Improvement in the aspect of the country--Increase of the river--Strong
westerly gales--Chronometer broken--A healthier tribe of natives--
Termination of the Murray in a large lake--Its extent and environs--
Passage across it--Hostile appearance of the natives--Beautiful scenery
--Channel from the lake to the sea at Encounter Bay--Reach the beach--
Large flocks of water fowl--Curious refraction--State of provisions--
Embarrassing situation--Inspection of the channel to the ocean--Weak
condition of the men--Difficulties of the return.
DELIGHTFUL COUNTRY.
It now appeared that the Murray had taken a permanent southerly course;
indeed, it might strictly be said that it ran away to the south. As we
proceeded down it, the valley expanded to the width of two miles; the
alluvial flats became proportionably larger; and a small lake generally
occupied their centre. They were extensively covered with reeds and grass,
for which reason, notwithstanding that they were little elevated above the
level of the stream, I do not think they are subject to overflow. Parts of
them may be laid under water, but certainly not the whole. The rains at
the head of the Murray, and its tributaries, must be unusually severe to
prolong their effects to this distant region, and the flats bordering it
appear, by successive depositions, to have only just gained a height above
the further influence of the floods. Should this prove to be the case, the
valley may be decidedly laid down as a most desirable spot, whether we
regard the richness of its soil, its rock formation, its locality, or the
extreme facility of water communication along it. It must not, however, be
forgotten or concealed, that the summits of the cliffs by which the valley
is enclosed, have not a corresponding soil. On the contrary, many of the
productions common to the plains of the interior still existed upon them,
and they were decidedly barren; but as we measured the reaches of the
river, the cliffs ceased, and gave place to undulating hills, that were
very different in appearance from the country we had previously noted
down. It would have been impossible for the most tasteful individual to
have laid out pleasure ground to more advantage, than Nature had done in
planting and disposing the various groups of trees along the spine, and
upon the sides of the elevations that confined the river, and bounded the
low ground that intervened between it and their base. Still, however, the
soil upon these elevations was sandy, and coarse, but the large oat-grass
was abundant upon them, which yielded pasture at least as good as that in
the broken country between Underaliga and Morumbidgee.
We had now gained a distance of at least sixty miles from that angle of
the Murray at which it reaches its extreme west. The general aspect of the
country to our right was beautiful, and several valleys branched away into
the interior upon that side which had a most promising appearance, and
seemed to abound with kangaroos, as the traces of them were numerous, and
the dogs succeeded in killing one, which, to our great mortification, we
could not find.
While, however, the country to the westward had so much to recommend it,
the hills to our left became extremely bare. It was evident that the right
was the sheltered side of the valley. The few trees on the opposite side
bent over to the N.E., as if under the influence of some prevailing wind.
ADVERSE GALES.
We experienced at this time a succession of gales from the S.W., against
which we, on several occasions, found it useless to contend: the waves on
the river being heavy and short; and the boat, driving her prow into them,
sent the spray over us and soon wet us through. Indeed, it is difficult
for the reader to imagine the heavy swell that rolled up the river, which
had increased in breadth to the third of a mile, and in the length of its
reaches to eight or ten. I was satisfied that we were not only navigating
this river at a particularly stormy, perhaps THE stormy, season; but also,
that the influence of the S.W. wind is felt even as far in the interior as
to the supposed Darling; in consequence of the uniform build of the huts,
and the circumstance of their not only facing the N.E., but also being
almost invariably erected under the lee of some bush.
The weather, under the influence of the wind we experienced, was cool and
pleasant, although the thermometer stood at a medium height of 86 degrees;
but we found it very distressing to pull against the heavy breezes that
swept up the valley, and bent the reeds so as almost to make them kiss the
stream.
We communicated on the 6th and 7th with several large tribes of natives,
whose manners were on the whole quiet and inoffensive. They distinctly
informed us, that we were fast approaching the sea, and, from what I could
understand, we were nearer to it than the coast line of Encounter Bay made
us. We had placed sticks to ascertain if there was any rise or fall of
tide, but the troubled state of the river prevented our experiments from
being satisfactory. By selecting a place, however, that was sheltered from
the effects of the wind, we ascertained that there was an apparent rise
of about eight inches.
OBLIGED TO TAKE REPOSE.
It blew a heavy gale during the whole of the 7th; and we laboured in vain
at the oar. The gusts that swept the bosom of the water, and the swell
they caused, turned the boat from her course, and prevented us from making
an inch of way. The men were quite exhausted, and, as they had conducted
themselves so well, and had been so patient, I felt myself obliged to
grant them every indulgence consistent with our safety. However precarious
our situation, it would have been vain, with our exhausted strength, to
have contended against the elements. We, therefore, pulled in to the left
bank of the river, and pitched our tents on a little rising ground beyond
the reeds that lined it.
CHRONOMETER BROKEN.
I had been suffering very much front tooth-ache for the last three or four
days, and this day felt the most violent pain from the wind. I was not,
therefore, sorry to get under even the poor shelter our tents afforded.
M'Leay, observing that I was in considerable pain, undertook to wind up
the chronometer; but, not understanding or knowing the instrument, he
unfortunately broke the spring. I shall not forget the anxiety he
expressed, and the regret he felt on the occasion; nor do I think M'Leay
recovered the shock this unlucky accident gave him for two or three days,
or until the novelty of other scenes drove it from his recollection.
We landed close to the haunt of a small tribe of natives, who came to us
with the most perfect confidence, and assisted the men in their
occupations. They were cleaner and more healthy than any tribe we had
seen; and were extremely cheerful, although reserved in some respects.
As a mark of more than usual cleanliness, the women had mats of oval
shape, upon which they sat, made, apparently, of rushes. There was a
young girl among them of a most cheerful disposition. She was about
eighteen, was well made, and really pretty. This girl was married to an
elderly man who had broken his leg, which having united in a bent shape,
the limb was almost useless. I really believe the girl thought we could
cure her husband, from her importunate manner to us. I regretted that I
could do nothing for the man, but to show that I was not inattentive to
her entreaties, I gave him a pair of trousers, and desired Fraser to put
them upon him; but the poor fellow cut so awkward an appearance in them,
that his wife became quite distressed, and Fraser was obliged speedily
to disencumber him from them again.
We could not gain any satisfactory information, as to the termination of
the river, from these people. It was evident that some change was at hand;
but what it was we could not ascertain.
APPEARANCE OF SOME APPROACHING CHANGE.
On the morning of the 9th, we left our fair friend and her lame husband,
and proceeded down the river. The wind had moderated, although it still
blew fresh. We ascended every height as we went along, but could not see
any new feature in the country. Our view to the eastward was very
confined; to the westward the interior was low and dark, and was backed in
the distance by lofty ranges, parallel to which we had been running for
some days. The right bank of the valley was beautifully undulated, but the
left was bleak and bare. The valley had a breadth of from three to four
miles, and the flats were more extensive under the former than under the
latter. They were scarcely two feet above the level of the water, and were
densely covered with reeds. As there was no mark upon the reeds to
indicate the height to which the floods rose, I cannot think that these
flats are ever wholly laid under water; if they are, it cannot be to any
depth: at all events a few small drains would effectually prevent
inundation. The soil upon the hills continued to be much mixed with sand,
and the prevailing trees were cypress and box. Among the minor shrubs and
grass, many common to the east coasts were noticed; and although the bold
cliffs had ceased, the basis of the country still continued of the fossil
formation. At a turn of the stream hereabouts, however, a solitary rock of
coarse red granite rose above the waters, and formed an island in its
centre; but only in this one place was it visible. The rock was composed
principally of quartz and feldspar.
A little below it, we found a large tribe anxiously awaiting our arrival.
They crowded to the margin of the river with great eagerness, and evinced
more surprise at our appearance than any tribe we had seen during the
journey; but we left them very soon, notwithstanding that they importuned
us much to stay.
After pulling a mile or two, we found a clear horizon before us to the
south. The hills still continued upon our left, but we could not see any
elevation over the expanse of reeds to our right. The river inclined to
the left, and swept the base of the hills that still continued on that
side. I consequently landed once more to survey the country.
TERMINATION OF THE MURRAY IN A LARGE LAKE.
I still retained a strong impression on my mind that some change was at
hand, and on this occasion, I was not disappointed; but the view was one
for which I was not altogether prepared. We had, at length, arrived at the
termination of the Murray. Immediately below me was a beautiful lake,
which appeared to be a fitting reservoir for the noble stream that had led
us to it; and which was now ruffled by the breeze that swept over it.
The ranges were more distinctly visible, stretching from south to north,
and were certainly distant forty miles. They had a regular unbroken
outline; declining gradually to the south, but terminating abruptly at a
lofty mountain northerly. I had no doubt on my mind of this being the
Mount Lofty of Captain Flinders; or that the range was that immediately to
the eastward of St. Vincent's Gulf--Since the accident to the chronometer,
we had not made any westing, so that we knew our position as nearly as
possible. Between us and the ranges a beautiful promontory shot into the
lake, being a continuation of the right bank of the Murray. Over this
promontory the waters stretched to the base of the ranges, and formed an
extensive bay. To the N.W. the country was exceedingly low, but distant
peaks were just visible over it. To the S.W. a bold headland showed
itself; beyond which, to the westward, there was a clear and open sea
visible, through a strait formed by this headland and a point projecting
from the opposite shore. To the E. and S.E. the country was low, excepting
the left shore of the lake, which was backed by some minor elevations,
crowned with cypresses. Even while gazing on this fine scene, I could not
but regret that the Murray had thus terminated; for I immediately foresaw
that, in all probability, we should be disappointed in finding any
practicable communication between the lake and the ocean, as it was
evident that the former was not much influenced by tides. The wind had
again increased; it still blew fresh from the S.W. and a heavy sea was
rolling direct into the mouth of the river. I hoped, notwithstanding, that
we should have been enabled to make sail, for which reason we entered the
lake about 2 p.m. The natives had kindled a large fire on a distant point
between us and the further headland, and to gain this point our efforts
were now directed. The waves were, however, too strong, and we were
obliged to make for the eastern shore, until such time as the weather
should moderate. We pitched our tents on a low track of land that
stretched away seemingly for many miles directly behind us to the
eastward. It was of the richest soil, being a black vegetable deposit,
and although now high above the influence, the lake had, it was evident,
once formed a part of its bed. The appearance of the country altogether
encouraged M'Leay and myself to walk out, in order to examine it from some
hills a little to the S.E. of the camp. From them we observed that the
flat extended over about fifty miles, and was bounded by the elevations
that continued easterly from the left bank of the Murray to the north,
and by a line of rising-ground to the south. The whole was lightly wooded,
and covered with grass. The season must have been unusually dry, judging
from the general appearance of the vegetation, and from the circumstance
of the lagoons in the interior being wholly exhausted.
Thirty-three days had now passed over our heads since we left the depot
upon the Morumbidgee, twenty-six of which had been passed upon the Murray.
We had, at length, arrived at the grand reservoir of those waters whose
course and fate had previously been involved in such obscurity. It
remained for us to ascertain whether the extensive sheet of water upon
whose bosom we had embarked, had any practicable communication with the
ocean, and whether the country in the neighbourhood of the coast
corresponded with that immediately behind our camp, or kept up its sandy
and sterile character to the very verge of the sea. As I have already
said, my hopes on the first of these points were considerably damped, but
I could not help anticipating a favourable change in the latter, since its
features had so entirely changed.
DETAINED BY THE WIND.
The greatest difficulty against which we had at present to contend was the
wind; and I dreaded the exertion it would call for, to make head against
it; for the men were so much reduced that I felt convinced they were
inadequate to any violent or prolonged effort. It still blew fresh at
8 p.m., but at that time it began to moderate. It may be imagined that I
listened to its subdued gusts with extreme anxiety. It did not wholly
abate until after 2 a.m., when it gradually declined, and about 3 a light
breeze sprung up from the N. E.
We had again placed sticks to ascertain with more precision the rise of
tide, and found it to be the same as in the river. In the stillness of the
night too we thought we heard the roaring of the sea, but I was myself
uncertain upon the point, as the wind might have caused the sound.
From the top of the hill from which we had obtained our first view of the
lake, I observed the waves breaking upon the distant headland, and
enveloping the cliff in spray; so that, independent of the clearness of
the horizon beyond it, I was further led to conclude that there existed a
great expanse of water to the S.W.; and, as that had been the direction
taken by the river, I thought it probable that by steering at once to the
S.W. down the lake, I should hit the outlet. I, consequently, resolved to
gain the southern extremity of the lake, as that at which it was natural
to expect a communication with the ocean would be found.
GEOLOGICAL FORMATION.
At 4 we had a moderate breeze, and it promised to strengthen; we lost no
time therefore in embarking, and with a flowing sheet stretched over to
the W.S.W., and ran along the promontory formed by the right bank of the
Murray. We passed close under its extreme point at nine. The hills had
gradually declined, and we found the point to be a flat, elevated about
thirty feet above the lake. It was separated from the promontory by a
small channel that was choked up with reeds, so that it is more than
probable that the point is insulated at certain periods; whilst in its
stratification it resembled the first cliffs I have described that were
passed below the Darling. It is a remarkable fact in the geology of the
Murray, that such should be the case; and that the formation at each
extremity of the great bank or bed of fossils should be the same.
Thus far, the waters of the lake had continued sweet; but on filling a can
when we were abreast of this point, it was found that they were quite
unpalatable, to say the least of them. The transition from fresh to salt
water was almost immediate, and it was fortunate we made the discovery in
sufficient time to prevent our losing ground. But, as it was, we filled
our casks, and stood on, without for a moment altering our course.
PASSAGE ACROSS THE LAKE--ITS SHALLOWNESS.
It is difficult to give a just description of our passage across the lake.
The boisterous weather we had had seemed to have blown over. A cool and
refreshing breeze was carrying us on at between four and five knots an
hour, and the heavens above us were without a cloud. It almost appeared as
if nature had resisted us in order to try our perseverance, and that she
had yielded in pity to our efforts. The men, relieved for a time from the
oar, stretched themselves at their length in the boat, and commented on
the scenery around them, or ventured their opinions as to that which was
before them. Up to this moment their conduct had been most exemplary; not
a murmur had escaped from them, and they filled the water-casks with the
utmost cheerfulness, even whilst tasting the disagreeable beverage they
would most probably have to subsist on for the next three or four days.
As soon as we had well opened the point, we had a full view of the
splendid bay that, commencing at the western most of the central points,
swept in a beautiful curve under the ranges. No land was visible to the
W.N.W. or to the S.S.W.: in both these quarters the lake was as open as
the ocean. It appeared, therefore, that the land intermediate was an
island. To the north the country was extremely low, and as we increased
our distance from it we lost sight of it altogether. At noon we were
nearly abreast of the eastern headland, or in the centre of the strait to
which I have alluded. At this time there was an open sea from W.N.W. to
N. by E. A meridian altitude gave our latitude 35 degrees 25 minutes.
The land to our left was bold and precipitous; that to the right was low
and wooded; and there was evidently a considerable space between the
shores of the lake and the base of the ranges. The country to the eastward
was hidden from us by the line of cliffs, beyond which from E.S.E. to
W.S.W. there was an open sea. We had kept the lead going from the first,
and I was surprised at the extreme shallowness of the lake in every part,
as we never had six feet upon the line. Its bottom was one of black mud,
and weeds of enormous length were floating on its surface, detached by the
late gales, and which, from the shallowness of the lake, got constantly
entangled with our rudder.
We tried to land on the eastern point, but found the water too shallow,
and were obliged to try the western shore. In passing close under the
head, we observed several natives upon it, who kindled a large fire as
soon as they saw they were noticed, which was answered from every point;
for, in less than ten minutes afterwards, we counted no fewer than
fourteen different fires, the greater number of which were on the side of
the ranges.
SHORES OF THE LAKE.
As we were standing across from one shore to the other, our attention was
drawn to a most singular object. It started suddenly up, as above the
waters to the south, and strikingly resembled an isolated castle. Behind
it, a dense column of smoke rose into the sky, and the effect was most
remarkable. On a nearer approach, the phantom disappeared and a clear and
open sea again presented itself to our view. The fact was, that the
refractive power upon the coast had elevated the sand-hillocks above their
true position, since we satisfactorily ascertained that they alone
separated the lake from the ocean, and that they alone could have produced
the semblance we noticed. It is a singular fact, that this very hillock
was the one which Capt. Barker ascended whilst carrying on the survey of
the south coast, and immediately previous to his tragical death.
It was not without difficulty that we succeeded in landing on the western
shore; but we did, at length, succeed, and prepared our dinners. The shore
was low, but above the reach of all floods; the soil was rich, and
superficially sandy. It was covered with high grasses, and abounded in
kangaroos; within the space of a few yards we found five or six, but they
were immediately lost to us and to the dogs in the luxuriance of the
vegetation amidst which they were feeding.
As soon as we had finished our meal, we once more embarked, and stood
along the shore to the S.W., but the lake was so shoal, that I was every
moment apprehensive we should ground. I ran across, therefore, to the
south, towards a low flat that had just appeared above the line of the
horizon, in hope that, in sounding, we should have found the channel, but
there either was none, or else it was so narrow that we passed over it
between the heaves of the lead. At this time, the western shore was quite
distinct, and the scenery was beautiful.
The flat we were approaching was a mud-flat, and, from its appearance, the
tide was certainly at the ebb. We observed some cradles, or wicker frames,
placed far below high water-mark, that were each guarded by two natives,
who threatened us violently as we approached. In running along the land,
the stench from them plainly indicated what they were which these poor
creatures were so anxiously watching.
We steered a S.W. course, towards some low and wooded hills, passing a
rocky island, and found that we had struck the mouth of a channel running
to the W.S.W. It was about half-a-mile wide, was bounded to the right by
some open flat ground, and to the left by a line of hills of about sixty
or seventy feet in elevation, partly open and partly covered with
beefwood.
WARLIKE DEMEANOUR OF THE NATIVES.
Upon the first of these hills, we observed a large body of natives, who
set up the most terrific yells as we approached. They were fully equipped
for battle and, as we neared the shore, came down to meet us with the most
violent threats. I wished much to communicate with them, and, not without
hopes of quieting them, stood right in with the intention of landing.
I observed, however, that if I did so, I should have to protect myself.
I hauled a little off, and endeavoured, by holding up a branch and a
tomahawk, to gain their confidence, but they were not to be won over by
my show of pacification. An elderly man walked close to the water's edge
unarmed, and, evidently, directed the others. He was followed by seven or
eight of the most daring, who crept into the reeds, with their spears
shipped to throw at us. I, therefore, took up my gun to return their
salute. It then appeared that they were perfectly aware of the weapon I
carried, for the moment they saw it, they dashed out of their hiding place
and retreated to the main body; but the old man, after saying something
to them, walked steadily on, and I, on my part, laid my firelock down
again.
LOVELY EVENING.
It was now near sunset; and one of the most lovely evenings I had ever
seen. The sun's radiance was yet upon the mountains, but all lower objects
were in shade. The banks of the channel, with the trees and the rocks,
were reflected in the tranquil waters, whose surface was unruffled save by
the thousands of wild fowl that rose before us, and made a noise as of a
multitude clapping hands, in their clumsy efforts to rise from the waters.
Not one of them allowed us to get within shot.
We proceeded about a mile below the hill on which the natives were posted;
some few still following us with violent threats. We landed, however, on a
flat, bounded all round by the continuation of the hills. It was an
admirable position, for, in the centre of it, we could not be taken by
surprise, and, on the other hand, we gave the natives an opportunity of
communicating with us if they would. The full moon rose as we were forming
the camp, and, notwithstanding our vicinity to so noisy a host, the
silence of death was around us, or the stillness of the night was only
broken by the roar of the ocean, now too near to be mistaken for wind,
or by the silvery and melancholy note of the black swans as they passed
over us, to seek for food, no doubt, among the slimy weeds at the head of
the lake. We had been quite delighted with the beauty of the channel,
which was rather more than half-a-mile in width. Numberless mounds, that
seemed to invite civilised man to erect his dwelling upon them, presented
themselves to our view. The country round them was open, yet ornamentally
wooded, and rocks and trees hung or drooped over the waters.
EXTENT OF THE LAKE.
We had in one day gained a position I once feared it would have cost us
infinite labour to have measured. Indeed, had we been obliged to pull
across the lake, unless during a calm, I am convinced the men would have
been wholly exhausted. We had to thank a kind Providence that such was not
the case, since it had extended its mercy to us at so critical a moment.
We had indeed need of all the little strength we had remaining, and could
ill have thrown it away on such an effort as this would have required.
I calculated that we could not have run less than forty-five miles during
the day, a distance that, together with the eight miles we had advanced
the evening previously, would give the length of the lake at fifty-three
miles.
We had approached to within twelve miles of the ranges, but had not gained
their southern extremity. From the camp, Mount Barker bore nearly north.
The ranges appeared to run north and south to our position, and then to
bend away to the S.S.W., gradually declining to that point, which I
doubted not terminated in Cape Jervis. The natives kept aloof during the
night, nor did the dogs by a single growl intimate that any had ventured
to approach us. The sound of the surf came gratefully to our ears, for it
told us we were near the goal for which we had so anxiously pushed, and we
all of us promised ourselves a view of the boundless ocean on the morrow.
CHANNEL TO THE SEA--ITS SHALLOWNESS.
As the morning dawned, we saw that the natives had thrown an out-post of
sixteen men across the channel, who were watching our motions; but none
showed themselves on the hills behind us, or on any part of the south
shore. We embarked as soon as we had breakfasted, A fresh breeze was
blowing from the N.E. which took us rapidly down the channel, and our
prospects appeared to be as cheering as the day, for just as we were about
to push from the shore, a seal rose close to the boat, which we all
regarded as a favourable omen. We were, however, shortly stopped by
shoals; it was in vain that we beat across the channel from one side to
the other; it was a continued shoal, and the deepest water appeared to be
under the left bank. The tide, however, had fallen, and exposed broad
flats, over which it was hopeless, under existing circumstances, to haul
the boat. We again landed on the south side of the channel, patiently to
await the high water.
M'Leay, myself, and Fraser, ascended the hills, and went to the opposite
side to ascertain the course of the channel, for immediately above us it
turned south round the hills. We there found that we were on a narrow
tongue of land. The channel was immediately below us, and continued to the
E.S.E. as far as we could trace it. The hills we were upon, were the sandy
hills that always bound a coast that is low, and were covered with
banksias, casuarina and the grass-tree.
To the south of the channel there was a flat, backed by a range of
sand-hummocks, that were covered with low shrubs; and beyond them the sea
was distinctly visible. We could not have been more than two and a half
miles from the beach where we stood.
Notwithstanding the sandy nature of the soil, the fossil formation again
showed itself, not only on these hills, but also on the rocks that were in
the channel.
A little before high water we again embarked. A seal had been observed
playing about, and we augured well from such an omen. The blacks had been
watching us from the opposite shore, and as soon as we moved, rose to keep
abreast of us. With all our efforts we could not avoid the shoals. We
walked up to our knees in mud and water, to find the least variation in
the depth of the water so as to facilitate our exertions, but it was to no
purpose. We were ultimately obliged to drag the boat over the flats; there
were some of them a quarter of a mile in breadth, knee-deep in mud; but at
length got her into deep water again. The turn of the channel was now
before us, and we had a good run for about four or five miles. We had
completed the bend, and the channel now stretched to the E.S.E. At about
nine miles from us there was a bright sand-hill visible, near which the
channel seemed to turn again to the south; and I doubted not that it
terminated there. It was to no purpose, however, that we tried to gain it.
Shoals again closed in upon us on every side. We dragged the boat over
several, and at last got amongst quicksands. I, therefore, directed our
efforts to hauling the boat over to the south side of the channel, as that
on which we could most satisfactorily ascertain our position. After great
labour we succeeded, and, as evening had closed in, lost no time in
pitching the tents.
BEACH OF ENCOUNTER BAY.
While the men were thus employed, I took Fraser with me, and, accompanied
by M'Leay, crossed the sand-hummocks behind us, and descended to the
sea-shore. I found that we had struck the south coast deep in the bight
of Encounter Bay. We had no time for examination, but returned immediately
to the camp, as I intended to give the men an opportunity to go to the
beach. They accordingly went and bathed, and returned not only highly
delighted at this little act of good nature on my part, but loaded with
cockles, a bed of which they had managed to find among the sand. Clayton
had tied one end of his shirt up, and brought a bag full, and amused
himself with boiling cockles all night long.
If I had previously any hopes of being enabled ultimately to push the boat
over the flats that were before us, a view of the channel at low water,
convinced me of the impracticability of any further attempt. The water was
so low that every shoal was exposed, and many stretched directly from one
side of the channel to the other; and, but for the treacherous nature of
the sand-banks, it would not have been difficult to have walked over dry
footed to the opposite side of it. The channel stretched away to the
E.S.E., to a distance of seven or eight miles, when it appeared to turn
south under a small sand-hill, upon which the rays of the sun fell, as it
was sinking behind us.
CURIOUS EFFECT OF REFRACTION.
There was an innumerable flock of wild-fowl arranged in rows along the
sides of the pools left by the tide, and we were again amused by the
singular effect of the refraction upon them, and the grotesque and
distorted forms they exhibited. Swans, pelicans, ducks, and geese, were
mingled together, and, according to their distance from us, presented
different appearances. Some were exceedingly tall and thin, others were
unnaturally broad. Some appeared reversed, or as if they were standing on
their heads, and the slightest motion, particularly the flapping of their
wings, produced a most ridiculous effect. No doubt, the situation and the
state of the atmosphere were favourable to the effect I have described.
The day had been fine, the evening was beautiful,--but it was the
rarefaction of the air immediately playing on the ground, and not the
haze at sunset that caused what I have noticed. It is distinct from
mirage, although it is difficult to point out the difference. The one,
however, distorts, the other conceals objects, and gives them a false
distance. The one is clear, the other is cloudy. The one raises objects
above their true position, the other does not. The one plays about, the
other is steady; but I cannot hope to give a proper idea either of mirage
or refraction so satisfactorily as I could wish. Many travellers have
dwelt upon their effects, particularly upon those of the former, but few
have attempted to account for them.
Our situation was one of peculiar excitement and interest. To our right
the thunder of the heavy surf, that almost shook the ground beneath us,
broke with increasing roar upon our ears; to our left the voice of the
natives echoed through the brush, and the size of their fires at the
extremity of the channel, seemed to indicate the alarm our appearance had
occasioned.
CRITICAL SITUATION OF THE PARTY.
While the men were enjoying their cockles, a large kettle of which they
had boiled, M'Leay and I were anxiously employed in examining the state of
our provisions, and in ascertaining what still remained. Flour and tea
were the only articles we had left, so that the task was not a difficult
one. It appeared that we had not sufficient of either to last us to
Pondebadgery, at which place we expected to find supplies; and, taking
every thing into consideration, our circumstances were really critical.
The first view of Encounter Bay had convinced me that no vessel would ever
venture into it at a season when the S.W. winds prevailed. It was
impossible that we could remain upon the coast in expectation of the
relief that I doubted not had been hurried off for us; since
disappointment would have sealed our fate at once. In the deep bight in
which we were, I could not hope that any vessel would approach
sufficiently near to be seen by us. Our only chance of attracting notice
would have been by crossing the Ranges to the Gulf St. Vincent, but the
men had not strength to walk, and I hesitated to divide my party in the
presence of a determined and numerous enemy, who closely watched our
motions. Setting aside the generous feelings that had prompted M'Leay to
participate in every danger with me, and who I am persuaded would have
deeply felt a separation, my anxiety not only on his account, but on
account of the men I might leave in charge of the boat, made me averse to
this measure; the chance of any misfortune to them involving in it the
destruction of our boat and the loss of our provisions. My anxiety of mind
would have rendered me unfit for exertion; yet so desirous was I of
examining the ranges and the country at their base, that I should, had our
passage to the salt water been uninterrupted, have determined on coasting
it homewards, or of steering for Launceston; and most assuredly, with my
present experience, I would rather incur the hazards of so desperate a
step, than contend against all the evils that beset us on out homeward
journey. And the reader may rest assured, I was as much without hopes of
our eventual safety, as I was astonished, at the close of our labours, to
find that they had terminated so happily.
INSPECTION OF THE CHANNEL FROM THE LAKE TO THE OCEAN.
Further exertion on the part of the men being out of the question, I
determined to remain no longer on the coast than to enable me to trace the
channel to its actual junction with the sea, and to ascertain the features
of the coast at that important point. I was reluctant to exhaust the
strength of the men in dragging the boat over the numberless flats that
were before us, and made up my mind to walk along the shore until I should
gain the outlet. I at length arranged that M'Leay, I, and Fraser, should
start on this excursion, at the earliest dawn, leaving Harris and
Hopkinson in charge of the camp; for as we were to go towards the position
of the natives, I thought it improbable they would attack the camp without
my being instantly aware of it.
We had, as I have said, intended starting at the earliest dawn, but the
night was so clear and refreshing, and the moon so bright that we
determined to avail ourselves of both, and accordingly left the tents at
3 a.m. I directed Harris to strike them at 8, and to have every thing in
readiness for our departure at that hour. We then commenced our
excursion, and I led my companions rapidly along the shore of Encounter
Bay, after crossing the sand-hills about a mile below the camp. After a
hasty and distressing walk of about seven miles, we found that the
sand-hills terminated, and a low beach spread before us. The day was just
breaking, and at the distance of a mile from us we saw the sand-hill I
have already had occasion to notice, and at about a quarter of a mile from
its base, we were checked by the channel; which, as I rightly conjectured,
being stopped in its easterly course by some rising ground, the tongue of
land on which the blacks were posted, suddenly turns south, and, striking
this sand-hill, immediately enters the sea; and we noticed, in the bight
under the rising ground, that the natives had lit a chain of small fires.
This was, most probably, a detached party watching our movements, as they
could, from where they were posted, see our camp.
At the time we arrived at the end of the channel, the tide had turned, and
was again setting in. The entrance appeared to me to be somewhat less than
a quarter of a mile in breadth. Under the sand-hill on the off side, the
water is deep and the current strong. No doubt, at high tide, a part of
the low beach we had traversed is covered. The mouth of the channel is
defended by a double line of breakers, amidst which, it would be
dangerous to venture, except in calm and summer weather; and the line of
foam is unbroken from one end of Encounter Bay to the other. Thus were our
fears of the impracticability and inutility of the channel of
communication between the lake and the ocean confirmed.
DIFFICULTIES AND DANGERS OF THE RETURN.
I would fain have lingered on my way, to examine, as far as circumstances
would permit, the beautiful country between the lake and the ranges; and
it was with heart-felt sorrow that I yielded to necessity. My men were
indeed very weak from poverty of diet and from great bodily fatigue.
Hopkinson, Mulholland, and Macnamee were miserably reduced. The two
former, especially, had exerted themselves beyond their strength, and
although I am confident they would have obeyed my orders to the last,
I did not feel myself justified, considering the gigantic task we had
before us, to impose additional labour upon them.
It will be borne in mind that our difficulties were just about to
commence, when those of most other travellers have ceased; and that
instead of being assisted by the stream whose course we had followed, we
had now to contend against the united waters of the eastern ranges,
with diminished strength, and, in some measure, with disappointed
feelings.
Under the most favourable circumstances, it was improbable that the men
would be enabled to pull for many days longer in succession; since they
had not rested upon their oars for a single day, if I except our passage
across the lake, from the moment when we started from the depot; nor was
it possible for me to buoy them up with the hope even of a momentary
cessation from labour. We had calculated the time to which our supply of
provisions would last under the most favourable circumstances, and it was
only in the event of our pulling up against the current, day after day,
the same distance we had compassed with the current in our favour, that we
could hope they would last us as long as we continued in the Murray.
But in the event of floods, or any unforeseen delay, in was impossible
to calculate at what moment we might be driven to extremity.
Independent of these casualties, there were other circumstances of peril
to be taken into consideration. As I have already observed, I foresaw
great danger in again running through the natives. I had every reason to
believe that many of the tribes with which we had communicated on
apparently friendly terms, regretted having allowed us to pass unmolested;
nor was I at all satisfied as to the treatment we might receive from them,
when unattended by the envoys who had once or twice controlled their fury.
Our best security, therefore, against the attacks of the natives was
celerity of movement; and the men themselves seemed to be perfectly aware
of the consequences of delay. Our provisions, moreover, being calculated
to last to a certain point only, the slightest accident, the staving-in
of the boat, or the rise of the river, would inevitably be attended with
calamity. To think of reducing our rations of only three quarters of a
pound of flour per diem, was out of the question, or to hope that the men,
with less sustenance than that, would perform the work necessary to ensure
their safety, would have been unreasonable. It was better that our
provisions should hold out to a place from which we might abandon the boat
with some prospect of reaching by an effort a stock station, or the plain
on which Robert Harris was to await our return, than that they should be
consumed before the half of our homeward journey should be accomplished.
Delay, therefore, under our circumstances, would have been imprudent
and unjustifiable.
PATIENCE OF THE MEN--RE-ENTER THE MURRAY.
On the other hand, it was sufficiently evident to me, that the men were
too much exhausted to perform the task that was before them without
assistance, and that it would be necessary both for M'Leay and myself,
to take our share of labour at the oars. The cheerfulness and satisfaction
that my young friend evinced at the opportunity that was thus afforded him
of making himself useful, and of relieving those under him from some
portion of their toil, at the same time that they increased my sincere
esteem for him, were nothing more than what I expected from one who had
endeavoured by every means in his power to contribute to the success of
that enterprise upon which he had embarked. But although I have said thus
much of the exhausted condition of the men,--and ere these pages are
concluded my readers will feel satisfied as to the truth of my
statement--I would by no means be understood to say that they flagged for
a moment, or that a single murmur escaped them. No reluctance was visible,
no complaint was heard, but there was that in their aspect and appearance
which they could not hide, and which I could not mistake. My object in
dwelling so long upon this subject has been to point out our situation and
our feelings when we re-entered the Murray. The only circumstance that
appeared to be in our favour was the prevalence of the south-west wind,
by which I hoped we should be assisted in running up the first broad
reaches of that river. I could not but acknowledge the bounty of that
Providence, which had favoured us in our passage across the lake, and I
was led to hope that its merciful superintendance would protect us from
evil, and would silently direct us where human foresight and prudence
failed. We re-entered the river on the 13th under as fair prospects as
we would have desired. The gale which had blown with such violence in the
morning gradually abated, and a steady breeze enabled us to pass our first
encampment by availing ourselves of it as long as day light continued.
Both the valley and the river showed to advantage as we approached them,
and the scenery upon our left (the proper right bank of the Murray)
was really beautiful.