Near Herbert Vale I had the good fortune to be able to witness a marriage among the blacks. A camp of natives was just at the point of breaking up, when an old man suddenly approached a woman, seized her by the wrist of her left hand and shouted, Yongul ngipa!—that is, This one belongs to me (literally “one I”). She resisted with feet and hands, and cried, but he dragged her off, though she made resistance during the whole time and cried at the top of her voice. For a mile away we could hear her shrieks. I jokingly asked some of my men if they did not want to help her, but they simply laughed at me. There had long been gossip about this match. What was now happening was simply the public declaration of the marriage, and there are no other wedding ceremonies. In this instance the match was a very appropriate one. He was a widower, she a widow. But the women always make resistance, for they do not like to leave their tribe, and in many instances they have the best of reasons for kicking their lovers. If a man thinks he is strong enough, he will take hold of any woman’s hand and utter his yongul ngipa. If a woman is good-looking, all the men want her, and the one who is most influential, or who is the strongest, is accordingly generally the victor. Thus she may happen to change husbands many times in her life, but sometimes, despite the fact that her consent is not asked, she gets the one she loves—for a black woman can love too,—and then she is very happy. It not infrequently happens that women elope with men whom they love. The black women are also capable of being jealous, and they often have bitter quarrels about men whom they love and are anxious to marry. If the husband is unfaithful, the wife frequently becomes greatly enraged. However fond a man and his wife may be of each other, they are never known to kiss each other.
The women are more fond of a handsome face than of a good figure, though they do not despise the latter. They take particular notice of the part of the face about the eyes, and they like to see a frank and open, or perhaps more correctly a wild, expression of the countenance. They pay but little attention to a man’s size.
That these blacks also may be greatly overcome by the sentiment of love is illustrated by the following incident. A “civilised” black man entered a station on Georgina river and carried off a woman who belonged to a young black man at the station. She loved her paramour and was glad to get away from the station; but the whites desired to keep her for their black servant, as he could not be made to stay without her, and they brought her back, threatening to shoot the stranger if he came again. Heedless of the threat, he afterwards made a second attempt to elope with his beloved, but the white men pursued the couple and shot the poor fellow.
Our first camp was in a valley far up in the mountains, where we fell in with some blacks, who had just killed a very young ornithorhynchus in a brook which falls into Herbert river, and here we left our horses.
The next day as we proceeded up the valley we met two natives, who had taken part in the boongary hunt which had been reported to me. My men informed me that these two men owned one of the dogs that had been used in the chase and it was therefore of importance to secure the attendance of both the men and the dog. The one remained half concealed behind a gum-tree, but kept peeping out and laughing the whole time, while the other man stood perfectly quiet by his side. Apparently they had never before seen a white man in this part of the country, and could not comprehend what business I had there. I offered them food and tobacco, and asked if they would not take their dog and come with me. They seemed to be very anxious to do so, this being particularly the case with the one who stood behind the tree. His name was Yokkai. Although the dog was with a tribe far away, they offered to go and fetch it and join me as soon as possible, so we agreed to meet on the top of the mountain.
After a few hours’ march we came to a little tribe camping near the foot of the mountain where we hoped to find the other dog. But after the hunt the tribe had scattered in various directions, and I was consequently unable to secure many men. We encamped in the evening far up in the mountain, in order to wait for the two men with the dogs. As the weather was clear, the natives put up a hut for me alone. The strangers, who were perfectly savage, looked at my baggage with the greatest curiosity, and watched every motion of mine with intense interest.
Up here I saw several nests of the beautiful king-pigeon (Megaloprepia magnifica). The nest is built near the outer end of a branch, and according to the habit of the pigeons, it is constructed very carelessly, consisting simply of a few sticks. I never found more than one egg in these nests. How the young keep from falling down when the wind blows is a mystery to me. The natives, who are fond of eating them, generally shake them down.
On the summit of the mountain there were also talegallas in great numbers. My men found several of their nests, and dug out a considerable number of eggs from the large mounds. While the result of my hunt was of but little consequence, the natives were perfectly happy, and burst out in shouts of joy every time they found talegalla eggs. Once or twice we stopped to rest, and then they fairly gorged themselves with these large eggs. One man consumed fourteen of them in two hours, and yet he felt no inconvenience therefrom. It was a feast day for my men.
In the course of the day Willy procured me an unusually large specimen of mongan (Pseudochirus herbertensis), full grown, black as coal, with a bright white breast and white shoulders. He was proud of his conquest, and expected a fine lot of tobacco. Though I was very anxious to secure the specimen, still I told him to keep it, for I wanted to make it plain that it was boongary I was in search of.
I soon made up my mind that these big eaters were of no use to me, and I therefore resolved to go to another tribe to find men who could be of service to me. On my way I met the two natives with the dog. They had put on their best clothes. One of them strutted about in a shirt, the other wore a woman’s hat. Articles of clothing are precious ornaments in the eyes of the blacks, and they pass from one tribe to another, from the more “civilised,” who dwell near the settlers, to the savages who have never come in contact with the white man. Ere long the hat was borrowed by my men, and several of them sported this emblem of civilisation. One of them presented a most comical figure as he strutted before me and perspired in puris naturalibus, with my gun on his shoulders and the woman’s hat aslant on his head. I could not help thinking of all the experiences of this hat on its long and eventful journey from its original white owner to these savages in the mountains.