The fits of despondency were usually most severe when we had been watching the everlasting sea for hours, and had perhaps at last caught sight of a distant sail without being able to attract the attention of those on board.The girls, too, suffered from fits of nervous apprehension lest I should go away from them for any length of time.They never had complete confidence even in my friendly natives.Naturally we were inseparable, we three.We went for long rambles together, and daily inspected our quaint little corn-garden.At first my charming companions evinced the most embarrassing gratitude for what I had done, but I earnestly begged of them never even to mention the word to me.The little I had done, I told them, was my bare and obvious duty, and was no more than any other man worthy of the name, would have done.
In our more hopeful moments we would speak of the future, and these poor girls would dwell upon the thrill of excitement that would go all through the civilised world, when their story and mine should first be made known to the public.
For they felt certain their adventures were quite unique in the annals of civilisation, and they loved to think they would have an opportunity of "lionising" me when we should return to Europe.
They would not hear me when I protested that such a course would, from my point of view, be extremely unpleasant and undignified--even painful.
Every day we kept a good look-out for passing ships; and from twenty to forty catamarans were always stationed on the beach in readiness to take us out to sea should there be any hope of a rescue.As my knowledge of English was at this time not very perfect, the girls took it upon themselves to improve me, and Imade rapid progress under their vivacious tuition.They would promptly correct me in the pronunciation of certain vowels when Iread aloud from the only book I possessed--the Anglo-French Testament I have already mentioned.They were, by the way, exceedingly interested in the records of my daily life, sensations, &c., which I had written in BLOOD in the margins of my little Bible whilst on the island in Timor Sea.About this time I tried to make some ink, having quill pens in plenty from the bodies of the wild geese; but the experiment was a failure.
Both girls, as I have already hinted, had wonderful memories, and could recite numberless passages which they had learnt at school.
Blanche, the elder girl, would give her sister and myself lessons in elocution; and I should like to say a word to teachers and children on the enormous utility of COMMITTING SOMETHING TO MEMORY--whether poems, songs, or passages from historical or classical works.It is, of course, very unlikely that any one who reads these lines will be cast away as we were, but still one never knows what the future has in store; and I have known pioneers and prospectors who have ventured into the remoter wilds, and emerged therefrom years after, to give striking testimony as to the usefulness of being able to sing or recite in a loud voice.
Sometimes we would have an improvised concert, each of us singing whatever best suited the voice; or we would all join together in a rollicking glee.One day, I remember, I started off with -"A notre heureux sejour,"
but almost immediately I realised how ridiculously inappropriate the words were.Still, I struggled on through the first verse, but to my amazement, before I could start the second, the girls joined in with "God Save the Queen," which has exactly the same air.The incident is one that should appeal to all British people, including even her Most Gracious Majesty herself.As the girls' voices rose, half sobbingly, in the old familiar air, beloved of every English-speaking person, tears fairly ran down their fair but sad young faces, and I could not help being struck with the pathos of the scene.
But all things considered, these were really happy days for all of us, at any rate in comparison with those we had previously experienced.We had by this time quite an orchestra of reed flutes and the fiddles aforesaid, whose strings were of gut procured from the native wild-cat--a very little fellow, by the way, about the size of a fair-sized rat; I found him everywhere.These cats were great thieves, and only roamed about at night.I trapped them in great numbers by means of an ingenious native arrangement of pointed sticks of wood, which, while providing an easy entrance, yet confronted the outgoing cat with a formidable chevaux-de-frise.
The bait I used was meat in an almost putrid condition.
I could not handle the prisoners in the morning, because they scratched and bit quite savagely; I therefore forked them out with a spear.As regards their own prey, they waged perpetual warfare against the native rats.The skin of these cats was beautifully soft, and altogether they were quite leopards in miniature.Best of all, they made excellent eating, the more so in that their flesh was almost the only meat dish that had not the eternal flavour of the eucalyptus leaf, which all our other "joints" possessed.The girls never knew that they were eating cats, to say nothing about rats.In order to save their feelings, I told them that both "dishes" were squirrels!
My hair at this time was even longer than the girls' own, so it is no wonder that it provided bows for the fiddles.My companions took great delight in dressing my absurdly long tresses, using combs which I had made out of porcupines' quills.
Our contentment was a great source of joy to Yamba, who was now fully convinced that I would settle down among her people for ever.
The blacks were strangely affected by our singing.Any kind of civilised music or singing was to them anathema.What they liked best was the harsh uproar made by pieces of wood beaten together, or the weird jabbering and chanting that accompanied a big feast.
Our singing they likened to the howling of the dingoes! They were sincere, hardly complimentary.
