WEAPONS OF THE AUSTRALIANS, THEIR FORMS AND USES — THE CLUB OR WADDY, AND ITS VARIOUS FORMS — USES OF THE WADDY — A DOMESTIC PANACEA — AN AUSTRALIAN DUEL — THICK SKULLS OF THE NATIVES — LOVE OF THE NATIVE FOR HIS WADDY — THE BLACK POLICE FORCE — THE MISSILE WADDY — THE KATTA, OR DIGGING-STICK, AND ITS VARIED USES — HOW AN AUSTRALIAN DIGS A HOLE — THE STONE TOMAHAWK AND ITS USE — THE ASCENT OF TREES — HOW AN AUSTRALIAN KNOWS WHETHER AN ANIMAL IS IN A TREE — SMOKING OUT THE PREY — THE BLACK-BOY GUM — THE GRASS-TREE OF AUSTRALIA — THE AUSTRALIAN SAW.

As in the course of the following pages all the weapons of the Australian will have to be mentioned, we will take the opportunity of describing them at once, without troubling ourselves as to the peculiar locality in which each modification is found.

We will begin with the club, the simplest of all weapons. Several examples of the club are to be seen in the illustration entitled “Australian Clubs,” on the 722d page. All the figures are drawn from actual specimens, some belonging to my own collection, some being sketched from examples in the British Museum, and others being taken from the fine collection of Colonel Lane Fox.

The simplest form of Australian club is that which is known by the name of “waddy,” and which is the favorite weapon of an Australian savage, who never seems to be happy without a waddy in his hands, no matter what other weapons he may happen to carry. One of these waddies may be seen at fig. 4. and another at fig. 5. The latter is a specimen in my own collection, and affords a very good example of the true Australian waddy. It is made of the tough and heavy wood of the gum-tree, and is really a most effective weapon, well balanced, and bears marks of long usage. The length is two feet eight inches, and, as the reader may see from the illustration, it is sharpened at the point, so that in close combat it can be used for stabbing as well as for striking. It weighs exactly twenty-one ounces.

Four deep grooves run along the waddy, from the point to the spot where it is grasped, and seem to be intended as edges whereby a blow may cut through the skin as well as inflict a bruise. Besides these grooves, there are sundry carvings which the native evidently has thought to be ornamental. On two of the sides the pattern is merely the double-headed T seen in the illustration, but on the other two sides the pattern is varied. In every case the top figure is the double T; but on one side there is first a T, then a cross with curved arms, then a T, and then a pattern that looks something like a key, having a bow at each end. The fourth side is evidently unfinished, there being only two patterns on it; the second, evidently an attempt to imitate the letter B, showing that the maker had some acquaintance with civilization.

With this waddy the native is better armed than most men would be with the keenest sword that ever was forged, and with it he strikes and stabs with marvellous rapidity, seeming to be actuated, when in combat, by an uncontrollable fury. He can use it as a missile with deadly effect; and if, as is generally the case, he has several of these waddies in his hand, he will hurl one or two of them in rapid succession, and, while the antagonist is still attempting to avoid the flying weapon, precipitate himself upon the foe, and attack him with the waddy which he has reserved for hand-to-hand combat.

The waddy is the Australian panacea for domestic troubles, and if one of his wives should presume to have an opinion of her own, or otherwise to offend her dusky lord, a blow on the head from the ever-ready waddy settles the dispute at once by leaving her senseless on the ground. Sometimes the man strikes the offender on a limb, and breaks it; but he does not do this unless he should be too angry to calculate that, by breaking his slave’s arm or leg, he deprives himself of her services for a period.

With the Australian man of honor the waddy takes the place which the pistol once held in England and the United States, and is the weapon by which disputes are settled. In case two Australians of reputation should fall out, one of them challenges the other to single combat, sending him a derisive message to the effect that he had better bring his stoutest waddy with him, so that he may break it on the challenger’s head.

Thickness of skull—a reproach in some parts of the world—is among the Australians a matter of great boast, and one Australian can hardly insult another in more contemptuous words than by comparing his skull to an emu’s egg-shell. I have examined several skulls of Australian natives, and have been much surprised by two points: the first is the astonishing thickness and hardness of the bone, which seems capable of resisting almost any blow that could be dealt by an ordinary weapon; and the second is the amount of injury which an Australian skull can endure. Owing to the thickness of the skull, the Australian puts his head to strange uses, one of the oddest of which is his custom of breaking sticks on his head instead of snapping them across the knee.

In due time the combatants appear on the ground, each bearing his toughest and heaviest waddy, and attended by his friends. After going through the usual gesticulations and abuse which always precede a duel between savages, the men set definitely to work.

The challenged individual takes his waddy, and marches out into the middle of the space left by the spectators. His adversary confronts him, but unarmed, and stooping low, with his hands on his knees, he offers his head to the opponent. The adversary executes a short dance of delight at the blow which he is going to deal, and then, after taking careful aim, he raises his waddy high in the air, and brings it down with all his force on the head of his foe.

The blow would fell an ordinary ox; but the skull of an Australian is made of sterner stuff than that of a mere ox, and the man accordingly raises himself, rubs his head, and holds out his hand to his nearest friend, who gives him the waddy, which he is about to use in his turn. The challenged man now takes his turn at stooping, while the challenger does his best to smash the skull of the antagonist. Each man, however, knows from long experience the hardest part of his own skull, and takes care to present it to the enemy’s blow. In this way they continue to exchange blows until one of them falls to the ground, when the victory is decided to remain with his antagonist.

In consequence of the repeated injuries to which the head of a native Australian is subjected, the skull of a warrior presents, after death, a most extraordinary appearance, being covered with dents, fractures, and all kinds of injuries, any one of which would have killed an European immediately, but which seems to have only caused temporary inconvenience to the Australian.

So fond is the Australian of his waddy, that even in civilized life he cannot be induced to part with it. Some of my readers may be aware that a great number of captives are now enrolled among the police, and render invaluable service to the community, especially against the depredations of their fellow-blacks whom they persecute with a relentless vigor that seems rather surprising to those who do not know the singular antipathy which invariably exists between wild and tamed animals, whether human or otherwise. In fact, the Australian native policeman is to the colonist what the “Totty” of South Africa is to the Dutch and English colonists, what the Ghoorka or Sikh of India is to the English army, and what the tamed elephant of Ceylon or India is to the hunter.

These energetic “black fellows” are armed with the ordinary weapons of Europeans, and are fully acquainted with their use. But there is not one of them who thinks himself properly armed unless he has his waddy; and, when he enters the bush in search of native thieves, he will lay aside the whole of his clothing, except the cap which marks his office, will carry his gun with him, buckle his cartouch-pouch round his naked waist, and will take his waddy as a weapon, without which even the gun would seem to him an insufficient weapon.

This form of waddy (fig. 4), although it is often used as a missile, is not the one which the native prefers for that purpose. His throwing waddy or “wadna,” is much shorter and heavier, and very much resembles the short missile club used so effectively by the Polynesians. Two other forms of waddy are shown at figs. 3 and 5, the latter of which is generally known by the name of “piccaninny waddy,” because it is generally smaller and lighter than the others, and can be used by a child.

Nos. 1 and 2 are also clubs, but are made in a different form, and used in a different manner. If the reader will refer to the account of the Abyssinian curved sword, or shotel, he will see that in general form it much resembles this club, the long pointed head of each being equally useful in striking downward over a shield. This weapon is not only used in combat, but is employed in the native dances to beat time by repeated strokes on the shield.

The reader will notice that many of these clubs have the ends of the handles pointed. This formation is partly for the purpose of increasing their efficiency as offensive weapons, and partly for another object. As was the case with the warriors of the Iliad, both combatants will occasionally rest, and give each other time to breathe, before renewing the fight. During these intervals the Australian combatants squat down, dig up the earth with the handle of the club, and rub their hands with the dusty soil, in order to prevent the weapons from slipping out of their grasp.

This club is made in a very ingenious way, the artificer taking advantage of some gnarled branch, and cutting it so that the grain of the wood follows the curve, or rather the angle of the head, which adds greatly to its strength. A club of almost the same shape, and cut similarly from the angle of a branch, is used in New Caledonia, and, but for the great superiority of the workmanship, might easily be mistaken for the angular club of the Australian.

This particular form of club has a tolerably wide range, and among the tribes which inhabit the shores of Encounter Bay is called Marpangye.

In many parts of Australia the natives have a curious weapon which much resembles a sword. It is from three to four feet in length, is flat, about three inches in width, and has the outer edge somewhat sharpened. Being made of the close-grained wood of the gum-tree, it is very heavy in proportion to its size, and in practised hands is a most formidable weapon.

The Australian women carry an instrument which is sometimes thought to be a spear, and sometimes a club, but which in the hands of a woman is neither, though a man will sometimes employ it for either purpose. It is simply a stick of variable length, sharpened at one end and the point hardened by fire. It is called by the natives the “katta,” and is popularly known by the appropriate name of the digging-stick.

With this stick the natives contrive to dig up the ground in a most astonishing manner, and an English “navvy,” with his pick, spade, and barrow, would feel considerably surprised at the work which is done by the naked black, who has no tools except a pointed stick. Let, for example, a navvy be set to work at the task of digging out an echidna from its hole, and he would find his powers of digging baffled by the burrowing capabilities of the animal, which would make its way through the earth faster than could the navvy. In order to sink some six feet deep into the ground, the white man would be obliged to make a funnel-shaped hole of very large size, so as to allow him to work in it, and to give the pick and spade free play as he threw out the soil.

The black man, on the contrary, would have no such difficulty, but knows how to sink a hole without troubling himself to dig a foot of needless soil. This he does by handling the katta precisely as the Bosjesman handles his digging-stick, i. e. by holding it perpendicularly, jobbing the hardened point into the ground, and throwing out with his hands the loosened earth.

In digging out one of the burrowing animals, the black hunter pushes a long and flexible stick down the hole, draws it out, measures along the ground to the spot exactly above the end of the burrow, replaces the stick, and digs down upon it. By the time that he has reached it, the animal has gone on digging, and has sunk its burrow still further. The stick is then pushed into the lengthened burrow, and again dug down upon; and the process is repeated until the tired animal can dig no more, and is captured. The katta also takes the part of a weapon, and can be wielded very effectively by a practised hand, being used either for striking or thrusting.

We now come to a curious instrument which is often thought to be a weapon, but which, although it would answer such a purpose very well, is seldom used for it. This is the tomahawk, or hammer, as it is generally called. Three varieties of the tomahawk are given in the illustration “Tomahawks” on the 722d page. In all of them the cutting part is made of stone and the handle of wood, and the head and the handle are joined in several different ways, according to the fashion of the locality in which the instrument is made. The simplest plan is that which is shown in fig. 1. In this instrument, a conveniently shaped piece of stone has been selected for a head, and the handle is made of a flexible stick bent over it, and the two ends firmly lashed together, just as the English blacksmith makes handles for his punches and cold chisels. This weapon was made in New South Wales.

At fig. 3 is shown a tomahawk of a more elaborate construction. Here the stone head has been lashed to the shaft by a thong, which is wrapped over it in a way that exactly resembles the lashing employed by the New Zealander or the Dyak for the same purpose. The tomahawk at fig. 4 is, however, the best example of the instrument, and is taken from a specimen in the British Museum. The handle and head are shaped much like those of fig. 3, but the fastening is much more elaborate.

In the first place, the head is held to the handle by lashings of sinews, which are drawn from the tail of the kangaroo, and always kept in readiness by the Australian savage. The sinews are steeped in hot water, and pounded between two stones, in order to separate them into fibres; and, while still wet and tolerably elastic, they are wrapped round the stone and the handle. Of course, as they dry, they contract with great force, and bind the head and handle together far more securely than can be done with any other material. Even raw hide does not hold so firmly as sinew.

When the sinew lashing is perfectly dry, the native takes a quantity of the peculiar substance called “black-boy” wax, and kneads it over the head and the end of the handle, so as to bind everything firmly together.

Another instrument is shown at fig. 2, in which the combination of stone and vegetable is managed in another way. The blade is formed from a piece of quartz about as long as a man’s hand, which has been chipped into the form of a spear-head. The handle, instead of being a piece of wood, is simply a number of fibres made into a bundle. The base of the stone head has been pushed among the loose ends of the fibres, and then the whole has been bound firmly together by a lashing of string made of reeds. This is a sort of dagger; and another form of the same instrument is made by simply sharpening a stick about eighteen inches in length, and hardening the sharpened end in the fire. It is, in fact, a miniature katta, but is applied to a different purpose.

These axes and daggers have been mentioned together, because they are used for the same purpose, namely, the ascent of trees.

Active as a monkey, the Australian native can climb any tree that grows. Should they be of moderate size, he ascends them, not by clasping the trunk with his legs and arms (the mode which is generally used in England), and which is popularly called “swarming.” Instead of passing his legs and arms round the tree-trunk as far as they can go, he applies the soles of his feet to it in front, and presses a hand against it on either side, and thus ascends the tree with the rapidity of a squirrel. This mode of ascent is now taught at every good gymnasium in England, and is far superior to the old fashion, which has the disadvantage of slowness, added to the certainty of damaging the clothes.

Those who have seen our own acrobats performing the feat called La Perche, in which one man balances another on the top of a pole, or the extraordinary variations on it performed by the Japanese jugglers, who balance poles and ladders on the soles of their feet, will be familiar with the manner in which one of the performers runs up the pole which is balanced by his companion. It is by this method that the Australian ascends a tree of moderate dimensions, and, when he is well among the boughs, he traverses them with perfect certainty and quickness.

Trees which will permit the man to ascend after this fashion are, however, rather scarce in the Australian forests, and, moreover, there is comparatively little inducement to climb them, the hollows in which the bees make their nests and the beasts take up their diurnal abode being always in the branch or trunk of some old and decaying tree. Some of these trees are so large that their trunks are veritable towers of wood, and afford no hold to the hands; yet they are ascended by the natives as rapidly as if they were small trees.

By dint of constant practice, the Australian never passes a tree without casting a glance at the bark, and by that one glance he will know whether he will need to mount it. The various arboreal animals, especially the so called opossums, cannot ascend the tree without leaving marks of their claws in the bark. There is not an old tree that has not its bark covered with scratches, but the keen and practised eye of the native can in a moment distinguish between the ascending and descending marks of the animal, and can also determine the date at which they were made.

The difference between the marks of an ascending and descending animal is easy enough to see when it has once been pointed out. When an animal climbs a tree, the marks of its claws are little more than small holes, with a slight scratch above each, looking something like the conventional “tears” of heraldry. But, when it descends, it does so by a series of slippings and catchings, so that the claws leave long scratches behind them. Nearly all arboreal animals, with the exception of the monkey tribe, leave marks of a similar character, and the bear hunter of North America and the possum hunter of Australia are guided by similar marks.

Should the native hunter see an ascending mark of more recent date than the other scratches, he knows that somewhere in the tree lies his intended prey. Accordingly, he lays on the ground everything that may impede him, and, going to the tree-trunk, he begins to deliver a series of chopping blows with his axe. These blows are delivered in pairs, and to an Englishman present rather a ludicrous reminiscence of the postman’s double rap. By each of these double blows he chops a small hole in the tree, and manages so as to cut them alternately right and left, and at intervals of two feet or so.

Having cut these notches as high as he can reach, he places the great toe of his left foot in the lowermost hole, clasps the tree with his left arm, and strikes the head of the tomahawk into the tree as high as he can reach. Using the tomahawk as a handle by which he can pull himself up, he lodges the toe of his right foot in the second hole, and is then enabled to shift the toe of the left foot into the third hole. Here he waits for a moment, holding tightly by both his feet and the left hand and arm, while he cuts more notches; and, by continuing the process, he soon reaches the top of the tree.

When he reaches the first branch, he looks carefully to find the spot toward which the tell-tale scratches are directed, and, guided by them alone, he soon discovers the hole in which the animal lies hidden. He tests the dimensions of the hollow by tapping on the trunk with the axe, and, if it should be of moderate depth, sets at work to chop away the wood, and secure the inmate.

Should, however, the hollow be a deep one, he is obliged to have recourse to another plan. Descending the tree by the same notches as those by which he had climbed it, he takes from his bundle of belongings a fire-stick, i. e. a sort of tinderlike wood, which keeps up a smouldering fire, like that of the willow “touchwood” so dear to schoolboys. Wrapping up the fire-stick in a bundle of dry grass and leaves, he reascends the tree, and, when he has reached the entrance of the burrow, he whirls the bundle round his head until the fire spreads through the mass, and the grass bursts into flame.

As soon as it is well inflamed, he pushes some of the burning material into the burrow, so as to fall upon the enclosed animal, and to rouse it from the heavy sleep in which it passes the hours of daylight. He also holds the rest of the torch at the entrance of the burrow, and manages to direct the smoke into it. Did he not rouse the animal by the burning leaves, he would run a chance of suffocating it in its sleep. This may seem to be a very remote contingency, but in fact it is very likely to happen. I have known a cat to be baked alive in an oven, and yet not to have awaked from sleep, as was evident by the attitude in which the body of the animal was found curled up, with its chin on its paws, and its tail wrapped round its body. Yet the slumber of a domesticated cat, which can sleep as often as it likes in the day or night, is not nearly so deep as that which wraps in oblivion the senses of a wild animal that is abroad all night, and whose whole structure is intended for a nocturnal life.

The chopping holes, and getting the toes into them, seems in theory to be rather a tedious business, but in practice it is quite the contrary, the native ascending almost as quickly as if he were climbing a ladder. As the large trees are so capable of containing the animals on which the Australians feed, there is scarcely one which does not exhibit several series of the notches that denote the track of a native. Strange to say, the Australian hunters will not avail themselves of the notches that have been made by other persons, but each man chops a new series of holes for himself every time that he wants to ascend a tree.

Sometimes a man sees the track of an animal or the indication of a bee’s nest on a tree when he happens not to have an axe in hand. In such a case he is still able to ascend the tree, for he can make use of the dagger which has been already described, punching holes in the bark, and pulling himself up exactly as if he had a tomahawk, the only difference being that the holes are smaller and the work is harder.

When the hunter has once found the entrance of the burrow, the capture of the inmate is simply a matter of time, as the heat and smoke are sure to force it into the air, where it has the double disadvantage of being half-choked with smoke and being blind with the flame and the daylight, to which its eyes are unaccustomed. A blow on the head from the tomahawk, or a stab from the dagger, renders it senseless, when it is flung on the ground, and the successful hunter proceeds to traverse the tree in case some other animal may be hidden in it.

The skill of the natives in tree climbing is also exercised for another purpose besides hunting for bees and animals. The well-known cabbage-palm grows to a very great height, and, like other palms, never grows quite straight, but has always a bend in the trunk. After the manner of the palm-tribe, it grows by a succession of buds from the top, and this bud, popularly called the “cabbage,” is a favorite article of food. It has been called the prince of vegetables, and one enthusiastic traveller declares that it must have been the ambrosia of the Olympic gods. The removal of the bud causes the death of the tree, and for that reason the vegetable is forbidden in civilized regions under penalty of a heavy fine. The savage, however, who has no idea of care for the morrow, much less of looking forward to future years, takes the bud wherever he meets it, caring nothing for the death of the useful tree. He ascends by means of a little wooden dagger, or warpoo, or makes use of the tomahawk. The quartz dagger which was shown in a previous illustration would not be used for tree climbing, unless the owner could not procure a tomahawk or warpoo. Its chief use is as a weapon, and it can be also employed as a knife, by means of which the savage can mutilate a fallen enemy, after the manner which will be described when we come to treat of warfare in Australia.

The “black-boy” gum, which plays so large a part in the manufacture of Australian weapons and implements, is obtained from the grass-tree, popularly called the “black boy,” because at a distance it may easily be mistaken for a native, with his spear and cloak. It is very tenacious in its own country, but when brought to England it becomes brittle, and is apt to break away from the weapon in fragments, just as does a similar preparation called “kurumanni” gum, which is made by the natives of Guiana. It is quite black, and when dry is extremely hard.

The grass-tree is one of the characteristic plants of Australia, and partakes of the strange individuality of that curious country. The trunk is cylindrical, and looks like that of a palm, while an enormous tuft of long leaves starts from the top and droops in all directions, like a gigantic plume of feathers. The flower shoots up straight from the centre; and the long stalk becomes, when dried, so hard, tough, and light, that it is made into spear shafts.

There is in my collection an Australian saw (illustrated on page 722), in the manufacture of which the black-boy gum plays a considerable part. No one would take it for a saw who did not know the implement, and indeed it looks much more like a rude dagger than a saw. It is made from a piece of wood usually cut from a branch of the gum-tree, and about as thick as a man’s finger at the thickest part, whence it tapers gradually to a point. The average length of the saw is fourteen inches, though I have seen them nearly two feet long.

Along the thicker end is cut a groove, which is intended to receive the teeth of the saw. These teeth are made from chips of quartz or obsidian, the latter being preferred; and some makers, who have been brought in contact with civilization, have taken to using fragments of glass bottles. A number of flat and sharp-edged chips are selected as nearly as possible of the same size, and being on an average as large as a shilling. These the natives insert into the groove with their sharp edges uppermost. A quantity of black-boy wax is then warmed and applied to them, the entire wood of the saw being enveloped in it, as well as the teeth for half their depth, so as to hold them firmly in their places. As the chips of stone are placed so as to leave little spaces between them, the gaps are filled in with this useful cement.

For Australian work this simple tool seems to answer its purpose well enough. Of course it is very slow in its operation, and no great force can be applied to it, lest the teeth should be broken, or twisted out of the cement. The use of this saw entails great waste of material, time, and labor; but as the first two of these articles are not of the least value to the natives, and the third is of the lightest possible kind, the tool works well enough for its purpose. A perfect specimen of this saw is not often seen in this country, as the black-boy wax flakes off, and allows the teeth to drop out of their place. Even in my own specimen, which has been carefully tended, the wax has been chipped off here and there, while in instruments that have been knocked about carelessly scarcely a tooth is left in its place. Owing to the pointed end of the handle, the saw can be used after the fashion of a dagger, and can be employed, like the warpoo, for the ascent of trees.