The Adventures of Louis de Rougemont

by Louis de Rougemont

When the rats had passed by, we watched them enter a large creek and swim across, after which they disappeared in the direction of some ranges which were not very far away. They never seemed to break their ranks; even when swimming, one beheld the same level brownish mass on the surface of the water. Yamba told me that this migration of rats was not at all uncommon, but that the creatures rarely moved about in such vast armies as the one that had just passed.

I also learned that isolated parties of migrating rats were responsible for the horrible deaths of many native children, who had, perhaps, been left behind in camp by their parents, who had gone in search of water.

Up to this time we had always found food plentiful. On our southward journey a particularly pleasant and convenient article of diet turned up (or fell down) in the form of the maru, as it is called, which collects on the leaves of trees during the night. Both in its appearance and manner of coming, this curious substance may be likened to the manna that fell in the wilderness for the benefit of the Israelites. This maru is a whitish substance, not unlike raw cotton in appearance. The natives make bread of it; it is rather tasteless, but is very nutritious, and only obtained at certain times—for example, it never falls at the time of full moon, and is peculiar to certain districts.

During this great southward journey many strange things happened, and we saw a host of curious sights. I only wish I could trust my memory to place these in their proper chronological order.

We had several visitations of locusts; and on one occasion, some months after leaving home, they settled upon the country around us so thickly as actually to make a living bridge across a large creek. On several occasions I have had to dig through a living crust of these insects, six or eight inches thick, in order to reach water at a water-hole. These locusts are of a yellowish-brown colour (many are grey), and they range in length from two to four inches.

As they rise in the air they make a strange cracking, snapping sound; and they were often present in such myriads as actually to hide the face of the sun. I found them excellent eating when grilled on red-hot stones.

Yamba, of course, did all the cooking, making a fire with her ever-ready fire-stick, which no native woman is ever without; and while she looked after the supply of roots and opossum meat, I generally provided the snakes, emus, and kangaroos. Our shelter at night consisted merely of a small gunyah made of boughs, and we left the fire burning in front of this when we turned in.

When we had been fully three months out, a very extraordinary thing happened, which to many people would be incredible were it not recognised as a well-known Australian phenomenon. We had reached a very dry and open grass country, where there was not a tree to be seen for miles and miles. Suddenly, as Yamba and I were squatting on the ground enjoying a meal, we saw a strange black cloud looming on the horizon, and hailed its advent with the very greatest delight, inasmuch as it presaged rain—which is always so vitally important a visitation in the “Never Never.” We waited in anticipation until the cloud was right over our heads. Then the deluge commenced, and to my unbounded amazement I found that with the rain live fish as big as whitebait were falling from the clouds! When this wonderful rain-storm had passed, large pools of water were left on the surface of the ground, and most of these were fairly alive with fish. This surface-water, however, evaporated in the course of a few days, and then, as the blazing sun beat down upon the fish-covered country, we found the region growing quite intolerable on account of the awful stench.

Talking of storms, I have seen it stated that the Australian natives are in a state of high glee whenever they hear thunder. This is perfectly true, but I have never seen any explanation of this joy. It is simple enough. The natives know that thunder presages rain, which is always a blessing of great price in that thirsty country.

I think this was the first time I had actually seen it rain fish. But I had often been surprised, to find water-holes, and even the pools in grassy plains, literally alive with fish a few days after a storm. And they grew with astounding rapidity, provided the water did not evaporate. This was in the vicinity of my Cambridge Gulf home.