until Daly Waters telegraph station was reached. _Ergo_ it must have
been the Daly Creek. It, like all the watercourses beyond the Burt, has
its fall towards the north to join the coastal rivers. _Ergo_, again,
the country running northward from the Burt must have its fall towards
the coast.
The buildings at Daly Waters are on the south bank of the winding creek,
and, being erected on piles, stand two feet or more above the
ground--not, because of floods, though, for this bank is well above the
plains but to mitigate the white ant evil.
All the way up from the MacDonnell Ranges, ant-hills had ever figured
more or less prominently. Oftentimes fantastically-shaped groupings of
them had been mistaken for men or animals. They had been gradually
increasing in average size, until here at Daly Waters, or a few miles
on, they rose as high as the sag in the telegraph wire.
It had already been told me that between Pine Creek (258 miles from Daly
Waters) and Palmerston (146 miles still further on) the railway line in
many places deviated to save the cost and labour of cutting through the
ant-hills, so large and of such very tough material were they fashioned
there. I was always very grateful for scraps of information like this.
Daly Waters seemed nearly as good as the end of the journey; for at the
Katherine River (only 190 miles on) there was a hotel, and this meant
civilization and perhaps a township. At the telegraph station two or
three days were spent. Residing there, besides the stationmaster, were
an assistant, and a Chinaman cook. Many natives were camped in the
neighborhood, and they, or occasionally a handy Chinaman, got the "odd
jobs" of the station to do.
Here, as at every other place of call, the tinkling of the meal bell
fell on my ears sweetly as heavenly music. Music with words, too,
learned from a blackfellow, who thus pithily interpreted the
ringing--"Chow-chow, quick fella, come on now."
* * * *
The natives, of whom some were about the station have a faith in the
professing medicine man, which, unless a limb be missing, often goes far
towards making the patient whole. The "doctor" of a tribe will examine
the afflicted one, diagnose the case, and find out where the pain is.
There's bound to be something of a pain somewhere. Having made his
arrangements preparatory to operating, he applies his mouth to the
part--swelling or wound, or whatever it may be--makes a big show of
sucking, tangles himself up somewhat in the practice of his
profession--and draws out a lump of wood, or a stone, thus exhibiting
tangible proof of the efficacy of his method of treatment.
They put a little fire (live coals and a few pieces of dry wood, with
the fired end towards the wind) at their heads of nights, so fearful are
they of an evil spirit--a bogey man, of whom their grandmothers warned
them when they were children.
* * * *
A native at one of the telegraph stations kindly pointed out to me two
remarkable constellations, hitherto, doubtless, unheard of by our own
astronomers. He interpreted them to be, one, a representation of the
emu, the other, of course, of the kangaroo.
And, why not? The natives should have their familiar animal groups of
stars just as properly as had the ancients on other continents their
Bears and Fishes. And both of those to which I have referred are "all
there," safe enough--up in the heavens somewhere.
* * * *
This astronomer had been working steadily about the station for a matter
of three or four months at a stretch, during which period he had shifted
his residence a few dozen times, and had now taken it into his head
that he would be all the better for a bit of holiday-making (from which,
by the way, the natives generally return in a very lanky condition) away
out among the smokes. He counted on being absent until the middle of the
next following month, and informed the station master of that fact in
these terms:--"This one moon tumble down. By-'n'-bye new pella moon jump
up. Fust time picaninny. Lee-tle bit ole man--then come back."
The expert understands this "yabber" instantly.
* * * *
There is a law of the Overland--an unwritten law, of course--regarding
the camping of blacks at wells by which white men are gathered. At
sundown one of the whites says to the blacks, "clear out, go to your
camp," and indicates a locality for them to "clear out" to. Or one of
them comes up and asks, "which way we camp to-night?" If they venture to
put in an appearance again before sunrise--well, then, it is understood
they can be up to no good, and, as trespassers, are duly "dealt with."
* * * *
The officer in charge at Daly Waters showed me many kindnesses; and as
his business took him up the track I rode on and camped with him at some
iron tanks near a dried-up waterhole known as The Ironstone, about 33
miles beyond the station. Between those tanks and the Elsey cattle
station--77 miles--there are on the road two wells (from one of which,
by the way, a man walked out to look up some horses about a year ago
and has never been heard of since); and as the cattle station is
approached several billy-bongs in or near the Elsey creek are met with.
The country from the Daly to Elsey Station is nearly all low-lying and
subjected to annual heavy floodings. The dangerous "Bay of Biscay" is
come upon within a mile or two of the telegraph station, and extends
northwards through Stewart's Swamp for about 30 miles. Thence the riding
varies. There is a good deal of sand, with many long and short stretches
of harder "crab-hole" ground, "gilguy," and "devil-devil."
This last name is applied to clay, pure and simple, or silty soil
similar to "Biscay," but with this difference, that in contracting after
rains, in the quick-drying rays of fierce tropical suns it cracks, while
the "Biscay" becomes distressingly bumpy. These cracks are as so many
ever-set traps lying in wait for wheeled vehicles. The jaws of many of
them would easily admit a waggon wheel. They run in all directions
across the track and with it. To go slow is the cyclist's sure way of
getting through without accident.
"Gilguy" denotes small patches of mixed "Biscay" and "devil-devil"
ground--possibly dried up clay pans. And "crab-holes" are roundish
openings, like rabbit barrows, but going straight down in the soil.
These "crab-holes" are the more dangerous ones for horsemen. Here and
there one is warned to sheer off the pad by an uprising roughly-trimmed
branch of tree or length of dry wood which some traveller has shoved in
to mark a bad spot.
The vegetation along the track is distinctly tropical. So also is the
climate. And so both continue all the way to Palmerston.
But I confess to disappointment with the arrangements in the forestry
department. From Elsey upwards there were altogether too many trees of
the Eucalyptus family.
From Daly Waters to the Katherine (190 miles) are many and fine
specimens of Ironwood, Ebony, Bloodwood and Currajong; but the
prevailing tree--the one, at least, which from the track the passer-by
will see most of--is the familiar Gum.
* * * *
The homestead buildings at Elsey Cattle Station (100 miles from Daly
Waters) were, I thought, the most prettily situated group I had seen
anywhere since--oh, years ago. The Elsey river winds its billabonged way
in front and between the homestead. This is a garden in which anything
that might be planted should be proud to grow.
A beautiful reach of fresh water is a permanency in the river at this
point, with the sweetly scented flowers of many water lilies ever
floating gracefully upon its surface--a surface ruffled, as I at calm
evening time gazed with admiration on the fair picture, by sharp splash
and undulating widening circle, as a fish jumped now close to one bank
now over at the other; or, again, where one had risen high up to a fly,
or for amusement, in the centre.
Little forests of pandannus palms overtopped by stately paperbarks or
gum trees line the sides; and massive climber-laden trunks, or towering
branches of giant tree growths, meet the eye wherever it be turned.
Here also, along the chain of ponds and billabongs up and down the
Elsey, is some of the most delightful scenery one could desire to look
upon. Here, too, cotton grows naturally, making a brave show--bunches of
pure white dotting the landscape, and touching off the vivid green of
tropic bush, or thickly grouping in some wide space by themselves.
The Paper-bark at once attracts the eye. A very large tree this. On the
wettest day one has but to prize off a piece of the trunk's soft outer
covering, and there is to his hand compressed--laminated, as mica--a
hundred sheets of dry and easily-lighted coarse straw paper.
The mimosa tree and the cabbage tree, as well as many other palms,
likewise flourish in the favoured neighbourhood of the Elsey. In fact,
Elsey, as it appeared to me, was a vast botanical garden; and at supper
time, such a feast of sweet potatoes and other dainties were spread that
sleep but tardily drove out the thoughts of them.
A Chinaman cook had been speared here, in the manager's absence, about a
fortnight before, and I thought the Chinaman who had replaced him, and
who was now in charge (the manager being again absent) must be a fairly
lucky man--for a Chinaman. And, above all, he cooked the sweet potatoes
deliciously, and baked--oh! lovely cake.
* * * *
From the Elsey a stretch of 18 miles of sand (the timber is mostly gum
trees) runs northwards; but this is to be avoided by taking the "new
road," which bears in a more easterly direction. The track for part of
the way to the Katherine was freshly marked, as a party of black
trackers and a police trooper, having in charge two or three
prisoners--natives, who had speared the Chinaman--had left the vicinity
of the station only the day before my arrival there.
From the excellent road-plan made out for me by the courteous officer at
Daly Waters (he had, I think, every inch of the road in his mind's eye)
I was able to make unhesitatingly into the various watering places.
Nevertheless, there are one or two places on the Roper River and at the
Esther Well which might puzzle one not so blest as I was.
I overtook the police party after I had camped one night on the
Stirling, at a waterhole in one of that creek's bends, about 40 miles
from the Elsey; but after a very brief stoppage, proceeded on towards
the Katherine.
Of the prisoners I know nothing, and never heard of them again; but I
was told they would be imprisoned, then quickly released, enrolled among
the native police, and for evermore hold their heads high. "There is
always an opening for men of spirit in the native police force," said
one who ought to know.
Give a nigger a rifle or revolver and he will shoot his fellow
niggers--go out hunting after them if permitted--with the greatest of
glee, readiness, and cheerful animosity.
"You see wild blackfellow along track," more than one "civilised"
philanthropist asked me. "Sometimes, I think," I have answered. At once
has come an expectant, pleased expression to the questioner's face. "You
shoot him all right?" has been asked in amusingly hopeful tone.
* * * *
The presence of a trooper with black trackers probably accounted for the
scarcity of blackfellows along the road, but just after leaving the
Esther Well, which is only 24 miles from the Katherine, I ran across
two. They seemed though rather inclined to clear among the trees.
Dismounting, I endeavoured to get some information from them about a
turn off of which I was still doubtful; but they were too much
interested in the bicycle to make what they would tell me very clear.
Each carried a spear. One was headed with three wires--No. 6
gauge--fastened close together, and looked quite bad or good enough to
permanently damage a Chinaman with. The effective end of the other one,
a long bamboo, was fashioned out of one side of a square gin bottle.
(Gin, by the way, is a favorite N.T. drink.) A very business-like weapon
this was too. A slight scratch from it should be capable of inducing
_delirium tremens_ in the veins of the staunchest teetotaler.
* * * *
From Daly waters, and at many places still farther south, the grass was
for miles at a stretch so high that, mounted on the bicycle, I often
could not see over the top of it. In front, at such times, was only a
faint streak or hollow, where the top of the bending grass at either
side of the narrow pad met. The pad itself, the ground on which I
cycled, was not at such times visible--except when I dismounted and
crept down into the strange narrow tunnel to have a reassuring look for
or at it. When riding, a passage through was forced, or as it were, was
ploughed open, which when the machine had passed closed up again as
water would. It felt like being engulphed in ocean. I often fancied I
was on the point of drowning, and sat bolt upright to take in a breath
of the upper air. That was fancy; what I now say is not.
At every few hundred yards, the thinner, shorter, wiry undergrowth of
"blades" wound round and round the rear hub, until the roll becoming
wide and high and tightly coiled, it acted as a brake twixt wheel and
forks. They became entwined among the chain's links, and fastened
themselves between the teeth on both the sprocket wheels, and so
frequent stoppages were a necessity.
This state of things lasts only to the end of May or June. The long,
rank, useless grass, being an impediment to the progress of man and
beast, is, as it dries, fired by passing travellers, and the second
growth which then springs up, is short and sweet. The natives, too, set
fire to it, as when it grows, they cannot see or track the game or
animals they hunt for. Many patches had already been burned off, and the
minute particles of black ash which overspread the ground, rose at the
slightest touch, floated in the air, and begrimed the passer-by.
Two very extensive fires faced me after parting from the natives at
Esther Well. I had grown used to riding among smouldering embers, and
with the grass or dry trees burning right and left; but the second of
these fires was the biggest thing I had witnessed. After passing out of
the first, and leaving one black, sky-obscuring wall behind, a mile or
two's stretch of untouched grass and tropic bush and stunted gums was
ridden on to. At the end of this arose a mighty pall of jet-black smoke,
stretched out I knew not how far, with flame-jets glancing through. The
whole country seemed ablaze. The land was overcast, the sky shrouded as
if a fearful thunder storm was imminent. The smoke ascended and remained
suspended, as might dark, heavy, threatening banks of cloud, and the
fire at intervals leaped up and gleamed on this side or on that--a
passable equivalent for lightning.
It was a grandly impressive spectacle. But there were other
considerations than the spectacular. I looked, a little uneasily, for an
unlighted opening along the fast advancing line; and seeing such a gap
between two trees where there was little else but sand, I hurried
over--walking--and so passed through.
A dozen steps in I stopped to look behind. The flames had already
closed in!
In front, far on as I could see, the stems or branches of dry standing
trees were burning; and on the ink-black ground were smouldering heaps
of tindery bush, or still-blazing fallen limbs. Thick strewn everywhere
were the hot, and quickly blackening ashes of that tall grass which had
been waving majestically in each breath of wind a few short moments
since.
Shouldering the bicycle I walked cautiously to where the pad showed
still a narrow streak, yet offering a clear, narrow running space. As I
walked--I speak without exaggeration--I now and again heard sweat drops,
hiss and fizzle, as they fell on a burning log or some little grass-root
heap.
* * * *
For five miles at a stretch this fresh-burnt ground continued. Tress
stood out like torches all the way; and on the pad were many live coals
of fallen timber. I dare not hurry, and often had to dismount and lift
the bicycle over, because if my tyres blazed up I hadn't water to spare
with which to put the Ixionic fire out. Nevertheless I did that five
miles scorching.
* * * *
Out of the fire and into a frying-pan of hot sand ten miles long and
unridable. Towards the end of the ten miles so many large boulders and
long flat slabs of granite cropped up in the track that there was a
danger of getting dizzy from rounding them; and these senseless
outcroppings at the last became so numerous that a bye-track made a
seven mile detour towards the Katherine. At that beautiful river I
arrived, after a hard days "graft" at sundown. 214 miles from
Palmerston.
A hotel at last. Those "terrors" of the Overland which were to bring
certain destruction had been left behind.
The buildings consist of the hotel and store, telegraph and police
stations. They are on the south side of the river, which to the westward
joins the Daly.
The sloping banks of the Katherine rise 80 or more feet from the
gravelly bed, and are thickly timbered with giant trees of many
varieties. Here and in the country round about are, as well as thickets,
jungles and beauty spots innumerable, the stately paperbark and
Leichhardt pine, Pandanus palms, white cedar, woollybutt, bloodwood,
ironwood, banyan, and other trees; and splendid couch and buffalo
grasses.
When in flood the stream is about a quarter of a mile wide. Boats are
kept at both the hotel and the telegraph station. Alligators are known
to exist in several places, in deep holes and long reaches, but only a
small species of crocodile is often seen about the crossing place. A
fine specimen of one of these latter was on view at the hotel.
* * * *
It was at this telegraph station that I received a message from a
fabulously wealthy company of cycle-part makers. My journey, as I have
said, was practically at an end. Those "perils" that were so great that
failure was, I was told, certain, had been surmounted. Yet, only now,
seated at a hotel, I read a curt and, as it seemed to me, impertinent
and "catchy" telegram, endeavoring, as I took it, to ferret out of
me--unwealthy me--a most valuable advertisement _gratis_. Up to this
moment, when success had been practically achieved, nothing had been
heard from that quarter. I regarded it as mean, and answered
accordingly.
The company took further action then; but, in view of later
developments, it would be meanness on my part now to speak further of a
matter which would not deserve mention at all but that it has been made
to some extent public property. Only this further: _my answer to the
telegram has never yet been published_!
Without any promise of recompense I gladly did all I could for another
firm whose manager had treated me civilly, and who did not wait until
danger had been passed before identifying itself with the fortunes of
the trip.
* * * *
At the Katherine, where only one night was spent, I refitted myself with
wearables from the stock of the widely known hotel and storekeeper; had
a swim in the river; then tied boots and other things on Diamond,
shouldered the lot and walked across.
The country is flat for ten or twelve miles. Travelling only
middling--rather soft. But before the morning was far gone, rough hills
were entered and they continued most of the way to Pine Creek (68
miles).
* * * *
It was hazardous to hurry the bicycle over those rocky hills, but
Diamond stood the rough experience more than manfully, and jumped the
miniature precipices encountered on the down-hill sides without ever
loosening a spoke.
At one time, in the very early part of the journey, I favored the notion
of entering Palmerston, with the bicycle in a fearfully battered
condition--a revolving bundle of splints and copper wires. But how could
I? And I found myself proudly exhibiting it everywhere, and finally in a
Palmerston shop window as being "better than new."
In my mind, now, was the fixed idea that nothing could break that
machine. I knew I couldn't. And it had been called on to undergo some
rough usage. Towards the end, such confidence had I come to repose in
its excellence, in its unbreakableness, that on hearing sticks and
things rattle among the spokes I used only to laugh, say "Sool it,
Diamond!" and let them fight the battle out.
* * * *
The hilly country alternates with stretches of sand, blue-grass, swamps,
and rough patches of white clay or pug, with here and there a stunted
gum. I find at this stage this memorandum written for myself--"Horrid,
swampy, inexpressibly bleak and unattractive, miserably stunted
timber--a result, p'raps, of centuries of bush fires. A 68 mile-span
unfit for anything--except those strips close by the creeks and
watercourses." These latter were the redeeming features. The water in
some was deep, notably in the Driffield, Fergusson, Edith and Cullen
Creeks, which are rivers for a month or two in the rainy season.
In one of them--the Edith, I think--a little way down from one, nearly
waist-deep crossing, was an inviting reach of calm, deep water, with
many picturesque pandanus palms and woolly butts caressing it; and as a
family of aboriginals--two old men, many picaninnies and some
females--were bathing by the roadway. To this I wheeled the bicycle.
The bottom was gravelly, and in the deepest place there was only four
feet or so of water. The stream, or rather hole, was narrow; and while
paddling about in it the thought struck me that it would be just as well
to cross now and here as to cross at any other time and place. And,
besides, an opportunity for experimenting presented itself.
To bundle up the clothes and the few odds and ends I had with me was the
work of but a couple of minutes; those things I was able to walk across
with. On returning I laid the bicycle on its side close by the water's
edge, made fast the interlocking gear, and fastened securely to its
handlebars one end of the strong string I always had carried. To the
free end of the string I attached a stone. This I threw to the opposite
bank and swam over after it.
I would have swam that stream though my knees had got the gravelrash in
the transaction!
Laying hold now of the string I pulled gently on the bicycle until it
moved; then pulled it quickly whilst in the water; and so landed it
where I was standing. Undoing the string I allowed my silently weeping
comrade to remain out in the sun, where its doleful tears quick turned
into smiling rainbows while I resumed my clothes. Then gave it five
minutes attention.
This wetting, I might here remark, did no more harm to the bicycle than
a smart shower of rain would have done, but at Palmerston, where I
totally immersed it in the sea, I found the salt water quickly formed
rust on the various nickeled parts around the nuts and where the spokes
entered the rim and perhaps within the tubes themselves for aught I
know, as there, alas! monetary considerations forced me to part with it.
* * * *
I caught some fish in the waterholes, along the track. They bite at
dough or flesh of any sort; or the first one captured will do as bait
for catching more with.
From the Hayward Creek up to Daly Waters (230 miles), the fish are
small, averaging about 8 inches; but higher up, as at the Elsey, and in
more lasting holes to east and west, much larger ones are to be had.
Some will rise to a fly; others take meat. The best bait one can use is
a section of widgery (or "witchery," a grub three or four inches in
length, found at the roots of gum trees, and tasting, when slightly
roasted, not unlike a hen's egg.)
A packing or any other needle, heated to take the temper out, and bent
into shape, makes a sufficiently good hook. But I had been provided with
the regulation pattern steel article by a trooper, at one of the
telegraph stations.
* * * *
At the Little Cullen Creek, seven miles from the Palmerston railway
terminus, a genuine diamond has been found within the last couple of
years; and several small heaps of tailings near the crossing place were
accounted for by a native who told me "whitefellow bin on track of
nudder one; but no catch im."
On from the Cullen are groups of shallow holes, now half tilled in,
where alluvial gold has been sought; and various reefing properties,
notably the Cosmopolitan, came into view on nearing Pine Creek.