caught up a cocktail-mixer as he climbed through his overturned dining
saloon, and waved it out of the window by which he extricated himself.
He congratulated the Chief of the Staff, with mock seriousness, at
having at last arranged something for him that was not on the official
programme. He laughed away the anxious expressions of regret of the
railway and other state officials responsible in the affair, and did his
utmost to convey the impression that the overturning of the Royal train
was an occurrence so trifling as to be hardly worth mentioning.
The party were soon transferred to the front portion of the train which
was still upon the rails. The wreckage was cut loose, and the journey
was continued to Bridgetown, the next halting place on the programme.
Here the Prince carried through, in the most undisturbed manner, the
whole of the prearranged ceremonial of inspecting guards-of-honour,
shaking hands with returned soldiers, greeting relations of the fallen,
receiving war-workers, reviewing assemblies of children, and replying to
a municipal address. He made no mention of the railway accident in his
speech, but excused himself for having arrived late, as if this had been
due to a fault of his own.
It was not possible, however, to prevent the circulation of news of the
occurrence, and it made a sensation throughout Australia. Telegrams of
congratulation at his escape poured in from every state and principal
town. Thanksgiving services were held in the leading churches, and
everywhere it was recognized that what might have been a disaster had
been very narrowly avoided, and that the Prince had shown much spirit
in a situation of no little danger. His return to Perth was a triumphal
procession. Every wayside station was crowded with cheering people as
the train ran through. Perth received him with open arms. A bigger
assemblage than ever welcomed him as he drove from the railway station
to Government House, and the crowd plainly showed its impression that he
had taken a bit of rough luck in the best Australian manner.
Finally departing from Perth, a few days later, the Prince was sped on
his way by large cheering crowds which not only lined the streets as he
drove to the railway station, but every wayside platform as well. The
route soon left the plain by the seashore and entered foothills clothed
with shady _jarrah_ forest. Thence it mounted to the spacious uplands of
the green rolling wheat-zone, where the young crop carpeted the expanse
for a hundred miles along the way.
West Australia raises some twelve million bushels of wheat annually, of
which nine millions are exported. It is estimated that the out-turn could
be increased to forty million bushels if more population were available,
as thirty-four million acres have been reported suitable for wheat
growing in this state, and eleven bushels per acre are looked upon as an
average yield. A thousand acres, which can be secured on very easy
terms, is an average holding. Such a farm worked by one man would
ordinarily have three hundred acres under wheat, and would also support
two hundred and fifty sheep. Many properties of this kind are in the
hands of owners who began without either capital or education, yet have
paid off all mortgages and are living in very substantial comfort. The
children start under infinitely more favourable circumstances than
their parents, for not only are savings usually available to establish
them in business on their own account, but they have the advantage of an
excellent system of state-aided education which provides a school
wherever a minimum of ten children can be brought together. Public help
is also given to pay for qualified resident teachers in localities too
isolated to enable the minimum school to be assembled. A mileage
allowance is paid by the State for children who have to travel any
considerable distance to school. Education department correspondence
courses are also conducted with surprisingly satisfactory results for
the benefit of youngsters on farms out of reach of any of the other aids
to learning. It is not only the children who benefit. Their parents
often learn much themselves in endeavouring to help their families to
assimilate the lessons that the correspondence teacher at a distance is
sending by post to the schoolroom under the hayrick or by the evening
fire.
An hour after leaving Perth the track picked up the Kalgoorlie water
main, which thereafter ran beside the rails, a half-buried steel conduit
thirty inches thick, all the way to the goldfields. This water main is
one of the most wonderful in the world. It daily delivers at the mines
five million gallons of pure water, after conveying it 350 miles from
the Mundaring Reservoir. This reservoir has a masonry weir a hundred
feet high, which has been built right across a river-valley, thereby
impounding the water and forming a lake seven miles long, holding four
seasons' supply. The difficulty of building the works was much increased
by the height up which the water has to be forced in the course of its
journey. In all, the pipe-line climbs 1,290 feet between Mundaring
Reservoir and Bulla Bulling, the highest point upon the circuit, a lift
which requires some of the most powerful pumps in the world to
negotiate. The installation is essential for the people of Kalgoorlie,
whose city is in the midst of the desert, with no other source of supply
fit for human consumption, as the water that accumulates in the mine
workings is definitely brackish, though cattle will drink it in some
cases.
Fine rain shaded off into showers as the train proceeded eastward.
Further on grey skies were replaced by brilliant sunshine. The country
grew continually drier; wheatfields changed into scraggy forest. The
forest thinned out and was succeeded by vast expanses of nondescript
scrub and desolate bluish salt bush, through which the train sped
throughout the night. When the Prince awoke the following morning he was
in desert country. Coolgardie, his first stepping-off place, proved to
be a dying city. Its original sixteen thousand inhabitants are now
represented by only a few hundreds. The majority have moved to the still
active mines of Kalgoorlie. Many lie in France, for no community
enlisted more freely or fought more bravely than did the men of this
far-off town. All that were left had turned out to meet the Prince. It
was a curious assemblage, largely consisting of men past work and women
and children, who still cling to wooden shanties fast falling into
decay, amidst spoil heaps and ruins of fine public buildings, a great
place once but a sad spectacle now. The big water main enters
Coolgardie, and is sparingly tapped there, but its contents are too
precious to be used for irrigation by the way, and without water for
this purpose it was impossible for Coolgardie to follow the example of
Ballarat in turning its miners into cultivators when the gold gave out.
The shy buzzard of the desert now perches fearlessly where once was
heavy traffic. The wild dingo has come in from the plains, and makes its
home in what were once busy crushing mills and palatial business houses.
Soon sand will cover what remains, and the salt bush will be supreme as
aforetime.
Kalgoorlie, where the Prince next alighted, proved to be a very
different place. Here twenty-four thousand people were living in
prosperity, and are likely to continue in this position so long as their
reef goes on yielding its harvest of yellow ore. The visitor was
welcomed by a big crowd, including a large body of returned soldiers, of
whom two wore the Victoria Cross. He was given a cheerful luncheon by
the Chamber of Mines, at which the large company present were waited on
by daughters of the principal residents, who prepared, cooked and served
a banquet which could not have been surpassed anywhere. In the course of
his reply to a civic address later on, "I am looking forward," the
Prince said, "to my stay in this wonderful goldbearing area. I have
heard with admiration of the pioneering pluck and engineering skill
which have enabled this great city to be built and provided with all the
necessary services of a large population in country where water is so
scarce. I particularly prize the opportunity of making acquaintance with
the people who have placed this miracle of development to the credit of
British industry and enterprise. I am also much interested in the
terminus of the great Trans-Australian Railway which links you with the
eastern States of the Commonwealth."
Before leaving Kalgoorlie the Prince visited workings on the forty-foot
thick reef of the "golden mile" which is being gradually nibbled away.
This reef, since its discovery a quarter of a century ago, has produced
seventy-four million sterling of gold. The profit of working it has not
kept pace with the increased cost of labour and machinery, but continues
to be appreciable, and large masses of paying quartz are still in
sight.
XVII
THE NULLARBOR PLAIN
At Kalgoorlie the Prince left the simply equipped three-feet-six-inch
gauge of the West Australian State Railway, and continued his journey,
at forty miles an hour, on a luxuriously fitted and smooth-running train
on the standard gauge of the Trans-Australian line.
In charge of the train was Mr. Norris Bell, the eminent engineer who
controlled the construction of the line, and is now running it in such a
way that, despite almost total absence of local traffic, it is nearly
paying its working expenses, a remarkable achievement considering the
desolate nature of the country through which it passes. The railway
connects the populous States of Victoria, New South Wales and South
Australia, with the vast and potentially rich, but presently
undeveloped, western territories. It is one of those imaginative
national enterprises undertaken by young countries, and is bound to be
justified by the generous policy of land development which usually
accompanies, though at present it draws its dividends from the future.
The Nullarbor plain through which it passes is so devoid of rain that it
not only possesses no streams, but its level expanse is unscarred by
even a dry water-course. It is almost absolutely flat for several
hundreds of miles, after which it undulates slightly, the folds being in
some cases occupied by lakes or tanks, most of which are so salt that
they are useless for either drinking or irrigation. Their banks form
desolate patches of gleaming white on the horizon, owing to the
crystallization of masses of salt upon them. In places where fresh water
is obtainable, it has usually to be pumped up from some depth below
ground. Wells are so far between that the train has to carry tanks large
enough to water the engine for two hundred miles without replenishment.
The portion of the plain in which the Prince found himself, the morning
after leaving Kalgoorlie, was of red earth thickly sprinkled with white
stones of irregular shape, shaded by bunchy grey salt-bushes the size of
cabbages. These salt-bushes, dry and dusty as they appear, afford quite
good fodder for sheep. The plain, therefore, almost entirely rainless as
it is, only requires the provision of drinking-water to enable it to be
put to profitable use. Sheep-stations already exist upon it, wherever it
has been found possible to tap subsoil water sweet enough for the sheep
to drink, and with growing knowledge of this remarkable region, and
improved methods of purifying saline springs, it is hoped gradually to
convert much of what is now unproductive into sheep-raising areas.
As the train rushed onward through the day, the stones became smaller
and eventually disappeared, and the salt-bushes grew gradually larger.
One lost the impression of moving through an interminable cabbage patch,
and felt as on a ship. The salt-bushes rippled over a calm expanse of
ocean extending on all sides to a far horizon.
In the afternoon a halt was made and the Prince alighted and paid a
visit to a rude encampment of aborigines, who had travelled a hundred
miles on foot to meet him. They performed a number of weird ceremonial
dances before him, and gave an exhibition of their skill in the throwing
of boomerangs and spears. The performers were almost completely naked
men and boys, painted all over with red and other brilliant patches on a
whitish ground, whose only garment was a scanty rag of dirty cotton
cloth that could hardly be said even to encompass the waist. The dances
were slow, the performers sometimes stealing in single file round a
circle, sometimes springing as if to the attack, the while incantations
were chanted by miserable bundles of savage humanity, feminine as well
as masculine, who squatted upon the ground. The boomerang-throwing was a
much more lively affair. The air hummed with sharp wooden blades the
size and weight of reaping-hooks. About a dozen performers operated
simultaneously and each threw quite a number of these blades in quick
succession to immense heights, where they hovered like hawks, eventually
to descend with uncanny speed in a series of crooked swirls and
side-long rushes. The circles described were such that quite a wide area
was swept by flying blades each of which travelled on a complicated
orbit of its own, of extraordinary speed, the sharp edge continually
leading. It was explained that these boomerangs were of the hunting
type, and were used in practice chiefly against flights of duck, the
birds taking them for hawks and keeping low and thus within range
when they were in the air. The spear-throwing was also interesting. The
spears consisted of straight wooden shafts, like slim but heavy
bean-sticks, with a tapering charred point sharpened to acuteness, and
tail winged with a thin wooden slip the size of a biggish paper-knife.
These spears were thrown with marvellous force and precision, with an
action like that of overhand bowling, a sack stuffed with salt-bush
branches and crudely painted to represent a human face, being transfixed
again and again, in the centre, at sixty yards. These wretched people
appear to be rapidly dying out despite liberal grants from the
Commonwealth and State Governments to educate and feed them. In the
south they seem to be entirely incapable of learning even how to cook or
wash or build themselves shelters. In the north they are less degraded
and find employment on cattle-stations where some of them make excellent
stock-drivers, learning to ride well and handle animals.
[Illustration: CROSSING THE NULLARBOR PLAIN]
[Illustration: ABORIGINAL DANCE]
The camp visited by the Prince was typical of the lowest amongst them.
It was being looked after by a cultivated Australian lady who was
devoting herself to the services of these poor creatures, who seemed to
be entirely dependent upon her, so incapable were they of fending for
themselves in any practical manner beyond that of adding to the larder
by the killing of a limited number of small animals. When left to
themselves, we were told, they seldom had more than twenty-four hours'
food supply within sight. Their intelligence does not even extend to the
keeping of provisions when supplied with them in any quantity beyond
what they can devour upon the spot.
Another picturesque incident occurred about sunset, when the train
stopped at an artesian boring to take in a fresh supply of water. Here
some twenty well-conditioned camels were grazing upon the salt-bushes,
in charge of two intelligent natives of Rawalpindi, India. These
turbaned Punjabis, who spoke Hindustani with a distinct Australian
accent, so long had they been in the country, were marching the camels
overland to Western Australia, where they hoped to sell them at a good
price for transport work in the bush. The men had evidently prospered.
They said they had found Australia a good country, though they looked
forward to retiring eventually to their own land. Several Eurasian
children were with them. It was a reminder of those racial problems of
which the people of Australia take constant thought when they determine
to develop the natural resources of their wonderful land, as far as may
be, by white labour alone. It is no disparagement of the Oriental to say
that he is at his best when he is entirely of the East, just as the
white man is at his best when he mates with those of his own country and
race, a point upon which Australia, at all events, is thoroughly
convinced.
XVIII
SOUTH AUSTRALIA
The Prince alighted at sundown at the shipping centre Port Augusta, at
the head of Spencer gulf, and was welcomed to South Australia by Mr.
Barwell, State Premier, and other members of the Cabinet. A civic
reception was held, and the party changed over from the standard gauge
train of the Trans-Australian Railway, into a train on the narrow gauge
of South Australia, which was standing in the station profusely
decorated for the occasion. A start was then made on the two hundred and
sixty miles that lay between that point and Adelaide, throughout the
whole of which distance, we afterwards learnt, a guard had been placed
on every bridge and culvert. The people of South Australia were in no
mind that the Prince should run the risk of further accident.
Civic receptions, at which numbers of returned men and other war workers
were drawn up, and all the inhabitants turned out, were given at various
places _en route_, including Quorn, Peterborough, Terowie, and Gawler.
The first part of the way was over the picturesque Pichirichi pass,
thirteen hundred feet above sea level. After descending on the other
side the narrow gauge gave place to the broad five-feet-three-inch
track, which connects Adelaide with Melbourne. Sir Archibald Weigall,
Governor of South Australia, soon afterwards joined the train. The
latter part of the route was through flat and extraordinarily fertile
farming country.
Adelaide was reached about noon. Here a large proportion of the
inhabitants of the province had assembled to welcome the Prince. A
procession was formed at the railway station, where guards-of-honour
were drawn up. The Prince shared a motor with Sir Archibald Weigall. Mr.
Barwell and other members of the South Australian Government occupied
cars behind. A well-mounted escort of light horse, in khaki, jingled on
either side. The entire route, some three miles in length through the
principal streets, had been elaborately decorated, and was lined ten
deep the whole way with cheerful crowds. Entering the spacious and
solidly built King George's Street, where magnificent bodies of Flying
Corps, Engineers, Naval Reserve, and other returned men kept the
barricades, the Prince was greeted by numbers of lady war-workers, in
fresh white uniforms, who had public-spiritedly reopened, for the
benefit of the blue-jackets and marines on the various visiting
war-vessels, the "Cheer-up club" which did such good service during the
war. Cadets, red cross workers, and masses of medalled returned men
lined the space opposite the town hall, where Mayor Moulder read a civic
address, to which the Prince replied, describing his now nearly
half-completed travels in the Commonwealth as a most memorable
experience, a statement heartily endorsed by all who shared them. From
the town hall the procession went on to the working-men's quarter,
where the reception was as enthusiastic as anywhere. It was also
noticeable that although only school-children, of whom there were
incredible numbers, lined the route for at least half a mile in this
part of the city, order was as well kept as in thoroughfares elsewhere,
where regulars or volunteers were lined up.
Outside the big market in Rendal Street, beneath a wide arch built on
one side with vegetables, and on the other with apples and oranges, a
pretty function occurred, a little girl, daughter of the oldest gardener
doing business with the market, presenting the Prince with a bouquet,
and a small boy, the son of the oldest packer, with a basket of fruit,
offerings that symbolized pleasantly enough the very considerable
business done in South Australia in garden produce.
Further on, in North Terrace, a more touching spectacle was presented
where hundreds of beds from the hospitals, each with a nurse in
attendance, lined the route, and the Prince paused for a word of
greeting with the patients. Medical students, apprentices, and yet more
cadets, were lined up near the fine stone buildings of the Art Gallery,
the University and the Exhibition, which are here grouped together. The
procession ultimately entered and ended in the quiet gardens of
Government House, where H.R.H. was to spend the week of his visit.
Amongst functions which took place at Adelaide during the next few days,
was a state dinner at the leading hotel, at which three hundred sat
down, including everybody of importance in the South Australian
Government. Mr. Barwell proposed, and Mr. Gunn, spokesman of the Labour
Party, and Leader of the Opposition in the State Legislature, seconded
the toast of the Prince's health. The Prince replied and the proceedings
throughout were of the usual cordial nature. A climax was reached after
the dinner was over, and it was time for the Royal guest to get home to
bed. It was then discovered that the streets outside were so solidly
packed with people that it was quite impossible either for the
motor-cars to reach the door or for the party to walk to where they were
posted. The Prince was brought back into the building, whence he
addressed the crowd, at first from an upper window, and afterwards from
a roof on which he climbed so as to be nearer the throng. In the end, a
way out was found through a side street, by a door much affected by
bridal couples.
In the course of his speech at this dinner, the Prince referred
sympathetically to the recent death of Premier Peake. He went on to
express appreciation of the welcome given him by Adelaide, "the garden
city of the Commonwealth," and dwelt upon the fine war-services of South
Australia, and the magnificent opportunities which this State offers for
development. He also mentioned the extent to which the future of
Australia, as a whole, depends upon a broad far-seeing railway policy, a
railway policy in fact "that is continental in scope." Continuing he
expressed regret at having been compelled to omit his originally
proposed overland journey from South Australia to Queensland, and
announced that, to make this up, it had now been decided, in
consultation with the Queensland Government, to substitute at least one
week in the back-blocks or interior of Australia, for the proposed visit
to the new mandated territory at Rabaul. "I am very sorry," the Prince
added, "to have had to cut out Rabaul, but as I had to choose between
the two I am delighted to think I shall now be able to spend some days
in seeing bush and station life for myself in the real heart of
Australia." This decision met with general approval. Rabaul stands for
the mandated territory of tropical New Guinea, formerly in German
possession, and now allocated to the Commonwealth. It is a territory
bigger than England and Wales but only sparsely inhabited, partially
developed, and with no specially outstanding features. No interest it
offers could compare with that of Australia itself.