The
Crocodile Fled In One Direction And The Dynamite Went Off In Another,
But Owen And The Natives Only Just Avoided The Explosion.
Owen told me that there were about fifty miners in the goldfields
of the Yodda Valley, but that most of them were beginning to leave,
although there is plenty of gold to be got.
The climate is a bad one,
and provisions, etc., are very dear, and so gold has to be got in
very large quantities to pay. As the miners decrease, there is bound
to be trouble with the natives, who are very treacherous. The miners,
who are nearly all Australians or New Zealanders, have generally to
work in strong bands with their rifles close at hand.
Only a short time ago the two miners, Campion and King (whom I
have elsewhere mentioned), while working in the bed of a creek,
had just traded with some apparently friendly natives for a pig and
some yams, and sat down for a smoke and a rest, thinking that the
natives had left, but these cunning cannibals were awaiting just
such an opportunity, and were lying hid amidst the thick foliage
clothing the steep banks of the creek. Suddenly, making a rush, they
got between the miners and their rifles, and speared both in the
legs, taking care not to kill them, as the cannibals in this part
of New Guinea consider that meat tastes better, be it pig or man,
when cooked alive. They then tied them with ropes of rattan to long
poles and carried them off to their village, where they were both
roasted alive over a slow fire. These facts were gathered from some
prisoners afterwards captured by a government force. A strong band
of miners also attacked their villages, and gave no quarter.
On the fifth day of our stay here one of our police came rushing up
to us excitedly with the information that a whaleboat was in sight,
and we knew that a white man would be in it. There was at once a
cry from Monckton, "After you with the razor, Acland." Now it had
been understood that none of us were to shave during the expedition,
and consequently we had grown large crops of beards and whiskers,
and looked a veritable trio of cut-throats. However, it appeared
that Acland had smuggled away a razor-possibly for all we knew to
enable him to captivate some fair Amazon, who might otherwise have
thought he was only good for her cooking pot. Half-an-hour later three
clean-shaven individuals met a tall unshaven man as he stepped out
of his boat on to the beach, and his first remark was, "Oh, I say,
(reproachfully) you fellows, where's that razor!" It was Walsh,
Assistant Resident Magistrate for the Northern Division, and none of
us had met him before.
He and another Englishman, a celebrated trader named Clark (he was
an old resident, well-known in New Guinea), with a force of police,
were returning from an expedition down the coast, and were at present
encamped about sixteen miles south of here, near some small islands
known as Mangrove Islands.
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