Several appeared--some entering the nests two at a time, though without customary fuss and excitement. 26. Full company in possession throughout the day. Several (which areassumed to be males) are better plumaged, the breasts being streaked withblack, and the backs much more lustrous. 27. Serious business of incubation deprives the colony of customarygaiety and impulsiveness. While the female sits close, the male percheson top of the nest, occasionally beguiling the time by inconsequentrepairs and petty squabbles with next door neighbours. How brilliant aretheir eyes, especially when they sparkle with spite--flame red andflashing. 28. I am astonished at the sobering effect of pending domestic troubles. Is it that the sitting hen is responsible for the great part of thegaiety and impulsiveness, as well as for the quibbles and brawls thatoften disturb the happy family? Whatever the cause, whoever responsible, order and tranquillity reign, each expectant father spending hoursdemurely on his respective nest, a model of staid deportment, though everready to resent intrusion on the part of a friend. Portending cares sitheavily on the young and inexperienced colonists. 29. All quiet and industrious. Fancy that the chicks are wellforward--rather to my surprise. Jan. 2. Very rainy all morning. Did not see any of the birds until theweather cleared. Though the nests looked sodden, the owners were cheerfuland noisy--a tone of pleasure because of the return of the sunshinebeing, as I fancied, noticeable. 3. Busy all day. At 6. 45 a. M. All gathered in a company on the topmostbranches, and after two or three preliminary flights to the accompanimentof much commotion and chattering, dashed into the jungle with a unanimousand most acidulous shriek. One of the nests is hanging in shreds. 4. This morning the birds were engaged for some little time pulling theirnests to pieces, strands of tendrils being jerked out and cast away witha contemptuous fling. Most are still fairly rotund and compact, andappear to be weather-proof, while others are already loopholed andragged. The duty was performed in a most haphazard, halfhearted way. Beneath the tree are many varieties of seeds and nuts, and portions offruits, but no egg-shells. After the members of the colony had swoopedand swept about as if practising military manoeuvres, sometimes silentlybut generally to the accompaniment of much shrieking in unison, the treewas entirely deserted for the rest of the afternoon. 5. Before 7 a. M. Dismantlement of nests was resumed with enthusiasm anddeliberate purpose, shreds being twitched out and cast down. A good dealof chatter. There are a few completely feathered youngsters, the breastsbeing almost pure white, but not more than one to each nest. Most of thenests have no output, in which case the responsible birds have noassistance in the work of destruction. Late in the afternoon all werevery busy again, repairs to nests engaging attention. The birds are sounsettled that I am puzzled. Occasionally one would sit in asemi-dismantled nest snoodling down cosily and peering out with shiningeyes, the glow and glitter of which from the darksome entrance have ajewel-like effect. While the one sat close and still the mate wouldrepair the exterior, and in a flash of electric suddenness all would dartout of the tree to swoop about as if to perfect themselves in an exercisedesigned towards the evasion of the dash of a hawk. 6. Early again the wrecking of the nests began; but was soon abandoned, the colony being deserted for the last part of the day. 7. Demolition very casual. The birds are averse from working in the rain, and, to-day several showers have occurred. 8. Notwithstanding light rain the duty of demolition began at 6. 30 a. M. As much energy and purpose are expended withdrawing the strands by aseries of tugs as were displayed in the building. Occasionally the wholebranch from which the nest is pendant sways with the work of a singlebird, the eyes of which glitter the more fiercely as it pulls and jerksat an obstinate strand. Twenty-five birds are counted, so it would seemthat the enterprise has failed in respect of increase. No doubt some areabsent. Both young and old birds take part in the work of destruction. One, I notice, has a black blotch on his otherwise mottled breast, whilehis back shines with the polished radiance of a soap-bubble. 9. Tree visited at odd intervals--not at all during early morning. Dismantlement proceeds half-heartedly. 10. Very early, the morning being fine and clear, the birds resumed in aplayful, lackadaisical way the demolition of the nests; without apparentcause, save the shriek of a passing cockatoo, they fled into the jungle. Did not see them again until late in the afternoon. 11. Again the birds visited the reserve early. Shortly before sundown Icounted sixteen. They were resting silently on the sodden remains of thenests, for there have been heavy showers; some were picking idly atloosened strands as if merely to beguile time. Now and again they flybriskly and noisily in close company--always "diagonalising. " Failure toadd largely to the population of birds does not seem to have damped thegaiety and impulsiveness of the erratic flights. They are as sprightly intheir confabulations and as spiteful in their squabbles. The founders ofthe colony were, I am convinced, this season's birds. If so they couldnot have been more than two months old when they began to build. Theyoung brood from old-established colonies hatched out just about twomonths before these appeared. 12. Yesterday's occupations and recreations repeated. The inheritance ofparasitic intruders, to cut off which the nests are torn to pieces, nowdepends on unsubstantialities. 13. This morning, the flock assembled at break of day, and began, some toextricate tendrils from, others to repair woebegone nests. When the sunshone on the tree the plumage of the birds gleamed with almost dazzlingiridescence, the shoulders green, the back of the neck purple and lake ofthe richest hue. 14. One casual visit to the tree was observed. 15. No visit. 16. No appearance until late in the afternoon, when four, wildly flying, settled for a few minutes and departed shrieking. The tree is not now ahome, merely a rendezvous. And so the history ends. Next August, no doubt, the surviving members ofthe colony will return, all fully feathered in glossy black, and witheyes aflame, to complete the destruction of the nests--according tohabit--and build afresh. Dec. 10 (1910). True to attributes, the bird's returned yesterday. To-daythe one nest which had withstood a year's buffeting was demolishedoffhand, and twenty-two are now being built with frantic haste. Dec. 12. To the solidification of the joy of the Isle no less than fournew colonies are being established close at hand, the very tree which wasraided years ago being again occupied by a jubilant and clamorous crowd. One of the new colonies is over one hundred nests strong. Does thisregeneration signify the beginning of a favourable phase analogous tothat discovered by the commission previously referred to in respect ofgrouse? CHAPTER XXII SHARKS AND RAYS Among the commonest of fish in the shallow waters of the coast are therays, of which there are many species--eighteen, according to the listprepared by Mr. J. Douglas Ogilby. Some attain enormous size, somedisplay remarkable variations from the accepted type, and at least twoare edible though not generally appreciated, for the hunger of thelittoral Australian is not as a rule sufficiently speculative to promptto gastronomic experiment, else food that other nations cherish would notbe deemed unclean. Between sharks and rays relationship exists, for acertain ray has been sneered at as only a flattened-out shark. There arefive species of shark-like rays, which have all the outward form andappearance and vagrant mode of life of their prototype, and four speciesof sharks that might pass as rays. One of them, with a big head, tadpole-like tail and generally frayed and sea-tattered appearance, is, in fact, accepted in some quarters as a ray, while the shovel-like skateis commonly regarded as a shark. The most delicately flavoured of the rays is known as the "blue-spotted"(DASYBATUS KUHLI). It does not appear to attain a large size, but it isfairly common, and is one of the most comely of the creatures of thecoral reefs, the bright blue decorative blotches on a ground of old goldbeing most effective. It is often found in a few inches of waterperfectly motionless, and on being disturbed flutters and glides awayswiftly and with little apparent effort. Roasted on an open fire, when alarge proportion of the pungent oil escapes, the flesh is pleasant, though possessing the distinctive flavour of the order, which is, however, acceptable at all times to the palate of the black. One of the formidable sting rays--dark brown in colour (probablyDASYBATUS THETIDES, Ogilby), which revels on oysters--has the habit ofburying itself in the mud, leaving an angular depression, correspondingto the size of the body, from which the pedestal eyes alone obtrude. Insuch position it is difficult for the inexperienced to detect the fishuntil by misadventure it is trodden on, in which circumstance one of twomanoeuvres is adopted. Either it flaps and flounders in the slush so thatthe intruder is startled and jumps clear, or else it lashes out with itswhip-like tail in the endeavour to bring into play its serrated weapon, charged with pain, and fearsome on account of the blood-poisoning effectof the mucus with which it is coated. Ox-rays (UROGYMNUS ASPERRIMUS) grow to a great size, their backs being soarmoured with thick-set stellate bucklers on a horn-like skin, that tosecure them a heavy-hefted weapon and a strong right arm are necessary. But among the largest of the family is that known as the devil fish(MOBULA sp. ), which, upon being harpooned, sinks placidly to the bottom, and adhering thereto by suction, defies all ordinary attempts to raiseit. This often basks in calm water or swims slowly close to the surface, when the pliant tips of its "wings, " appearing at regular intervalsabove the surface, create the illusion of a couple of large sharks movingalong in rhythmic regularity as to speed and muscular movement. Rarely, and apparently only by mischance, does a ray take bait; but when hookedit affords good sport, for its impassive resistance is incomprehensiblygreat in comparison with its size, and comparable to the pull of a greenturtle which in its wanderings has become foul-hooked. An exciting coursing match entertained me not long since, not only as anexhibition of wonderful speed and agility, but because of the wit withwhich the weaker creature eluded pursuit. Three hundred yards from thebeach the dorsal fin of a huge hammer-head shark obtruded about two feetas it leisurely quartered a favourite hunting-ground. A sudden swirl andsplash indicated that game had been sighted, and the next instant aneagle or flying ray (STOASODON NARINARI) leaped out of the sea withprodigious eagerness to reach the beach. In a series of abrupt curves theshark endeavoured to head off the ray, which, as its pursuer gained onit, shot out of the water over the shoulders of the shark, each leapbeing at least ten feet high. In rising it seemed to switch the sharkwith its thong-like tail, although apparently in almost despairing fright. After at least a dozen agile and desperate efforts, each timed to justelude the rush of the shark, both came into shallow water in which thequick and regular contours of the shark stirred the mud in a wavypattern; it became baffled, and in a few seconds the ray slowly, and withinfinite caution, "flew" (and that is the correct term to apply to a fishthe movements of which in the water are analogous to the flight of abird) into such meagre depths that the shark would have been stranded hadit followed. No ripple indicated its discreet course within a few feet ofthe water line and it maintained its way for about two hundred yardsparallel with the beach, while the shark furiously quartered the sea offshore. On the occasion of a similar hunt a ray blundered fatally because of thesteeper incline of the beach. When about ten feet off the shore instead ofa lateral it took a directly forward "flight, " landing six feet up onthe dry sand, where it fell an easy victim to a black boy, perhaps not ashungry or as ferocious as the shark, but equally partial to rays as foodand incapable of any self-denying act. Though the relationship is well defined, the shark makes no distinctionin favour of the ray when in pursuit of food. Indeed, certain members ofthe predatory family seem to delight chiefly in a diet of rays, andperhaps as a result of this persistent pursuit has the shape of thelatter been evolved, since it enables them to take refuge in water soshallow that even a small shark would inevitably be stranded. Timorous bynature, the smaller rays parade the beach-line, while the larger arebetter able to hold their own in deep water. Although as a rule solitaryof habit, there seem to be occasions on which rays become gregarious, when a considerable extent of sandy shallow has been observed to beactually paved with motionless but vigilant individuals, the edge of the"wing" of one overlapping that of the next with almost perfectregularity. The monstrous grey-striped tiger shark (GALEOCERDO TIGRINUS) in myexperience generally keeps to deep water and hunts singly; but a recentevent sets at naught other local observations and at the same timeprovides graphic proof of the rapacity and hardihood of the species. About a hundred yards out from the beach, as we started on a strictlysordid beachcombing expedition to the scene of the squashed wreck of aChinese sampan, a shark betrayed itself by the dorsal fin quartering theglassy surface of the sea. Equipment for sport consisted of an axe, acrowbar, a trivial fish spear, and a high-velocity rifle. Pulling outnoiselessly, a trail of oily blood was intersected and the next moment ahuge shark appeared, carrying in its jaws a black ray, which it mouthedunceasingly. Intent upon its meal, the shark ranged parallel to the boat so that itslength could be accurately gauged. It was nearly sixteen feet long, whilethe ray was almost as large in proportion. The relative sizes may beestimated by the standard of a man bearing between his teeth a tea-tray, Not the least anxiety or apprehension was manifested by the shark at thepresence of the boat. It rose frequently to the surface, and all itsmovements being discernible as it swam close to the bottom in apreoccupied manner, the boat was easily manoeuvred to be within almosttouching distance whensoever the head emerged. In quick succession threeout of the four bullets the magazine contained penetrated its body justabaft the pectoral fins. A brief flurry followed each shot, and then theshark, with passive fixity of purpose, resumed the mangling of the ray, which with extended, backward strained eyes, seemed to implore rescuefrom its fate. Were any other means of response to so tragic an appealavailable? The crowbar! Hastily made fast to the stern line, it washurled harpoon-like with energy sufficient to batter in the forehead of abullock. But the listless implement bounced off the head of the shark asa stick from a drum, provoking merely a contemptuous wave of the tailwhich seemed to signify a sneer. The axe was also employed with negativeresults, for the difficulty of delivering an effective blow from the boatcould not be overcome. All the sea about became ruddy, and the lust for still more of theshark's blood being imperative, we returned to the beach, obtained afresh supply of ammunition, and a whale harpoon. In the meantime theblood previously shed had spread far and wide, and instead of a solitarygormandising shark a full half-dozen rollicked and revelled in thestained area, all alike in size and alike, too, in absolute indifferenceto the boat. Owing to the featherweight heft the harpoon failed inpenetrative force, and with the first tug invariably withdrew. Frequently the sharks came within arm's length of the boat, and thoughneither ammunition nor the bumps of the homely crowbar nor the pin-pricksof the harpoon were spared, nor shouts of exultation when an individuallashed out under the sting of a bullet, not a shark was in the leastperturbed. They romped about the boat, if not defiant at least heedlessof all the clamour and puny assaults, appearing to challenge to combat intheir natural element. The temper of the school was such that, no doubt, all the occupants of the boat would have been accounted for had they bysome foolish miracle squandered themselves in the blood-stained sea. Bythis time the shark which had first attracted attention had disappearedwith its prey, distressed and unseaworthy on account of several leaks;and the others followed one by one, and not altogether in the bestcondition imaginable, judging by the oily bubbles and tinges beyond thelimits of the bay. On a quieter day I swam off to the anchored boat for some forgottenpurpose, which accomplished I prepared to slip off the stern when adark-coloured shark intervened, moving steadily along parallel to thebeach. Giving it precedence, I swam ashore without resting and watchedthe big fish slide like a shadow up into the corner of the bay, where itrested. Tom, the sport-loving black boy, being on the scene, his flattiewas soon afloat, and with a disdainful thrust of the harpoon he impaledthe creature, which did not exhibit the least sign of life. Hauled to thesurface, Tom declared it to be dead--that it had died from natural causesere the harpoon had touched it. Had ever shark taken quieter exit fromthis hustling world! It was about six feet long and fairly robust, andwhile being towed ashore wallowed helplessly, floating belly up andsubmitting without a spasm of protest to nudges and slaps of the oars andprods with the heft of the harpoon, but no sooner did it touch thesand and its snout shoot into the foreign element than a furious fightfor life began. Did ever shark display such agility! Wriggling andlashing with its tail, almost had it swept me off my feet and dragged meinto the sea; but Tom came to my aid, with a sudden and judiciously timedtug as it swerved, the game was landed, to continue extraordinaryantics on the sand, though Tom was armed with a tomahawk. When the struggles had ceased post-mortem examination was made. Thestomach was empty, but the liver promised so much oil that Tomextirpated it and all other internal organs, and not until mutilationwas complete was any peculiarity about the jaws and teeth noticed. Thesesubsequently, proved that we had captured, not a shark but aray--Forskal's shovel-nosed ray (RHYNCHOBATUS DJIDDENSIS), which Tom, forall his knowledge of sea things, had never before seen. Curiouslyexamining the jaws, he laid a rude forefinger on the tesselated platewhich stands in the species for teeth, and the disorganised remains, trueto the ruling passion, crunched, and Tom ruefully consoled the finger fora fortnight. Hitherto his opinion, founded on contemporary experience andthe traditions of his race, had been that a shark would never fight alive man. Was it not the refinement of irony that he should well nigh bedeprived of the best part of a finger by a dead ray masquerading as ashark! Many blacks refuse to eat shark because of totemic restrictions; butwhere no tribal contrary law prevails, several of the species are cookedand eaten without ceremony, but with most objectionable after effects tothose who are not partial to such fare. The specific odour of the sharkseems to be intensified and to be made almost as clinging as that ofmusk, being far more expressive than the exhalation of a camp gorged withgreen turtle. Discreet persons encounter such a scene as the do the jadeCare--by passing on the windy side. CHAPTER XXIII THE RECLUSE OF RATTLESNAKE "Live forgotten and die forlorn. " TENNYSON. Am I, living in or rather off the land of magnificent distances, entitledto claim as a neighbour a friend one hundred miles away? Sentimentsobliterate space. With the lonesome individual who dwelt in an oven-likehut of corrugated iron on rocky, sunburnt Rattlesnake Island, and wholost the habit of living a few years ago, I was on social terms--terms ofvague but cosy intimacy. On occasions of our rare meetings we found ideasin common. Peradventure similarities of environment focussed similarthoughts. Perhaps abnormal temperaments gave rise to becoming tendernessand sympathy. Whatsoever and howsoever the mutual sentiment, it is of thepast. The history of the Recluse of that undesirable island, a mass of graniteand thin, unkindly soil is far removed from the prosaic. His was thethird life sacrificed because of the lust of man to own the unromanticspot. He came to be known as "The Recluse of Rattlesnake, " but the painof his life lies in the fact that his seclusion was not voluntary. The earlier history of the "Recluse" embodies nothing very extraordinary. Men have fallen in love as impetuously as he. The prologue of the littledrama in which he played the leading part was neither new nor strange. The originality came after, and then only was it understood howcompletely the divine passion had shattered his soul. This, then, is the record of a part of his life--its dominatingtheme--its dramatic and pathetic ending. A fine young fellow they were wont to call him--blue-eyed, fair-haired, sharp and shrewd and up to all the moves as becomes a man alert andsuccessful in business. Truly a universal favourite, for he wasgood-humoured and amiable, full of wit and smart sayings. They say, too, that she who had pledged her troth to him was just as fine a girl as hewas man. There came news to him of the death of a relative in Old England, with a summons thither to take his share of a fortune. He tarried no longtime, for had he not left his heart behind him? But--and so the storygoes, whether true to the letter I do not vouch--when he landed inAustralia once again it was to learn that he had been slighted. His loveaffair hopelessly damned, he at once began to drift. The drift endedpitiably after half a lifetime--to him a lifetime and a half. "God! we living ones--what of our tearsWhen a single day seems as a thousand years?" For a decade or more he lived on the Island, his resources slender anduncertain. Often he was on the verge of starvation. Once he told me that, driven by the pangs of hunger, he had trapped quail, which he had trainedto come to his whistle to eat the crumbs which fell from his table duringthose rare times when he fared sumptuously. Then his tender-heartednessforbade him to kill them. But hunger is crueller than either jealousy orthe grave, and one by one his plump pets were sacrificed. He had twofaithful companions--mongrel dogs, "Billy" and "Clara"--and thewistful, beseeching inquiry in the gaze of those two dogs when he talkedat them before strangers significantly showed how frequently andearnestly he talked to them when there was none else to share hisconfidences. Now Rattlesnake Island, though close to a populous port, is one of themore remote parts of the State of Queensland. News travels to and from itat uncertain, fitful, and infrequent intervals. The Boer War hadprogressed beyond the relief of Ladysmith stage ere the Recluse ofRattlesnake knew that the Old England he loved so well and proudly was upand asserting herself. At odd times a sailing boat would call, but theRecluse was beginning to be what the polite folks benevolently term"strange, " and he would not always appear unless he knew his visitors. Then he was among the most agreeable and entertaining of men, full ofanecdote and episode and quiet but true humour. A shrewd observer ofnatural science, he availed himself of unique opportunities forpractical study. He conned first-hand the book of Nature, written largeand fair, and illuminated with living designs. My one memento of him isthe stiletto of a prodigious sting-ray. He had never seen a larger, norhave I nor any one to whom I have shown it. The weapon measures 9½inches by an average width of half an inch. The birds that came to hisisland, the reptiles, the frogs, and the fish of the sea--he knew themall--and could tell quaint, fairy-like stories of his association with thecreatures that had become too familiar to be the least afraid of him. One day a boat anchored off his bay, but the Recluse was not to be seen, nor was the punt that he used found, nor were there any recent signs ofoccupation about the exterior of the hut. In due course official searchwas instituted. We may neglect or be indifferent to a man while he isknown to be in the land of the living; when he is not and until themystery of his fate is cleared up he becomes the object of earnestsolicitude. In the comfortless dwelling was found a diary which told its own tale oflonesomeness and starvation. Is there real pathos in the last writings ofthis once vigorous and independent man? May 19. Waded with spear all over flats for rays. Did not get a shot atany. Very short commons. May 23. I miss the tea and tobacco. Dug last row of sweet spuds. Verypatchy in size, but a perfect God-send just now. May 26. Last kerosene. No reading at nights now. He records catching a sting-ray and getting oysters. June 2. Not a sign of a ray. Have to live off potatoes a bit. They, too, will soon be done. June 4. Added a P. S. To letters. A month gone and no chance to send them. Hard cheese! June 6. Another week will see me in extremis. Wish I had a fishing-line. June 7. Got some oysters. Oh for a good beefsteak or a chop! No sign ofany boat. Lord help me! June 9. Nearly skinned the oysters. What will I do when they are finished? June 10. Dull; cold. Thank God for the sweet potatoes! They are my onlyfood now. No rays about; no fish in the trap, and the whole coast of theisland almost stripped of oysters. Only one candle left to cheer thenight. June 11. Miserable and hungry. June 17. Cold and clear. Did not sleep well. The hunger woke me often. This is fearful work. On the 19th he got some coco-nuts, which were first-rate. With coco-nutsand an occasional ray, he ekes out an existence, hungry, cheerless, without light, without tobacco. A copy of "Barnaby Rudge" and a few oldpapers represent his reading matter. He is glad when daylight comes. July 3. Craft lay-to off Lorne Reef. Signalled by flag and fire fromhill. They took no notice. Strange! Government cutter, I think. So his life drags on. He tries to re-read by firelight "Barnaby Rudge, "which he must almost know by heart, but it is of no use. In thetaming of a monitor lizard he finds much amusement, recording hissatisfaction--"Goanna quite friendly. " July 6. Caught a small rock-cod; roasted it for supper. His satisfaction after a good meal is evident from the entry-- "Quite happy and contented. " His hopes rise and fall on a diet of oysters and coco-nuts. On July 22nd he hails with delight "a tin box of pears and condensedmilk" which drift on to the reef. These have been in the water for weeks"but some are good. " He writes thankfully "the milk is grand. " The diary described his life during the next few months "in a sort ofway. " He builds a punt which he christens the GREAT EASTERN, thelaunching of which is briefly chronicled: "Launched the GREAT EASTERN. Sank below Plimsoll mark--like a sieve. " He returns disheartened from oneor two trial trips, having to "man the pump. " 'He complains of havingto dig up and eat little miniature sweet potatoes and asks piteously:"What am I to do? I'm hungry and have nothing else!" His feet become cutand sore, and in every day's entry is a plaintive wail at the pain. Sept. 9. Treasure--a stranded coco-nut, quite good. A rare treat. Myteeth are sore through not being used. Sept. 26. This continuous hunger begins to tell. My blood's poor andsores won't heal. Can't help it! I can't better my lot in any way somust just endure it. Octr. 31. Surely to goodness something will happen to put an end to mylong drawn out misery. No sleep last night. A "Goanna" that he killed and ate was a God-send. Now. 6. Disappointed! Made sure of truffles after rain. None. No grub. I get weaker and weaker. Can hardly crawl. Now. 11. Done up! Lay down and went to sleep. No sign from shore. Thegood Lord pity me in my weakness! Novr. 12. Never thought I could get so weak and live. No sign anywhere. Must try to catch some big green frogs--good food. Novr. 13. So awfully weak. Novr. 14. Too weak to look out for . . . (the writing becomesunintelligible). Wrote my old friend . . . Making over all property hereto him absolutely. Blowing too hard for punt. I dare not try to walk I'dnever get back. The final entry is dated Nov. 15th: "Caught three big frogs, cleaned and stewed them--delicious--likechicken! What fools we are with our likes and dislikes!" They searched the adjacent island and the coastline, and finallyconcluded that the Recluse, having made a desperate attempt to reach themainland in his wretched punt, had become overcome with exhaustion, andhad drifted away to drown when the boat swamped in the breakers. Six weeks or so after the date of the final entry in the diary a Chinesefisherman found a punt near the mouth of a mangrove creek on themainland. In it was a skeleton, a fish spear, some empty oyster shells. Afew fair hairs adhered to patches of dried skin on the skull. So the tale is told--a brief, passionate love idyll a strange, tedious, and tragic epilogue. Were ever the days and dreams of a strong man more completely dismantledand dismembered by a passing flick of Cupid's wing! CHAPTER XXIV HAMED OF JEDDAH "Caravans that from Bassora's gateWith Westward steps depart;Or Mecca's pilgrims, confident of fateAnd resolute of heart. " More of a Dutchman in build than Arab--broad-based, bandy-legged, stubby, stolid, and slow; spare of his speech, but nimble with his fingers in allthat appertains to the rigging and working of small boats, as much atease in the water as a rollicking porpoise--such is Hamed of Jeddah. His favourite garment is a light green woollen sweater. He wears other, but less obvious things. His green sweater sets all else at naught. If itbe a fact that one of the pleasures to which the true Mohammedan looksforward in the region of the blest is to recline in company with theHouris on green sofas while contemplating the torments of the damned, Hamed was merely foretasting that which is to come. The everlasting greensweater became a torture--at least to me. Perhaps he was aware of thefact, and because he knew that my damnation is inevitable his unsoothingpreliminary was merely human. For Hamed is amicable in all respects. Though his sentiments may be truly Arabian, his figure, as I haveremarked, is a travesty on that of the typical Arabian--the Arab of theboundless and comfortless desert. I have tried to picture him as a leanand haughty mameluke in loose, white robes, mounted on a dust-distributingcamel, and, lance in hand, peering ferociously across the desert "The desert with its shifting sandAnd unimpeded sky. " But the tubby form in the green sweater and those bleached dungareesshortened in defiance of all the prescriptions of fashion, positivelyrefuses to be glorified. Except for his swarthiness Hamed isunreconcilable to the ideals of an Arab, and he has a most hereticaldislike to the desert. All his best qualities are under suppression ondry land. He is the Arab of the dhow. His eyes are muddy. The pupilsbegin to show opacity. He follows slowly and with stumbling steps throughthe bush and often misses his way, for he cannot see far ahead and youcannot always be looking backward and hailing him. Still, he is neverlost. When he fails to recognise landmarks and his guide is out of sight, his cup-shaped ears detect the faintest call of the sea. Then he works ina direct course to the beach, where everything is writ large and plain tohis understanding. Of his own motive he never ventures inland without acompass, and with that in his hand he is safe, even in a strange placeand out of sound of the sea. Hamed tells a wonderful story of a ride that befell him in his earlyyouth. By the way, there is something to be said of his age which, according to his own account, varies. Sometimes he is 72, then 48, andagain 64 and 35. Like the present-day almanacs of his race, his age isshifty and uncertain. Hamed's ride occurred "a long time ago"--thathazy, half-obliterated mark on life's calendar. Pious Mohammedan that heis, he undertook a pilgrimage to Medina. To that holy orgy he rode on adonkey. So miraculous was the chief event of the journey that it is dueto Hamed that his own uncoloured version should be given. "So hot the sun of my country you carn ride about alonga a day. Everytime you trabel alonga night--sit down daytime. We start. We ride allnight. I ride alonga dunkee. Sit down one day, ride night time. Dunkee heno go quick--very slow. I am tired. That dunkee tired. B'mbi that dunkeehe talk. He say--'Hamed, you good man, you kind man. Subpose you nohammer me too much I take you up, alonga Medina one time quick. ' I say, 'I no want hammer you. ' My word, that dunkee change!--dunkee before, horse now--Arab horse. Puff! We along Medina! Wind bin take 'em!"With the wind in his favour Hamed does wonders even now--at sea. It wasnot seemly to suggest to him that cynical memory dulled the polish of hisstory; but if there really are chinks in the world above at which theylisten to words from below, did the Prophet smile to hear the parable bywhich his devout and faithful follower brought his own ride on the flyingmare up to date? Having the unwonted privilege of cross-examining a man who had ridden orrather been wafted to Medina specially that he might do homage at theTomb of the Prophet, I asked a few questions respecting the famouscoffin. Was it a fact that the coffin hung in the air on a wire so finethat no one could see it? Was it, in fact, without lawful visible meansof support? Hamed would neither deny nor confirm the legend. "I dunno what peopleyou! I bin tell-straight my yarn go one time like wind to Medina. Whatmore you want? I dunno what kind people you!" One mystery at a time isenough for Hamed. Hamed now deals in oysters. In the trade he had a partner--a fair lad ofScandinavian origin named Adolphus. All these orientals haveextraordinary faith in the medicinal properties of the gall ofout-of-the-way creatures. That of a wallaby is prized; of a "goanna"absolutely precious; while in respect of a crocodile, only a man who hasleisure to be ill and is determined to doctor himself on the recklessprinciple of "blow the expense, " could afford any such luxurious physic. It is reckoned next in virtue to a text from the Koran written on board:"Wash off the ink, drink the decoction, and lo! the cure is complete. "So, too, if the Lama doctor has no herbal medicines he prescribessomething symbolic. He writes the names of the remedies on scraps ofpaper, moistens the paper with saliva, and rolls them into pills, whichthe patient tosses down with the same perfect confidence as though theywere genuine medicaments, his faith leading him to believe thatswallowing a remedy or its name is equally efficacious. A "goanna" scrambled for safety up a small tree. Adolphus undertook tokill it. Hamed insisted on preemption of the gall, while yet the quakingreptile certainly had the best title to it; but Hamed stood below andsome distance off, for he was nervous. Adolphus climbed the tree, killedthe "goanna" offhand, and threw it so that it fell close to Hamed, andHamed fell in a spasm of fright, upon recovering from which he chasedfair, fleet-footed, laughing Adolphus for half an hour--murder in hispearly eyes, a mangrove waddy in his hand, frothy denunciations on hislips, and nothing on his body but the green sweater. Peace was restoredon the presentation to him of the all-healing gall; and then Hamedapologised, almost tearfully, explaining, "That goanna, when you chuckheem, close broke heart of me!" A dissolution of partnership was then and there decided on, and Hamedthus detailed his sentiments to me:-- "That boy, I like heem too much. Good-for-working boy. Me and heem make'em three-four beg oyster every day. He bin say: 'You carn be mate forme!' He go along two Mulai boy. Dorphy [Adolphus] carn mek too muchnow--one sheer belonga him, Mulai boy two sheers. Carn beat me--one sheerone man. " Hamed has clean-cut notions on the disadvantages of multiplicityof partners. Hamed has been to Europe, and there--he does not mention the country--hewas initiated into the mysteries of making Irish stew. In an outburst ofthankful confidence for some little entertainment at the table he let outthe secret in these terms: "Eerish sdoo you make 'em. Four potats, twoungin, hav-dozen garleek, one hav-bucket water. " At first it appearedthat he had obtained his knowledge from a passionate vegetarian, but uponreflection we concluded that in his opinion meat was so essential an itemthat it was to be taken for granted. Any one wishing to try the recipewould be safe in adding "meat to taste. " Hamed revels in chillies, fiery, red, vitriolitic little things thatwould bring tears to the eyes of a molten image. Even his recipe forporridge (likewise obtained during his ever-memorable European travels)is not complete without them: "Alonga one hand oot-meal, pannikan water, one hav-handful chillies. My word, good fellow; eatem up quick; want 'emmore. " Possibly Hamed might be considered by some folks a "common" man. He isfar from that, and the very opposite from commonplace, for some of themagic of the coral seas has tinctured his blood. His career as apearl-shell diver has been illuminated by the discovery of pearls--bigand precious. In his youth and buoyancy he gambled them away. Now thathis heart is subdued and slow he still looks for pearls, and tempts coyFortune with dramatic sincerity and most untempting things. He wants onepearl more, that he may acquire the means of travelling to his nativeland. Hamed of Jeddah would die there. So strenuous is his desire for one smile on the part of Fortune thatHamed's favourite topic is pearls, and of the good old days when, if aman found a patch where the grass was not too thick, he might pick up asmany as a hundred shells in a day. Under conditions and circumstances allin favour, the diver relies upon an inevitable infirmity on the part ofthe oyster for the revelation of its whereabouts. "When man he dibe, " says Hamed, "that go'lip quick he shut 'em mout. Carnsee 'em. Subpose open mout, man quick he see 'em--shove-em alonga beg. " At the peril of its life the oyster gapes. Hamed cherishes thoroughly Oriental theories, too, for the wooing ofChance, who (for Chance is very real and personal to him), he declares, presides over the fortune and the fate of divers. "Last night I bin drim. My word--good drim. Subpose you gibe one fowl hemake lucky--we get good pearl. Must be white fowl. Black fow!"--(and herehe lowered his voice to a mysteriously confidential whisper) "no good;spoil 'em lucky!" Months have elapsed since the sacrifice of the white fowl and the pouringof its blood to the accompaniment of droning supplications on the face ofthe contemptuous sea, and albeit the divination was cheerfullysuspicious, the sulky jade still look askance, and Hamed is still farfrom Jeddah. HAMED PREACHES When Hamed of Jeddah left just before Christmas with four "begs" ofover-mature oysters, intended for the tickling of European palates, he wasnot elated by the nearness of the hallowed time. Indeed, his state ofmind was quite contrary. He had none of that peace and goodwill towardsmen with which those of us who are not Mohammedans adulate the approachof the season. His one-time partner, the fair and fleet-footed "Dorphy, " had deserted himfor good and sufficient cause, and his hard old heart rebelled againstpriggish Christians and their superior ways. Some of the tardiness of agehas come upon him. Though he had "worked" the oysters with all theresourcefulness of the lone hand, the marketable results were less inbulk than formerly. "Dorphy" had been wont to re-sort and classifyHamed's gleanings, for Hamed's eyes are misty; also his desire to emulate"Dorphy's" quickness was so ingenuous that in lieu of oysters he wouldfrequently stow away flat stones and pieces of coral. Such things may beabomination in the eyes of the conscientious oyster-getter, but withHamed they helped to fill the "beg. " Vain old Arab! He deceived noone--in the end not even himself, for none of his fakes passed the finalinspection of clear-sighted "Dorphy, " with whom the moralities of thefirm rested, but who in Hamed's eyes was a finicking precisian. For weeks after his partner's withdrawal from the business Hamed wasperplexed. The swing of the seasons set the tides adversely. Hence hiscomplaint--"Water no much dry. Carn dry long. No good one man workhimself. Subpose have mate he give hand along nother man. One man messin'abeaut. One small beg oyster one day. My word, 'Dorphy' smartboy--good-for-working boy!" As a lone hand--his honour thrown upon himself--Hamed was so precise andmethodic that by the time the second "beg, " had been painfullychipped off semi-submerged rocks, the first was past its prime. When thethird was full, the first was good merely in parts. On the completion ofthe fourth "beg" one passed the neighbourhood of the first on the otherside with a precautionary sniff. It contained self-assertive relics. But Hamed took all four "begs" with him in his little cutter, and "Billy, "the toothless black boy, who lisped not in affectation but inbroad and conscious profusion, for a blow from a nulla-nulla years agodeprived him for ever of the grace of distinct articulation, sailed withhim. No sensation of sorrow fretted me when on that lovely Monday morn Isaw the sail of the odoriferous cutter a mere fleck of saintly white onthe sky-line among the islands to the north. Can so lovely a thing beburdened with so ponderous a smell? Will it not--if two more days ofwindless weather prevail--ascend to the seventh heaven and tarnish theglitter of the Pleiades? I mused as I strolled on the tide-smoothedbeach of my own scented isle. Before his departure, Hamed had realised that his oysters had passed thephase which Christians in their absurd queasiness prefer. Perhaps hedesigned to trade them off on coloured folks with less sensitive organsand no dainty prejudices. But his temper was consonant with, at least, myperception of the condition of his oysters. It was bad; and he spokeharsh things of white men, and of Christmas and of the doings ofChristians during the celebration of the birthday of the Founder of theirfaith. Perhaps he was paying off in advance for the scorn with which hisfragrant oysters were sure to be received. When a man who is with us, but not of us, deliberately expresses hisopinions about our faulty ways and contradictory customs, and when thecritic is disinterested, in matters of religion at any rate, howeverhumble he may, be, it is instructive to treat him as a philosopher. Theart of learning is to accept the teachings of everything, from a bladeof grass to an epic poem. Hamed moralised in angry mood. All the better. Neither flattery nor fear was in his words. The impatient oysters fuming in the tiny hold of his cutter merely gaveto his tongue a defiant stimulus. To me they were pathetically pleadingfor a belated watery grave. A quaint sort of eloquence took command ofHamed's tongue, and I suffered the oysters gladly as I listened. "Ramadan! Ah! One month!" There were worlds of meaning and longing inthose few words. The pious Mohammedan, the exile, the patriot spoke, uttering a prayer, a sigh, and a glorious hope in one breath. "Ramadan!In my country one month holiday--quiet, clean, no row. First time burn oldclothes. " "Come fill the cup, and in the fire of spring, The winter garment of repentance fling. " "Wash everything. Clean out house. Put clothes clean--white like anything. Sit down. One day eat nothing. Then feast plenty. Good goat of mycountry--more fatter. " (It was a graceless cut, for the previous day Ihad given him a well-grown kid). "No messin' abeaut. Plenty talk withfriend. Walk about bazaar. Full up people--clean, nice. No row--nothing. Subpose I make lucky. I find one pearl, I go along my own country forRamadan!" With half-shut eyes Hamed dwelt silently on the bliss of his farawayhome, and woke snappily to the crude realities of his Christianenvironment. "Chrissmiss!" he sneered--" nothing. Messin' abeaut! You want to seedrunk man--Chrissmiss, plenty! You want to see row, plenty--Chrissmiss!You want lissen bad language, plenty Chrissmiss! Subpose I am at thatplace Cairnsee, Chrissmiss, I take my flattie anchor out alonginlet--keep quiet. My heart broke altogether from that drink. Chrissmiss--mix 'em up plenty with drink and messin abeaut! Good job youkeep out of the way when Chrissmiss he come!" CHAPTER XXV YOUNG BARBARIANS AT PLAY "Behold the child by Nature's kindly law, Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw. " POPE. Not all the energies of the blacks of North Queensland in their naturalstate are absorbed in the search for and pursuit and capture of food; norare all their toys imitative of weapons of offence or the chase. Theyhave their idle and softer hours when the instincts of the young menand maidens turn towards recreations and pastimes, in some of whichconsiderable ingenuity and skill are exhibited, whilst their elders amusethemselves by the practise of more or less useful domestic arts. Childrenin their play are just as enthusiastic, preoccupied, and noisy as whitechildren, and the popularity of a game is subject, likewise, to spasmodicexclusiveness. While the particular inclination lasts no other game isheld to be worth a rap for rational black boys to play, but the relishthe more speedily degenerates. In the ordinary concerns of life a blackboy is incapable of self-denial. His intensity for the time is almostpathetic; his revulsion comic. Hence the cycle of the games is brief. There are wide and dreary intervals. Dr. Walter E. Roth, ex-Chief Protector of Aboriginals, and now GovernmentResident at Pomeroon River, British Guiana, devotes a pamphlet todescriptions of the "Games, Sports, and Pastimes" of Queenslandblacks, but since the work has not yet been published unofficially, andsince my own limited observations are confirmed generally by him, thereseems justification for offering references to a few of the means bywhich the primitive people wile away time in good-humoured, gleefulpastime. One feature of the sports of the blacks is that they play theirgame for the sake of the game, not to gain the plaudits of an idle crowdor in expectation of reward. Rivalry there undoubtedly is among them, butthe rivalry is disinterested. No chaplet of olive-leaves or parsleydecorates the brow of him who so throws the boomerang that itaccomplishes the farthest and most complicated flight. As the archers ofold England practised their sport, so do the blacks exhibit theirstrength and skill, not as the modern lover of football, who pays othersto play for his amusement, and who, possibly, knows not the game save asa spectator. Some of the pastimes of the blacks are, of course, derivative from themost engrossing passion of the race, the pursuit of game--animals, birds, and fish--for food. Dr. Roth describes a pantomime in which three younggirls take part, and which is imitative of the felling of a tree for thepurpose of securing honey stored by bees in a hollow limb. Every detailof the process is illustrated by expressive gestures, even to theindication of the respective locations in the limb of the good comb(which is tabu to women), and the inferior stuff (old brood anddrippings) to which the inferior sex is welcome. The whole episode isgraphically mimicked, down to the mixing of the honey with water as abeverage. But such games have not come under my personal knowledge, and as I wishto confine myself to those which I have witnessed, my catalogue mustneeds be trivial, and far from exhaustive even in respect of the districtin which they are, alas! becoming obsolete. In these days of opium andrum, leisure moments are not generally devoted to "becoming mirth. " The very first toy of the blacks in this neighbourhood is the mostcosmopolitan of all. No race of infant exercises over it a monopoly. Itbelongs as well to the palace as the hovel, for it is none other than therattle. If proof were wanting that infants the world over have perceptivequalities in common, and that the universal mother employs like means forthe development of them, the rattle would supply it. Here the toy whicheach of us has gripped with gladness and slobbered over is found notaltogether in its most primitive form. It might, indeed, be classed as anemblem of arrested development in art, for better things might reasonablybe expected of grown-up folks who in their infancy were wont to use sucha neat means of charming away fretfulness. The toy is a tiny sphericalbasket of neatly interwoven thin strips of cane from one of the creepingpalms, in which is enclosed one of the smooth, hard, lead-coloured seedsof the CAESALPINIA BONDUCELLA. The rattle, which is known by the name of"Djawn, " seems to be quite as effective as the more elaborate but lessneat varieties employed to amaze and pacify the infants of civilisation. Similar seeds are used by Arabian children for necklaces, hence thespecific botanical name of the plant. Measured ethnologically, perhaps the most primitive pastime is also oneof the most interesting, for it seems to indicate the evolution of thespear. It may readily be believed that a black boy playing with a grassdart exhibits one of the early stages which the spear passed ere itreached its present form in the hands of his father with a wommera. Asthe boy grows up, so does his spear grow with his growth, and lengthenwith his length. The grass dart is merely a stem of blady grass (IMPERATAARUNDINACEA), which the blacks know as "Jin-dagi, " shortened to aboutfifteen inches by the severance of the leaves, which is usuallyaccomplished by a quick nip with the teeth. The dart is taken between thethumb and the second finger, the truncated ends of the leaves beingpressed against the tip of the first finger, by which and thesimultaneous impulse of the arm the dart is propelled. Accurate shots maybe made with the missile, which has a range up to about thirty yards, with a penetrative force sufficient to pierce the skin. Occasionally theboys of the camp in opposing sides indulge in mimic fights, when the airrustles with the darts, and the yelling combatants exhibit expertness asmarksmen as well as extraordinary shrewdness in the special protection ofthe face and other exposed and tender spots, and skill in dodging andparrying. The "Wee-bah, " another toy weapon (also obtained from blady grass), might be designated an arrow, the flight, though not the impulse, beingsimilar. A single stem of grass is shortened to about fifteen inches. Bybeing drawn between the nails of the thumb and the first finger, the webis separated from the midrib for about three inches. The sportsmanpinches the web end loosely between the lips. The split ends, held in theleft hand, are bent over a thin stick in the right hand. Upon the stickbeing moved smartly forward, the web peels from each side to the midrib, which shoots ahead with an arrow-like flight in the direction themarksman designs. Velocity, accuracy, and range are remarkable. The arrow will penetratethe skin (the stem having an awl-like point) at a distance of ten orfifteen yards, and twenty yards is not an uncommon limit to its range. This is used for killing small birds, as well as in idle sport. A fewhandfuls of blady grass supply a sheaf of missiles, and with such cheapammunition the sportsman is justified in providing himself profusely whenintent upon the destruction of shy birds. Noiseless and rapid, if theshot misses there is no disturbing effect on the nerves of the bird. Adry twig falling or a leaf rustling has no more elemental shock than theflight of the dart. The unconscious bird hops about its businessunconcerned until a dart does its work. Birds which fall to this mostinartificial weapon are very small, but a black boy does not despise themost minute morsels of food. He wastes nothing, and in such respects issuperior to many a white sportsman, who often shoots that for which hehas no appetite, and glories in a big bag irrespective of the capacity ofhis stomach. No doubt the black boy, too, experiences the same exultantpassion when his grass dart impales a pert wren, as does his prototypewhen the thud of a turkey on the plains is as an echo to the report ofhis gun. The black boy singes off the feathers, slightly scorches theflesh of his game and munches it whole, secures another sheaf of darts, and goes a-shooting again. Darts are also improvised from blady grass by two other methods, each aprototype of the spear and wommera. The midrib is severed and the webpeeled therefrom for a few inches as in the "Weebah. " The loose ends ofthe web being retained between the thumb and the second finger, themidrib peels off completely when the hand is propelled, the impulse beingtransmitted to the dart. This, perhaps, is the earliest and mostprimitive application of the principle embodied in the wommera. In thethird method the midrib is similarly severed and the web peeled for abouttwo inches; but the stalk is held in the hand, and, being jerkedforward, the midrib being torn from the web flies off, though not underaccurate control as to direction. Quite as early a toy as the grass dart is the boomerang made by a boy'sfather, or a companion older than himself, and which the youngest soonlearns to throw with skill. He graduates in the use of weapons nicelygraded to suit his growing strength, spending hours day after day inearnest, honest exercise, until some other game happens to becomeirresistibly fashionable. A weapon intermediate between the "Jin-dagi" and the full-length spearof manhood is the scape of the grass-tree (XANTHORRHEA ARBOREA), withwhich youths fight furious battles, gradually perfecting themselves inelusive tactics and in the training of hand and eye. A favourite settarget is the bulbous formicary of the white ant which disfigures so manyof the trees of the forest. Along tracks where the spears are readilyavailable there are few white-ant nests untormented by two or three. Astrong reed which flourishes on the margins of watercourses is playedwith similarly, and by the time the youth has put aside youthful thingsand has learnt to fashion a spear of tough wood he is an expert. In order to acquire dexterity, the fish spear in the first instance is amere toy, and is used in play with as much vivacity and preoccupation asmarbles and tops and kites are by boys of Australian birth. A colouredboy, in all the joyous abandon of the unclad, sports with a spearsuitable to his height and strength for a month together, floating chipsand scraps of bark in the water as targets, until hands and eyes arebrought into such subjection that the art is, as it were, burnt into hisblood, and a miss becomes rare. In the meantime he has also practised onsmall fish, and soon he is a regular contributor to the larder. What is known as the "Piar-piar" accomplishes the flight of theboomerang, and is therefore termed familiarly the "little fellaboomerang. " Before attempting to describe the toy, it is interesting tonote that the word "boomerang" is alien to these parts (Dunk Island), though in almost universal use among the blacks. "Wungle" is the localtitle. The "Piar-piar" is made from a strip from the side of the leaf ofone of the pandanus palms (PANDANUS PEDUNCULATUS). The prickles havingbeen sliced off with a knife or the finger nails, two distincthalf-hitches are made in reverse order. Each end is shortened and roughlytrimmed, the knots creased and squeezed to flatness between the teeth andlips, and the toy is complete, the making having occupied less than aminute. Before throwing the ends are slightly deflexed. The toy is held in the right hand lightly between the thumb and the firstand second fingers, concave surface down, and is thrown to the left witha quick upward turn of the wrist. After a short, rapid flight almost onthe plane of the hand of the thrower, the toy soars abruptly upwards, and taking a sinistral course, returns, twirling rapidly, to the thrower, occasionally making two complete revolutions. The ends are deflexed priorto each throw. Boys and youths are fond of the "Piar-piar, " and men ofsober year's do not disdain it, being frankly pleased when they succeedin causing it to execute a more prolonged and graceful flight thanordinary. Another toy which has the soaring flight of the boomerang is made out oftwo portions of the leaf of the pandanus palm stitched together in theform of a St. Andrew's Cross. It is thrown like a boomerang, the flightbeing circular, and when it is made to complete two revolutions round thethrower that individual is manifestly pleased with himself. This is knownas "Birra-birra-goo. " Another form of aeroplane, "Par-gir-ah, " comes from the pandanuspalm--its parts being plaited together. This is thrown high and descendsspirally, twisting so rapidly throughout its course that it appears to bea solid disc. This is also used as a windmill, being affixed to aspindle. Children run with the toy against the wind and find similarecstasy to those of whites of their age and kidney. The sea-beach supplies in plenty a missile which, from the hands of ablack boy, has a fantastic flight. This is the bone of the cuttle-fish("Krooghar"), which, when thrown concave surface down against the wind andafter the style of the boomerang, whirls rapidly and makes a decidedeffort to return. It is also thrown along the surface of the sea as whiteboys do "skipping stones, " often reaching astonishing distances in awonderful series of skips. "Cat's cradle" is popular in some camps, the ingenious and complicateddesigns into which the string is woven far outstripping the art of thewhite man, and leaving his wondering comprehension far behind. Toy boatsand canoes are favourite means of passing away time by those who live onthe beach; and while little girls dandle dolls of wood and bark, theirbrothers and cousins laboriously chip stones in the shape of axes, andused formerly to make fish-hooks of pearl shell, in imitation of thehandiwork of their elders. Boys are also given to trundling a disc ofbark, centrally perforated for a short cord, the art of the game being togive the disc, while it revolves, an outward inclination. In thesedegenerate days the top of a meat-tin is substituted for the decent barkdisc, in the making of which nice art was exhibited. Several of the games of the youngsters are bad imitations of the sportsof the white. Just as their fathers find joy in a greasy, blackened, imperfect pack of cards, throwing them down with significant gestures, but in absolutely perfect ignorance of the rules of any game or capacityto appreciate any number greater than three--so do the children makebelieve to play cricket with a ball worlds away from a sphere (for it isnone other than a pandanus drupe), and a bat of any waddy. But it is due to the crude folks who owned Australia not so very longago, to say that they had invented the top before the usurpers camealong. Tops are made from the fruit of one of the gourds which ripensabout the size of a small orange, the spindle being a smooth and slenderpiece of wood secured with gum. The spinning is accomplished by revolvingthe spindle between the palms of the hands, some being so expert inadministering momentum that the top "goes to sleep, " before the eyes ofthe smiling and exultant player. Dr. Roth chronicles the fact that thepiercing of the gourd to produce the hum has been introduced duringrecent years. The blacks of the past certainly had no ear for music, butnow no top which cannot "cry" is worth spinning. A more primitive top is the seed-vessel of the "Gulgong" (EUCALYPTUSROBUSTA), the pedicel of which is twirled between the thumb and secondfinger. Such tops, of course, are the common property of bush boys, whiteand black, but the latter seem to be more casual in the spinning, thoughderiving quite as much glee therefrom. A similar top but of larger size is the unripe fruit of the "Kirra-kul"(EUPOMATIA LAURINA), which resembles an obtuse peg-top, and is spun fromthe peg. The "Kirra-kul" tree provides also the means of obtaining that joy inloud explosions which is instinctive in the boy, whatsoever his race orcolour. Young, lusty shoots several feet long, and full of sap, areplaced in the fire for a few minutes, and upon being "bashed" on a logor other hard substance the heated gas contained in the pithy core burstsout with a pistol-like report. "As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods--They kill us for their sport. " The cruelty of the average boy, his insensibility to, or carelessness of, the pain of others and of inferior creatures is exemplified by thetreatment which the "Pun-nul" (March fly) receives. That an insectwhich occasions so much exasperation and pain should receive small mercyat the hands of a vexed and sportful boy is not extraordinary, and so heprovides himself with entertainment and takes vengeance simultaneously. The hapless fly is impaled with an inch or two of the flowering spike ofblady grass to which a portion of the white inflorescence adheres, and isreleased. Under such handicap flight is slow and eccentric, often, indeed, concentric, and the boy watches with unfeigned delight while hisears are soothed by the laboured hum. "Blue-bottle" and "March" flies provide another sort of cheerfulsport in which no little malice is blended. Some boys make tiny spearsfrom the midrib of the frond of the creeping palm (CALAMUS OBSTRUENS), which, balanced on the palm palm of the left hand, are flicked withdeadly effect, continual practice reducing misses to the minimum. Wherethe grass-tree grows plentifully the long, slender leaves are snapped offinto about six-inch lengths and are used similarly to the creeping palmdarts and with like accuracy. Hours are spent killing the big, lumbering, tormenting flies which infest the camp, and towards which no pity isshown, for do they not bite and bloodsuck night and day? These incomplete and casual references to a very interesting andengrossing topic may be concluded by a reference to a particular spear. Since it consoles and comforts the solitary walks of an aged man, steepedto the lips in the superstitions of his race, and haply ignorant of, orindifferent to, the polyglot pastimes of the younger generation soiledby contact with the whites, the spear, though not a weapon of offence orof sport, is serious and indeed vital to the peace of mind of its owner. He is one of the few who were young men when the white folks intrudedupon the race, with their wretched practical ways and insolent disregardof the powers of the unseen spirits, against whom "Old Billy, " as hisancestors were wont, still acts on the defensive. "Old Billy" neverventures into the jungle without his spear, though throughout his longand expectant life he has never had occasion to use it. He fears what heknows as "Bidgero, " a phantom not quite as truculent as the debil-debil, but evil enough to strike terror into the soul of an unarmed black boy, old or young. The spear is slender and jointed, the grip being 4 feet 9 inches and theshaft 8 feet. Its distinguishing merit consists of an array of barbs (theserrated spurs of sting-rays) fifteen in number, and ranging in lengthfrom 1½ inches to 4½ inches. In the first eight inches from thepoint are five barbs, the second being double, and the rest are spacedirregularly in accordance with the respective lengths of the barbs, whichare in line. "Old Billy" does not allow any one to handle the spear andwill not part with it, no matter how sumptuous the price, for would henot, in default, be at the mercy of any prowling, "Bidgero?" He describes its use with paucity of speech, effective passes, horriblegrimaces, and smiles of satisfaction and victory, which make mere wordstame. Suppose you ask, "When that fella Bidgero come up, you catch 'em?""Old Billy" throws himself into an hostile attitude, in whichalertness, determination, and fearsomeness are vividly displayed. "0-o-m!"(The thrust of the spear. ) "Ha-a-a-ha!" (The spear is given anexcruciating and entangling half-turn. ) And "Old Billy" exclaims, still holding the imaginary "Bidgero" at the spear's length: "That fellaBidgero can clear out! Finish 'em!" The spear has penetrated theunlucky and daring phantom, several of the barbs have become entangled inits vitals, the enemy is at "Old Billy's" mercy, and since "OldBilly" has no such element in his mental constitution, there would beone "Bidgero" less in the land if there were any reality in thebusiness. "Old Billy's" manoeuvres and tactics are so grim, skilful, and terrible that one may well hope that he may never be mistaken for aghost, while within thrusting distance of his twelve foot "Bidgero"exterminator. Yet the young boys smile, when they do not openly scoff, because of his faith in the existence of a personal "Bidgero, " and inthe efficacy of his bristling spear, which many of them regard as an oldman's toy. CHAPTER XXVI TOM AND HIS CONCERNS DOMESTIC AND OTHER BRAWLS Tom, who holds himself well in reserve, stood once before an armed andangry white man, defiant, unflinching, bold. As I have had the privilege of listening in confidence to both sides ofthe story, and as the main facts are minutely corroborative, I judgeTom's recitation of them to be quite reliable. He was "mate" at the time of a small cutter, the master of which couldteach him very little in practical seamanship. The captain was ratherhasty and excitable. Tom never hurries, fusses, or falters, be theweather never so boisterous afloat or the domestic tribulations never sowild ashore. When Nelly, his third wife, tore her hair out by the rootsin double handfuls and danced upon it, Tom calmly observed, "That fellamake fool belonga himself!" But when she rushed at him, clawingblindly, he promptly and without the least consideration for her sex, silenced her for the time being with a stone. The sudden peace afterNelly's squeals and yells of temper was quite a shock; and when she wokeher loving-kindnesses to Tom were quite engaging. Tom will ever bemaster in his own humpy. To tell of that other incident that caused Tom to look wicked and sobellicose. The captain of the cutter lost half a crown. His excitementbegan to simmer at once. A hasty general search was made without result, every nook and corner of the boat and all the captain's garments and thebelongings of Tom and the other blacks being ransacked. The moneydeclined to be found, and the captain, like David of old, refused to becomforted, and further following the fashion of the psalmist, said inhis haste all blacks are thieves. Tom put on the stern, sulky, sullenaspect that so becomes him, and when he was individually challenged withthe theft, disdainfully told his master, "Me no take your money! Youlost em yourself!" This calm, plain statement of fact so angered the boss that, calling Toma cowardly thief, he yelled, "You take my money! I shoot you!" It is placing rather a paltry valuation even on the life of a blackfellow to threaten to shoot him for the sake of half a crown; but thedeath penalty has been exacted for far less, according to the boastfulstatements of self-glorifying white men. The boss was raging. He gropedin the locker for his revolver, while Tom took a side glance at atomahawk lying on the thwart. Presenting the revolver, the boss yelled, "You rogue, Tom! You steal mymoney! I shoot you!" Tom changed his sulky demeanour for the pose andlook that a camera has preserved, saying, "My word! you shoot one time, straight. Subpose you no shoot one time straight, look out. " The shot was never fired. I asked Tom what he would have done suppose the revolver had been firedand he not killed. "My word! Subpose that fella he no kill me one time, I finish him onetime quick alonga tomahawk!" In the course of the day the half-crown was found under the sternsheets, where the boss had been sitting. To coolly face death under such circumstances is surely evidence of raremental repose. Once Tom had a jovial misunderstanding with his half-brother Willie, whocut a neat wedge out of the rim of Tom's ear with a razor. He hadintended, of course, to gash Tom's throat, but Tom was on the alert. Inrevenge and defence Tom merely sat upon Willie, who is a frail, thinfellow, but the sitting down was literal and so deliberate andlong-continued that Willie was all crumpled up and out of shape for aweek after. Indeed, the "crick" in his back was chronic for a muchlonger period. Tom was half ashamed of this encounter, and whileglorying in the scar with which Willie had decorated him, excused his ownconduct in these terms: "Willie fight alonga razor. He bin make mark alonga my ear. My word! Mesavage then. B'mbi sit down alonga Willie. Willie close up finish. Me binforget about that fella altogether. When Willie wake up he walk about allasame old man l-o-n-g time!" With whatsoever missile or weapon is at hand Tom is marvellously expert. As we rested in the dim jungle after a long and much entangled walk, ashake--a poor, thin thing, about four feet long, wriggled up a bank tenor twelve yards off, just ahead of a pursuing dog. On the instant Tompicked up a flake of slate and threw it with such precision and forcethat the snake became two--the tail end squirmed back, to be seized andshaken by the dog, and the other disappeared with gory flourish under aroot. Most of Tom's feats of marksmanship, though performed with what white menwould despise as arms of precision, end seriously. Yet on one occasionthe result was broadly farcical. He has a son, known to our little worldas Jimmy, who, like his father, is given to occasional sulks, a luxurythat even a black boy may become bloated on. Tom does not tolerate thatframe of mind in others. The attentions of "divinest melancholy" helikes to monopolise for himself, and when Jimmy becomes pensive withoutjust cause, Tom's mood swerves to paternal and active indignation--whichis very painful to Jimmy. Jimmy, in the very rapture of sulkiness, refused to express pleasure orgratitude upon the presentation of a "hand" of ripe bananas. Tom'swrath at his son's mute obstinacy reached the explosive climax just as hehad peeled a luscious banana. He sacrificed it, and Jimmy appeared thenext instant with a moustache and dripping beard of squashed fruit as anadornment to his astonished face. Then he opened his mouth to pour forthhis soul in an agonising bleat. Tom got in a second shot with the bananaskin. With a report like unto that which one makes by bursting anair-distended paper bag, the missile plastered Jimmy's cavernous mouth, smothered his squeal, and sat him down so suddenly that Tom thought his"wind" had stopped for ever. Kneeling beside the boy, he set aboutkneading his stomach, while Jimmy gasped and glared, making horriblegrimaces, as he struggled for breath. Nelly, nervous Nelly, concludingthat Tom was determined to thump the life out of Jimmy, assailed himwith her bananas and vocal efforts of exquisite shrillness. Just asmatters were becoming seriously complicated, Jimmy rolled away, scrambledto his feet, and fled, yelling, to the camp, firm in the belief that hisdoting father had made an attempt on his young life. THE LOGIC OF THE CAMP Poor half-caste Jimmy Yaeki Muggie, a pleasant-voiced lad, who always worein his face the slur of conscious shame of birth, died apparently fromheart failure, an after-effect of rheumatic fever. Tom and Nelly mourneddeeply and wrathfully. Smarting under the rod of fate, they sought withindignant mien counsel upon the cause of death. Jimmy was a young fellow. Why should a young man, who had been lustyuntil a couple of months ago, die? Somebody must have killed him bycovert means. In the first outburst of grief they blamed me. Tomdeclared, with passion in his eyes, that I had killed Jimmy by making himdrunk. The charge was not absolutely groundless, for when theyellow-faced fellow was chilly with a collapse, I had administeredreviving sips of whisky-and-water. Yes, Tom declared in an angry mood, and with the air of one who washedhis hands of the whole sad business, the doses of whisky had killedJimmy. As Tom indulged to the fulness of his heart in the luxury of hiswoe, he began to reflect further, and to change his opinion. He mentioned incidentally that whisky was "good. " "Before you gib em thatboy whisky, he close up dead-finish. B'mby he more better. " Then he began vehemently to protest against the malign influence of some"no good" boy on the mainland, and Nelly, eager to satisfy her owncravings for some definite cause for the ending of the life of a strongboy, supported Tom's vague theories quite enthusiastically. To eachdistinct natural phenomenon blacks assign a real presence. Eventoothache, to which he is subject, Tom ascribes to a malignant fiend, sohe asks for a pin which, without a wince, he forces into the decayingbicuspid. His theory is that the little "debil-debil" molesting it willabandon the tooth to attack furiously the obtrusive pin. The afflictionupon the camp had certainly been wrought by some boy who had been angrywith Jimmy. The how and the why and wherefore of such malignant influencemattered not. There was the dead boy rolled in his blanket, with a petrified smile onhis thin lips. Obviously death was due to some illicit control of thelaws of Nature. No one but a black boy could so grossly intercept thecourse of ordinary events as to produce death. Such, at least, wasthe logic of the camp. Reflecting still deeper, and always with Nelly's unswervingcorroboration, Tom began to urge that Jimmy had been poisoned. "Yes, " said Nelly, quite cheerfully, "some boy bin poison em. What's thematter that boy want poison Jimmy? Jimmy good fella!" "Who poison that boy?" I asked. "Some fella alonga mainland. . He no good that fella!" "He bin sick long time. Poison kill em one time quick!" Tom dissented. "Some boy make em poison slow. I know that kind. " Then he explained. "Some time 'nother fella tchausey belonga Jimmy. Hewan make Jimmy shout. Jimmy no wan shout for that boy. They have littlebit row. " "That boy wouldn't poison Jimmy because he no shout, " I reasoned. Everybody liked Jimmy. " "Yes, " said Tom. "Sometime he might have row. " With an air of mystery, Tom continued: "When that boy have row, he getbone belonga dead man, scrape that bone alonga old bottle. When getlittle heap all asame sugar, put into tea. Jimmy drink tea. B'mby getsick--die long time. Bad poison that. " Nelly's grief, which had been shrilly expressed at intervals, becamesubdued as she listened to Tom's theories. To her mind the whole mysteryhad been settled. There need be no further anxiety, and only formalexpressions of grief. During the rest of the evening the wailing was purely official. Tom's withad so circumstantially accounted for the event, that it ceased to besolemn. The next day they dug a hole five feet deep in the clean sand at the backof the humpy, and there Jimmy was laid to rest with the whole of hispersonal property, the most substantial of which consisted of an enamelbilly, plate, and mug. The Chinese matting on which he had slept was usedto envelop the body, and the sand was compressed in the grave. But Tom and his family had gone. He said--and the deep furrows of griefwere in his face: "Carn help it. Must go away one month. I bin thinkabout that boy too much. " TOM'S PHILOSOPHY Tom had been so long intimately associated with cynical white peoplethat several of the more fantastic customs of his race are by himcontemned. Accordingly I was somewhat surprised to discover, after a fewweeks of rainless weather, during which the shady pool at the mouth ofthe creek whence the supplies for his camp are drawn had decreased indepth, that he had been slyly practising the arts of the rain-maker. As a matter of fact Tom was not in need of water, but, calculating fellowthat he is, he foresaw the probability of having to carry it in bucketsfrom the creek for the house, and to obviate such drudgery he shrewdlyexercised his wit. A thoughtful, designing person is Tom--ever ready toaccept the inevitable, with unruffled aboriginal calm, and just aswilling--and as competent, too--to assist weary Nature by any of thelittle arts which he, by close observation of her moods, has acquired, orthe knowledge which has been handed down from generation to generation. Asit was the season of thunderstorms, he craftily so timed his designs thattheir consummation was not in direct opposition to meteorologicalconditions, but rather in consistency with them. Captain Cook found theENDEAVOUR in a very tight corner on one occasion, out of which hewriggled, and in recording the circumstance wrote: "We owed our safety tothe interposition of Providence, a good look-out, and the very briskmanner in which the ship was manned. " In a similar spirit Tom's art wasexemplified. He watched the weather, while he coaxed the rain. Some rain-makers tie a few leaves of the "wee-ree" (CALOPHYLLUMINOPHYLUM) into a loose bundle, which is gently lowered into thediminishing pool, in which he then bathes; but all are presupposed toobserve the clouds, so that the chances of the non-professional beingable to blaspheme because of non-success are remote. Tom slightly variedthe customary process, though he accepted no risk of failure. Cutting outa piece of fresh bark from a "wee-ree"-tree, he shaped it roughly to apoint at each end, and having anchored it by a short length of home-madestring to a root on the bank, allowed it to sink in the water. A few yards away, towards the centre of the pool, he made a graceful archof one of the canes of the jungle (FLAGELLARIA INDICA) by forcing eachend firmly into the mud, and from the middle hung an empty bottle. Theparaphernalia was completed on the Saturday, when the weather wasobviously working up to a climax, but I was not made aware of Tom'splans, and as one of the tanks was empty, on the following Monday, withhis assistance, I cleaned it out, remarking to him with cheerful irony: "Now we get plenty rain. Every time we clean out this little fella tankrain comes. You look out! Cloud come up now! We no want carry waterfrom creek. " That night a thunderstorm occurred, during which half an inch of rainfell, to the overflowing of the tank. In the morning Tom smilingly told of his skill as a rain-maker, whileadmitting that the cleaning out of the little tank had also a certaininfluence in the right direction. It was, a pleasant, gentle rain, too, nothing of the violent and hasty character such as Tom had designed, butagain he had a plausible explanation. "Subpose I bin put that mil-gar in water deep, too much rain altogether. We no want too much rain now. After Christmas plenty. " Tom asserts thatthe deeper the pool in which the "mil-gar" is submerged the heavier andmore continuous the downpour; but as heavy rain is not liked, onlyvindictive boys who have some spite to work off indulge in such wantoninterference with the ordinary course of the wet season. The submerged bark which attracts the rain Tom calls "mil-gar, " and thesuspended bottle (a saucer-shaped piece of bark is generally used) servesto catch PAL-BI (hailstones), which, being, uncommon, are consideredweird and are eaten in a dare-devil sort of spirit. In this case PAL-BIhad but the remotest chance of getting into the bottle, and for thatreason (according: to Tom) none tried. "Subpose I bin put bark all asameplate--look out plenty!" Many natural phenomena are associated in the folklore of the blacks withuntoward events. The rainbow (AM-AN-EE) is not regarded by them as acovenant that the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy allflesh, but as an evil omen, a cause of sorrow, for to whomsoever shallbathe in the sea when the bow is seen in the cloud evil is certain tobefall. Unprotesting Nelly is assured of this by her own sad experience. In tonesof deep conviction, which permit of no manner of doubt, she tells methat AM-AN-EE caused the death of her infant--"brother belonga Jimmy. "She had bogied at Toorgey-Toorgey, when to her dismay the harbinger ofdisaster appeared to spring out from the sea. In a week the child wasborn-dead. Both father and mother have the tenderest thoughts of that breathlessimage in bronze. I saw it. Its features were refined, the nose sharp andsymmetrical, and the mouth a perfect Cupid's bow. Its expectant reposethrilled me, for it was the realisation of that which Dickens said oflittle Nell--"a creature waiting for the breath of life. " No marvel they mourned, that Nelly cut her arms with splinters of glass, that she still regards the lovely rainbow with resentment tempered byfear. Tom does not respond to cross-examination. He thinks his own thoughts andsays but little. When he is communicative his veracity is the less to betrusted. Many a time have I sought his opinions on the serious import oflife--to find that he has none. His thoughts are concentrated on thingswhich affect the immediate moment. Since he is mentally incapable ofdenying himself the most trivial recreations upon which his wishes havedwelt, restraint is succeeded by despairing, uncontrollable morosenesspathetic in its genuineness. How could such a temperament reflect uponthe future? He is no doctrinaire; he does not credit existence afterdeath--"When you dead, you finish!" "But, " I suggested, "plenty of your country men think about another placewhen you die--finish. " "Yes, some boy he say when you dead you go long another place. L-o-n-gway. More better place, plenty tucker, no work, sit-down, play about allday. When you come alonga that place father, mother, brother, sit-down--no more can die!" Then I put a customary question: "Yes, what all go alonga that place likewhen you die? You father old man when he die. He old man now alonga thatgood place? Little Jinny young when she die. That fella young along thatplace? That piccaninny belonga Nelly--piccaninny alonga that place?" "Yes, all asame when you die you along that place. " "Good boy and bad boy-rogue, all go one place? "Yes. Rogue he got one heaby spear right through. Go in here (indicatingthe middle of his chest), come out alonga back. Sore fella. That spearfight em inside. My word! Carn pull em out. He no die. Too much sorefella!" DEAD--FINISH Since the foregoing was penned Tom has realised the supreme fact ofexistence. He is dead, and is buried in dry, hot ground away from themoist green country which he knew so well, and was wont to love soardently. Although he was "only a black fellow, " yet was he an Australian by thepurest lineage and birth--one whose physique was example of the class thattropical Queensland is capable of producing, a man of brains, a studentof Nature who had stored his mind with first-hand knowledge unprinted andnow unprintable, a hunter of renown, and in certain respects "a citizenimpossible to replace. " Given protection from the disastrous contact with the raw, unclean edgeof civilisation, he and others, his fellows, might have lived for a scoreof years longer, and in the meantime possibly the public conscience ofAustralia might have been aroused, and his and their last days madewholesome, peaceable, and pleasant. There is something more to be said about Tom in order that the attempt toshow what manner of man he was may be as complete as the inexorableregulation of death permits. Strong and substantially built, so framed that he looked taller than thelimit of his inches, broad-chested, big-limbed, coarse-handed, Tom'sfigure differed essentially from that of the ordinary type, and as hisfigure so his style and mental capacity. Serene in the face of perils ofthe sea, with all of which he is familiar, he was afraid of no man indaylight, though a child might scare him after dark. Tom was not as other blacks, for he loved sport. It was not all aquestion of pot-hunting with him. Apart from the all-compelling force ofhunger, he was influenced by the passion of the chase. Therefore was hepatient, resourceful, determined, shrewd, observant, and alert. Hisknowledge of the ways of fish and of the most successful methods ofalluring them to his hook often astonished me. He saw turtle in the seawhen quite beyond visual range of the white man. Many a time and oft hashe hurled his harpoon at what to me was nothingness, and the rush ofthe line has indicated that the aim was true. He would say when fiftyyards of line were out the particular part of the body in which thebarbed point was sticking. If it had pierced the shell, then he must playwith the game cautiously until it was exhausted and he could get inanother point in better holding locality. If the point had entered theshoulder, or below the carapace to the rear, or one of the flippers, hewould haul away, knowing that the barb would hold until cut out. Whenrestrained from the sea for a few days he became petulant and as sulky asa spoilt child, for, in common with others of the race, he was morallyincapable of self-denial. Big and strong and manly as he was, he becameas an infant when circumstances compelled him to forego an anticipatedexcursion by water, and rather than stay in comfort and safety on dryland would--if he had so set his mind--venture over six miles of stormysea in a flattie little more commodious than a coffin. He was, on such anoccasion, wont to say, "No matter. Subpose boat drowned, I swim alongshore, tie em Nelly along a string, " meaning that in case of a capsizehe would swim to dry land, towing his dutiful, trustful spouse. Although by nature a true lover of the sea, his knowledge of the plantlife of the coast was remarkable. Among his mental accomplishments was aspecific title for each plant and tree. His almanac was floral. By theflowering of trees and shrubs so he noted the time of the year, and heknew many stars by name and could tell when such and such a one would bevisible. Yet, though I tried to teach him the alphabet, he never gotbeyond "F, " which he always pronounced "if. " Perhaps his collapse inliterature may have been due to persistent efforts to teach him thedifference between "F" and "if" vocalised. He may have reasoned thatso finicking an accomplishment was not worth acquiring. In his own tonguehe counted thus:-- Yungl OneBli TwoYacka Any number in excess of two--a great many. But in English he did not lose himself until he had passed sixty--atleast, he was wont to boast of being able to comprehend that number. Tom was a bit of a dandy in his way, fond of loud colours and proud ofhis manly figure. When the flour-bag began to sprinkle his moustache heplucked out one by one the tell-tale hairs until his upper lip becamealmost barren, but remorseless Time was never made to pause. Though manya white hair was extirpated, Tom was as much at fault as most of us whoseek for the secret of perpetual youth, or to evade the buffets of oldFather Time. Opium and rum lured Tom away during the last four years of his life. Hewas sadly degenerated when I saw him for the last time, and severalmonths after, in a mainland camp, he quarrelled with his half-brotherWillie--the same Willie who many years ago in honourable encounter cut aliberal nick out of one of Tom's ears with a razor. Willie probed Tombetween the ribs with a spear. While he lay helpless and sufferingrepresentatives of the police force visited the spot and the sick man wastaken by steamer to a hospital, where he passed away--peradventure, inantagonism to his own personal belief, to that "good place" fancied bysome of his countrymen, where tucker is plentiful and opium and rumunprocurable. And unless in that "good place" there are fish to becaught and turtle and dugong, and sting-rays to be harpooned, and othersport of the salt sea available, and dim jungles through which a man maywander at will, and all unclad, to chop squirming grubs out of decayedwood and rob the rubbish mounds of scrub fowls of huge white eggs, andforest country where he may rifle "bees' nests, " Tom will not be quitehappy there. He was ever a free man, given to the habit of roaming. Ifthere are bounds to that "good place, " he will discover them, and willpeer over the barricades longingly and very often. CHAPTER XXVII "DEBILS-DEBILS" "As, however, there is no necessity whatever why we should posit theexistence of devils, why, then, should they be posited?" Some of the blacks of my acquaintance are ardent believers in ghosts anddo posit the existence of personal "debils-debils. " Seldom is a goodword to be said of the phantoms, which depend almost entirely for "localhabitation and a name" upon the chronicles of old men steeped to thelips in the accumulated lore of the camps. Many an old man who talksshudderingly of the "debil-debil" has lived in daily expectation ofmeeting some hostile and vindictive personage endowed with fearsomemalice, and a body which may be killed and destroyed. Therefore, when theold man ventures into the dim spaces of the jungle he is invariablyspecially armed and his perceptive faculties strained to concert pitch, while the unseen glides always at his elbow providing unutterablethrills, lacking which life would be far less real and earnest. Only one record has come to my knowledge of the presence of a benign"debil-debil. " All the other stories have been saturated withawesomeness and fear. A very intelligent but excessively superstitiousboy now living on the Palm Islands was wont to entertain me with graphicdescriptions of the one species of "debil-debil" which he feared, andof the most effective plan for its capture. He was under the belief thata live "debil-debil" would be worth more as a curio than "two fellawhite cockatoo. " He imagined that if a "young fella debil-debil" couldbe caught--caught in the harmless stage of existence--I would give him asuperabundance of tobacco as a reward, and that I would keep it chainedup "all asame dog" and give it nothing but water. I was frequentlywarned "Subpose me catch em young fella 'debil-debil' when he come frommother belonga him, no good you give him much tucker. Gib him plentywater. He got fire inside. Smoke come out alonga nose. " Given thepossibility of its capture, there was no reason why I should not indulgethe frugal joy of having a small and comparatively innocent "debil-debil"on the chain. Did not the legendary Maori chiefs keep such pets for thetorment of their enemies? Mine would have to console itself with theastonishment and admiration of friends, for, alas! I have not, to myknowledge, an enemy worthy the least of the infernal pangs. Moreover, outof our abundance of rain we could well spare an occasional meat-tinful ofwater for the cooling of its internal fires. Now, the method of capture of a piccaninny "debil-debil" was this:Certain manifestations, not explainable and not visible to white men, had revealed to the blacks that a favourite resort of the species was thesand spit of the Island. Two boys who were wont to discuss their plans, and even to practise them, decided that they must first observe thehabits of the "debil-debil, " and so arrange to catch the young one whenthe backs of the parents were turned, for, of course, designs against afull-grown specimen were not only futile, but attended with infinitelygreater risks of personal injury than George would accept for love ormoney. They procured about fifteen yards of cane from one of the creepingpalms, from which they removed all the old leaf sheafs and adventitiousrootlets, making it perfectly smooth. Crouching low, each holding an endof the cane, which was strained almost to rigidity, the boys, in theirdemonstration of the feat, were wont to sweep continuously over aconsiderable area with the idea of getting the cane on the nape of theneck of the assumed "debil-debil, " and then to suddenly change places, so that it became ensnared in a simple loop by which the baneful beastwas to be choked to submission. Upon my suggestion a thin line used in the harpooning of turtles wassubstituted for the cane, with which, however, some most realistic andserious preliminary work towards perfection in the stratagem of"debil-debil" capture had been accomplished in valorous daylight. Butthough the boys gave many exhibitions of their skill and of the properattitude and degree of caution, the correct gestures and facialexpression for so momentous a manoeuvre, they could never be persuaded toput their skill to the test at the spot where "debils-debils" most docongregate after dark, the consequences inevitable on failure being toodiabolical to contemplate. The conditions never seemed to be absolutely favourable for the deed, forthe boys anxiously persuaded me of the craft and alertness of the evilone. Either the night was too bright or too gloomy, or it was so calmthat the "debil-debil" would be sure to hear their approach, or sowindy that they themselves might possibly be taken unawares. Theyinsisted that "debils-debils" suffered from certain physicallimitations; they could not cross the sea--hence the variety native tothe Island might be different from the mainland species, and wouldtherefore demand local study before being approached with hostileintentions. I was wont to point out that since the sea presented animpassable barrier, the sand spit, drawn out to a fine point, was justthe spot where a piccaninny might be easily rounded up, if it weredetected in a preoccupied mood. I suggested that I might be at hand toencounter any untoward results in case of a bungle, but was met with thepositive assertion that no "debil-debil, " however young andunsophisticated, would "come out" if it smelt a white man. One of the boys went so far as to select the chain with which the captivewas to be secured, and the empty meat-tin whence it was to be schooled totake the only form of nourishment judicious to offer. That he did mosttruly and sincerely believe the existence of "debils-debils" we hadproof every evening, for he would sit at the door of his grass hut, maintain a big, dancing fire, and sing lustily under the supposition thata good discordant corroboree was the most effective scare. Though allegedto be obnoxiously plentiful, the boys could never screw up their courageto the point of a real attempt to apprehend the dreaded enemy to theirpeace of mind. Two blacks in the employ of a neighbour went to sleep under anorange-tree early one afternoon, and slumbered industriously while theothers worked. The quiet of the drowsy time was, however, suddenlyshocked by a great outcry, when the two lazy ones raced towards theworkers with every manifestation of fear in their countenances. Theydeclared that while they had slept a piccaninny "debil-debil" had "satdown" on the orange-tree which had afforded them shade, and that whenthey woke up it was there--"all a same flying fox. " All moved cautiouslyup, and sure enough, hanging head down, was what my friend took to be averitable flying fox; but he was in a hopeless minority. All scornfullyout-voted him, and to this day the blacks assert that "a piccaninnydebil-debil" so closely resembles a flying-fox that none but a black boycan tell the difference. Again, a black boy and his gin slept in an outhouse across thedoor-space of which they, as usual, made a fire. In the morning', Billyfound himself, not in the corner where he had gone to sleep, but close tothe fire, and moreover his left arm was "sore fella. " With a dreadfullyserious face he related his experiences. In the middle of the night a"debil-debil" had entered the hut and, seizing him by the arm, haddragged him towards the door, but being unable to cross the fire, hadbeen compelled to abandon otherwise easy prey. The aching arm proved thathe had been dragged by a superior force, and the absence of tracks wasassurance that none other than a "debil-debil" could have clutched him. The episode was accepted as one more proof of the horror of"debils-debils" of fire, and of the necessity of such a precautionarymeasure. The scene of the only occasion on which a visitant from the land ofspirits assumed benign shape is not far from this spot. It is historic, too, from the standpoint of the white man, for it occurred during a"dispersal" by black troopers under the command of mounted police. An oldblack boy tells the story. Before sunrise the whole camp waspanic-struck, for it was surrounded by men with rifles. As thedefenceless men and helpless women and children woke up, dismayed, toseek safety in flight, they were shot. One man tumbled down here, another there. The awful noise of the firing, and the bleeding resultsthereof, the screams of fear and shrieks of pain, caused paralysingconfusion. When it seemed impossible for any one to escape, a big manjumped up, and, standing still, called out to the bloodthirsty troopers, "Kill me fella! Kill me fella!" indicating, with his hand his nakedchest. Such audacity had its effect. All the troopers began firing atthe noble, self-sacrificing hero; but marvellous to say, he did nottumble down, for though the bullets went through him, no blood gushedout. While he was the only target, the other blacks, including theveracious chronicler, ran away, leaving many dead. He afterwards declaredthat the "big, good fella boy, " who had drawn the fire of the troopers, and whom the troopers could not kill, was a stranger to the camp. No onehad ever seen him before or since; but that he appeared at a terriblecrisis specially to save the whole camp from butchery was, and is, theemphatic belief of the survivors. This incident was related, or ratherdramatically acted, in the presence of an aged native of the MalayPeninsula, whose knowledge of the mysterious was (in his own estimation)far more exact than that of the unenlightened blacks. With eyes sparklingand all his senses quivering under the stress of impatience, he listenedto the end, and then burst out, "You fool! That good, big fellow boy, heno boy. That fellow, white man call em ghost! Plenty in my country!" CHAPTER XXVIII TO PARADISE AND BACK "He on honey-dew hath fedAnd drunk the milk of Paradise. " COLERIDGE. A gaunt old man with grizzled head, shrunk shanks, and a crooked arm wasthe most timid of the strange mob of blacks who, under the guidance ofsome semi-civilised friends, visited the clearing of a settler on one ofthe rivers flowing into Rockingham, Bay. Shy and suspicious, hisfriends had difficulty in reassuring him of the peace-loving characterof the settler, whose hut stood in the midst of an orange-grove. In a fewdays, for no disturbing element existed, the nervousness of the oldman in the presence of his host ceased, and it was then noticed thatthose who had accompanied him from the jungle-covered mountains, as wellas the friends he had picked up near the home of the white man, paid himthe rare compliment of deference. Well they might, for he was a man ofimportance, though he lacked clothing, and the elements of decency. Theold man's friends--perhaps because of his semi-helplessness, due to thetwisted limb--performed various friendly offices for him, and neverthought of the spice of any dread avowal, for he was far superior tothem all, and righteously was he honoured. The lean Old Man had visitedthat "undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller returns. "There was no doubt of his actual presence in this. There were his youngwife and several companions, male and female, ready to corroborate hisstory; and was not his crippled arm painful but unimpeachable testimonyto the reality of his experiences? In the telling of the history of a too brief sojourn in the paradise ofthe blacks the old man took but little part, for his English was NIL. The members of the party knew it by rote, and some of them could makethemselves understood. Pieced together--for the story came out bit bybit--it ran thus: A very long time ago, when the Old Man was young and lusty and the"King" of the tribe, an evil-minded "boy" made great rains. All therivers overflowed their banks, the palm and tea tree swamps becameimpassable, the hollows between the hills were filled with water. Weekafter week it rained continuously, the floods gradually hemming in thecamp and restricting the wanderings of the men to one long ridge offorest country. Soon all the food obtainable within such narrow limitswas eaten. Every one became hungry, for the camp was large and its dailynecessities considerable. Patiently they waited for the subsidence of thewaters, but more rain came and the camp grew hungrier than ever. Many satin their shelters and drank water copiously, thereby creating a temporarysensation of satisfaction. In the midst of the adversity the Old Man remembered having seen a "bees'nest" up a gigantic tree some distance away. He had not climbed the treeoffhand because the feat seemed to be impossible. What might have beenjust possible on a well-filled stomach was worth hazarding now that hewas famishing. So, wading and swimming, he gained the little dry knollin the centre of which stood an enormous bean-tree, and there, a long wayup, was the "bees' nest. " With a piece of cane from a creeping palm anda stone tomahawk he slowly ascended the tree, for he was weak and hisnerves unstrung. But he joyed when he reached the "bees' nest, " for itwas large and full of honey and brood comb--a feast in prospect for thewhole camp. Then, as he set to work to chop out the comb, he heard, tohis astonishment, voices below, and peering down, saw not only a wife whohad departed to the land of spirits a year or so before, but his ownmother, who had died when he was a youth. Greeting him in glad tones, they told him to come down, and that they would show him a big camp ingood dry country where there was abundance of food. Descending the tree with the cane loop, he saw that his previous wife waswell favoured and fat, that his mother, too, was portly, that they haddilly-bags crammed with tokens of material wealth. They were overjoyedto see him, but expressed wonder that he was so weak when so much goodfood was available. Saying but little, they struck out for the bigcamp. The Old Man noticed, as they walked, that a track through thethickest part of the jungle opened up--a beaten, straight track, whichhe, for all his wanderings, had never before seen. The country was dry, too. Scrub hens and scrub turkeys, cassowaries, wallabies, huge carpetsnakes, pigeons, fruits and nuts, bees' nests, and decayed trees full ofgreat white grubs were there in plenty. Silently and swiftly the three passed along the track through a countrywhich, at every step, became more desirable, and at last emerged on animmense pocket where there was a concourse of gunyahs from which thesmoke curled up, and in every gunyah was abundance. Some of the young menwere throwing sportful boomerangs and spears; large parties were soabsorbed in the pleasure of corroboreeing that no notice was taken of thenew-comer. The advent of strangers was too common an occurrence todistract them from unconfined joys. Such a scene, so different fromthe forlorn, starving, water-beleaguered camp over which the sullendespair brooded, mystified and gladdened. The cup of happiness overflowed when, conducted through merry throngs toa particular spot, the Old Man was greeted by relations and friends forwhom he had once duly mourned, plastering his face with ceremoniouscharcoal and clay, and denying himself needed food. Yet were they nothere, alive, and in the enjoyment of every good thing? It was almostbeyond comprehension. Was he not to credit the evidences of his ownsenses? Was not the food they pressed on him most pleasant to the taste?All the privations due to the flood were talked of familiarly. The sceneof plenty was so close to the famine-stricken camp that the Old Man foundhimself wondering why it had not been found before. Now he knew thespot, and would in due time guide his starving friends hither and makeone great camp, where all would live in undreamt-of ease, unrealisablesuperfluity of food. For three days he dwelt in the good land with content, lionised by hisrelatives, taking part in the hunts, the feasts, the corroborees, andbeing urged never to return to the camp of floods and hunger. Here wasbliss. Every wish amply gratified, who would willingly depart from soentrancing a place? And with fervent promises on his lips never to goaway he was conscious of a sharp pain in his wrist and found himselfcrumpled up, stiff, sore, hungry, and helpless, at the foot of the bigtree. Reluctantly back in the land of stress and distress, so woefully weakthat he could not stand without swaying, while his right hand dangledhelplessly, confused sounds of Paradise still rang in his ears, verifying all that had recently befallen. He gazed around, dismayed to see no trace of his wife or mother; noclean-cut, straight path leading to the land of pure delight. Far up thetree hung the cane loop; beside him lay the stone tomahawk. All presentrealities were of pain and hunger. Bewildered, slowly and with muchdifficulty, he made his way to the flooded camp, noticing as he went thatwater-courses he had been compelled to swim were now fordable--proof ofthe lapse of time. Eyes starved to impassiveness stared at the gaunt, crippled creature, complaining mutely, for no food had been brought. Some muttered that hehad eaten it all during his unaccounted absence. Silently the old man bound up his wrist excruciatingly tight with stripsof bark, and then in detail told of his glad sojourn in Paradise. Then the faces of the famishing lit up with joyous expectancyand--impatient, reckless, heedless of floods, forgetful of weakness bornof hunger--one and all hastened to the scene whence began the straightpath to the enchanting land. But keen as the best trackers might be, notthe least sign in proof of the Old Man's experiences could be found. The impassive wall of jungle which had opened so agreeably to the Old Manoffered no obstacles to the enthusiastic searchers for Paradise. Far andwide, among slim palms standing waist deep in sullen brown water; acrossflooded creeks and rivers; over hills and mountains; up gloomy gorgesinto which none had ever before dared to venture, elated, they hastenedday after day, glorious enterprise investing them with hardihood andcourage. Ardently, hopefully, each vying with the other--for had not theOld Man proved beyond inglorious doubt the nearness and perfection ofParadise?--they pushed the quest far and beyond the limits of their ownsmall province, and in vain, for they were not of the elect, howeverloyal and eager. Years have elapsed, but the Old Man and his friends have not lost faithin the existence locally of the Happy Land. Had he not been hither, ledby wife and mother, and did he not remain there three days--the only daysof unimpeded joy in his long life? No such rich privilege had everbefallen any one else; but without questioning or envy all verify hiswords and delight to do him honour. CHAPTER XXIX THE DEATH BONE (FACT CEMENTED WITH FICTION) "In accordance with Nature's designs as he was a good artisthe was also good. He possessed nothing but his individuality. " ANON. Wylo was an artist, and, like all true artists, an artist by grace ofGod. His family was not in any sense artistic. Of his lineage all had beenforgotten, save a few of the many failings of his grandsire. So nonecould tell whence the talent that burst into blossom with him had sprung. It had not been transmitted. It was spontaneous; it was a gift; and allsuch gifts--are they not supernatural? Gaunt old father and withered old mother would tell that Wylo fromearliest boyhood could always "make em good fella along tree"; andnow that he was a man and there were the emblems of manhood on his broadchest--deep, cut lines and swelling ridges--and he oft wore his hair longand fuzzy, his hand was very free. Every morning he traced upon the convenient sand studies vigorous thoughentirely free from the canons of the schools. No authority existed thatcould tongue-tie his art. Each steamer, each boat which passed wassketched off-hand, and by some little trick, due to his inspiration, character faithful to the original was imparted. Banana-plants in fullfruit and slim palms in cluster were ofttimes his models; butportraiture was not Wylo's forte. On the bark of trees, on flat rocks aswell as on the shifting sand he expressed himself plentifully andgraphically. He could no more exercise restraint when he found aconvenient surface and a piece of charcoal or a lump of soft red stonethan he could have recited the Book of Job. His genius was imperative, almost overbearing. He had been commissionedby an imperious authority to sketch--a fever almost amounting to insanityfired his soul. His work was everywhere, for he had miles of forest andjungle country for his studio, and no hampering, sordid cares todistract him. The light of genius in such an obscure world wasunrecognised. Being beyond comprehension, it existed as the coldestcommonplace. Not one of his fellows was equipped mentally to registerthe deviation from the frowsy norm of the camp exemplified in him; andif the camp never produced another artist the default would occasionexactly similar unconcern. Wylo's masterpiece in portraiture--the one revelation of the human formdivine which he permitted himself to accomplish in other than transientsand, was a fancy picture of one of his many sweethearts--a lady in avery old hat and nothing more, with a few boomerangs thrown in to fillotherwise waste space on the inner surface of his shield. Wylo, thoughstrenuous in his love of art is ever economic of the materials by whichthat love finds such apt expression. His scenes are crowded. As a warrior, and as a strategist, not altogether as an artist--thoughsympathy must ever be with him in that o'ermastering talent of his--Wyloalso displayed those gifts which proclaim the gifted, though he was trueto his race in many of its phases of simplicity. His skill, or rather hissupreme striving to appease aesthetic thrills, made Wylo superb in thefight. He developed a meek, affected voice, somewhat mincing ways, and afaraway look in his eyes. These distinctive traits, worn with carelesshair, were so original, so intensely entertaining and notoriety-provokingin a camp which had never possessed the copyright of more thanone shabby corroboree, that Wylo made many conquests. For each conquestof the heart he had fought, and the more frequent his fights the moreexpert and daring he became. Thus did love indirectly raise himeventually to the dignified position of king. Never before had any man of the camp so many fights on his hands. Theartistic instinct caused him to fashion weapons true and perfectlybalanced, made his hand the steadier and his aim very sure, while hisintense earnestness in love imparted terrific speed to his blows when hebeat down his rival's shield with his great short-handled wooden sword. He was enthusiastic as a duellist as he was absorbed in art. It came topass that when Wylo was not tracing his favourite seascape he was eitherflirting or engaged in the squally pastime of fighting an aggrievedhusband or scandalised lover. Wylo had so many of the fair sex to do his bidding, that he was relievedof the necessity of troubling himself about food. Frequently, as allmanly men do (civilised as well as savage), he longed for the passion ofthe chase; and then he fished or harpooned turtle or hunted wallabieswith spear and nulla-nulla, or cut "bees' nests" from hollow trees, when his face would become distorted by stings and his "bingey"distended with choice honey, and he would without patronage bestow upongratified female friends, old or brood comb. Wylo was a man and a king among his fellows, tall, white-toothed, generally decorated with a section of slender yellow reed through theseptum of his broad-base nose, and with a broad necklace of yellow grassbeads round his neck. He wore clothes sometimes, as a concession to theindecent perceptions of the whites (whom for the most part he despised);though he preferred to be otherwise, for he was a fine figure--not aplaster saint by any means, but a hero in his way and well set up, and anartist by Divine Right. Handsome, then, of build and limb, if not of feature, the ideal of everyfemale of the camp, a successful warrior, a true sportsman, was it anymarvel that Wylo suffered gladly that pardonable transgression ofgenius--vanity? He oft wore nothing but a couple of white cockatoofeathers stuck in his hair. Thus arrayed he was audaciously irresistible, and provoked the enmity of the crowd. As an artist Wylo was an all-roundfavourite; but as a dandy all but the women--and he was disdainful of thegoodwill of the men--despised while they panted with envy and madegrossly impolite references to him. Now, the sarcastic jibes of a black fellow are not translatable, orrather not to be printed beyond the margin of strictly scientific works. Courageously free and personal, they would be beyond comprehension inthese chaste pages. Why, therefore, attempt to repeat them? A genius hasbeen described as a deviation from the average of humanity. Thisdefinition exactly suited Wylo, for it was discovered when jibes wereflashing about that he was positively inspired. They were as sharp as hisspears, as stunning as his sword'. Yan-coo, the wit of the tribe, a stubby, grim old man, who spent most ofhis time making dilly-bags and modelling grotesque debils-debils in apliant blending of bees' wax and loam, to the horror of everypiccaninny, soon found that Wylo could talk back with such witheringeffect, such shatteringly gross personalities that he, who with thespiteful ironies of his venomous tongue had kept the camp in awe, wasdazed to gloomy silence by Wylo's vivid flashes of wit. His weird modelsshowed a mind corroding with vicious intent. He dared not open his lipswhile Wylo was about. The quaking piccaninnies cringed with fear as theywatched him working up his malignant feelings into the most awfulimps--imps which threatened violence to their souls. Wylo was supreme. He gloried in his dandyism and in his skill as afighter. His genius basked in the sunshine as he made high reliefs in thesand or charcoaled pictures on the cool, grey rocks hidden in thesound-sopping jungle. The one weak spot in his character was his faith ina sort of wizardry. Contemptuous alike of the open violence or stratagemsof his fellows, he had the utmost horror of an implement which Yan-coo, who was medicine-man as well as chartered wit, reserved for use againstmortal enemies. This terrible tool he had never seen. Very few had, or even wanted to, for its effects were as incomprehensible as they were tragic. Neveremployed in the exercise of private or individual malice, the deathbone was an unfathomable and awful mystery. So dire was its influencethat if a woman touched it or even looked at it she sickened. What was this instrument of death? A human bone scraped and rubbed to a gradually tapering point, to thethick, knobby end of which a string of human hair, plaited, wascemented, the other end of a length of several yards being similarlycemented to the interior of a hollow bone, also human. When thestiletto-shaped bone is directed towards an individual who has incurredthe enmity of the medicine-man, his best heart's blood is attracted. Drawn from the throbbing organ, it travels along the string and into thehollow receptacle. The pointer is then sheathed and sealed with gumblended with human blood, the string being wound about it. Simultaneouslywith the extraction of the victim's most precious blood by this subtleand secret process, a pebble or chip of shell is lodged in his body withthe result of ensuing agony. Unaware of these very dreadful happenings, the individual so operatedupon may not suffer immediately any ill effect. The wizard watches, andif no untoward symptoms are exhibited he takes into his confidence afriend, and this candid friend tells the inflicted one that he must beill and dying, for the death-bone has been pointed at him and has doneits worst. Fear begets immediate sickness, and if the blood of thepatient be not restored and the foreign substance extracted from hisspasmodic side with elaborate ritual, death is inevitable. Ridicule is but a slight shaft to employ against any one who mayretaliate with so potent a weapon as the death-bone. In the fulness ofhis vanity and wit, Wylo began to make gratuitous fun of Yan-coo, whofretted and fumed and terrified the piccaninnies with still more hideousdebils-debils. I saw one of them. It resembled a span-long plesiosaurus, afflicted with elephantiasis, and a forked, lolling, tongue extrudedfrom a head that swayed ominously right and left. A tipsy, disorderly, vindictive debil-debil it was, that made the boldest piccaninny shriekwith dismay. Wylo with a tiny spear of grass knocked the head of theatrocious debil-debil off, and the piccaninnies changed shrieks forsmiles. That charitable feat sealed his fate. It was the beginning of a duelbetween wizardry and art. At night Yan-coo, mute with vengeance, left the camp for the secrethollow, in a mass of granite which held the implements and elements ofhis craft. While Wylo slumbered and slept the malicious sorcerer directedwith every atom of fervour he possessed the grisly death-bone towards himfrom the distance of half a mile. The influence of the death-bone is socompletely under the control of the operator that it usually goesstraight to the person against whom he in the dead waste of the nightbreathes his moody and angry soul away. Should the medicine-man, however, be conscious that the potency is inclined to swerve, if he but put hishand to the right or left it must fly in accordance with his will. Perfectly unconscious of the dastard trick played upon him, Wylocontinued for several days to flirt and fight. He had a glorious time, and so, too, had the piccaninnies, for Yan-coo, for reputation's sake, dared not model debils-debils merely to have their horrible heads knockedoff with irreverent grass darts. Rather have no debil-debil than onesubject to Wylo's profane but splendid marksmanship. So the naked blackkiddies danced about Wylo, while Yan-coo fortified himself with the grimknowledge that he had Wylo's heart's blood securely sealed up, and thatWylo had a pebble in his body which would make him squirm sooner orlater. But, strange though it was, nothing happened to the arrogant Wylo. Hisphysical condition was perfect, his spirits boisterous. The skill of themedicine-man, the whole dread influence of the death-bone were at issue, and to give effect to both Yan-coo whispered that he had employed thedeath bone against Wylo, because Wylo had become too "flash. " The recital of the deed struck horror and dismay into Yan-coo'sconfidant. He was shocked at the sacrilege, astounded that Wylo had notyet "tumbled down. " It was his duty to tell poor Wylo of his awful fate. Individuals of other nationalities in all ages have been proof, as Wylowas, against unimagined evils. "There may be in the cup A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart, And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge Is not infected; but if one present The abhor'd ingredient, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides With violent hefts. " "His knowledge infected, " Wylo collapsed forthwith in a spasm of fright. All the prognostics of the medicine-man were verified. Wylo's hair becamelank, his eyes dull, his teeth yellow, his face pinched, his limbs weak. He spat frequently and groaned. He pined daily, for he slept little andhis appetite was gone. Knowing that the fatal death-bone had been pointedat him, what was the use of attempting to resist inevitable fate? Ratherwould he resistlessly meet it. How was it possible to live without hisprecious blood, now sealed up in the death-bone? And he had a horriblepain in his side where the stone was--just as Yan-coo had said. All the camp knew what had happened. Yancoo's reputation had been grimlyasserted. Every one now dreaded him anew. Again he was king. Though itwas contrary to all precedent to point the death-bone at a member of thetribe, yet had Yan-coo made a law unto himself and his own justification, and the proudest testimonial to his skill was Wylo's deplorablecondition. Wylo became thinner and weaker every day, for Yan-coo, seething, withmalignity, stood aloof, declining to interfere. To him Wylo's gibes hadbeen more cruel than the grave, for they had had the grace oforiginality, and once and for ever he purposed to shake his authority anddreaded power over the heads of the affrighted camp. The death-bone was slowly but implacably doing its office. Among Wylo's many sweethearts was one who, in early youth, had beenkidnapped from a distant camp. She it was who took the news of Wylo'sdireful sickness there, and implored the aid of a rival medicine-man. Glad of the chance of exhibiting his knowledge and skill in a case whichwas notorious and to outsiders absolutely hopeless, he followed thegirl. After making no doubt whatever that Wylo's blood had been abstracted, that an angry stone was lodged in his side, and that death was imminentunless prompt measures were taken, the strange medicine-man chanted longand weirdly. He squeezed and Pommelled Wylo, and made tragic passes withhis hands over his body and limbs. Then suddenly he applied his lips toWylo's sore side, and, after loudly sucking, exhibited between them anangular piece of quartz which he triumphantly declared he had drawn fromhis patient's body. Everybody, including Wylo, believed him. Wylo brightened up at once. The two medical men, whose interests werecommon--for the profession is very close and regardful of its rights andprivileges--consulted, communicating by signs and gibberish notunderstanded of the people. Accompanied by a few of the elders of thecamp, they went to Yan-coo's surgery, took out the death-bone, and withmuch ceremony unsealed it. Blood stained the interior! All could see that it was Wylo's blood. Itcould be none other, for none but Wylo had been deprived of any. Ostentatiously the medicine-men washed the death-bone clean, restored itto its unholy nook, and returned solemnly to the camp. After deliberate and impressive silence it was announced by moody Yan-coothat Wylo's heart's blood had been restored, whereupon that hero rose tohis feet sound and well though lean. No word of anger or complaint passed Wylo's lips the while he regainednormal strength and gaiety. With frank ardour he resumed his sketchingsand flirting with old-time success. He actually modelled the grossest ofdebils-debils for the piccaninnies and impaled all the vital parts withgrass darts, while the piccaninnies broke into open jeers at Yan-coo, forthe spell of the debil-debil had been destroyed. Such outrages upon the craft of the sorcerer could not be tolerated. ButWylo watched Yan-coo, and one night as he strolled out of the camp Wylofollowed with that light-footed caution and alertness significant of hisartistic perceptions. Wylo carried a great black-palm spear fitted intoa wommera with milk-white ovals of shell at the grip. Yan-coo went straight to his surgery. Once more he prepared thedeath-bone. Every detail of the unholy rite was performed withdetermination, for he had abandoned all remorse. As he pointed the death-bone towards the camp where, as he supposed, Wylorested, that hero cast his spear. He was strong. He had the sure eye ofthe artist, the vigorous hate of a black. When they found Yan-coo next morning he was still kneeling on one knee, for the polished spear had impaled him, and, sticking six inches into theground before him, kept him from falling. With his chin on his leftshoulder and his right hand still retaining the string of the death-bone, he had died as unconscious of the hand of the artist as the artist hadbeen primarily of his wizardry. White folks heard of the, "murder. " Wylo was apprehended and put ontrial. The solemn and upright judge could not learn the true facts ofthe case, since the witnesses were incapable of intelligently statingthem. Wylo, who had promptly confessed to the crime in the terms, "Mebin kill 'em that fella one time--finish, " but who was denied the rightof explaining that Yan-coo had been prosecuting designs against his lifequite as effectual as a spear, and that Yan-coo had been "justifiablykilled, " was sent to gaol for several years. Constraint was dreadful to him, and the sorest trial which he endured wasthe suppression of artistic longings; but he made pictures, he tells me, everywhere--"alonga wind, alonga cloud altogether, alonga water, alongadirt, alonga stone. " They were mostly imaginative, but to his mind, infine frenzy rolling, they were soothing and real. He made pictures outof airy nothing, and gloated over them with his mind's eye. No powerother than that which had bestowed the breath of life could subdue thebeneficient mania that exalted his soul. Wylo, is at the camp, sketching, flirting, and modelling fearsomedebils-debils for a new generation of hilarious piccaninnies. THE END