Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
History
Missing Friends: Being the Adventures of a Danish Emigrant in Queensland (1871-1880)
Weitemeyer, Thorvald Peter Ludwig
Queensland -- Description and travel
So now we were off again on our interminable voyage. Only our troubles
were over. Alas! for the complaint which I carried in my pocket, we were
all as healthy and strong a set of people as any one could wish to see,
for since we arrived in Bass's Strait we had been served with plenty of
food. Just now we lived on roast meat, potatoes, and pudding every day.
I could feel my cheeks grow redder and sleeker day by day. Alas! what
should I do? As a public man I was, of course, not allowed to change my
opinions, but when I looked at all these fellows gormandizing from
morning to night, it seemed to me a sort of treason to our cause. And
what was worse, I bore no ill-will to anybody. Surely the Danish consul,
if there was one, would expect to see a lot of emaciated objects when we
had been starved so cruelly, and I myself so anxious to get something to
do. I might be hindered, and have to travel about more yet, and, if I
could not prove the truth, be cast into prison! I often wish the
complaint was as nearly forgotten as our troubles seemed to be. Yet,
after all the talk there had been, it was too late to draw back. The
ship was now for a whole week longer sailing northwards, always in sight
of land--often, indeed, so close that we could almost have thrown
biscuits ashore. The whole way along was dotted with small islands,
which became more numerous the further north we sailed. There must be
some thousands of them if they were all counted, but with the exception
of a few of the largest which lie near Brisbane, they are nearly all
uninhabited.
To look at the coast on the mainland, one would think that the man who
said he would be satisfied if he only saw plenty of trees in Queensland,
ought to feel contented. It seemed to us one vast forest. Occasionally
we saw smoke curling up from among the trees, and at night we could see
large fires. This was the dry grass burning among the trees, a very
common thing in Queensland, but to us it was a most startling and
awe-inspiring sight. We thought that it was the aboriginals who were
trying to get on to the ship, and that these were their fires. One
night the fires extended for many miles, and a most beautiful sight it
was, but no one gave a thought to its being a bush-fire. We simply said,
"What a lot of them there must be? Why, there must be more niggers here
than there were Frenchmen at Sedan. Look at their fires!" And then we
thought it strange that we did not get our weapons back again that they
had taken from us when we came on board. I do not think any one was
afraid. I myself rather liked the novelty of being so near the "enemy."
We would sit and discuss how many we thought we could keep out,
supposing, for argument's sake, that they dared to come--and altogether
we felt ourselves great heroes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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