Tooth continued my treatment until the Peupiuli arrived, when he departed hastily in her to Samarai; and there, to his rage and relief, he was of course told by the doctor that there was nothing the matter with him. Oelrichs told me afterwards that he had sworn he would report me for misusing Government drugs, but Oelrichs then told him, that if he did, the R.M. would probably reply, “that he might have been mistaken in the nature of the surveyor’s disease, but the latter must have had a bad conscience to cause him to submit to the treatment.” Poor Tooth choked with rage; but he was not a man that bore grudges or carried a bitterness long, and we were soon the best of friends again.
“What was the matter with Tooth?” asked Walsh, as he, Elliott, and I sat round the camp fire on the night of the victim’s departure. “Nothing,” I replied. “Good Lord! Then what did you scour him to the bone for?” “Excess of religious fervour!” I answered. “By the way, which of you two ornaments to the Service had the cheek to set him on to your chief? I think that requires looking into!” Both looked uneasy. “Is it Pax?” asked Walsh. I nodded. Then I heard about Tooth and Elliott.
I have decided not to continue the tale of this expedition. It has been published in official reports, and is simply a story of swamps, mountains, fever, and fights, a common sort of tale lacking all interest, hence I go on to Robinson’s more important Hydrographer’s Expedition.
CHAPTER XXVI
On the first of July, 1903, the Merrie England arrived at Cape Nelson, bringing the Administrator, Mr. Justice Robinson. His Excellency informed me that he intended to visit the Yodda Gold-field at once, and to proceed with all possible speed towards the construction of a road to that point, also that he wished to know before the work was begun whether there was any possible alternative route to that already explored, and recommended by Mr. Surveyor Tooth and myself from Oro Bay. I replied that it was possible that a route existed leading from Porloch Bay, behind the Hydrographer’s Range to Papaki (or Papangi, as my men called it). Sir William MacGregor’s map showed the Yodda River as heading there; this, however, I knew from my own explorations to be incorrect; but Sir William must have some reason for thinking that a long valley ran between the Hydrographer’s and the Main Ranges, and this was also my own belief. Walker, R.M., and De Molynes, A.R.M., had sent in a report and map of their explorations in that part of the country, also showing a valley, but they said it was the valley of the south branch of the Kumusi. “I have that report and map,” said his Excellency. “Well, both are pure fiction,” I replied. “What do you mean by that?” he asked. “One moment, sir, and you will know,” I answered, and sent an orderly for Private Arita, and upon his appearance questioned him as follows.
“You were with Mr. Walker and Mr. De Molynes when they went up the Kumusi to Papangi?” “Yes, sir.” “How far did they go beyond Papangi?” “Two hours’ journey, to where the Kumusi emerges from the hills; then we came back,” was the reply. “Did Mr. Walker ever visit that part of the country again?” I asked. “No, sir.” “There you are, your Excellency,” I said, “Walker drew a map and furnished a report upon a country scores of miles beyond the furthest point he reached. The whole thing is simply guess-work.” “Why do you think Sir William MacGregor placed a long valley there?” asked the Governor. “He probably saw a valley, or what looked like a valley, from the summit of the Main Range on his Victoria Expedition, and from a height of twelve or thirteen thousand feet, hills of two or three thousand might look like a flat. Anyhow he was wrong in his assumption that the Yodda River headed there; and in any case he never made any definite statement to that effect, he simply noted it as a possibility. The fact now remains that we know absolutely nothing of the country between the Hydrographer’s Range and the Main Range; Sir William MacGregor’s theory has been proved wrong by later explorations of the Yodda, while Walker’s map and report are not to be seriously considered.”
“What do you think about it?” asked Robinson. “I cannot tell,” I answered. “It is possible or probable that there is a long fertile valley drained either by the Barigi River into Porloch Bay, or by an affluent of the Kumusi, or by both; or the country may be auriferous; or again it may be a succession of hills and ranges of a few thousand feet; it is impossible to know without traversing it. If there is a long valley there it would be the best route to the Yodda.” “Well, I am going to find out,” said Robinson, “and you are coming with me; the details of the equipment and personnel of the expedition are now in your hands. When can we start?” “To-morrow, sir,” I answered, as I went off to warn my men and send for carriers, wondering why everything hot and unwholesome always fell to my lot. I was not at all enamoured of the prospect, for neither Robinson, Bruce, nor Manning was acclimatized to the country or knew anything about the work, and I saw that if anything went wrong—as well it might—I should be the scapegoat.
The following day I left with the Governor for Porloch Bay, taking with me ten of my constabulary, a dozen armed village constables, and about 130 Kaili Kaili as carriers; to which were added the Governor’s boat’s crew of eight constabulary and the Commandant’s travelling patrol of twenty. At Porloch Bay my old enemy but now dear friend, Oiogoba Sara, appeared and gave us much assistance. He had all his fighting men under arms to repel a threatened attack from a raiding hill tribe, and wanted us to stop and help him; but as I very soon found out that he was confident of beating off his enemies, the Governor decided to go on with our more important work, especially as I told him that the mere passage of our force through Oiogoba’s country would discourage the raiders, as indeed old Oiogoba himself thought.
Here, I went through the stores and equipment provided by Manning for the Governor’s use, and remorselessly cast out such things as lager beer, potatoes, tinned fruit, etc. These things, I told Manning, were about as useful to an expedition of this sort as a pair of bathing drawers to a conger eel. “But his Excellency may wish to invite some one to lunch or dinner at the Yodda,” squealed Manning. “Then his Excellency’s guests can share his Excellency’s fare of bully beef, biscuits, rice, and yams.” “Mr. Monckton, sir,” appealed Manning, “is leaving behind a great deal of your private stores.” “Exactly what I expected he would do, Manning. I am glad my impression of him is confirmed. Perhaps you are fortunate that he has not left you behind as well!” replied Robinson, who was a man all through.