She took me to the spot and pointed out the mysterious tracks, which I saw at once were those of camels. I do not know why I decided to follow them, because they must have been some months old. Probably, I reflected, I might be able to pick up something on the tracks which would be of use to me. At any rate, we did follow the tracks for several days—perhaps a fortnight—and found on the way many old meat-tins, which afterwards came in useful as water vessels. One day, however, I pounced upon an illustrated newspaper—a copy of the Sydney Town and Country Journal, bearing some date, I think in 1875 or 1876. It was a complete copy with the outer cover. I remember it contained some pictures of horse-racing—I believe at Paramatta; but the “Long Lost Relative” column interested me most, for the very moment I found the paper I sat down in the bush and began to read this part with great eagerness. I could read English fairly well by this time, and as Yamba was also tolerably familiar with the language, I read the paper aloud to her. I cannot say she altogether understood what she heard, but she saw that I was intensely interested and delighted, and so she was quite content to stay there and listen. You will observe that in all cases, the very fact that I was pleased was enough for Yamba, who never once wavered in her fidelity and affection. Altogether we spent some weeks following up these tracks, but, of course, never came up with the caravan of camels, which must have been some months ahead of us. Yamba at length appeared to be a good deal wearied at my persistency in following up the tracks in this way; but after all, was it not merely killing time?—a mild sort of sensation which served to break the eternal monotony that sometimes threatened to crush me.
How I treasured that soiled copy of the Town and Country—as it is familiarly called in Sydney! I read and re-read it, and then read it all over again until I think I could have repeated every line of it by heart, even to the advertisements. Among the latter, by the way, was one inserted apparently by an anxious mother seeking information concerning a long-lost son; and this pathetic paragraph set me wondering about my own mother. “Well,” I thought, “she at least has no need to advertise, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that she must by this time be quite reconciled to my loss, and have given me up as dead long ago.” Strangely enough, this thought quite reconciled me to my exile. In fact, I thanked Providence that my disappearance had been so complete and so prolonged as to leave not the slightest cause for doubt or hope on the part of any of my relatives. Had I for a moment imagined that my mother was still cherishing hopes of seeing me again some day, and that she was undergoing agonies of mental suspense and worry on my behalf, I think I would have risked everything to reach her. But I knew quite well that she must have heard of the loss of the Veielland, and long ago resigned herself to the certainty of my death. I can never hope to describe the curious delight with which I perused my precious newspaper. I showed the pictures in it to my children and the natives, and they were more than delighted,—especially with the pictures of horses in the race at Paramatta. In the course of time the sheets of paper began to get torn, and then I made a pretty durable cover out of kangaroo hide. Thus the whole of my library consisted of my Anglo-French Testament, and the copy of the Town and Country Journal.
But I have purposely kept until the end the most important thing in connection with this strangely-found periodical. The very first eager and feverish reading gave me an extraordinary shock, which actually threatened my reason! In a prominent place in the journal I came across the following passage: “The Deputies of Alsace and Lorraine have refused to vote in the German Reichstag.”
Now, knowing nothing whatever of the sanguinary war of 1870, or of the alterations in the map of Europe which it entailed, this passage filled me with startled amazement. I read it over and over again, getting more bewildered each time. “The Deputies of Alsace and Lorraine have refused to vote in the German Reichstag!” “But—good heavens!” I almost screamed to myself, “what were the Alsace and Lorraine Deputies doing in the German Parliament at all?” I turned the matter over and over in my mind, and at last, finding that I was getting worked up into a state of dangerous excitement, I threw the paper from me and walked away. I thought over the matter again, and so utterly incomprehensible did it appear to me that I thought I must be mistaken—that my eyes must have deceived me. Accordingly I ran back and picked the paper up a second time, and there, sure enough, was the same passage. In vain did I seek for any sane explanation, and at last I somehow got it into my head that the appearance of the printed characters must be due to a kind of mental obliquity, and that I must be rapidly going mad! Even Yamba could not sympathise with me, because the matter was one which I never could have made her understand. I tried to put this strange puzzle out of my head, but again and again the accursed and torturing passage would ring in my ears until I nearly went crazy. But I presently put the thing firmly from me, and resolved to think no more about it.
It is not an exaggeration to describe my mountain home in the centre of the continent as a perfect paradise. The grasses and ferns there grew to a prodigious height, and there were magnificent forests of white gum and eucalyptus. Down in the valley I built a spacious house—the largest the natives had ever seen. It was perhaps twenty feet long, sixteen feet to eighteen feet wide, and about ten feet high. The interior was decorated with ferns, war implements, the skins of various animals, and last—but by no means least—the “sword” of the great sawfish I had killed in the haunted lagoon. This house contained no fireplace, because all the cooking was done in the open air. The walls were built of rough logs, the crevices being filled in with earth taken from ant-hills. I have just said that I built the house. This is, perhaps, not strictly correct. It was Yamba and the other women-folk who actually carried out the work, under my supervision. Here it is necessary to explain that I did not dare to do much manual labour, because it would have been considered undignified on my part. I really did not want the house; but, strangely enough, I felt much more comfortable when it was built and furnished, because, after all, it was a source of infinite satisfaction to me to feel that I had a home I could call my own. I had grown very weary of living like an animal in the bush, and lying down to sleep at night on the bare ground. It was this same consideration of “home” that induced me to build a little hut for poor Gibson.
The floor of my house was two or three feet above the ground in order to escape the ravages of the rats. There was only one storey, of course, and the whole was divided into two rooms—one as a kind of sitting-room and the other as a bedroom. The former I fitted out with home-made tables and chairs (I had become pretty expert from my experience with the girls); and each day fresh eucalyptus leaves were strewed about, partly for cleanliness, and partly because the odour kept away the mosquitoes. I also built another house about two days’ tramp up the mountains, and to this we usually resorted in the very hot weather.
Now here I have a curious confession to make. As the months glided into years, and I reviewed the whole of my strange life since the days when I went pearling with Jensen, the thought began gradually to steal into my mind, “Why not wait until civilisation comes to you—as it must do in time? Why weary yourself any more with incessant struggles to get back to the world—especially when you are so comfortable here?” Gradually, then, I settled down and was made absolute chief over a tribe of perhaps five hundred souls. Besides this, my fame spread abroad into the surrounding country, and at every new moon I held a sort of informal reception, which was attended by deputations of tribesmen for hundreds of miles around. My own tribe already possessed a chieftain of their own but my position was one of even greater influence than his. Moreover, I was appointed to it without having to undergo the painful ceremonies that initiation entails. My immunity in this respect was of course owing to my supposed great powers, and the belief that I was a returned spirit. I was always present at tribal and war councils, and also had some authority over other tribes.
I adopted every device I could think of to make my dwelling home-like, and I even journeyed many miles in a NNE. direction, to procure cuttings of grape vines I had seen; but I must say that this at any rate was labour in vain, because I never improved upon the quality of the wild grapes, which had a sharp, acid flavour, that affected the throat somewhat unpleasantly until one got used to them.
When I speak of my “mountain home,” it must not be supposed that I remained in one place. As a matter of fact, in accordance with my usual practice, I took long excursions in different directions extending over weeks and even months at a time. On these occasions I always took with me a kind of nut, which, when eaten, endowed one with remarkable powers of vitality and endurance. Since my return to civilisation I have heard of the Kola nut, but cannot say whether the substance used by the Australian aboriginal is the same or not. I remember we generally roasted ours, and ate it as we tramped along. In the course of my numerous journeys abroad I blazed or marked a great number of trees; my usual mark being an oval, in or underneath which I generally carved the letter “L.” I seldom met with hostile natives in this region, but when I did my mysterious bow and arrows generally sufficed to impress them. By the way, I never introduced the bow as a weapon among the blacks, and they, on their part, never tried to imitate me. They are a conservative race, and are perfectly satisfied with their own time-honoured weapons.
Wild geese and ducks were plentiful in those regions, and there was an infinite variety of game. From this you will gather that our daily fare was both ample and luxurious.