The aboriginal Jackey Jackey.
This native accompanied the expedition of Mr. Kennedy from Rockingham
Bay to Cape York, in 1848, one of the most calamitous attempts at
discovery on record, except perhaps Leichhardt’s.
The expedition was over-equipped with twenty-eight horses, three carts,
100 sheep, and ample supplies of all sorts—more like an expedition for
settlement than a mere exploring party.
They landed at Rockingham Bay, thirteen in number. Jackey was a native
of Patrick’s Plains, and proved himself intelligent, faithful, and
trustworthy throughout this very disastrous expedition, in which all
but two perished besides Jackey Jackey, who survived after he had
faithfully led on the expedition, and, as we shall see by the sequel,
watched over Kennedy’s dying moments.
After landing, they pursued their way through swamps and mangrove bush,
through which they had to cut their way to make a passage for their
sheep, &c. At length they had to abandon their carts and heavy luggage.
Jackey Jackey always in the front, the natives proving hostile, they
reached a native camp, quite a village, the gunyahs neatly built, of
a conical form, about 5½ feet diameter, 6 feet high, substantial, to
keep out the rain, with stone ovens for baking, &c., much superior to
the usual huts, indicating a better class of natives, but not less
ferocious.
The party were now reduced to killing their horses, lean and miserable
as they were, seldom meeting any game or fish, and they were attacked
by sickness, and the sheep fell away. Their situation became each day
more critical, and it became necessary to appoint an advance party to
try and reach Cape York. Thus they parted at Weymouth Bay, Kennedy and
his party pushing on, leaving eight of their party there, a few of the
horses and other stores to subsist on; the object being to reach Cape
York, and there to meet a vessel in waiting, and so relieve them.
The party here were left under Mr. Carron, the botanist, to whom we are
chiefly indebted for the sequel of this unfortunate expedition. Six of
the men died, leaving Carron and another, who had been wounded, to be
mercifully delivered when at the very extremities of existence. Such
was their extremity that, the kangaroo dog being very weak, they killed
him, and lived on him two days. The natives, they say, were a much
finer race than they had yet seen.
Three more of the party were left behind at Pudding-pan Hill, they
being unable to travel, while Jackey Jackey and Mr. Kennedy pressed
forward until they came in sight of Port Albany, Kennedy stating
to Jackey Jackey “A ship is there—you see that island there.” Thus
close to deliverance, it was here Kennedy met his death. A party of
natives surrounded them, and Kennedy was wounded by a spear in the
back. Jackey pulled out the spear and fired at the blacks, wounding
one of them. The blacks speared Kennedy in the leg and then in the
right side; Jackey cut the spear out. The horses got speared also, and
became unmanageable. “Mr. Kennedy became stupid through his wounds,
and I carried him into the scrub. He said ‘Don’t carry me a good way.’
I asked him, ‘Are you well now?’ He replied, ‘I don’t care for the
spear-wound in my leg, but for the wounds in my side and back; I am
bad inside.’ I told him blackfellows always die when they are speared
in the back. ‘Mr. Kennedy, are you going to leave me?’ He said, ‘Yes,
my boy, I am going to leave you; you take my books to the captain, but
not the big ones; the Governor will give you anything for them.’ Then I
tied up the papers, and Mr. K. said, ‘Give me paper and I will write,’
but he fell back and died. I cried a good deal until I got well, that
was about an hour, and then I buried him—covered him over with logs and
grass, and my shirt and trousers. I then went on. Sometimes I had to
walk in the water; then through scrub. Many spears were thrown at me.
At length I reached Port Albany, where I was recognized by the captain
of the waiting vessel.”
Having related, the death of poor Kennedy, the vessel was immediately
got under weigh, and proceeded to where the three men had been left,
but were unsuccessful in their search. Found a canoe with a cloak in
it, and other cloaks of the natives; therefore concluded that the
three unfortunate men had been murdered. They therefore sped their
way to the relief of Mr. Carron and his party, Weymouth Bay, where
they rescued Messrs. Carron and Goddard, the only survivors of that
party. These two men were unable to move without assistance, and had
despaired of relief. They had seen a vessel standing into the bay, and
made signals, but she altered her course, and so all hope of rescue
was given up. The discovery of these two men is well described. Jackey
Jackey led the party. After landing he was very tired. At last he
exclaimed, “I see camp.” Well done, Jackey. Suddenly he exclaimed, “I
see two whitefellows sit down in camp.” When they came up to them they
were two of the most pitiable beings possible. They were the only two
left of the eight; six had perished. Jackey Jackey said, “You see the
blackfellow there; you leave the tent and go to the vessel as fast as
you can.” The captain went into the tent to try and remove some things,
but Jackey Jackey said, “You leave him tent everything altogether; get
the two whitefellows into the boat quickly.” They took, however, some
important things, and then started in the boat. Carron’s legs were
terribly swollen. The vessel then proceeded to Sydney.
The Government despatched Captain Simpson in the “Freak,” with Jackey
Jackey as a guide, to recover the journals and papers of poor Kennedy.
Search was made along the coast for the three men, but unavailingly.
The pillaged camp was found, with books and everything scattered about.
They found the remains of Walsh and Niblet, who were unburied; these
they buried. They only found in the search along the coast a leather
pistol-holster, marked 37. Jackey was confident that these three men
had been murdered. The next object was to recover Kennedy’s journals
and papers. In this Jackey Jackey displayed his usual intelligence. On
their track he pointed out the place where he had left the saddle-bags,
but these could not be found; but a sextant and horizon-glass were
found. Jackey told the party to look out for broken spears, and shortly
they found the place where Kennedy told Jackey not to carry him any
farther; also the place where Jackey had washed his wounds, and where
he had given Jackey his instructions about his papers. The sextant and
some other scientific things were found. The party found the papers and
diary, but not Kennedy’s grave. Poor Jackey was very quiet, and felt
deeply through the day, and tears started from his eyes when searching
for the remains, while his feelings against the natives were very
bitter. The papers had been pulled out of the tree, probably by a rat,
and were somewhat injured.
“I cannot close my extracts without mentioning the exemplary conduct
of Jackey Jackey. I have always found him quiet, obliging, and very
respectful. When on shore he was very attentive, and his mind fixed on
one object. The sagacity and knowledge he displayed were astonishing.
When he found the place we were in search of he was never flushed, but
quiet and unobtrusive. He was much concerned at not being able to find
the remains of his master, to whom he was sincerely attached.
J. B. SIMPSON,
Master of the ‘Freak.’”
The melancholy condition to which Mr. Carron, the botanist, and Goddard
were reduced, and their delivery, is well described by the survivor.
“Six weeks,” he says, “had expired since Mr. Kennedy left us. Our shot
was all but expended. This morning we ate the two pigeons and boiled
the tea-leaves. Lap, the sheep-dog, remained our only companion, and
him we determined to kill, however poor; but a native now advanced and
gave me a piece of dirty paper. This was a note from Captain Dodson,
then in the bay. Joy filled our minds, and I gave the native an
answer, but he threw it away and joined the other natives, probably to
murder us. Just then I saw Captain Dodson and Dr. Vallack and Jackey
approaching, with a man named Barrett, who had been wounded a few days
before. I was reduced almost to a skeleton; the elbow-bone of my right
arm was through the skin; the bone of my hip also; my legs were swollen
enormously; I was carried to the boat.”
He then describes the few things he saved. Here it was he heard of
the tragic death of poor Kennedy. It would ill become me to add
anything to the artless narrative of the faithful and true-hearted
Jackey, who, having tended Kennedy’s last moments and closed his eyes,
was perhaps the most interested bewailer of his unhappy fate. The
character throughout of Jackey Jackey is one of fidelity, sympathy, and
affectionate endurance, seldom equalled; while he must be regarded as
not only the guide, but the untiring deliverer of the remnant of the
party.
All I can learn of Jackey Jackey’s subsequent history is, that on his
arrival in Sydney, the Government presented him with a brass plate and
inscription, which I understand is now in the Museum. He returned to
his tribe, Patrick’s Plains, where he died of consumption. Thus came to
an early grave this noble-minded man, whom, for fidelity and affection
under severe trials, few white men could excel.