It is said that the dugong mother constantly holds fast to her young with her pectorals, and in ancient times this gave rise to the traditions about sirens or mermaids. The Dutchman called the dugong baardmannetje, i.e. the little bearded man.
The next morning, while I was putting the finishing touches to the preparation of my skin, I heard the squatter cry out, “Here! the boat is sinking!” We all ran to see what was the matter, and we discovered our boat on the point of being swallowed by the waves, and my two bottles of alcohol floating in the water. There was no actual danger of the boat being lost, for the water was shallow, but the tide was now rising with the force of a river, so that it was not long before only the masts of our boat were visible. As there were traces of crocodiles to be seen everywhere on the strand, one of us took a rifle in order to keep guard, while the rest tried to save the boat, which after wading in mud up to our waists, we finally succeeded in doing.
It was impossible to secure a full-grown dugong, for our lines were not strong enough, and we therefore started on our journey home again. The next night we made our camp on an island, and the squatter at once went out to shoot rabbits with his rifle. The rabbits had been placed on this island a few years previously, and although there was no fresh water excepting when it rained, still they throve very well, and had greatly increased in numbers. Strange to say, these rabbits are said to be poisonous, doubtless on account of the food on which they are obliged to subsist. The squatter informed me that a year ago he had visited this island and shot some of these animals, which were roasted and eaten, but had made both him and his companions ill.
A large number of Australian plum-trees were found on this island. We shot a mound-builder and several pigeons. The next morning the blacks left us, and we continued our sail home. On the coast we saw large numbers of rock-oysters. It happened to be ebb-tide and there were three large peninsulas, like a yellow-brown mass, entirely covered with these fine-flavoured shell-fish.
I remained a few days longer with my most amiable hosts at Torilla. The lady of the house was a very intelligent woman. Her parents had taught her Greek and Hebrew in order to enable her to read both the Old and the New Testament in the original tongue. Though she was well versed in both languages, she was no blue-stocking, but a very practical woman. She gave her daughter the very prudent advice, “Never you marry a bad breakfast-man.” The first thing she noticed in a man was his teeth. If these were sound, the rest of the body was sure to be right—a sound mind in a healthy body. Like the majority of Australian ladies, the daughter was natural and free from affectation. She took a deep interest in zoology, and was an industrious collector of specimens. On her solitary excursions she did not hesitate to climb trees after birds’ eggs, and she complained bitterly that the men were too lazy to help her. The ladies who are brought up in the Australian bush have, upon the whole, a peculiar frankness and independence, for from their very childhood they have to rely on themselves. Another “bush girl” of my acquaintance rode thirty miles to try on a dress.
NEAR THE COAST OF CENTRAL QUEENSLAND. JABIRU IN THE FOREGROUND.
The whole family at Torilla were excellent riders, and had the reputation of being the best in Queensland. An unmanageable horse at the station had thrown both his master and mistress, nearly killing them, but they nevertheless continued to care for the animal with the greatest tenderness, a proof of the great sympathy an Australian feels for his horse.
On my way back to Gracemere I saw a large number of wading birds in the lagoons. I took special notice of the splendid Australian jabiru (Mycteria australis), and I had the good fortune to shoot on the wing a specimen of this beautiful variety of the stork family with swan shot at a distance of no less than 127 paces.
I passed the oldest gold mine in Queensland, called Canoona Diggings, but the place was now almost entirely abandoned. Here I met a Dane, who was very kind to me. He had been in the gold mines since their discovery, about thirty years ago, and in spite of the fact that both he and his family had to work hard for a living, they looked healthy and contented.