Depart for higher ground.
Rainfalls.
Ophthalmia.
Romantic glen.
Glen Ross.
Camels on the down grade.
Larger creek.
The Ashburton.
No natives.
Excellent bushes for camels.
A strange spot.
Junction of several creeks.
Large snake.
Grand Junction Depot.
A northerly journey.
Milk thistle.
Confined glen.
Pool of water.
Blind with ophthalmia.
Leading the blind.
Dome-like masses.
Mount Robinson and The Governor.
Ophthalmia range.
Rocky spring.
Native fig-trees.
A glen full of water.
Camels nearly drowned.
Scarcity of living things.
And of water.
Continued plague of flies.
A pretty view.
Tributaries join.
Nicholls's Fish ponds.
Characteristics of watering places.
Red hill.
Another spring.
Unvarying scene.
Frost, thermometer 28 degrees.
A bluff hill.
Gibson's Desert again.
Remarks upon the Ashburton.
The desert's edge.
Barren and wretched region.
Low ridges and spinifex.
Deep native well.
Thermometer 18 degrees.
Salt bush and Acacia flats.
A rocky cleft.
Sandhills in sight.
Enter the desert.
The solitary caravan.
Severe ridges of sand.
Camels poisoned in the night.
In doubt, and resolved.
Water by digging.
More camels attacked.
A horrible and poisonous region.
Variable weather.
Thick ice.
A deadly Upas-tree.
Though the camels returned early from where the water was found, some
of them required a rest on the soft ground on the banks of the creek,
and as there were good bushes here also, we remained for the rest of
the day. The night set in very close and oppressive, and a slight rain
fell. On the morning of May the 8th there was some appearance of more
rain, and as we were camped upon ground liable to be flooded, I
decided to be off at once to some higher ground, which we reached in
about two miles down the creek. While we were packing up, and during
the time we were travelling, the rain came down sufficiently heavily
to wet us all thoroughly. We got to the side of a stony hill, put up
our tents and tarpaulins, and then enjoyed the rain exceedingly,
except that our senses of enjoyment were somewhat blunted, for all of
us had been attacked with ophthalmia for several days previously.
Livingstone remarks in one of his works that, in Africa, attacks of
ophthalmia generally precede rain. The rain fell occasionally
throughout the remainder of the day and during the night. "All night
long, in fitful pauses, falling far, but faint and fine." By the next
morning it had flooded the small lateral channels; this, however,
caused a very slight trickling down the channel of the larger creek.
The following day was windy and cloudy, but no more rain fell; about
an inch and a half had fallen altogether. We remained in camp to-day,
and dried all our things. The position of the camp was in latitude 24
degrees 12' 8" and longitude about 118 degrees 20'.
(ILLUSTRATION: GLEN ROSS.)
On the 10th of May we left, still following our creek about
east-north-east. We have had, a line of hills to the north of us for
some distance, but now at five miles this fell off, and some other
hills on the south, running up close to the creek, turned its course
up to the north, and in two or three miles it ran into a most
picturesque and romantic glen, which had now a rushing torrent roaring
through its centre. Here no doubt some permanent water exists, as we
not only saw great quantities of mussel shells at deserted native
camps, but Alec Ross saw a large rocky water reservoir in the glen, in
which were quantities of good-sized fish. The camels could not pass
through this glen, it was too rocky; they therefore had to travel
along the top of a precipice of red and white granite. That overlooked
it on the eastern side. The noise of waters rushing over the rocky
bottom of this stone-bound glen, was music sweet, and sound melodious,
to ears like ours, so unaccustomed to the beautiful cadences of
Nature's pure and soothing voice. The atmosphere was pure and clear,
the breeze fresh, the temperature such as man may enjoy; and this was
one of those few and seldom-met-with, places where the wanderer's eye
may rest for a moment with pleasure as it scans the scene around. The
verdure of the glen, the bright foliage of the trees that lined the
banks of the stream below, the sparkling water as it danced and
glittered in the sunlight, the slow and majestic motion of the passing
caravan, as it wound so snake-like along the top of the precipitous
wall, combined with the red and white colouring of the rifted granite
of which it is composed, formed a picture framed in the retina of his
eye, which is ever pleasing to the traveller to remember, and a
pleasure also to describe. I have named this pretty place Glen Ross,
after my young friend Alec. We got the caravan easily enough up on top
of the wall, the difficulty was to get it down again. A very steep
place had to be negotiated, and we were more than an hour in
descending to ground not a hundred yards below us. Camels are not
designed for going down places of this kind, with loads on; but they
have so many other splendid qualities, that I cannot censure them for
not possessing the faculty of climbing like cats or monkeys.
From a hill near the mouth of this glen it could be seen that this
creek ran into a much larger one, in the course of three or four
miles. There also appeared a kind of valley in which the new creek
lay; it and its valley seemed to run east and west. On arrival at this
new feature the following morning, I found the channel very broad and
sandy-bedded, with fine vigorous eucalyptus timber growing upon either
bank. I was at once certain that this new feature was the upper
portion of the Ashburton River, which enters the sea upon the west
coast. It has always been supposed to be the largest river in Western
Australia. No traveller had ever reached so high a point up it
previously; of course its flow was to the west. Only a small stream of
water was running down its bed, caused no doubt by the late rains. The
valley down which it runs is so confined and stony, that no sufficient
areas of country suitable for occupation can be had on it, in this
neighbourhood. Its course was nearly from the east, and we followed
along its banks. In the immediate neighbourhood there was very fine
grass and herbage. I struck it in latitude 24 degrees 5', and
longitude 118 degrees 30'. A branch creek joins it from the north-east
at nine miles. I encamped upon it for the first time on the 11th of
May. In our progress up this river--I use the term in its Australian
sense, for at this portion the Ashburton might be termed a dry river
only--we found a slight stream of water trickling along its bed. The
banks are low, the bed is broad. We had to travel mainly in the sandy
bed, as this proved the best travelling ground in general, the valley
being both narrow and stony. On the second day it appeared that the
only water that ran down the bed came from another creek, which joined
from the south; above that spot the Ashburton channel was quite dry,
although we occasionally found small ponds of water in the sand here
and there. At night, on the 12th, there was none where we camped; the
river still ran nearly east and west. That hideous and objectionable
vegetation, the Triodia irritans, or spinifex, was prevalent even in
places where the waters sometimes flowed. We have had plenty of this
enemy ever since we left Mount Gould. No natives were seen, or appear
to exist here. A few strips of good country occur occasionally on the
banks of the river, but not in areas of sufficient extent to be of any
use for occupation. Neither man, beast, bird, nor fish was to be seen,
only an odd and apparently starving crow was occasionally heard. As we
travelled farther up the river, there was even less appearance of rain
having fallen; but the grass and herbage is green and fresh, and it
may be it was visited by rains previously. There are excellent acacia
and other leguminous bushes for the camels.
On the 13th of May we came to a very strange spot, where a number of
whitish, flat-topped hills hemmed in the river, and where the
conjunction of three or four other creeks occurred with the Ashburton,
which now appeared to come from the south, its tributaries coming from
the east and north-east. On the most northerly channel, Peter Nicholls
shot a very large snake; it was nearly nine feet long, was a foot
round the girth, and weighed nearly fifty pounds. It was a perfect
monster for Australia. Had we been without food, what a godsend it
would have been to us! It would have made two or three good meals for
the whole party. I called this place the Grand Junction Depot, as the
camp was not moved from there for thirteen days. The position of the
camp at this Grand Junction was in latitude 24 degrees 6' 8", and
longitude 119 degrees. At this time I had a second attack of
ophthalmia; but on the 15th, thinking I was recovering, I went away in
company with Alec Ross to penetrate as far north as the 23rd parallel
of latitude, as I was in hopes of finding some new hills or ranges in
that locality that might extend for a distance eastwards. We took four
camels with us, three being the same animals which Alec and I took
when we found the Boundary Dam.
Leaving the depot, we went up the most easterly of the creeks that
came in at the Grand Junction. In its channel I saw some of the milk
or sow-thistle plant growing--the Sonchus oleraceus. I have met this
plant in only four places during my explorations. The trend of the
creek was nearly from the east-north-east. At six miles the gum-timber
disappeared from the creek, and the channel being confined by hills,
we were in a kind of glen, with plenty of running water to splash
through. A great quantity of tea-tree--Melaleuca--grew in the creek
bed. There we saw another large snake, but not of such dimensions as
Nicholls's victim. At ten miles up from the depot the glen ceased, and
the creek ran through a country more open on the north bank. We camped
at about twenty miles. During the day we saw some native poplars,
quandong, or native peach, capparis, or native orange, and a few
scented sandal-wood-trees; nearly all of these different kinds of
trees were very stunted in their growth. At night my eyes were so much
inflamed and so painful with ophthalmia, that I could scarcely see.
The next day we steered north-north-east, the ground being very stony
and bad for travelling. We passed some low hills at seven or eight
miles, and at twenty-one we encamped in a dry, stony creek channel.
The following day the country was almost identical in its nature, only
that we found a small pool of water at night in a creek, our course
being still the same. My eyes had been so bad all day, I was in agony;
I had no lotion to apply to them. At length I couldn't see at all, and
Alec Ross had to lead the camels, with mine tied behind them. I not
only couldn't see, I couldn't open my eyes, and had no idea where I
was going. That day Alec sighted a range of somewhat high hills to our
left; he next saw another range having rounded, dome-like masses about
it, and this lay across our path. Alec ascended one of the hills, and
informed me that he saw an extensive mass of hills and ranges in every
direction but the east. To the north they extended a great distance,
but they rose into the highest points at two remarkable peaks to the
north-west, and these, although I cannot be certain exactly where they
are situated, I have named respectively Mount Robinson and The
Governor, in the hope that these designations will remain as lasting
memorials of the intelligent and generous interest displayed by
Governor Robinson in the exploration of the province under his sway.
The country to the east is all level; no ranges whatever appear in
that direction. From what Alec saw and described to me, it was evident
that we were upon the edge of the desert, as if the ranges ceased to
the east, it was not likely that any watercourses could exist without
them. No watercourses could be seen in any direction, except that from
which we had come. It was a great disappointment to me to get such
information, as I had hoped to discover some creeks or rivers that
might carry me some distance farther eastward; but now it was evident
they did not exist. I called this range, whose almost western end Alec
ascended, Ophthalmia Range, in consequence of my suffering so much
from that frightful malady. I could not take any observations, and I
cannot be very certain where this range lies. I wanted to reach the
23rd parallel, but as the country looked so gloomy and forbidding
farther north, it was useless plunging for only a few miles more into
such a smashed and broken region. By careful estimate it was quite
fair to assume that we had passed the Tropic of Capricorn by some
miles, as my estimated latitude here was 23 degrees 15', and longitude
about 119 degrees 37'. I was in such pain that I ordered an instant
retreat, my only desire being to get back to the depot and repose in
the shade.
This was the 18th of May, and though the winter season ought to have
set in, and cool weather should have been experienced, yet we had
nothing of the kind, but still had to swelter under the enervating
rays of the burning sun of this shadeless land; and at night, a
sleeping-place could only be obtained by removing stones, spinifex,
and thorny vegetation from the ground. The latter remark, it may be
understood, does not apply to only this one place or line of travel;
it was always the case. After returning for a few miles on our
outcoming tracks, Alec found a watercourse that ran south-westerly,
and as it must eventually fall into the Ashburton, we followed it. In
travelling down its course on the 22nd the creek became enclosed by
hills on either side, and we found an extraordinary rocky spring. The
channel of the creek dropped suddenly down to a lower level, which,
when in flood, must no doubt form a splendid cascade. Now a person
could stand on a vast boulder of granite and look down at the waters,
as they fell in little sprays from the springs that supplied the spot;
the small streams rushing out from among the fissures of the broken
rocks, and all descending into a fine basin below. To Alec's eyes was
this romantic scene displayed. The rocks above, below, and around,
were fringed and decked with various vegetations; shrubs and small
trees ornamented nearly the whole of the surrounding rocks, amongst
which the native fig-tree, Ficus platypoda, was conspicuous. It must
have been a very pretty place. I could hear the water rushing and
splashing, but could not see anything. It appeared also that the water
ran out of the basin below into the creek channel, which goes on its
course apparently through or into a glen. I describe this peculiar
freak of nature from what Alec told me; I hope my description will not
mislead others. Soon after we found that this was the case, as we now
entered an exceedingly rough and rocky glen full of water--at least so
it appeared to Alec, who could see nothing but water as far down as he
could look. At first the water was between three and four feet deep;
the farther we went the deeper the water became. Could any one have
seen us we must have presented a very novel sight, as the camels got
nearly up to their humps in water, and would occasionally refuse to go
on; they would hang back, break their nose-ropes, and then lie quietly
down until they were nearly drowned. We had to beat and pull them up
the best way we could. It was rather disagreeable for a blind man to
slip off a camel up to his neck in cold water, and, lifting up his
eyelids with both hands, try to see what was going on. Having,
however, gone so far, we thought it best to continue, as we expected
the glen to end at any turn; but the water became so deep that Alec's
riding cow Buzoe, being in water deep enough for her to swim in, if
she could swim, refused to go any farther, and thought she would like
to lie down. This she tried, but the water was too deep for her to
keep her head above it, and after being nearly smothered she got up
again:--
"And now to issue from the glen,
No pathway meets the wand'rers' ken,
Unless they climb, with footing nice,
A far-projecting precipice."
It would be out of all propriety to expect a camel to climb a
precipice; fortunately at a few yards further a turn of the glen
showed Alec a place on the southern bank where a lot of rocks had
fallen down. It was with the greatest difficulty we got to it, and
with still greater that at last we reached the top of the cliff, and
said good-bye to this watery glen. Our clothes, saddles, blankets, and
food were soaked to a pulp. We could not reach the depot that night,
but did so early on the following day. I called this singular glen in
which the camels were nearly drowned, Glen Camel.
No natives had visited the camp, nor had any living thing, other than
flies, been seen, while we were away, except a few pigeons. The camp
at this depot was fixed on the soft, sandy bed of the Ashburton, close
to the junction of the east creek, which Alec and I had followed up.
It had been slightly flooded by the late rains, and two open ponds of
clear water remained in the bed of the Ashburton. It seems probable
that water might always be procured here by digging, but it is
certainly not always visible on the surface. Once or twice before
reaching the depot, we saw one or two places with dried-up bulrushes
growing in the bed, and water may have existed there in the sand. In
consequence of my eyes being so bad, we remained here for the next two
days. The heat and the flies were dreadful; and the thermometer
indicated 93 degrees one day and 95 degrees the next, in the shade. It
was impossible to get a moment's peace or rest from the attacks of the
flies; the pests kept eating into our eyes, which were already bad
enough. This seemed to be the only object for which these wretches
were invented and lived, and they also seemed to be quite ready and
willing to die, rather than desist a moment from their occupation.
Everybody had an attack of the blight, as ophthalmia is called in
Australia, which with the flies were enough to set any one deranged.
Every little sore or wound on the hands or face was covered by them in
swarms; they scorned to use their wings, they preferred walking to
flying; one might kill them in millions, yet other, and hungrier
millions would still come on, rejoicing in the death of their
predecessors, as they now had not only men's eyes and wounds to eat,
but could batten upon the bodies of their slaughtered friends also.
Strange to say, we were not troubled here with ants; had we been, we
should only have required a few spears stuck into us to complete our
happiness. A very pretty view was to be obtained from the summit of
any of the flat-topped hills in this neighbourhood, and an area of
nearly 100 square miles of excellent country might be had here.
On Friday, the 26th of May, we left the depot at this Grand Junction.
The river comes to this place from the south for some few miles. In
ten miles we found that it came through a low pass, which hems it in
for some distance. Two or three tributaries joined, and above them its
bed had become considerably smaller than formerly. At about eighteen
miles from the depot we came upon a permanent water, fed by springs,
which fell into a fine rock reservoir, and in this, we saw many fish
disporting themselves in their pure and pellucid pond. Several of the
fishes were over a foot long. The water was ten or more feet deep. A
great quantity of tea-tree, Melaleuca, grew in the river-bed here;
indeed, our progress was completely stopped by it, and we had to cut
down timber for some distance to make a passage for the camels before
we could get past the place, the river being confined in a glen. Peter
Nicholls was the first white man who ever saw this extraordinary
place, and I have called it Nicholls's Fish Ponds after him. It will
be noticed that the characteristics of the only permanent waters in
this region are rocky springs and reservoirs, such as Saleh's Fish
Ponds, Glen Ross, Glen Camel, and Nicholls's Fish Ponds will show.
More junctions occurred in this neighbourhood, and it was quite
evident that the main river could not exist much farther, as
immediately above every tributary its size became manifestly reduced.
On the 27th of May we camped close to a red hill on the south bank of
the river; just below it, was another spring, at which a few reeds and
some bulrushes were growing. The only views from any of the hills near
the river displayed an almost unvarying scene; low hills near the
banks of the river, and some a trifle higher in the background. The
river had always been in a confined valley from the time we first
struck it, and it was now more confined than ever. On the morning of
the 28th of May we had a frost for the first time this year, the
thermometer indicating 28 degrees. To-day we crossed several more
tributaries, mostly from the north side; but towards evening the river
split in two, at least here occurred the junction of two creeks of
almost equal size, and it was difficult to determine which was the
main branch. I did not wish to go any farther south, therefore I took
the more northerly one; its trend, as our course for some days past
had been, was a good deal south of east; indeed, we have travelled
about east-south-east since leaving the depot. In the upper portions
of the river we found more water in the channel than we had done lower
down; perhaps more rain had fallen in these hills.
By the 29th, the river or creek-channel had become a mere thread; the
hills were lowering, and the country in the glen and outside was all
stones and scrub. We camped at a small rain-water hole about a mile
and a half from a bluff hill, from whose top, a few stunted gum-trees
could be seen a little farther up the channel. Having now run the
Ashburton up to its head, I could scarcely expect to find any more
water before entering Gibson's Desert, which I felt sure commences
here. So far as I knew, the next water was in the Rawlinson Range of
my former horse expedition, a distance of over 450 miles. And what the
nature of the country between was, no human being knew, at least no
civilised human being. I was greatly disappointed to find that the
Ashburton River did not exist for a greater distance eastwards than
this, as when I first struck it, it seemed as though it would carry me
to the eastwards for hundreds of miles. I had followed it only eighty
or a trifle more, and now it was a thing of the past. It may be said
to rise from nowhere, being like a vast number of Australian rivers,
merely formed in its lower portions by the number of tributaries that
join it. There are very few pretty or romantic places to be seen near
it. The country and views at the Grand Junction Depot form nearly the
only exceptions met. From that point the river decreased in size with
every branch creek that joined it, and now it had decreased to
nothing. No high ranges form its head. The hills forming its
water-shed become gradually lower as we approach its termination, or
rather beginning, at the desert's edge. The desert's edge is a raised
plateau of over 2000 feet above the sea-level--the boiling point of
water being 208 degrees = 2049 feet--and being about 350 miles in a
straight line from where the Ashburton debouches into the sea. My camp
upon the evening of the 29th of May, a little westward of the
bluff-faced hill before mentioned, was in latitude 24 degrees 25' and
longitude 119 degrees 58'. We remained here during the 30th. The
horizon to the east was formed by a mass of low ranges; from them we
saw that several diminutive watercourses ran into our exhausted
channel. I could not expect that any hills would extend much farther
to the east, or that I should now obtain any water much farther in
that direction. A line of low ridges ran all round the eastern
horizon, and another bluff-faced hill lay at the south-west end of
them. The whole region had a most barren and wretched appearance, and
there was little or no vegetation of any kind that the camels cared to
eat. Feeling certain that I should now almost immediately enter the
desert, as the explorer can scent it from afar, I had all our
water-vessels filled, as fortunately there was sufficient water for
the purpose, so that when we leave this camp we shall not be entirely
unprepared.
The morning of the 31st of May was again cold, the thermometer falling
to 27 degrees, and we had a sharp frost. I was truly delighted to
welcome this long-expected change, and hoped the winter or cool season
had set in at last. This day we travelled east, and went over low,
rough ridges and stony spinifex hills for several miles. At about
eleven miles, finding a dry water-channel, which, however, had some
good camel shrubs upon its banks, we encamped in latitude 24 degrees
28', being still among low ridges, where no definite view could be
obtained. On June the 1st we travelled nearly east-north-east towards
another low ridge. The ground became entirely covered with spinifex,
and I thought we had entered the desert in good earnest; but at about
six miles we came upon a piece of better country with real grass,
being much more agreeable to look at. Going on a short distance we
came upon a dry water-channel, at which we found a deep native well
with bitter water in it. We encamped in latitude 24 degrees 24'. The
night and following morning were exceedingly cold--the thermometer
fell to 18 degrees.
We had not yet reached the low ridge, but arrived at it in two miles
on the morning of the 2nd. From it another low ridge bore 23 degrees
north of east, and I decided to travel thither.
To-day we had a good deal of country covered with ironstone gravel; we
passed a few grassy patches with, here and there, some salt bush and
acacia flats; there were also many desert shrubs and narrow thickets.
The camp was fixed nearly under the brow of the ridge we had steered
for, and it was quite evident, though a few ridges yet appeared for a
short distance farther east, that we had at length reached the
desert's edge and the commencement of the watershed of the western
coast. It will be observed that in my journey through the scrubs to
Perth, I had met with no creeks or water-sheds at all, until after I
reached the first outlying settlement.
The question which now arose was, what kind of country existed between
us and my farthest watered point in 1874 at the Rawlinson Range? In a
perfectly straight line it would be 450 miles. The latitude of this
camp was 24 degrees 16' 6". I called it the Red Ridge camp. Since my
last attack of ophthalmia, I suffer great pain and confusion when
using the sextant. The attack I have mentioned in this journey was by
no means the only one I have had on my numerous journeys; I have
indeed had more or less virulent attacks for the last twenty years,
and I believe the disease is now chronic, though suppressed. From the
Red Ridge camp we went about eight miles east-north-east, and I found
under a mass of low scrubby hills or rises tipped with red sandstone,
a rocky cleft in the ground, round about which were numerous old
native encampments; I could see water under a rock; the cleft was
narrow, and slanted obliquely downwards; it was not wide enough to
admit a bucket. There was amply sufficient water for all my camels,
but it was very tedious work to get enough out with a quart pot; the
rock was sandstone. There was now no doubt in my mind, that all beyond
this point was pure and unrelieved desert, for we were surrounded by
spinifex, and the first waves of the dreaded sandhills were in view.
The country was entirely open, and only a sandy undulation to the
eastward bounded the horizon. The desert had to be crossed, or at
least attempted, even if it had been 1000 miles in extent; I therefore
wasted no time in plunging into it, not delaying to encamp at this
last rocky reservoir. After watering our camels we made our way for
about four miles amongst the sandhills. As we passed by, I noticed a
solitary desert oak-tree, Casuarina decaisneana, and a number of the
Australian grass-trees, Xanthorrhoea. The country was almost destitute
of timber, except that upon the tops of the parallel lines of red
sandhills, which mostly ran in a north-east and south-west direction,
a few stunted specimens of the eucalypt, known as blood-wood or red
gum existed. This tree grows to magnificent proportions in Queensland,
and down the west coast from Fremantle, always in a watered region.
Heaven only knows how it ever got here, or how it could grow on the
tops of red sandhills. Having stopped to water our camels at the rocky
cleft, our first day's march into the desert was only eleven miles.
Our camp at night was in latitude 24 degrees 12' 22".
The next day all signs of rises, ridges, hills, or ranges, had
disappeared behind the sandhills of the western horizon, and the
solitary caravan was now launched into the desert, like a ship upon
the ocean, with nothing but Providence and our latitude to depend
upon, to enable us to reach the other side.
The following morning, Sunday, the 4th June, was remarkably warm, the
thermometer not having descended during the night to less than 60
degrees, though only two mornings ago it was down to 18 degrees. I now
travelled so as gradually to reach the 24th parallel, in hopes some
lines of hills or ranges might be discovered near it. Our course was
east by north. We had many severe ridges of sand to cross, and this
made our rate of travelling very slow. We saw one desert oak-tree and
a few currajong-trees of the order of Sterculias, some grass-trees,
quandong, or native peach, Fusanus, a kind of sandal-wood, and the red
gum or blood-wood-trees; the latter always grows upon ground as high
as it can get, and therefore ornaments the tops of the sandhills,
while all the first-named trees frequent the lower ground between
them. To-day we only made good twenty miles, though we travelled until
dark, hoping to find some food, or proper bushes for the camels; but,
failing in this, had to turn them out at last to find what sustenance
they could for themselves. On the following morning, when they were
brought up to the camp--at least when some of them were--I was
informed that several had got poisoned in the night, and were quite
unable to move, while one or two of them were supposed to be dying.
This, upon the outskirt of the desert, was terrible news to hear, and
the question of what's to be done immediately arose; but it was
answered almost as soon, by the evident fact that nothing could be
done, because half the camels could not move, and it would be worse
than useless to pack up the other half and leave them. So we quietly
remained and tended our sick and dying ones so well, that by night one
of the worst was got on his legs again. We made them sick with hot
water, butter, and mustard, and gave them injections with the clyster
pipe as well; the only substance we could get out of them was the
chewed-up Gyrostemon ramulosus, which, it being nearly dark, we had
not observed when we camped. We drove the mob some distance to another
sandhill, where there was very little of this terrible scourge, and
the next morning I was delighted to find that the worst ones and the
others were evidently better, although they were afflicted with
staggers and tremblings of the hind limbs. I was rather undecided what
to do, whether to push farther at once into the desert or retreat to
the last rocky cleft water, now over five-and-twenty miles behind us.
But, as Othello says, once to be in doubt is once to be resolved, and
I decided that, as long as they could stagger, the camels should
stagger on. In about twelve miles Alec Ross and Tommy found a place
where the natives had formerly obtained water by digging. Here we set
to work and dug a well, but only got it down twelve feet by night, no
water making its appearance. The next morning we were at it again, and
at fifteen feet we saw the fluid we were delving for. The water was
yellowish, but pure, and there was apparently a good supply. We had,
unfortunately, hit on the top of a rock that covered nearly the whole
bottom, and what water we got came in only at one corner. Two other
camels were poisoned in the night, but those that were first attacked
were a trifle better.
On the 8th of June more camels were attacked, and it was impossible to
get out of this horrible and poisonous region. The wretched country
seems smothered with the poisonous plant. I dread the reappearance of
every morning, for fear of fresh and fatal cases. This plant, the
Gyrostemon, does not seem a certain deadly poison, but as I lost one
camel by death from it, at Mr. Palmer's camp, near Geraldton, and so
many are continually becoming prostrated by its virulence, it may be
well understood how we dread the sight of it, for none can tell how
soon or how many of our animals might be killed. As it grows here, all
over the country, the unpoisoned camels persist in eating it; after
they have had a shock, however, they generally leave it entirely
alone; but there is, unfortunately, nothing else for them to eat here.
The weather now is very variable. The thermometer indicated only 18
degrees this morning, and we had thick ice in all the vessels that
contained any water overnight; but in the middle of the day it was
impossible to sit with comfort, except in the shade. The flies still
swarmed in undiminished millions; there are also great numbers of the
small and most annoying sand-flies, which, though almost too minute to
be seen, have a marvellous power of making themselves felt. The well
we put down was sunk in a rather large flat between the sandhills. The
whole country is covered with spinifex in every direction, and this,
together with the poisonous bushes and a few blood-wood-trees, forms
the only vegetation. The pendulous fringe instead of leaves on the
poison bush gives it a strange and weird appearance, and to us it
always presents the hideous, and terrible form of a deadly Upas-tree.