It Was Now About Three O'clock In The Afternoon, And The Boat Being
Launched, We Resolved To Reach Gould Island Before Dark.
The tent was soon
struck, the provisions stowed away, the priming of the carbines looked to
afresh, and in a few minutes we were sweeping across the small belt of
water that separated the two islands.
We approached the shore with
caution, for, as I mentioned before, the sides of Gould Island are
everywhere very steep, and hostile blacks, by simply dislodging some of the
loose masses of rock, could easily have smashed the boat and its crew to
pieces without exposing themselves to the slightest danger. Noiselessly,
and with every faculty painfully alert, we closed the land, sprang on to
the rocks, and at once set about the tedious task of breasting the hill.
Hill climbing, under the vertical sun of North Australia, is by no means an
enjoyable undertaking, more particularly when the loose shale and rock
gives way at every stride, bringing down an avalanche of rubbish on the
heads of the rearmost of the party. Encumbered with our carbines, we made
but slow progress, and it was nearly six o'clock before we attained the
summit, from whence we saw several canoes making their way with full speed
towards Hinchinbrook.
"So far then, so good," we said; "we have made certain that none of the
rascals are lurking about the two islands, and we are sure to get them now,
when we sweep Hinchinbrook."
We had now done everything that was possible until the 'Daylight' had
finished unloading, and so spread ourselves out about the island to see if
the blacks had left any of their curious implements behind them.
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