To our astonishment, our late man prisoner returned and said that his
chief wished to see us that night. At once there was a great commotion
among our police and the Notus, who all spoke excitedly together,
and were unanimous that this implied treachery, and that behind
the chief would come his men, who would attack us unawares. We also
learned that it was not their usual habit to make friendly visits at
night. Monckton thought the same, and told the man that if the chief or
any of his people came near the camp that night they would be shot. The
man also informed us that all his tribe had returned; no doubt swift
messengers went after them to bring them back. The man went, and we
waited expectantly for what might happen. Everyone seemed certain that
we should be attacked, and if so, we had a very poor chance with from
a thousand to fifteen hundred well-armed savages making a rush on us
in the semi-darkness, as there was no moon, and it was cloudy.
The enemy would rush up and close with our people, and while we should
not be able to distinguish friend from foe, we should not be able to
fire in the darkness at close quarters. They could then spear and club
us at will. Now we had always heard that Papuans never attack at night,
but the police and Notus told us that these Doboduras nearly always
attacked at night, and if we had known this before we should most
certainly have made ourselves a fortified camp outside the village.
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