Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 12, 2025
It seemed to be Yamba's sole anxiety that I should be well equipped for the journey back to civilisation. She would rehearse with me for hours the various methods adopted by the black-fellows to find water; and she reminded me that my course at first was to be in a southerly direction until I came to a region where the trees were blazed, and then I was to follow the track that led westward.
Next day we were off again, and as the weather continued beautifully fine we made splendid progress. One evening a few days after the storm, as we were placidly paddling away, I saw Yamba's face suddenly brighten with a look I had never seen on it before, and I felt sure this presaged some extraordinary announcement.
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.
I was quite conscious, and much refreshed by my sleep, but the message puzzled me a great deal. At first I thought it must have been Yamba's voice, but I remembered that she did not know a word of French; and when I looked round there was no one to be seen.
My wound was not at all serious, and, thanks to Yamba's care, it quickly healed, and I was able to get about once more. But I ought to tell you that when we returned I could not bear to go into our hut, where every little bunch of withered flowers, every garment of skin, and every implement, proclaimed aloud the stunning loss I had sustained.
An eventful meeting Civilisation at last Rage and despair A white man's tracks Yamba's find Good Samaritans Bitter disappointment Bruno as guardian A heavy burden A strange invitation The mysterious monster "Come, and be our chief" I discover a half-caste girl The fate of Leichhardt "In the valley of the shadow" A sane white man Gibson is dying Vain efforts Unearthly voices.
In the throes of fever A ghastly discovery Pitiful relics A critical moment Yamba in danger A blood bath A luxury indeed Signs of civilisation The great storm Drifting, drifting Yamba's mysterious glee A dreadful shock "Welcome home!" My official protectors Myself as a cannibal war chief Preparations for battle A weird apparition Generosity to the vanquished The old desire.
By this time, thanks to Yamba's able and intelligent lessons, I was able to speak the queer language of the blacks with some show of fluency, and I could understand them well enough when they did not jabber too quickly. The next phase of our arrival was that "smokes" were ascending in all directions on the mainland, evidently calling the tribes from far and near.
They then lowered their spears, and we landed; but to my great disappointment neither Yamba nor I could understand one word of their language, which was totally different from the dialect of Yamba's country. Our first meeting was conducted in the usual way squatting down on our haunches, and then drawing nearer and nearer until we were able to rub noses on one another's shoulders.
One of the nuggets I picked up in the creek I have just mentioned weighed several pounds, and was three or four inches long; it was rather more than an inch in thickness. This nugget I placed on a block of wood and beat out with a stone, until I could twist it easily with my fingers, when I fashioned it into a fillet as an ornament for Yamba's hair.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking