CHAPTER VI.

Wild honey—They find the wreck—The Thunderstick.

During the voyage out Tim had proved to his shipmates that he had a fair voice for singing, and on the strength of this was deputed to lead the hymns, when the captain performed the little Sunday service on deck.

So it struck Mat, upon awakening the next morning after the “Corroboree” in the native camp, that Tim should give them one of the hymns they had learnt on board ship. So, whilst lying in the “gunyah,” Tim struck up at the top of his voice, “From Greenland’s icy Mountains,” and Mat joining in, the black fellows flocked round, squatted themselves, with awe-struck faces, on the ground, and stared in utter amazement.

But just as the singing concluded, the two blacks who had been to the coast, returned, and evidently conveyed some important news to the tribe, for they all began talking excitedly together, and pointing to the direction from which the white men had come, intimated that they must go with them there.

The possibility of some of their late shipmates being cast ashore occurred to the brothers, and they signified their readiness to go.

“I must have something to eat first though, Mat,” said his brother, “for I feel terrible ‘leer.’” So, in response to their signs, the natives brought them more roots and fish, and after partaking of a good breakfast, the whole party started.

The blacks noticed before they had proceeded far that both brothers were lame and weak, so cut them each a stout “yam” stick as staves, and purposely walked very slowly. Mat tried to explain that a dog bigger than Jumper had caused his wound; however, his black brethren concluded that that animal itself was the culprit, and in consequence gave it a wider berth than ever.

The tribe of blacks who had received our lads in such a friendly way were a fine body of men, as Mat and Tim perceived now that they appeared in broad daylight with clean skins—minus the paint of the preceding night. Their bushy but finely-textured hair was now ornamented with tufts of the white cockatoo and other feathers; their brows encircled by a band of reddish-coloured material; their eyes were dark and glittering.

Though small of bone as to their wrists and ankles, and fine in loin, yet their every movement denoted perfect muscular strength and agility. Many of them were over six feet high, though Mat found by subsequent experience that this stature was more peculiar to the coast-tribes, owing probably to the better class of food which they were able to procure.

Upon starting for the coast our young adventurers found that the natives were conducting them step by step over the very route which they had traversed from the island.

“They’re terrible good trackers,” said Mat, who had been watching them; “I thought _I_ knew something about it, but I’d often have lost the trail here. Why, their eyes are everywhere, staring into the trees, and looking into the tops of them too. Whatever can they be after?”

These examinations puzzled the lads vastly, till suddenly a black stopped, and uttered an exclamation, and looking up to where he was gazing, a quantity of diminutive insects could be indistinctly seen hovering about a broken “spout” in the highest part of a tall gum-tree.

To Mat’s astonishment, the black evidently intended to ascend this tree. “How on earth is he going to get up there?” said he, as he eyed the tall, smooth trunk, without branch or break for sixty feet. “Why, that tree’s a good three feet through; he can’t ‘swarm’ it, and they haven’t climbing-irons here.”

But the black fellow soon showed them how ’twas done.

First he cut a thick ropy vine, or creeper, out of the shrub, and joined it in a circle round the base of the tree and his own body, then hanging a dilly bag round his neck, in which he had placed his tomahawk, he commenced the ascent by planting his feet against the trunk, and by this means literally walked up the great tree, shifting his hoop at every step, and getting a purchase by pressing his loins against the circle of the vine which supported them. When he had reached the first branch he paused to take breath.

“That beats anything I _ever_ saw,” said Mat, gazing up in astonishment; “if ever I get back to the Forest, I’ll try that game too.”

Meanwhile the climber arrived at the dead limb, and commenced chopping, brushing off the swarms of insects every now and again which had settled on his face. But this cutting was the slow part of the process; it took a long hour before the little stone axe had opened up the old branch sufficiently for the black fellow to insert his hand.

Meantime his brethren below had lit a fire, having brought a smouldering brand with them for that purpose; whilst all this delay afforded a welcome rest to our lads.

At length the man in the tree descended, and opening his bag, displayed about a quart of dark-coloured honey, swarming all over with a diminutive bee, which proved to be stingless. It was evident that this was an immense treat to the natives, for they quickly ate up honey, bees and all, giving the brothers only sufficient to make them wish for more.

Resuming their journey, our party shortly afterwards arrived opposite the island on which the brothers had landed, and two of the black fellows pointed down the coast for Mat to look.

“I can only see something like a black rock,” he said, in answer to Tim’s query, as he strained his eyes.

“Why, it might be a bit of the wreck,” suggested Tim.

“Yes; that _must_ be it, Tim. It’s what I saw drifting when we were coming ashore.”

The natives were now very excited, and, as was their wont when in this state, “jabbering” unceasingly together; but as darkness was coming on, they evidently meant to go no farther that night, for they proceeded to make several fires on the sand, and lying down, bid the white men do the same. These latter found themselves comfortable enough, excepting for the mosquitoes, to which they had been a prey ever since they landed.

Before they went to sleep, a black fellow appeared with a huge hammer-headed shark, which he had speared in shallow water. This proved large enough to furnish a meal for all. A black threw a piece of the cooked fish to Jumper, who, however, resented the way it was given him by growling and refusing to eat it then.

Mat was interested in the way the blacks made their fires. All the little sticks were pointed to the centre of the embers, and each man had his own fire.

Next morning at daylight the camp was broken up, and after broiling and eating more fish, they started along the margin of the salt water. As they approached the wreck they noticed that there was a larger portion of it than had appeared when viewed the previous evening, the whole of the bows and a portion of the waist being visible. The brothers had hoped that the poop might be farther down the coast, and the blacks evidently thought this might be possible too, for one of their number was sent off to reconnoitre past the next headland; but he came back after awhile, presumably without having seen any more of the old ship, but that he had found _something_ was evident by his gesticulations.

Upon clambering on board with their companions, our lads found that the portion of wreck they had arrived at, though much battered and riddled like a sieve, yet by the strength of her outer timbers, held together, and thus had saved a portion of her contents. Some barrels and chests could be seen, and Mat found the place which had been occupied by his bunk; and to his great delight, on looking closer, he espied his gun jammed by the stock between the beams, but otherwise uninjured, excepting by the action of salt water. These beams, however, he could not part; no axe could he find, so he and Tim collected the black fellows, and on pointing out the gun, they at once understood what was wanted, so by their combined effort, and bringing their little tomahawks into play, the gun was freed.

“The gun’s no use without powder, Tim,” remarked his brother as he fondly handled the weapon. “Didn’t Robinson Crusoe make powder? Oh! if I could only come across my chest!”

The black fellows soon carried everything ashore that they could lay their hands on, and the result of their labours made quite a respectable pile on the beach. They then returned to strip every single nail, bolt, and bit of ironwork and lead from the wreck; from the way they went about this, it was evident that it was not the first time they had been so engaged.

On further examination it was seen that most of the chests were smashed and empty. Mat threw these aside, looking, however, first carefully at their marks; on scraping away the sea-weed and sand from one at the bottom of the pile, and turning it over, there, oh! joy! stood out plainly the two letters M. S., burnt into it with the Forest print, which Tim had brought to the docks on leaving home.

The chest was full and locked.

“Hurrah!” shouted Mat.

“Hurrah!” joined in Tim, when he found what had caused Mat’s joy, exclamations which so startled the blacks that they came crowding up and wanted to knock the chest to pieces at once, but Mat gently prevented them, and showed them where to prise the lock open. Then out came the greater part of his outfit and that of Tim, not much the worse for _wear_, but drenched into many colours. Mat promptly put on a shirt and a pair of moleskin trousers. Tim arrayed himself in a light coat and pair of drawers, and the black fellows observing this, a most ludicrous scene ensued.

One tall black drew his legs through a pair of trousers, holding the garment upside down, the consequence was that when he tried to walk he waddled a few steps and fell prone; another slipped on a pair of canvas ducks hind part before. One young “buck” pulled the sleeve of a shirt on, the balance of the garment, to his great delight, fluttering in the wind: whilst yet another sat down into Tim’s best felt hat, thinking that article could only be meant for a seat.

All these antics were accompanied with shouts of laughter, the dark men chasing each other about like so many children. This festive scene much relieved the owners of the property, pleased as they were to find their comrades in such good-humour.

As suddenly tired with this buffoonery as they had been ready to commence it, the natives pulled off their eccentric-fitting garments, and signed to the white men to come along the shore. These wanted to examine further into the chests and casks, but were not allowed any further delay.

“What can they want down there?” cried Tim.

“Why, I expect that chap they sent down the coast found another chest,” suggested Mat.

“Come along, then, my darkies; more clothes, perhaps!” laughed his brother.

When they turned the point of the cliff it was clothes, sure enough, that they found, but clothes enveloping a corpse.

“The poor old doctor!” murmured Mat, as he went down on his knees beside the body, and recognized the portly form. “He’s awfully battered, but not been touched by the fish or anything. He wasn’t on the poop, so there’s a small hope yet for the skipper and those we left with him. Let’s bury him right up there, above high-water mark.”

Up to this the blacks had held aloof, but now made signs that they would divide the body or burn it, and seemed offended when the brothers showed that they could not have their own way in this. Mat wished to bury his old comrade without making them angry, so he pointed to the body, then to the sky, shaking his head solemnly, upon which the natives fell back, and did not attempt to interfere again.

The brothers then bore the corpse up the low cliff, scooped as deep a hole as they could in the sand, placed it there, rolled a great rock on the grave, and walked away silently from the spot.

Many an anxious glance did they cast seawards that day in hopes of seeing a vessel, but not a sign of one was visible on the placid ocean.

Returning to the scene of the wreckage, the black fellows shouldered everything that had been found in or on the wreck, and the whole party returned to their camp in the woods without further adventures.

Our foresters had hoped that when they should have arrived at what, for the present at any rate, they designated “Home,” they would have had ample time to rummage into the chests and casks which had been saved. But what was their astonishment to find some fifty or sixty strange natives assembled at the camp. These had evidently arrived from some distant part, and had only come into camp shortly before the brothers and their friends, for the “jins” had not all disencumbered themselves of the children, whom they carried on their backs, the infants’ legs hanging straight down, according to the native custom.

Directly these freshly-arrived blacks saw our white lads—who were now clothed—they scampered off in every direction, only returning when the friendly natives went after them and explained matters, when they at length summoned up courage to come up to where the brothers were standing. They finally felt them all over, looked into their mouths, and with gestures begged them to strip. This request being also acceded to, their examiners seemed satisfied, and squatted themselves on the ground to talk the white men over.

But it was soon evident that these visitors had arrived for a special purpose, for, on a signal being given, every man assembled was formed up so as to make a large circle. A corroboree on a grand scale was about to take place.

Whilst the brothers were led into the circle the “friendlies” went away to the chests, soon to reappear, not only in war-paint, but clad in every conceivable form. These northern blacks—men and women alike—were never in the habit of wearing the most minute particle of dress, or even covering.

The contrast, then, between the friendly tribes and the strangers was very great, and the lads took the liberty of attending to the costumes in small particulars. Tim this time clapped his hat on the head of his dark friend, who thereupon assumed a look of conscious pride; for, though it was the only article of dress he had on, yet he guessed that for this occasion the hat had been placed upon the _real_ seat of honour. A pair of spectacles had also been brought to light in one of the rescued boxes. These were being passed around in wonder by the blacks, when our boys placed them on a very skinny old jin, and led her into the ring.

“She looks quite grandmotherly, don’t she, Mat?” said Tim.

When the proper place for spectacles was thus seen, the nude old woman became the envy and delight of the admiring natives.

Then the whole crowd, dressed and undressed, stepped into a ring formed of spears stuck into the ground, all bearing on their faces a look of extreme dignity, which gave them even a more ludicrous appearance than when they were gambolling in like attire on the sea-shore. But when our foresters saw the old granny standing up, as if for her picture to be taken, with nothing on but a pair of big goggles, they could scarcely forbear from going into fits of laughter; however, by great efforts, they controlled their mirth, seeing how grave were the faces of all around them.

This corroboree commenced with a song, which seemed as if it would never terminate, and which evidently entirely referred to the presence of the white men, as they were constantly pointed to.

The strange natives looked on silent and open-mouthed, till it was over, when they all turned to, to examine the shirts and other clothing; after this the brothers were conducted to their gunyah, and upon making signs that they were hungry, food and water were quickly set before them, and they stretched out in their bark hut for a rest: they could see the natives after a time drop off one by one and go to sleep.

More than once that night a visitor would steal up to have a peep at the white men, but Jumper’s ominous growl forbad a too close approach.

Night after night was the same scene enacted, corroboree and singing, as fresh tribes came to take the place of those who had already seen the wonderful white men. At length this trotting-out became so wearisome that Mat and Tim flatly declined upon one occasion to go and be overhauled, and pinched, and have their mouths looked into by every fresh lot of black fellows.

This refusal enraged the natives, who rushed towards them, fiercely swinging their waddies, or clubs, over their heads. Our foresters stood perfectly unmoved, which conduct evidently pleased the dark men, as they dropped their weapons, and did not call for any more exhibitions for some time to come. Most of the tribes also living within “calling distance” had satisfied their curiosity by seeing the strange men; and matters resumed their usual course, the “friendlies” keeping the brothers always well supplied with food, to their great comfort.

Mat had now time to examine the remaining stores, which had not as yet been interfered with. At the bottom of his sea-chest he found his books, amongst them his beloved “Crusoe;” and what was of far greater importance, he discovered in a water-tight barrel, a tin of gunpowder stowed away amongst a quantity of rice.

The brothers had many a talk over this powder, as they surmised that if they proved to the natives that they possessed the power of dealing instantaneous death, it would cause them to be respected by all in the district. So they resolved to show the power of the weapon.

Mat set to work to clean and burnish up the gun thoroughly, whilst Tim cut up some slugs from the lead.

The black fellows had looked at this gun, smelt it, and could not make it out.

Said Tim,—

“I was talking with our good old doctor, whom we buried the other day—about the blacks, and he said as they thinks a thing’s a kind of spirit if you go into a lot of fooling over it; so now do you shoot a bird, but afore you fire we’ll have a game round the old gun.”

There happened, on this day of the conversation, to be several hawks, which were fully gorged with odds and ends thrown out of the camp, placidly blinking on the branches of the trees high overhead.

Having made their arrangements, the brothers collected their friends and pointed to a particular bird, which was sitting on a branch by himself, some forty yards above their gunyah.

“Old Joe” was then brought out, Mat bringing it along with mock humility, as he crawled on his knees; the weapon was then placed on the ground at a spot which Tim had been carefully dusting and removing twigs from, burying this rubbish with the greatest care. Then, with a great appearance of solemnity, Tim knelt at the muzzle, Mat at the stock, as the gun was placed carefully on the sacred spot. This was all done so far in perfect silence. The natives remaining awe-struck at these proceedings, commenced to whisper.

“Hush-sh!” said both brothers, putting their fingers to their lips.

Then sang out Mat, “High cockelorum, jig, jig, jig,” and at the last jig was on his brother’s back with a flying leap, _both_ in this fashion careering round the gun; Jumper lying perfectly still beside it, as he was told. They then suddenly stopped, and in sepulchral tones sang bits of every song they had learnt when working the ship, commencing with, “Oh, a bully ship and a bully crew,” following this with another solo, “And what do you think we had for dinner?” then both taking up the refrain, “Blow, boys, blow,” “A goose’s lights and a louse’s liver, blow, my bully boys, blow.”

Many other ditties followed, finishing with,—

“Now upon my life and upon my soul, I never knew a nigger but had wool on his pole,”

&c., &c.

“Now we’ll conclude the performance,” whispered Mat; so first gently speaking to the lock of the gun, and then emitting a most atrocious noise down the barrel with his lips, he loaded, took a steady aim and fired, whilst Tim was making horrible faces in the background.

There was a death-like silence for an instant after the report had died away; and then, amidst the shrieks of the jins, the howls of the children, and the terrified yells of the men, who knocked each other over in their frantic efforts to escape, the camp was deserted.

Mat and Tim fairly rolled on the ground, convulsed with laughter, whilst Jumper amidst all this uproar rushed joyfully in, and worried the remains of the carrion bird.

Not a black skin could be seen, excepting a couple of unfortunate babies, who had been deserted by their mothers in the general stampede, and who were now squalling on the ground.

“I think that act went off pretty tidy,” remarked Tim, as soon as he could speak.

“Not much the matter with it,” answered his brother, “I reckon they won’t ‘ankor’ us, they were just _about_ scared; but I won’t put five fingers of powder into ‘Old Joe’ again, she’s nearly taken my shoulder off. If we always handle the gun as if ’twere an evil spirit, I expect we’ve more power in it than we think of; it’s very certain they never heard _that_ noise before; besides, she went off like a young cannon.”

By-and-by the blacks stole silently, one by one, into the camp; amongst the first arrivals were two women, who seized the sprawling infants they had left behind, and then retreated quickly into the scrub.

Mat and Tim, peeping out of their hut, to which they had retreated, as became properly behaved wizards, at length saw their friends gathered round one man, who was examining the defunct hawk with trembling fingers, to see what had killed it.

There was a dead silence amongst the tribe that night, not one moved from his fire.

Next morning a native braver than the rest, the chief in fact, asked by signs whether he might approach the gun, which he saw peeping out from the hut; but the brothers, by pantomime, showed that the consequences would be too awful if he awoke the evil spirit, and he was glad to make his escape back again to his mates. No more inquiries were made after this, but both brothers were watched whenever they came out, to see that they had not the evil thing in their hands.

However, the startling incident was gradually forgotten, as the gun was carefully put by, and no more powder used, for they never knew when they might really want it.