All this time Yamba had been as busy as a showman out West.She had followed with unusual vigour her customary role of "advance agent," and had spread most ridiculously exaggerated reports of my supernatural prowess and magical attributes.I controlled the denizens of Spiritland, and could call them up in thousands to torment the blacks.I controlled the elements; and was in short all-powerful.
I must admit that this energetic and systematic "puffing" did a great deal of good, and wherever we went I was looked upon as a sort of wizard, entitled to very great respect, and the best of everything that was going.
For a long time the tribal chief persisted in his opposition to my request for the girls; but as most of his warriors were in my favour (I had given many appalling demonstrations in the bush at night), I knew he would submit sooner or later.The big corroboree lasted all night, and at length, before we separated on the second day, the great man gave way--with exceedingly bad grace.Of course, I did not disturb the girls at that hour, but next day Itold Yamba to go and see them and arrange for an interview.She came back pretty soon, and then undertook to guide me to their "abode." The prospect of meeting white people once more--even these two poor unfortunates--threw me into a strange excitement, in the midst of which I quite forgot my own astonishing appearance, which was far more like that of a gaily decorated and gorgeously painted native chief than a civilised European.For it must be remembered that by this time I had long ago discarded all clothing, except an apron of emu feathers, whilst my skin was extremely dark and my hair hung down my back fully three feet, and was built up in a surprising way in times of war and corroboree.
I followed Yamba through the camp, getting more and more excited as we approached the girls' domicile.At length she stopped at the back of a crescent-shaped break-wind of boughs, and a moment later--eager, trembling, and almost speechless--I stood before the two English girls.Looking back now, I remember they presented a truly pitiable spectacle.They were huddled together on the sandy ground, naked, and locked in one another's arms.Before them burned a fire, which was tended by the women.Both looked frightfully emaciated and terrified--so much so, that as I write these words my heart beats faster with horror as I recall the terrible impression they made upon me.As they caught sight of me, they screamed aloud in terror.I retired a little way discomfited, remembering suddenly my own fantastic appearance.Of course, they thought I was another black fellow coming to torture them.All kinds of extraordinary reflections flashed through my mind at that moment.What would people in my beloved France, I wondered--or among my Swiss mountains, or in stately England--think of the fate that had overtaken these girls--a fate that would infallibly read more like extravagant and even offensive fiction than real, heart-rending fact?
I went back and stood before the girls, saying, reassuringly, "Ladies, I am a white man and a friend; and if you will only trust in me I think I can save you."Their amazement at this little speech knew no bounds, and one of the girls became quite hysterical.I called Yamba, and introduced her as my wife, and they then came forward and clasped me by the hand, crying, shudderingly, "Oh, save us! Take us away from that fearful brute."I hastily explained to them that it was solely because I had resolved to save them that I had ventured into the camp; but they would have to wait patiently until circumstances favoured my plans for their escape.I did not conceal from them that my being able to take them away at all was extremely problematical; for I could see that to have raised false hopes would have ended in real disaster.Gradually they became quieter and more reasonable--and my position obviously more embarrassing.I quickly told them that, at any rate, so long as I remained in the camp, they need not fear any further visits from the giant chief they dreaded so much, and with this reassurance I walked swiftly away, followed by Yamba.
The laws of native hospitality absolutely forbade any one to interfere with the girls during my stay, so, easy in my mind, Imade straight for the extensive swamps which I knew lay a few miles from the camp.In this wild and picturesque place I brought down, with Yamba's assistance, a great number of cockatoos, turkeys, and other wild fowl, which birds were promptly skinned, my wife and Ihaving in view a little amateur tailoring which should render my future interviews with the girls a little less embarrassing.As a matter of fact, I handed over the bird-skins to Yamba, and she, with her bone needles and threads of kangaroo sinews, soon made a couple of extraordinary but most serviceable garments, which we immediately took back to the poor girls, who were shivering with cold and neglect.I at once saw the reason of most of their suffering.
Their own clothing had apparently been lost or destroyed, and the native women, jealous of the attention which the chief was bestowing upon the newcomers, gave them little or no food.Nor did the jealous wives instruct the interlopers in the anointing of their bodies with that peculiar kind of clay which forms so effective a protection alike against the burning heat of the sun, the treacherous cold of the night-winds, and the painful attacks of insects.All the information I could elicit from the girls that evening was the fact that they had been shipwrecked, and had already been captive among the blacks for three and a half months.
The elder girl further said that they were not allowed their liberty, because they had on several occasions tried to put an end to their indescribable sufferings by committing suicide.Anything more extraordinary than the costumes we made for the girls you never saw.They were not of elaborate design, being of the shape of a long sack, with holes for the arms and neck; and they afterwards shrank in the most absurd way.
