120 WHITE— A Sketch of the Life of Samuel White. 



out on the west side of the island beyond where Andrews was 

 lost. The beach along the coast is rocky and impassable, 

 and as darkness was coming on we could not think of going 



Through the scrub again, so made up our minds to wait till 

 morning on the shore, but just as light was going a native 

 prau came past on its way to the mouth of the Watalli ChaH- 

 nel. We waded out and boarded the native craft. After a 



long time poling along the coast, on and off reefs, we got near 

 enough to make our people hear us, as the yacht had that day 

 dragged her anchor about two miles down stream. A boat 

 came off and took us on board at midnight. The weather 

 had been excessively wet, the rain poured down continually 

 all day till dark, when it eased up for a short time." 



It is only a keen field ornithologist who can enter into 

 the deep feelings which impelled my father to write these 

 notes. Can the reader follow this wonderful field worker 

 wading up a stream past his waist treading over 

 the cruel coral, forcing his way through prickly jungle, rain 

 falling incessantly, soaked to the skin. Then all is forgot- 

 ten, and he is kneeling amidst the wet fallen leaves of a. tropi- 

 cal jungle with a great bird of paradise in his hands; there 

 on the spot he is noting up the colour of the soft parts before 

 they fade in death, not only that, but taking notes of the won- 

 derful lustre of the great bird, and he says in his notes he has 

 accomplished that which brought him to the Aru Islands, and 

 had seen Paradisea apoda in all its glory in its native habitat, 

 Taking his precious prize he has to plunge into the jungle, gets 

 off his bearings, and comes out many miles along the coast 

 from the yacht, rain falling all the time; at midnight he is 

 able to change and get food. Not a word of complaint or 

 comment upon the great privation is found in nis notes, for 

 he had succeeded in his quest. His must have been indeed 

 a contitution of iron, but he overdid it as the sequel of this 

 short sketch will show. The next day, the 8th, was again 

 wet, so my father and his two collectors remained on board 

 and cured specimens, the owner of the yacht trading with 

 the natives, which thronged the vessel all day. It required 

 no end of time and patience to trade with these men. "No" 

 would be said to one man twenty times or more, yet still he 

 would persist in offering his stuff. My father gave orders 

 to shift the yacht about two miles up stream, and the anchor 

 was dropped just off the end of the island in ten fathoms of 

 water over a rocky bottom. In between the showers during 

 the afternoon Oockerell took the dinghey and pulled on shore 



