Another Cat Island

Did This Happen in Torres Strait ?

I HAVE another version of Cat Island, from the writings of a gentleman named McManus. He apparently travelled so much and so widely that probably he got his notes mixed up when he wrote, “the flesh of my brother”— evidently based on the old cannibal adage “the flesh of my brother is no less sweet than the flesh of my brother's pig.” Mr.

McManus was out seeking cannibals and consequently every native or savage that he saw was in his eyes a potential flesh eater.

On one of his “kia kia” expeditions (he says that “kia kia’ means flesh eaters) he went to Malaita, and thence over into Papuan territory, where he captioned one of his illustrations, “monk eys—millions of them in New Guinea.”

This was the writer who as a precaution against malaria, ate a handful of garlic every day. He says that he was not approached by one anopheles mosquito.

This is one of the statements that is not open to doubt.

In the Torres Strait Islands Mr. Mc- Manus wrote a Cat Island story. It seems that a ship was wrecked, some how, just off this small island, and but one survivor, a man, made his way ashore.

He was so grateful that he named the island Deliverance Island, which I be lieve our friends will find in the vicinity of Latitude 7 deg. 30 min. South, and Longitude 141 deg. 35 min. East. Later a passing ship called in to take the survivor off, but he desired to remain with his deliverer. So the skipper left him a cat for a companion.

And then another ship came, and like wise left him another cat, but of the apposite sex. In time, there were many cats —more cats in fact than the old man could find food for.

As the story goes the cats began to sat the island lizards, which make cats yery wild and blood-thirsty. The rest, as you can guess, is simple. There be came a shortage of lizards, so the cats took after the old man. However, they left enough for a friend of our friend to bury.

However, it is my opinion that under the circumstances there are no cats left an Deliverance Island; as what can apply to the cannibals must have surely come to the cats and they have all eaten each other.

Our Californian friends might write the Administrator on Thursday Island for further clues; but, if that particular story was as “unfair dinkum” as some of the other fantastic bits in Mr. McManus' book, we might consider that he, too, had his tongue in his cheek.

What about the Thursday Islanders?

Let us have your comments please!—

Sumit.