The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

by Louis de Rougemont

I think the only thing that roused the father of the family from his sullen moods was my extraordinary acrobatic performances, which also threw the two little nigger boys into hysterics of delight. Father, mother, and children tried to imitate my somersaults, “wheels,” and contortions, but came to grief so desperately (once the morose man nearly broke his neck) that they soon gave it up. The man would sit and watch our gambols for hours without moving a muscle. I was never actually afraid of him, but took good care not to let him get possession of any of my weapons; and as I had also taken the precaution to break up and throw into the sea the spears he had brought with him on his catamaran, I felt pretty sure he could not do much mischief even if he were so disposed. After seeing me bring down birds with my bow and arrow he began to hold me in absolute fear, probably because he had some idea that his own skin might be jeopardised if he did not accommodate himself to circumstances. I repeatedly told him that with my boat I might perhaps some day help him to get back to his own country, and I must say that this suggestion roused him somewhat from his lethargy, and he appeared profoundly grateful.

Gradually I acquired a slight acquaintance with the extraordinary language of the blacks, and had many a chat with the woman, who also picked up a few words of comical English from me. She was a woman of average height, lithe and supple, with an intelligent face and sparkling eyes. She was a very interesting companion, and as I grew more proficient in her queer language of signs, and slaps, and clicks, I learnt from her many wonderful things about the habits and customs of the Australian aborigines, which proved extremely useful to me in after years. Yamba—for that was her name—told me that when I rescued them they had been blown miles and miles out of their course and away from their own country by the terrible gale that had been raging about a fortnight previously. It seems that they had originally started out on an expedition to catch turtles on a little island between Cambridge Gulf and Queen’s Channel, but the storm carried them out to sea. They drifted about for many days, until at length they reached my little island. The only food they had during the whole of this time was turtle, but they were entirely without water. One would think that they must inevitably have died of thirst, but the blacks are wonderful people for going without water for prolonged periods. Moreover, they find a mouthful of salt water occasionally quite sustaining.

One of my most amusing experiences with the blacks was one day when, quite accidentally, Yamba caught sight of herself for the first time in the little oval looking-glass I had hanging up in the hut near my hammock. She thoughtlessly took it down and held it close up to her face. She trembled, felt the surface of the glass, and then looked hurriedly on the back. One long, last, lingering look she gave, and then flew screaming out of the hut.

Oddly enough, she overcame her fears later, and, woman-like, would come and look in the mirror for an hour at a stretch, smacking her lips all the while in wonderment, and making most comical grimaces and contortions to try various effects. Her husband, however (Gunda, as I called him), was very differently affected, for the moment his wife showed him his own reflection in the glass he gave a terrific yell and bolted to the other end of the little island, in a state of the most abject terror. He never quite overcame his terror and distrust of the mirror, which he evidently considered possessed of life, and in reality a kind of spirit to be feared and avoided.

But, of course, the two boys found the glass a never-ending source of amazement and wonder, and were not in the least afraid of it after the first natural shock of surprise. Altogether, I thanked God for sending me my new companions; and, as you may suppose, they afforded me as much entertainment and gratification as I and my belongings did them.

Every evening, before retiring to rest, the family squatted round the fire and indulged in a mournful kind of chant—singing, as I afterwards learnt, the wonders they had seen on the white man’s island; my mirror coming in for special mention. This was the only approach to a “religious service” I ever saw, and was partly intended to propitiate or frighten away the spirits of the departed, of whom the Australian blacks have a great horror.

The blacks had been with me two or three weeks, when one evening the man approached and intimated in unmistakable terms that he wanted to get away from the island and return to his own land. He said he thought he and his family could easily return to their friends on the mainland by means of the catamaran that had brought them.

And Yamba, that devoted and mysterious creature, solemnly pointed out to me a glowing star far away on the horizon. There, she said, lay the home of her people. After this I was convinced that the mainland could not be more than a couple of hundred miles or so away, and I determined to accompany them on the journey thither, in the hope that this might form one of the stepping-stones to civilisation and my own kind. We lost no time. One glorious morning we three—Yamba, her husband, and myself—repaired to the fatal lagoon that hemmed in my precious boat, and without more ado dragged it up the steep bank by means of rollers run on planks across the sand-spit, and then finally, with a tremendous splash and an excited hurrah from myself, it glided out into the water, a thing of meaning, of escape, and of freedom. The boat, notwithstanding its long period of uselessness, was perfectly water-tight and thoroughly seaworthy, although still unpleasantly low at the stern. Gunda was impatient to be off, but I pointed out to him that, as the wind persistently blew in the wrong direction day after day, we should be compelled perforce to delay our departure perhaps for some months. You see, Gunda was not a man who required to make much preparation: he thought all we should have to do was to tumble into the boat and set sail across the sunlit sea. “I can paddle my catamaran against both wind and tide; why cannot you do the same?” he would say. He did not understand the advantage or uses of sails. He had lost his own paddles in the storm, otherwise he would in all probability have left the island on his own account. He was like a fish out of water when the novelty of his situation wore off. On the other hand, I thought of water, provisions, and other equally vital necessaries. So Gunda had to rest content for a time, and he grew, if possible, more morose and sullen than ever.

During this period of impatient waiting, we made many experimental voyages out to sea, and generally got the boat into capital trim for the great and eventful journey. I saw to it that she was thoroughly well provisioned with tinned stuffs—long put on one side for the purpose; and I may say here that at the last moment before starting I placed on board three large live turtles, which supplied us with meat until we reached the Australian main. I also took a plentiful supply of water, in bags made from the intestines of birds and fishes; also a small cask containing about ten gallons of the precious fluid, which was placed near the mast. In short, as far I was able, I provided everything that was necessary for this most important journey. But consider for a moment the horrible doubts and fears that racked me. I fancied the mainland was not very far away, but you must remember I was not at all certain how long it would take us to reach it; nor could I be sure, therefore, whether I had taken a sufficient supply of food and water. Our provisions, which included tinned meats, corn in the cob and loose, turtles’ flesh and intestines, flour, rice, beans, &c., would, however, on a fairly liberal allowance, last a little over three weeks. We also carried some blankets, nails, tar, and other requisites. Of my books I only took my Bible with me. This I wrapped up in parchment made from pelican skin, together with four photographs of a certain young lady which I carried about with me throughout the whole of my wanderings. The propulsive power was, of course, the big lug-sail, which was always held loosely in the hand, and never made fast, for fear of a sudden capsize.

Six months had passed away since the advent of my visitors, when one morning we all marched out from the hut and down to the beach; the two boys fairly yelling with joy, and waving bunches of green corn plucked from my garden. Their mother skipped gaily hither and thither, and I myself was hardly able to control my transports of excitement and exhilaration. Even Gunda beamed upon the preparations for our release. I did not demolish my hut of pearl shells, but left it standing exactly as it had been during the past two and a half years. Nor must I omit to mention that I buried my treasure of pearls deep in the sand at one end of the island, and in all human probability it is there at this moment, for I have never returned for them, as I fondly hoped to be able to do so at some future date. It is, of course, possible that the precious box has been washed away in a storm, but more probably the contrary is the case, and still deeper layers of sand have been silted over this great treasure. I dared not carry anything oversea that was not vitally necessary, and what good were pearls to me on my fearful journey, convoying four other people out into the unknown in a crazy, home-made boat? Even masses of virgin gold were of very little use to me in the years that followed; but of this more anon. My condition, by the way, at this time was one of robust health; indeed, I was getting quite stout owing to the quantity of turtle I had been eating, whilst Yamba’s husband was positively corpulent from the same reason.