As we came nearer we could see the blacks assembling on the beach to meet us, but, far from showing any friendliness, they held their spears poised threateningly, and would no doubt have thrown them had I not suddenly jumped to my feet and made signs that I wished to sit down with them--to parley with them.They then lowered their spears, and we landed; but to my great disappointment neither Yamba nor I could understand one word of their language, which was totally different from the dialect of Yamba's country.Our first meeting was conducted in the usual way--squatting down on our haunches, and then drawing nearer and nearer until we were able to rub noses on one another's shoulders.I then explained by means of signs that I wanted to stay with them a few days, and I was inexpressibly relieved to find that my little passport stick (which never left my possession for a moment), was recognised at once, and proved most efficacious generally.After this I became more friendly with my hosts, and told them by signs that I was looking for white people like myself, whereupon they replied I should have to go still farther south to find them.They took us to their camp, and provided us with food, consisting mainly of fish, shell-fish, and roots.So far as I could ascertain, there were no kangaroo or opossum on the island.After two or three days, Ithought it time to be continuing our journey; but feeling convinced that I must be in the vicinity of the Cape York Peninsula--instead of being on the west coast of the Gulf of Carpentaria--I decided not to go south at all, but to strike due north, where I felt certain Somerset Point lay; and I also resolved to travel by sea this time, the blacks having presented me with a very unsubstantial "dug-out" canoe.Leaving behind us the catamaran that had brought us so many hundreds of miles, we set out on our travels once more--taking care, however, never to lose sight of the coast-line on account of our frail craft.We passed several beautiful islands, big and little, and on one that we landed I came across some native chalk drawings on the face of the rock.They depicted rude figures of men--I don't remember any animals--but were not nearly so well done as the drawings I had seen in caves up in the Cape Londonderry district.
We also landed from time to time on the mainland, and spoke with the chiefs of various tribes.They were all hostile at first.On one occasion we actually met one or two blacks who spoke a few words of English.They had evidently been out with pearlers at some time in their lives, but had returned to their native wilds many years before our visit.I asked them if they knew where white men were to be found, and they pointed east (Cape York), and also indicated that the whites were many moons' journey away from us.Iwas sorely puzzled.A glance at a map of Australia will enable the reader to realise my great blunder.Ignorant almost of Australian geography I fancied, on reaching the western shores of the Gulf of Carpentaria, that I had struck the Coral Sea, and that all I had to do was to strike north to reach Somerset, the white settlement Ihad heard about from the pearlers.I felt so confident Cape York lay immediately to the north, that I continued my course in that direction, paddling all day and running in-shore to camp at night.
We lived mainly on shell-fish and sea-birds' eggs at this time, and altogether life became terribly wearisome and monotonous.This, however, was mainly owing to my anxiety.
About a fortnight after leaving the mouth of the Roper River we came to a place which I now know to be Point Dale.We then steered south into a beautiful landlocked passage which lies between the mainland and Elcho Island, and which at the time I took to be the little strait running between Albany Island and Cape York.Isteered south-west in consequence; and after a time, as I did not sight the points I was on the look-out for, I felt completely nonplused.We landed on Elcho Island and spent a day or two there.
Being still under the impression that Cape York was higher up, Isteered west, and soon found myself in a very unpleasant region.
We explored almost every bay and inlet we came across, but of course always with the same disheartening result.Sometimes we would come near being stranded on a sandbank, and would have to jump overboard and push our craft into deeper water.At others, she would be almost swamped in a rough sea, but still we stuck to our task, and after passing Goulbourn Island we followed the coast.
Then we struck north until we got among a group of islands, and came to Croker Island, which goes direct north and south.Day after day we kept doggedly on, hugging the shore very closely, going in and out of every bay, and visiting almost every island, yet never seeing a single human being.We were apparently still many hundreds of miles away from our destination.To add to the wretchedness of the situation, my poor Yamba, who had been so devoted, so hardy, and so contented, at length began to manifest symptoms of illness, and complained gently of the weariness of it all."You are looking," she would say, "for a place that does not exist.You are looking for friends of whose very existence you are unaware." I would not give in, however, and persuaded her that all would be well in time, if only she would continue to bear with me.
Both of us were terribly cramped in the boat; and by way of exercise one or the other would occasionally jump overboard and have a long swim.Whenever we could we landed at night.
