pressed, that three of the Assistant's crew were wounded, one afterwards
dying; and "the depth to which the arrows penetrated into the decks and
sides of the brig was reported to be truly astonishing." But bows and
arrows, on this as on many another occasion, were no match for gunnery;
so that, after a hot peppering, the Papuans gave up the fight, paddling
back to a safe distance as fast as they could, without exposing
themselves to fire. They rallied beyond reach of musket balls, as though
for a second onslaught, but a shot fired over their heads from the
Providence served to convince them of the hopelessness of their
endeavour, and they abandoned it.

An incident not without heroic pathos is recorded by Flinders. One native
was left sitting alone in the canoe which the gun-shot of the Providence
had raked and splintered. The men in the canoes which had made good their
flight observed their solitary companion, and some of them returned to
him; whereafter "with glasses, signals were perceived to be made by the
Indians to their friends on Dungeness Island, expressive, as was thought,
of grief and consternation." Whether the lone warrior was too severely
wounded to be moved, or whether he was some Papuan Casabianca clinging to
his shattered craft "whence all but he had fled" or been killed, or
hurled into the sea, we are not told. But that canoe had been foremost in
attack, perhaps the flagship of the squadron; and the memory of that
solitary warrior still sitting upon the floating wreck while his defeated
companions returned to him, and then left him, to explain his case with
gestures of grief to those on the island, clings to the memory of the
reader, as it did to that of the young observer and historian of the
encounter.

No more natives were seen during the passage through Torres Strait, nor
were there other incidents to enliven the narrative, unless we include