leaf at the elbows and wrists—­evidently the Adonis of the party.  Some of the men had formerly been off to the ship, and one or two carried axes of the usual form, but headed with pieces of our iron hoop, neatly ground to a fine edge.  A few coconuts were given us for a knife or two, and we saw their mode of climbing for them, which one man did with the agility of a monkey, ascending first by a few notches, made years ago, afterwards by clasping the trunk with his arms, arching his body with the feet against the tree, and then walking up precisely in the mode of the Torres Strait Islanders.  Like these last people too, they open the nut with a sharp stick, and use a shell (a piece of mother-of-pearl oyster) for scraping out the pulp.  After a stay of half an hour we returned to the boat leaving the natives in good humour.  Our search for a safe anchorage for the ship was unsuccessful, so we returned on board.

July 3rd.

After the good understanding which appeared to have been established yesterday, I was rather surprised at observing the suspicious manner in which we were received today by the people on Brierly Island.  In two boats we went round to a small sandy point on the northern side of the island where seven or eight canoes were hauled up on the beach, but some time elapsed before any of the natives came close up—­even to a single unarmed man of our party who waded ashore—­the others remaining in the boats—­although tempted by the display of pieces of iron hoop and strips of calico.  One of the natives, carrying a wooden sword, and apparently a leading man among them, made some signs and used gesticulations expressive of sleep or death with reference to a part of Joannet Island which he repeatedly pointed to.  This we could not understand.* After a certain degree of confidence had been restored, five or six of us remained on shore, and great harmony appeared to prevail throughout the combined party.  In one place the sergeant of marines was seated on the sand with a ring of people round him whom he was drilling into the mode of singing a Port Essington aboriginal song, occasionally rising to vary his lesson with a dance—­in another, a group of natives were being initiated in the mysteries of the Jew’s harp, or kept amused by the performance of various antics.  Mr. Huxley as usual, was at work with his sketch-book, and I employed myself in procuring words for an incipient vocabulary.  My principal informant was called Wadai, a little withered old man with shaved head, on which someone had stuck a red night-cap which greatly took his fancy.  Not being of so volatile a nature as the others he remained patiently with me for half an hour.

(Footnote.  Although not understood at the time, he referred to an affray between two boats detached from the ship on surveying service and some Joannet Island canoes, which had occurred only a few hours before at the place indicated; of this we had not yet heard, but the news had reached Brierly Island, and occasioned our strange reception.  This is a remarkable instance of the rapidity with which intelligence may be conveyed from one island to another.)