Our artist, Mr. Harden S. Melville, while attached to the Australian exploring expedition, in H.M.S. “Fly,” had a narrow escape from making a disagreeably close acquaintance with one of these formidable barbed war tools. The ship’s boat had put ashore at a spot where there was a congregation of native huts, though not a solitary human inhabitant could be distinguished. With a spirit, however, which evinced more devotion to the cause of science than to the usages of polite society, our friend must needs penetrate to the interior of one of the kennel-like abodes, though to effect this purpose he had to crawl on all fours. Whether he found anything to repay him for his pains I don’t recollect; I only know that he had barely scrambled to the perpendicular, with his back to the bush, when the seaman who was with him, with laudable promptitude, called his attention to an interesting object in the distance. It was a native—the owner of the house Mr. Melville had so unceremoniously ransacked, no doubt—and there he stood with his spear nicely adjusted to the wammera and all a-tremble for a cast. The instant, however, that our artist (who I may tell the reader is a perfect giant) turned his face instead of his back to the native, the spear was lowered and the danger at an end.
Australian Duel.
Lax as is the native Australian’s morality still he has his code of honour and should one of its articles be infringed he will not be content to lay wait for the aggressor and drive a spear through his back, or strike him dead with his boomerang while he is safe concealed and secure from observation; no, he must have “the satisfaction of a gentleman,” he must call his man “out,” and compel him to be murdered or commit a murder. So in this respect the bushman, “the meanest specimen of humanity,” is as respectable an individual as many a noble born and highly educated Englishman, who lived in the reign and basked in the friendship of the “first gentleman in Europe.” He shows himself even more respectable; for whereas gentlemen of a past generation would meet and fire bullets or dash and stab at each other with naked swords about ever so trifling a matter, as a dispute about the cut of a coat or the character of a sweetheart, the bushman never appeals to the honourable institution of duelling, except an enemy be guilty of the heinous offence of denying that he has a thick head. “He no good, his scull no thicker than an emu’s egg-shell.” If a bushman brook such an insult as this he is for ever the scoff and jest of all who know him; but the chances are that he will not brook the insult; he will send a friend to the slanderer to bid him bring his stoutest “waddy,” that it may be shivered on the thick head of the warrior he had traduced.
The combatants meet and a select party of friends are invited to see fair. The weapons are the familiar “waddys,” and the men stand opposite each other with their heads bare. There is no tossing for position or any other advantage; indeed there is no advantage to be gained excepting who shall have first “whack,” and that is always allowed to the challenger. The man who is to receive first whack, if he is a person of experience, knows the hard and soft parts of his cranium and takes care so to manœuvre that the former shall be presented to the up-raised club. Down comes the weapon with a thud that makes the recipient’s teeth chatter, but beyond that he has sustained no inconvenience, and now he straightens his back and grins, for it is his turn. His opponent lowers his head as he had done and a loud hollow noise follows, which the man’s friends hail with delight, as it indicates that though his skull may be dented it is not yet cracked. And so the duel proceeds, whack for whack, until one mightier than before, or on a “sore place,” stretches one of them on the grass.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Caffre warfare—Great cry and little carnage—A Caffre war chant—War song of the renowned Cucutle—A Griqua Pitsho—An African council of war—The chiefs speech—The chief accused of apathy—A reproof to the kidney-eaters—Death before dishonour—Archery in Eastern Africa—Fan bowmen—War weapons of cannibal Fans—War knives and brain hatchets—The women warriors of Dahomey—The king’s fingers—King Gezo likened to a hen—Amazon parables—Pretty picture of an Abyssinian warrior—Omen birds—A non-believer in English gunnery—The sceptic convinced—A potent candle end—Savage metallurgy—The king and the blacksmith—Le Vaillant turns bellows mender.
Turning to Southern Africa, we find that among the Caffres the trade of war is conducted with a method and precision seldom found among savages. The most common causes of warfare are, what is proper tribute to the chief, grazing privileges, and territorial boundaries; no body of men, however, ever fall upon another body of their inimical countrymen without certain formalities are observed, with a view to warn the enemy what he may shortly expect, and to prepare himself accordingly. Bearing in their hands the tail either of a lion or a panther, ambassadors are sent to enquire whether the other side still persist in their obstinacy; if so, the tails are flourished threateningly, which is equivalent to a declaration of war.