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Confessions of a Beachcomber

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lif 'em easy, one hand. Mr Limsee tumbledown. Get up. That boy kill 'em one time more hard. My word, strong fella boy that. Catch 'em Mr Limsee-- tchuk longa ground, hard fella--like that. Me and Cap'n come. Mr Limsee alonga ground yet--'Hello! Mr Limsee, you bin hurt?' 'Yes, my boy I hurt plenty. Not much; only little bit. That fella boy hit me alonga sword. You catch that fella. Hold 'em.' Me and Cap'n say--'You no run away, you boy.' 'Me no fright.' He have 'em spear. Me tell 'em--'You no runaway. Me catch you.' He say--'Me no fright, you fella.' Me say --'You no runaway. I shoot you.' He say all a time--'Me no fright. Me fight you.' Me say--'You fool, you carn fight alonga this fella bullet. He catch you blurry quick.' That fella stop one place. We two fella go up alongside. Cap'n he say--'Hold up your hand. Le' me look your hand?' He hold up hand. Quick we put 'em han'cup. That fella no savee han'cup before. He bin sing out loud--loud like anything. We two fella laugh plenty. Mr Limsee tie 'em up hand longa tree, and belt him proper. Belt him plenty longa whip. My word, that fella sing out--sing out--sing out. Mr Limsee belt him more. All time he sing out. Bi'mby let 'em go. He bad fella boy that altogether. We fella--go home along camp. Mr Limsee feel 'em sore tchoulder. Nex' day that boy--very tchausey fella--come up along camp. He say--'Me want fight that fella Cap'n.' Cap'n come up. That fella catch 'em, Cap'n tchuk him hard alonga ground. Get up; tchuk him two time. Head go close up alonga stone. Two fella wrastle all about long time. Cap'n strong fella. That boy more strong. Knock 'em about like anything. Bi'mby come back he have spear--three wire spear--long handle. Tchuk 'em spear. Catch 'em Cap'n longa side--here. Wire come out nother side--here. He carn stay--tumble down. Good boy that; my mate long time. Some fella go alonga house tell 'em Mr Limsee--'That boy bin kill you, fight long a camp. Cap'n catch 'em spear longa inside.' Mr Limsee come down. He say--'Cap'n, my boy, I think you finish now; me very sorry for you.' Bad place for spear longa side. Hollow inside. Suppose spear go along a leg and arm, no matter. Suppose go inside, hollow place inside, you finish quick. Plenty times me bin see 'em man finish that way. Mr Limsee he very sorry. We catch that boy. Put han'cup behind, lika that way. My word he carn run away now. Chain alonga leg. Mr Limsee bi'mby send 'em down Cooktown. That fella no more come back. He go along Sen'eleena (St Helena penal establishment). Me bin think he bin get two years. Cap'n he carn stay. Two days that fella dead. He bin good mate, me sorry. Mr Limsee he very sorry. Good fella longa boy." Once George illuminated his conversation with an aphorism. Describing a battle between the Tully River blacks and those of Clump Point, in which his mate, Tom of Dunk Island (leader of the Clump Point party), had been severely wounded, he said--"'Nother fella boy from outside, come up behind Tom. He no look out that way. That boy tchuk 'em boomerang. Boomerang stick in leg belonga Tom. Tom no feel 'em first time. He stan' up yet. Bi'mby when want walk about, tumble down. Look out. Hello! see 'em boomerang alonga leg. He no more can walk about." The boss remarked--"Might be long time, Tom feel 'em leg sore." George--"Ah! me like see 'em kill alonga head. Finish 'em one time. Danger nebber dead." Whether George wished to enforce the opinion that in battle nothing short of death was glorious, or that Tom though wounded was still valorous and would live to fight again, was not clear, but "Danger nebber dead," probably represents the only aboriginal aphorism extant. George is not the least superstitious. He takes everything for granted. Rain, in his opinion, comes from a big tank up above somewhere. Asked as to his belief in the personal "debil-debil," of whom the mainland boys have such dread that few will stir out after dark, he said with a guffaw--"Me nebber bin see one yet. Suppose me see 'em, me run 'em!" George is, therefore, as yet unable to give a description of the fiend; but from hearsay authority declares that it possesses three eyes, two in the ordinary position, and one at the back of the head. It is believed that the third eye insures the "debil-debil" against all possible surprises, thus preserving the mystery of identity. Though he has not a shadow of respect for the "debil-debil," George has a firm faith in the existence in the neighbourhood of Cooktown of a camp of what he calls "groun' gins." His experience with these mysterious subterranean sirens he thus describes-- "Little bit outside Cooktown camp belonga groun' gins. Me and Sargen' go look big corrobboree; my word. Some gins come out alonga groun' from hole. When go down, groun' close up himself, like winda. My word, me fright. Me shake. One good fella nice gin come up. Sargen' say--'You go corrobboree dance along that fella.' Me say--'We go home now, me fright. We want go alonga town. This no good place.' Sargen' laugh little bit. He say--'No, my boy, you no fright. All right here. You dance alonga that fella gin--good nice gin.' Me go up. Me feel 'em fright. Feel 'em cold inside. Too much fright. My word; han' belonga that fella gin--cold like anything. That gin say--'Where you from?' Me say--'Me come from alonga town.' That gin say--'What you look out?' Me say--'Me look out bullocky, musser 'em cattle. Tail 'em up. Look out weaner alonga paddick. Plenty hard work.' Me dance little bit alonga that gin. Not much. Too fright. Bi'mby that gin go down below. Groun' shut 'em up. All day down below. Come up night time. Carn come up alonga sun. Soft fella that. Suppose come up alonga sun, sun kill 'em. Too sof' altogether." Cooktown blacks, according to George, use a much lighter sporting spear than that in vogue in these parts. Instead of a slender sapling (preferably of red mangrove), straightened and toughened patiently over the fire, he would provide himself with the scape of a grass tree (XANTHORRHEA ARBOREA), true and straight as a billiard cue, light, and 8 or 10 feet long. Into a socket in the thicker end he would insert a single 1/4-inch steel point, 18 inches long, or three pieces of No. 8 wire, with the sharpened points slightly spread. The merit of his weapon was the subject of frequent debate, the Dunk

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