Whilst roaming among the caves I came across a pit measuring perhaps twenty feet in diameter and eight feet or nine feet in depth.It had a sandy bottom; and as I saw a curious-looking depression in one corner, I jumped down to investigate it, leaving Bruno barking at the edge of the pit, because I knew I should have some trouble in hoisting him up again if I allowed him to accompany me.I carried a long stick, much longer than a waddy; perhaps it was a yam-stick--I cannot remember.At any rate, just as I was about to probe a mysterious-looking hole, I beheld with alarm and amazement the ugly head of a large black snake suddenly thrust out at me from a dark mass, which I presently found was the decayed stump of a tree.I fell back as far as possible, and then saw that the reptile had quite uncoiled itself from the stem, and was coming straight at me.I promptly dealt it a violent blow on the body, just below that point where it raised its head from the ground.No sooner had I done this than another dark and hissing head came charging in my direction.Again I struck at the reptile's body and overpowered it.Next came a third, and a fourth, and fifth, and then I realised that the whole of the dead stump was simply one living mass of coiled snakes, which were probably hibernating.One after another they came at me; of course, had they all come at once, no power on earth could have saved me.I wondered how long this weird contest would be kept up; and again and again between the attacks I tried to escape, but had scarcely taken an upward step when another huge reptile was upon me.
I was aware that Bruno was running backwards and forwards at the edge of the pit all this time, barking frantically in a most excited state.He knew perfectly well what snakes were, having frequently been bitten.I owe my life on this occasion solely to the fact that the snakes were in a torpid state, and came at me one at a time instead of altogether.It was the cold season, about the month of June or July.It is impossible at such moments to take any account of time, so I cannot say how long the battle lasted.
At length, however, I was able to count the slain.I did this partly out of curiosity and partly because I wanted to impress the natives--to boast, if you prefer that phrase.Modesty, where modesty is unknown, would have been absurd, if not fatal to my prestige.Well, in all there were SIXTY-EIGHT BLACK SNAKES, AVERAGING ABOUT FOUR FEET SIX INCHES IN LENGTH.
I do not remember that I was fatigued; I think my excitement was too great for any such feeling to have made itself felt.When at length I was able to get away, I and Bruno rushed off to the native camp a few miles away, and brought back the blacks to see what Ihad done.The spectacle threw them into a state of great amazement, and from that time on I was looked upon with the greatest admiration.The story of how I had killed the snakes soon spread abroad among the various tribes for miles round, and was chanted by many tribes, the means of inter-communication being the universal smoke-signals.One important consequence of this adventure was that I was everywhere received with the very greatest respect.
It may be mentioned here that no matter how unfriendly tribes may be, they always exchange news by means of smoke-signals.I may also say that at corroborees and such-like festivities a vast amount of poetic boasting and exaggeration is indulged in, each "hero" being required to give practical demonstrations of the things he has seen, the doughty deeds he has done, &c.He warms up as he goes along, and magnifies its importance in a ridiculous way.
It amuses me to this day to recall my own preposterous songs about how I killed the two whales WITH MY STILETTO, and other droll pretensions.But, ah! I was serious enough then!
In the mountainous region where I encountered the snakes, I also met a native who actually spoke English.He called himself either Peter or Jacky Jacky--I cannot remember which; but in any case it was a name given him by pearlers.He had once lived with some pearlers near the north-west coast of Western Australia--probably on the De Grey River.His story was quite unprecedented among the blacks, and he gave me many terrible instances of the perfidy shown by white adventurers towards the unfortunate natives.The precise locality where I met this man was probably near Mount Farewell, close to the border-line of South Australia and Western Australia.
Well, then, Jacky Jacky--to give him the name which lingers most tenaciously in my mind--was persuaded to join in a pearling expedition, together with a number of his companions.They all accepted engagements from the whites, on the distinct understanding that they were to be away about three moons.Instead, they were practically kidnapped by force, and treated--or rather ill-treated--as slaves for several years.
First of all, the poor creatures were taken to an island in the vicinity of North-West Cape, off which the pearling fleet lay.
During the voyage to the pearling grounds the water supply on board ran short, and so great was the suffering among the blacks--they were kept on the shortest of short commons, as you may suppose--that they plotted to steal a cask of the precious fluid for their own use.The vessel was quite a small one, and the water was kept in the hold.But the two or three whites who formed the crew forcibly prevented the black-fellows from carrying out their plan.
