Captain Barker and myself, from our ideas coinciding on several subjects, particularly relative to the Aborigines, soon became on very friendly terms. I learned from him that, shortly after his arrival, the natives, who, since an unfortunate affair at Bowen's Straits, had kept out of sight, again made their appearance in the vicinity of the settlement, when he used every endeavour to induce them to come into the camp, but without success, until a little child, belonging to one of the soldiers, went and led in the Chief, Wellington, by the hand. He was evidently under great alarm, looking back frequently, and addressing himself to Waterloo, his fidus Achates, who kept in his rear.
But, at length gathering confidence, and relying on the faith of the strangers, he ventured in, when he was treated with much kindness, and departed apparently highly pleased. On discovering the little native girl, both Wellington and Waterloo evinced great emotion, particularly the latter, who was, on that account, believed to be her father. Seeing her so well taken care of increased their confidence; she was then named Mary Waterloo Raffles,—but her native name was Riveral.
After this occurrence, the intercourse with the natives was renewed, and, as Captain Barker used every precaution to prevent their receiving injury or molestation from any individual in the camp, it continued unbroken, although a circumstance occurred, which was likely to cause some disturbance:—a Malay had come to the settlement, who pretended that he had been
