The girls, as they grow up, are taught to cook according to the native fashion, and are also required to build ovens in the earth or sand; make the fires, build "break-winds," and generally help their mothers in preparing meals.When at length the meal is cooked, the manner of eating it is very peculiar.First of all, the women retire into the background.The lord and master goes and picks out the tit-bits for himself, and then sits down to eat them off a small sheet of bark.More often, however, he simply tears the meat in pieces with his hands.During his meal, the wives and children are collected behind at a respectful distance, awaiting their own share.Then, as the warrior eats, he literally hurls certain oddments over his shoulder, which are promptly pounced upon by the wives and children in waiting.It sometimes happens, however, that a favourite child--a boy invariably, never a girl (it is the girls who are eaten by the parents whenever there are any superfluous children to be got rid of)--will approach his father and be fed with choice morsels from the great man's "plate."Each tribe has its own particular country over which it roams at pleasure, and the boundaries are defined by trees, hillocks, mountains, rocks, creeks, and water-holes.And from these natural features the tribes occasionally get their names.Outside the tribal boundary--which often incloses a vast area--the blacks never go, except on a friendly visit to a neighbouring camp.Poaching is one of the things punishable with death, and even if any woman is caught hunting for food in another country she is seized and punished.I will tell you later on how even Yamba "put her foot"in it in this way.
The blacks are marvellously clever at tracking a man by his footprints, and a poacher from a neighbouring tribe never escapes their vigilance, even though he succeeds in returning to his own people without being actually captured.So assiduously do these blacks study the footprints of people they know and are friendly with, that they can tell at once whether the trespasser is an enemy or not; and if it be a stranger, a punitive expedition is at once organised against his tribe.
Gradually I came to think that each man's track must have an individuality about it quite as remarkable as the finger-prints investigated by Galton and Bertillon.The blacks could even tell a man's name and many other things about him, solely from his tracks--how, it is of course impossible for me to say.I have often known my blacks to follow a man's track OVER HARD ROCKS, where even a disturbed leaf proved an infallible clue, yielding a perfectly miraculous amount of information.They will know whether a leaf has been turned over by the wind or by human agency!
But to continue my narrative.Yamba was very anxious that I should stay and make my home among her people, and so, with the assistance of other women, she built me a substantial beehive-shaped hut, fully twenty feet in diameter and ten feet high.She pointed out to me earnestly that I had everything I could possibly wish for, and that I might be a very great man indeed in the country if only I would take a prominent part in the affairs of the tribe.She also mentioned that so great was my prowess and prestige, that if Iwished I might take unto myself a whole army of wives!--the number of wives being the sole token of greatness among these people.You see they had to be fed, and that implied many great attributes of skill and strength.Nevertheless, I pined for civilisation, and never let a day go by without scanning the bay and the open sea for a passing sail.The natives told me they had seen ships at various times, and that attempts had even been made to reach them in catamarans, but without success, so far out at sea were the vessels passing.
Gradually, about nine months after my strange return to my Cambridge Gulf home, there came a time when life became so monotonous that I felt I MUST have a change of some sort, or else go mad.I was on the very best of terms with all my blacks, but their mode of living was repulsive to me.I began to loathe the food, and the horrible cruelty to the women frequently sickened me.
Whenever I saw one of these poor patient creatures felled, bleeding, to the earth, I felt myself being worked up into a state of dangerous nervous excitement, and I longed to challenge the brutal assailant as a murderous enemy.Each time, however, Isternly compelled myself to restrain my feelings.At length the spirit of unrest grew so strong that I determined to try a short trip inland in a direction I had never hitherto attempted.Iintended to cross the big bay in my dug-out, round Cape Londonderry, and then go south among the beautiful islands down past Admiralty Gulf, which I had previously explored during my residence on the Cape, and where I had found food and water abundant; numerous caves, with mural paintings; quiet seas, and gorgeous vegetation.Yamba willingly consented to accompany me, and one day I set off on the sea once more, my faithful wife by my side, carrying her net full of odds and ends, and I with my bow and arrows, tomahawk, and stiletto; the two latter carried in my belt.
I hoped to come across a ship down among the islands, for my natives told me that several had passed while I was away.
