That evening, when in camp, we discovered the culprit to be no less a
personage than the sergeant of Walsh's police, who was in command of
the shore party, his sole excuse for breaking the law being that he
thought it too much trouble to climb the tree after the coconuts. When
the whole of the police force had been drawn up in line Monckton,
as leader of the expedition, cut the red stripes from the blue tunic
of the sergeant, and he was reduced to the ranks.
After a rough voyage, there being a good swell on, we arrived at
Walsh's camp on the mainland, opposite the Mangrove Islands, and
here we found Clark, whom I had met before in Samarai. The camp
was situated in the midst of a small native village, and later on
the inhabitants and others turned up armed with their stone clubs,
spears and shields, and offered to help us. They also wanted us to
go and fight their enemies a short way inland from here. Monckton's
reply was not over polite. He ended by ordering them at once to clear
out of their village, as he had no use for them.
Toward evening we all went pigeon shooting, as thousands of Torres
Straits pigeons flock round here at twilight and settle chiefly on
the small islands close to the mainland.
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