ted in fantastic colors,
danced or leaped about before a blazing fire. Some were rigged and
painted like birds and beasts, in which the emu and kangaroo were well
represented. One fellow leaped like a frog. Some had the human
skeleton painted on their bodies, while they jumped about
threateningly, spear in hand, ready to strike down some imaginary
enemy. The kangaroo hopped and danced with natural ease and grace,
making a fine figure. All kept time to music, vocal and instrumental,
the instruments (save the mark!) being bits of wood, which they beat
one against the other, and saucer-like bones, held in the palm of the
hands, which they knocked together, making a dull sound. It was a show
at once amusing, spectacular, and hideous.

The warrior aborigines that I saw in Queensland were for the most part
lithe and fairly well built, but they were stamped always with
repulsive features, and their women were, if possible, still more ill
favored.

I observed that on the day of the jubilee no foreign flag was waving
in the public grounds except the Stars and Stripes, which along with
the Union Jack guarded the gateway, and floated in many places, from
the tiniest to the standard size. Speaking to Mr. Douglas, I ventured
a remark on this compliment to my country. "Oh," said he, "this is a
family affair, and we do not consider the Stars and Stripes a foreign
flag." The _Spray_ of course flew her best bunting, and hoisted the
Jack as well as her own noble flag as high as she could.

On June 24 the _Spray_, well fitted in every way, sailed for the long
voyage ahead, down the Indian Ocean. Mr. Douglas gave her a flag as
she was leaving his island. The _Spray_ had now passed nearly all the
dangers of the Coral Sea and Torres Strait, which, indeed, were not a
few; and all ahead from this point was plain sailing and a straight
course. The trade-wind was still blowing fresh, and could be safely
counted on now down to the coast of Madagascar, if not beyond that,
for it was still early in the season.

I had no wish to arrive off the Cape of Good Hope before midsummer,
and it was now early winter. I had been off that cape once in July,
which was, of course, midwinter there. The stout ship I then commanded
encountered only fierce hurricanes, and she bore them ill. I wished
for no winter gales now. It was not that I feared them more, being in
the _Spray_ instead of a large ship, but that I preferred fine weather
in any case. It is true