One boy gave an exceptionally graphic description of a
lagoon on the top of one of the highest peaks of Hinchinbrook Island, in
which all manner of sea fish revelled. When doubt was expressed as to
the possibility of sea-water and sea-fish getting up so far "on top" and
it was suggested--"What you think, that old man humbug you?" "Yes,"
was the ready response; "me think that old fella no tell true. Him
humbug." Some blacks possess something wiser than knowledge.
On the northern aspect of Dunk Island, where the sea swirls about the
buttresses of the hills, there is a cavern only approachable by boat. The
mouth is overhung by vines and ferns, and through the moss which covers
the lintel water trickles and splashes with pleasant sound. When the
bronze orchid lavishly decorates the rocks with its crinkled flowers of
dull gold, the entrance has a specific character; and quite another when
the glossy leaves of the umbrella-tree form the relief and its long
radiating spikes of dull red, bead-like flowers attract the brilliant
sun-bird, and big blue and green and red butterflies. Even when the sea
is lustrous the cavern, with all the artfulness and grace of the
decorations of its portals, is a black blotch--the entrance to something
unknowable and unknown--at least to the blacks.
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