I suggested to the sergeant that Jimmy should be taken to the Cardwell police court, which was the proper court to decide this matter. On the way thither the prisoner might show the body of the dead man. The sergeant considered my suggestion to be very proper, and not thinking himself particularly qualified to make a written statement to the authorities, he left it to me to prepare the written report.
Jimmy rode a horse between David and another policeman. The handcuffs were taken off, put on his ankles, and fastened to the stirrups. All this surprised me, but I said nothing, as I supposed they knew best what was necessary. In my letter to the police magistrate in Cardwell I informed him that the prisoner had confessed the murder and was willing to go and point out the body of his victim. The police were to travel the whole night, and might be expected back in the evening of the next day.
The sergeant now relapsed into a most astonishing dolce far niente. He went into his tent and began to drink the rum that belonged to his chief, and for the sake of convenience he had set the jug by the side of his bed.
Early the next morning I was greatly surprised at meeting David, who handed me back the letter I had written, and told me they had had the misfortune to lose the prisoner. On their arrival at Dalrymple Creek, Jimmy had shown them the dead body in the creek, then he suddenly severed the stirrup straps and fled with the irons on his feet. The night was dark, and it was raining, so that it was easy for him to escape, although the police fired some shots after him.
This information was a great disappointment to me, but it had an opposite effect on the natives, who assured me that Jimmy would break the irons with stones and thus free himself from them. I could not help suspecting that David had been in collusion with the natives and given aid to the prisoner, and I did not conceal the fact that I was greatly displeased. Meanwhile it was impossible to discuss the matter with the sergeant. He was dead drunk in his tent, and continued in this condition for four days and nights. Now and then he became conscious, but then he would take another drink, and perhaps request some one to fan him with the tent door. Once or twice a day he would take a little walk round the tent, supporting himself on two of the troopers, who almost had to carry him. The condition of affairs kept growing worse. The troopers availed themselves of this opportunity to help themselves from the jug, and they even gave the natives grog, or “gorrogo,” as they called it.
In this manner the sergeant maintained the law in the eyes of the natives, and in this manner he preserved discipline among his subordinates. What an impression this would leave among the blacks in regard to right and wrong! When sober, he was in the habit of saying that “the only way of civilising a black-fellow is to give him a bullet.”
I sent a letter to Mr. Stafford, the sergeant’s superior officer, who lived in the police barracks on the table-land. I gave him an account of what had happened, and demanded the punishment of Jimmy for the two murders he had committed. I added that, if nothing was done in the matter, I would make a full report to the Government.
STRIPED-FACED POUCHED MOUSE (Sminthopsis virginiæ).
After putting my collections away in good order at my headquarters, I got myself ready to depart for the Valley of Lagoons, where I intended to pass the worst part of the rainy season. During the last days my collection was augmented by the addition of two most interesting specimens of the Australian fauna. The one was a pouched mouse (Sminthopsis virginiæ) which is tolerably abundant in the Herbert, river valley. It burrows in the earth and is dug up by the natives, who are fond of its flesh. The specimen I secured is the only one to be found in museums. From a complete description by De Tarragon in 1847 it is evident that he found the same animal, but his specimen has been lost.