Maria
Creek (about a dozen miles or so up the coast) is well known to be a
popular resort of the crocodile, and at the mouth, where the blacks wade
at low-water, an unusually big fellow had his headquarters. A member of
the Clump Point tribe, painfully afflicted with a vexatious skin
disease, was fishing at the mouth of the creek when his hook fouled. To
a companion he said he would dive to get it clear. His friend
endeavoured to dissuade him, reminding him of the crocodile which they
had, seen but a short time before. But the boy, worn with pain and weary
with never-ending irritation, said if he was taken--"No matter. Good
job. Me finished then." He dived, and there was a commotion in the
water. The boy appeared on the surface, making frantic appeals for help,
while the crocodile worried him. He escaped for a moment, and his friend
clutched his hand and drew him to the bank, only to have him torn from
his grasp. The blacks believe the crocodile took the fish bait in the
first instance and lured the boy to dive. The boy certainly knew the
risk he ran when he did so.
A new, if not altogether agreeable, sensation is added to the gentle art
if it is realised that a cruel and stealthy beast is engaged in a
similar pastime, with the fisherman as the object of its sport.
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