Remarks on the last expedition.
Departure of my two officers.
Expedition leaves Perth.
Invited to York.
Curiosity to see the caravan.
Saleh and Tommy's yarns.
Tipperary.
Northam.
Newcastle again.
A pair of watch(ful) guards.
St. Joseph's.
Messrs. Clunes.
The Benedictine monastery.
Amusing incident.
A new road.
Berkshire Valley.
Triumphal arch.
Sandal-wood.
Sheep poison.
Cornamah.
A survey party.
Irwin House.
Dongarra.
An address presented.
A French gentleman.
Greenough Flats.
Another address.
Tommy's tricks.
Champion Bay.
Palmer's camp.
A bull-camel poisoned.
The Bowes.
Yuin.
A native desperado captured.
His escape.
Cheangwa.
Native girls and boys.
Depart for the interior.
Natives follow us.
Cooerminga.
The Sandford.
Moodilah.
Barloweerie Peak.
Pia Spring.
Mount Murchison.
Good pastoral country.
Farewell to the last white man.
After having crossed the unknown central interior, and having
traversed such a terrible region to accomplish that feat, it might be
reasonably supposed that my labours as an explorer would cease, and
that I might disband the expedition and send the members, camels, and
equipment back to Adelaide by ship, especially as in my closing
remarks on my last journey I said that I had accomplished the task I
had undertaken, and effected the object of my expedition. This was
certainly the case, but I regarded what had been done as only the half
of my mission; and I was as anxious now to complete my work as I had
been to commence it, when Sir Thomas Elder started me out. The
remaining portion was no less than the completion of the line I had
been compelled to leave unfinished by the untimely loss of Gibson,
during my horse expedition of 1874. My readers will remember that,
having pushed out west from my depot at Fort McKellar, in the
Rawlinson Range, I had sighted another line of hills, which I had
called the Alfred and Marie Range, and which I had been unable to
reach. It was therefore my present wish and intention to traverse that
particular region, and to connect my present explorations with my
former ones with horses. By travelling northwards until I reached the
proper latitude, I might make an eastern line to the Rawlinson Range.
That Gibson's Desert existed, well I knew; but how far west from the
Rawlinson it actually extended, was the problem I now wished to solve.
As Sir Thomas Elder allowed me carte blanche, I began a fresh journey
with this object. The incidents of that journey this last book will
record.
My readers may imagine us enjoying all the gaieties and pleasures such
a city as Perth, in Western Australia, could supply. Myself and two
officers were quartered at the Weld Club; Alec Ross and the others had
quarters at the United Service Club Hotel nearly opposite; and taking
it altogether, we had very good times indeed. The fountains of
champagne seemed loosened throughout the city during my stay; and the
wine merchants became nervous lest the supply of what then became
known as "Elder wine" should get exhausted. I paid a visit down the
country southwards, to Bunbury, The Vasse, and other places of
interest in that quarter. Our residence at Perth was extended to two
months. Saleh was in his glory. The camels were out in a paddock,
where they did not do very well, as there was only one kind of acacia
tree upon which they could browse. Occasionally Saleh had to take two
or three riding camels to Government House, as it became quite the
thing, for a number of young ladies to go there and have a ride on
them; and on those days Saleh was resplendent. On every finger, he
wore a ring, he had new, white and coloured, silk and satin, clothes,
covered with gilt braid; two silver watches, one in each side-pocket
of his tunic; and two jockey whips, one in each hand. He used to tell
people that he brought the expedition over, and when he went back he
was sure Sir Thomas Elder would fit him out with an expedition of his
own. Tommy was quite a young coloured swell, too; he would go about
the town, fraternise with people, treat them to drinks at any hotel,
and tell the landlord, when asked for payment, that the liquor was for
the expedition. Every now and again I had little bills presented to me
for refreshments supplied to Mr. Oldham. Alec Ross expended a good
deal of his money in making presents to young ladies; and Peter
Nicholls was quite a victim to the fair sex of his class. I managed to
escape these terrible dangers, though I can't tell how.
Both my officers left for South Australia by the mail steamer. Mr.
Tietkens was the more regretted. I did not wish him to leave, but he
said he had private business to attend to. I did not request Mr. Young
to accompany me on my return journey, so they went to Adelaide
together. The remainder of the party stayed until the 13th of January,
1876, when the caravan departed from Perth on its homeward route to
South Australia, having a new line of unexplored country to traverse
before we could reach our goal. My projected route was to lie nearly
400 miles to the north of the one by which I arrived; and upon leaving
Perth we travelled up the country, through the settled districts, to
Champion Bay, and thence to Mount Gould, close to the River Murchison.
Before leaving the city I was invited by the Mayor and Municipality of
the town of York, to visit that locality; this invitation I, of
course, accepted, as I was supposed to be out on show. My party now
consisted of only four other members besides myself, namely, young
Alec Ross, now promoted to the post of second in command, Peter
Nicholls, still cook, Saleh, and Tommy Oldham. At York we were
entertained, upon our arrival, at a dinner. York was a very agreeable
little agricultural town, the next in size to Fremantle. Bushmen,
farmers, and country people generally, flocked in crowds to see both
us and the camels. It was amusing to watch them, and to hear the
remarks they made. Saleh and Tommy used to tell the most outrageous
yarns about them; how they could travel ten miles an hour with their
loads, how they carried water in their humps, that the cows ate their
calves, that the riding bulls would tear their riders' legs off with
their teeth if they couldn't get rid of them in any other way. These
yarns were not restricted to York, they were always going on.
The day after leaving York we passed Mr. Samuel Burgess's
establishment, called Tipperary, where we were splendidly entertained
at a dinner, with his brothers and family. The Messrs. Burgess are
among the oldest and wealthiest residents in the Colony. From hence we
travelled towards a town-site called Northam, and from thence to
Newcastle, where we were entertained upon our first arrival. A lady in
Newcastle, Mrs. Dr. Mayhew, presented me with a pair of little spotted
puppies, male and female, to act for us, as she thought, as watch(ful)
guards against the attacks of hostile natives in the interior. And
although they never distinguished themselves very much in that
particular line, the little creatures were often a source of amusement
in the camp; and I shall always cherish a feeling of gratitude to the
donor for them.
At ten miles from Newcastle is Culham, the hospitable residence of the
well-known and universally respected Squire Phillips, of an old Oxford
family in England, and a very old settler in the Colony of Western
Australia. On our arrival at Culham we were, as we had formerly been,
most generously received; and the kindness and hospitality we met,
induced us to remain for some days. When leaving I took young Johnny
Phillips with me to give him an insight into the mysteries of camel
travelling, so far as Champion Bay. On our road up the country we met
with the greatest hospitality from every settler, whose establishment
the caravan passed. At every station they vied with each other as to
who should show us the greatest kindness. It seems invidious to
mention names, and yet it might appear as though I were ungrateful if
I seemed to forget my old friends; for I am a true believer in the
dictum, of all black crimes, accurst ingratitude's the worst. Leaving
Culham, we first went a few miles to Mr. Beare's station and
residence, whither Squire Phillips accompanied us. Our next friend was
Mr. Butler, at the St. Joseph's schoolhouse, where he had formerly
presented me with an address. Next we came to the Messrs. Clunes,
where we remained half an hour to refresh, en route for New Norcia,
the Spanish Catholic Benedictine Monastery presided over by the good
Bishop Salvado, and where we remained for the night; the Bishop
welcoming us as cordially as before. Our next halt was at the
McPhersons', Glentromie, only four or five miles from the Mission. Our
host here was a fine, hospitable old Scotchman, who has a most
valuable and excellent property. From Glentromie we went to the Hon.
O'Grady Lefroy's station, Walebing, where his son, Mr. Henry Lefroy,
welcomed us again as he had done so cordially on our first visit. At
every place where we halted, country people continually came riding
and driving in to see the camels, and an amusing incident occurred
here. Young Lefroy had a tidy old housekeeper, who was quite the
grande dame amongst the young wives and daughters of the surrounding
farmers. I remained on Sunday, and, as usual, a crowd of people came.
The camp was situated 200 yards from the buildings, and covered a good
space of ground, the camels always being curled round into a circle
whenever we camped; the huge bags and leather-covered boxes and
pack-saddles filling up most of the space. On this Sunday afternoon a
number of women, and girls, were escorted over by the housekeeper.
Alec and I had come to the camp just before them, and we watched as
they came up very slowly and cautiously to the camp. I was on the
point of going over to them, and saying that I was sorry the camels
were away feeding, but something Alec Ross said, restrained me, and we
waited--the old housekeeper doing the show. To let the others see how
clever she was, she came right up to the loads, the others following,
and said, "Ah, the poor things!" One of the new arrivals said, "Oh,
the poor things, how still and quiet they are," the girls stretching
their necks, and nearly staring their eyes out. Alec and I were
choking with laughter, and I went up and said, "My dear creature,
these are not the camels, these are the loads; the camels are away in
the bush, feeding." The old lady seemed greatly annoyed, while the
others, in chorus, said, "Oh, oh! what, ain't those the camels there?"
etc. By that time the old lady had vanished.
Up to this point we had returned upon the road we had formerly
travelled to Perth; now we left our old line, and continued up the
telegraph line, and main overland road, from Perth to Champion Bay.
Here we shortly entered what in this Colony is called the Victoria
Plains district. I found the whole region covered with thick timber,
if not actual scrubs; here and there was a slight opening covered with
a thorny vegetation three or four feet high. It struck me as being
such a queer name, but I subsequently found that in Western Australia
a plain means level country, no matter how densely covered with
scrubs; undulating scrubs are thickets, and so on. Several times I was
mystified by people telling me they knew there were plains to the
east, which I had found to be all scrubs, with timber twenty to thirty
feet high densely packed on it. The next place we visited, was Mr.
James Clinche's establishment at Berkshire Valley, and our reception
there was most enthusiastic. A triumphal arch was erected over the
bridge that spanned the creek upon which the place was located, the
arch having scrolls with mottoes waving and flags flying in our
honour. Here was feasting and flaring with a vengeance. Mr. Clinche's
hospitality was unbounded. We were pressed to remain a week, or month,
or a year; but we only rested one day, the weather being exceedingly
hot. Mr. Clinche had a magnificent flower and fruit garden, with
fruit-trees of many kinds en espalier; these, he said, throve
remarkably well. Mr. Clinche persisted in making me take away several
bottles of fluid, whose contents need not be specifically
particularised. Formerly the sandal-wood-tree of commerce abounded all
over the settled districts of Western Australia. Merchants and others
in Perth, Fremantle, York, and other places, were buyers for any
quantity. At his place Mr. Clinche had a huge stack of I know not how
many hundred tons. He informed me he usually paid about eight pounds
sterling per measurement ton. The markets were London, Hong Kong, and
Calcutta. A very profitable trade for many years was carried on in
this article; the supply is now very limited.
There was a great deal of the poison-plant all over this country, not
the Gyrostemon, but a sheep-poisoning plant of the Gastrolobium
family; and I was always in a state of anxiety for fear the camels
should eat any of it. The shepherds in this Colony, whose flocks are
generally not larger than 500, are supposed to know every individual
poison-plant on their beat, and to keep their sheep off it; but with
us, it was all chance work, for we couldn't tie the camels up every
night, and we could not control them in what they should eat. Our next
friends were a brother of the McPherson at Glentromie and his wife.
The name of this property was Cornamah; there was a telegraph station
at this place. Both here and at Berkshire Valley Mrs. McPherson and
Miss Clinche are the operators. Next to this, we reached Mr. Cook's
station, called Arrino, where Mrs. Cook is telegraph mistress. Mr.
Cook we had met at New Norcia, on his way down to Perth. We had lunch
at Arrino, and Mrs. Cook gave me a sheep. I had, however, taken it out
of one of their flocks the night before, as we camped with some black
shepherds and shepherdesses, who were very pleased to see the camels,
and called them emus, a name that nearly all the West Australian
natives gave them.
After leaving Arrino we met Mr. Brooklyn and Mr. King, two Government
surveyors, at whose camp we rested a day. The heat was excessive, the
thermometer during that day going up 115 degrees in the shade. The
following day we reached a farm belonging to Mr. Goodwin, where we had
a drink of beer all round. That evening we reached an establishment
called Irwin House, on the Irwin River, formerly the residence of Mr.
Lock Burgess, who was in partnership there with Squire Phillips. Mr.
Burgess having gone to England, the property was leased to Mr. Fane,
where we again met Mrs. Fane and her daughters, whom we had first met
at Culham. This is a fine cattle run and farming property. From thence
we went to Dongarra, a town-site also on the Irwin. On reaching this
river, we found ourselves in one of the principal agricultural
districts of Western Australia, and at Dongarra we were met by a
number of the gentlemen of the district, and an address was presented
to me by Mr. Laurence, the Resident Magistrate. After leaving
Dongarra, we were entertained at his house by Mr. Bell; and here we
met a French gentleman of a strong Irish descent, with fine white eyes
and a thick shock head, of red hair; he gazed intently both at us and
the camels. I don't know which he thought the more uncouth of the two
kinds of beasts. At last he found sufficient English to say, "Do dem
tings goo faar in a deayah, ehah?" When he sat down to dinner with us,
he put his mutton chop on his hand, which he rested on his plate. The
latter seemed to be quite an unknown article of furniture to him, and
yet I was told his father was very well to do.
The next town-site we reached was the Greenough--pronounced
Greenuff--Flats, being in another very excellent agricultural
district; here another address was presented to me, and we were
entertained at an excellent lunch. As usual, great numbers of people
came to inspect us, and the camels, the latter laying down with their
loads on previous to being let go. Often, when strangers would come
too near, some of the more timid camels would jump up instantly, and
the people not being on their guard, would often have torn faces and
bleeding noses before they could get out of the way. On this occasion
a tall, gaunt man and his wife, I supposed, were gazing at Tommy's
riding camel as she carried the two little dogs in bags, one on each
side. Tommy was standing near, trying to make her jump up, but she was
too quiet, and preferred lying down. Any how, Tommy would have his
joke--so, as the man who was gazing most intently at the pups said,
"What's them things, young man?" he replied, "Oh, that's hee's
pickaninnies"--sex having no more existence in a black boy's
vocabulary than in a highlander's. Then the tall man said to the wife,
"Oh, lord, look yer, see how they carries their young." Only the pup's
heads appeared, a string round the neck keeping them in; "but they
looks like dogs too, don't they?" With that he put his huge face down,
so as to gaze more intently at them, when the little dog, who had been
teased a good deal and had got snappish, gave a growl and snapped at
his nose. The secret was out; with a withering glance at Tommy and the
camels, he silently walked away--the lady following.
All the riding camels and most of the pet baggage camels were
passionately fond of bread. I always put a piece under the flap of my
saddle, and so soon as Reechy came to the camp of a morning, she would
come and lie down by it, and root about till she found it. Lots of the
people, especially boys and children, mostly brought their lunch, as
coming to see the camels was quite a holiday affair, and whenever they
incautiously began to eat in the camp, half a dozen camels would try
to take the food from them. One cunning old camel called Cocky, a huge
beast, whose hump was over seven feet from the ground, with his head
high up in the air, and pretending not to notice anything of the kind,
would sidle slowly up towards any people who were eating, and swooping
his long neck down, with his soft tumid lips would take the food out
of their mouths or hands--to their utter astonishment and dismay.
Another source of amusement with us was, when any man wanted to have a
ride, we always put him on Peter Nicholls's camel, then he was led for
a certain distance from the camp, when the rider was asked whether he
was all right? He was sure to say, "Yes." "Well, then, take the
reins," we would say; and so soon as the camel found himself free, he
would set to work and buck and gallop back to the camp; in nine cases
out of ten the rider fell off, and those who didn't never wished to
get on any more. With the young ladies we met on our journeys through
the settled districts, I took care that no accidents should happen,
and always gave them Reechy or Alec's cow Buzoe. At the Greenough, a
ball was given in the evening. (I should surely be forgetting myself
were I to omit to mention our kind friend, Mr. Maley, the miller at
Greenough, who took us to his house, gave us a lunch, and literally
flooded us with champagne.) We were now only a short distance from
Champion Bay, the town-site being called Geraldton; it was the 16th
February when we reached it. Outside the town we were met by a number
of gentlemen on horseback, and were escorted into it by them.
On arrival we were invited to a lunch. Champion Bay, or rather
Geraldton, is the thriving centre of what is, for Western Australia, a
large agricultural and pastoral district. It is the most busy and
bustling place I have seen on this side of the continent. It is
situated upon the western coast of Australia, in latitude 28 degrees
40' and longitude 114 degrees 42' 30", lying about north-north-west
from Perth, and distant 250 miles in a straight line, although to
reach it by land more than 300 miles have to be traversed. I delayed
in the neighbourhood of Geraldton for the arrival of the English and
Colonial mails, at the hospitable encampment of Mr. James Palmer, a
gentleman from Melbourne, who was contractor for the first line of
railway, from Champion Bay to Northampton, ever undertaken in Western
Australia.
While we delayed here, Mr. Tietkens's fine young riding bull got
poisoned, and though we did everything we possibly could for him, he
first went cranky, and subsequently died. I was very much grieved; he
was such a splendid hack, and so quiet and kind; I greatly deplored
his loss. The only substance I could find that he had eaten was
Gyrostemon, there being plenty of it here. Upon leaving Mr. Palmer's
camp we next visited a station called the Bowes--being on the Bowes
Creek, and belonging to Mr. Thomas Burgess, whose father entertained
us so well at Tipperary, near York. Mr. Burgess and his wife most
cordially welcomed us. This was a most delightful place, and so
homelike; it was with regret that I left it behind, Mrs. Burgess being
the last white lady I might ever see.
Mr. Burgess had another station called Yuin, about 115 miles easterly
from here, and where his nephews, the two Messrs. Wittenoom, resided.
They also have a station lying north-east by north called Cheangwa. On
the fifth day from the Bowes we reached Yuin. The country was in a
very dry state. All the stock had been removed to Cheangwa, where
rains had fallen, and grass existed in abundance. At Yuin Mr. Burgess
had just completed the erection of, I should say, the largest
wool-shed in the Colony. The waters on the station consist of shallow
wells and springs all over it. It is situated up the Greenough River.
Before reaching Cheangwa I met the elder of the two Wittenooms, whom I
had previously known in Melbourne; his younger brother was expected
back from a trip to the north and east, where he had gone to look for
new pastoral runs. When he returned, he told us he had not only been
very successful in that way, but had succeeded in capturing a native
desperado, against whom a warrant was out, and who had robbed some
shepherds' huts, and speared, if not killed, a shepherd in their
employ. Mr. Frank Wittenoom was leading this individual alongside of
his horse, intending to take him to Geraldton to be dealt with by the
police magistrate there. But O, tempora mutantur! One fine night, when
apparently chained fast to a verandah post, the fellow managed to slip
out of his shackles, quietly walked away, and left his fetters behind
him, to the unbounded mortification of his captor, who looked
unutterable things, and though he did not say much, he probably
thought the more. This escape occurred at Yuin, to which place I had
returned with Mr. E. Wittenoom, to await the arrival of Mr. Burgess.
When we were all conversing in the house, and discussing some
excellent sauterne, the opportunity for his successful attempt was
seized by the prisoner. He effected his escape through the good
offices of a confederate friend, a civilised young black fellow, who
pretended he wanted his hair cut, and got a pair of sheep shears from
Mr. Wittenoom during the day for that apparent purpose, saying that
the captive would cut it for him. Of course the shears were not
returned, and at night the captive or his friend used them to prise
open a split link of the chain which secured him, and away he went as
free as a bird in the air.
I had Mr. Burgess's and Mr. Wittenoom's company to Cheangwa, and on
arrival there my party had everything ready for a start. We arranged
for a final meeting with our kind friends at a spring called Pia, at
the far northern end of Mr. Wittenoom's run. A great number of natives
were assembled round Cheangwa: this is always the case at all frontier
stations, in the Australian squatting bush. Some of the girls and
young women were exceedingly pretty; the men were not so attractive,
but the boys were good-looking youngsters. The young ladies were
exceedingly talkative; they called the camels emus, or, as they
pronounced it, immu. Several of these girls declared their intention
of coming with us. There were Annies, and Lizzies, Lauras, and Kittys,
and Judys, by the dozen. One interesting young person in undress
uniform came up to me and said, "This is Judy, I am Judy; you
Melbourne walk? me Melbourne walk too!" I said, "Oh, all right, my
dear;" to this she replied, "Then you'll have to gib me dress." I gave
her a shirt.
When we left Cheangwa a number of the natives persisted in following
us, and though we outpaced them in travelling, they stopping to hunt
on the way, they found their way to the camp after us. By some of the
men and boys we were led to a water-hole of some length, called
Cooerminga, about eleven miles nearly north from Cheangwa. As the day
was very warm, we and the natives all indulged promiscuously in the
luxury of swimming, diving, and splashing about in all directions. It
might be said that:--
"By yon mossy boulder, see an ebony shoulder,
Dazzling the beholder, rises o'er the blue;
But a moment's thinking, sends the Naiad sinking,
With a modest shrinking, from the gazer's view."
The day after we crossed the dry channel of what is called the River
Sandford, and at two or three miles beyond it, we were shown another
water called Moodilah, six miles from our last night's encampment. We
were so hampered with the girls that we did not travel very rapidly
over this part of the continent. Moodilah lay a little to the east of
north from Cooerminga; Barloweerie Peak bore north 37 degrees west
from camp, the latitude of which was 27 degrees 11' 8". On Saturday,
the 8th of April, we went nearly north to Pia Spring, where the
following day we met for the last time, Messrs. Burgess and Wittenoom.
We had some bottles of champagne cooling in canvas water-buckets, and
we had an excellent lunch. The girls still remained with us, and if we
liked we might have stayed to "sit with these dark Orianas in groves
by the murmuring sea."
On Sunday, the 9th of April, we all remained in peace, if not
happiness, at Pia Spring; its position is in latitude 27 degrees 7'
and longitude 116 degrees 30'. The days were still very hot, and as
the country produced no umbrageous trees, we had to erect awnings with
tarpaulins to enable us to rest in comfort, the thermometer in the
shade indicating 100 degrees. Pia is a small granite rock-hole or
basin, which contains no great supply of water, but seems to be
permanently supplied by springs from below. From here Mount Murchison,
near the eastern bank of the River Murchison, bore north 73 degrees
east, twenty-three or twenty-four miles away, and Barloweerie, behind
us, bore south 48 degrees west, eight miles.
(ILLUSTRATION: FAREWELL TO WESTERN AUSTRALIA.)
The country belonging to Mr. Burgess and the Messrs. Wittenoom
Brothers appeared to me the best and most extensive pastoral property
I had seen in Western Australia. Water is obtained in wells and
springs all over the country, at a depth of four or five feet; there
are, besides, many long standing pools of rain-water on the runs. Mr.
Burgess told me of a water-hole in a creek, called Natta, nine or ten
miles off, where I intend to go next. On Monday, the 10th of April, we
bade farewell to our two kind friends, the last white men we should
see. We finished the champagne, and parted.