THE DEPOT--FURTHER PROGRESS CHECKED--CHARACTER OF THE RANGES--JOURNEY TO
THE NORTH-EAST--RETURN--JOURNEY TO THE WEST--RETURN--AGAIN PROCEED TO THE
NORTH--INTERVIEW WITH NATIVES--ARRIVE AT THE FARTHEST WATER--THE PARTY
SEPARATES--PROGRESS NORTHWARDS--CONTINUE TO ADVANCE--SUFFERINGS OF THE
HORSE--CROSS THE 28TH PARALLEL--REJOIN MR. STUART--JOURNEY TO THE
WESTWARD--CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY--FIND TWO PONDS OF WATER--THE GRASSY
PARK--RETURN TO THE RANG--EXCESSIVE HEAT--A SINGULAR GEOLOGICAL
FEATURE--REGAIN THE DEPOT.
As the reader will have learnt from what I have stated at the conclusion
of the last chapter, we pitched our tents at the place to which I have
led him, and which I shall henceforth call the "Depot," on the 27th of
January, 1845. They were not struck again until the 17th of July
following.
This ruinous detention paralyzed the efforts and enervated the strength
of the expedition, by constitutionally affecting both the men and
animals, and depriving them of the elasticity and energy with which they
commenced their labours. It was not however until after we had run down
every creek in our neighbourhood, and had traversed the country in every
direction, that the truth flashed across my mind, and it became evident
to me, that we were locked up in the desolate and heated region, into
which we had penetrated, as effectually as if we had wintered at the
Pole. It was long indeed ere I could bring myself to believe that so
great a misfortune had overtaken us, but so it was. Providence had, in
its allwise purposes, guided us to the only spot, in that wide-spread
desert, where our wants could have been permanently supplied, but had
there stayed our further progress into a region that almost appears to be
forbidden ground. The immediate effect, however, of our arrival at the
Depot, was to relieve my mind from anxiety as to the safety of the party.
There was now no fear of our encountering difficulties, and perhaps
perishing from the want of that life-sustaining element, without which
our efforts would have been unavailing, for independently of the
beautiful sheet of water, on the banks of which the camp was established,
there was a small lagoon to the S.E. of us, and around it there was a
good deal of feed, besides numerous water-holes in the rocky gully. The
creek was marked by a line of gum-trees, from the mouth of the glen to
its junction with the main branch, in which, excepting in isolated spots,
water was no longer to be found. The Red Hill (afterwards called Mount
Poole), bore N.N.W. from us, distant 3 1/2 miles; between us and it there
were undulating plains, covered with stones or salsolaceous herbage,
excepting in the hollows, wherein there was a little grass. Behind us
were level stony plains, with small sandy undulations, bounded by brush,
over which the Black Hill, bearing S.S.E. from the Red Hill, was visible,
distant 10 miles. To the eastward the country was, as I have described
it, hilly. Westward at a quarter of a mile the low range, through which
Depot Creek forces itself, shut out from our view the extensive plains on
which it rises. This range extended longitudinally nearly north and
south, but was nowhere more than a mile and a half in breadth. The
geological formation of the range was slate, traversed by veins of
quartz, its interstices being filled with magnesian limestone. Steep
precipices and broken rugged gullies alternated on either side of this
creek, and in its bed there were large slabs of beautiful slate. The
precipices shewed the lateral formation with the rock split into the
finest laminae, terminating in sharp points. But neither on the ranges or
on the plains behind the camp was there any feed for the cattle, neither
were the banks of the creek or its neighbourhood to be put in comparison
with Flood's Creek in this respect, for around it there was an abundance
as well as a variety of herbage. Still the vegetation on the Depot Creek
was vigorous, and different kinds of seeds were to be procured. I would
dwell on this fact the more forcibly, because I shall, at a future stage
of this journey, have to remark on the state of the vegetation at this
very spot, that is to say, when the expedition was on its return from the
interior at the close of the year.
A few days after we had settled ourselves at the Depot, Mr. Browne had a
serious attack of illness, that might have proved fatal; but it pleased
God to restore him to health and reserve him for future usefulness. At
this time, too, the men generally complained of rheumatism, and I
suspected that I was not myself altogether free from that depressing
complaint, since I had violent pains in my hip joints; but I attributed
them to my having constantly slept on the hard ground, and frequently in
the bed of some creek or other. It eventually proved, however, that I had
been attacked by a more fearful malady than rheumatism in its worst
stage.
There being no immediate prospect of our removal, I determined to
complete the charts up to thepoint to which we had penetrated. I
therefore sent Mr. Stuart, on the 2nd February, to sketch in the ranges
to the eastward, and connect them with the hills I had lately crossed
over. I directed Lewis, who had been in the survey, to assist Mr. Stuart,
and sent Flood with them to trace down the creek I had noticed from
several of our stations on the northern ranges, as passing through a gap
in the hills to the eastward. They returned to the camp on the 4th, Mr.
Stuart having been very diligent in his work. Flood had also obeyed my
orders; but could find no water in the lower branches of the creek,
although there was so much in it nearer the hills. The party had fallen
in with a small tribe of natives, for whom Flood had shot an emu. Mr.
Stuart informed me that they were very communicative; but their language
was unknown to him. He understood from them that they intended to visit
the camp in a couple of days; but as I had some doubts on this head, and
was anxious to establish a communication, and induce them to return with
me to the camp, I rode on the 5th with Mr. Browne across the plain, at
the farther extremity of which they were encamped near a little muddy
puddle. Flood and Joseph in the light cart accompanied us.
Great as the heat had been, it appeared rather to increase than diminish.
The wind constantly blew from the E.S.E. in the morning, with the deep
purple tint to the west I have already had occasion to notice. It then
went round with the sun, and blew heavily at noon; but gradually subsided
to a calm at sunset, and settled in the west, the same deep tint being
then visible above the eastern horizon which in the morning had been seen
in the west. The thermometer ranged from 100 degrees to 117 degrees in
the shade at 3 p.m.; the barometer from 29.300 degrees to 29.100 degrees.
Water boiled at 211 degrees and a fraction; but there was no dew point. I
should have stated, that both whilst Mr. Browne and I were in the hills
and at the camp, there was thunder and rain on the 23rd, 24th, and 25th,
but the showers were too light even to lay the dust, and had no effect
whatever on the temperature.
The morning we started to pay a visit to the blacks was more than usually
oppressive even at daybreak, and about 9 it blew a hot wind from the N.E.
As we rode across the stony plain lying between us and the hills, the
heated and parching blasts that came upon us were more than we could
bear. We were in the centre of the plain, when Mr. Browne drew my
attention to a number of small black specks in the upper air. These spots
increasing momentarily in size, were evidently approaching us rapidly. In
an incredibly short time we were surrounded by several hundreds of the
common kite, stooping down to within a few feet of us, and then turning
away, after having eyed us steadily. Several approached us so closely,
that they threw themselves back to avoid contact, opening their beaks and
spreading out their talons. The long flight of these birds, reaching from
the ground into the heavens, put me strongly in mind of one of Martin's
beautiful designs, in which he produces the effect of distance by a
multitude of objects gradually vanishing from the view. Whatever the
reader may think, these birds had a most formidable aspect, and were too
numerous for us to have overpowered, if they had really attacked us. That
they came down to see what unusual object was wandering across the lonely
deserts over which they soar, in the hope of prey, there can be no doubt;
but seeing that we were likely to prove formidable antagonists, they
wheeled from us in extensive sweeps, and were soon lost to view in the
lofty region from whence they had descended.
When we reached the place where the natives had been, we were
disappointed in not finding them. They had, however, covered up their
fires and left their nets, as if with the intention of returning.
Nevertheless we missed them, and reached the tents late in the evening,
after a ride of 40 miles.
After my return from this excursion, I was busily employed filling-in the
charts; but the ink in our pens dried so rapidly, that we were obliged to
have an underground room constructed to work in, and it proved of
infinite service and comfort, insomuch that the air in it was generally
from 7 degrees to 8 degrees cooler than that of the outer air.
Our observations and lunars placed us in latitude 29 degrees 40 minutes
14 seconds S., and in longitude 141 degrees 30 minutes 41 seconds E.
Mount Hopeless, therefore, bore W. by S. {N.N.W. in published text} of us,
as we were still 7 miles to the north of it {25 MILES TO THE SOUTH OF IT
in published text}, the difference of longitude being about 110 {171 in
published text} miles, and our distance from the eastern shore of Lake
Torrens about 85 {120 in published text}. The result of our lunars,
however, placed us somewhat to the westward of the longitude I have
given; and when I came to try my angles back from the Depot to Williorara,
I found that they terminated considerably to the westward of Sir
Thomas Mitchell's position there. My lunars at Williorara, however,
had not been satisfactory, and I therefore gave that officer credit
for correctness, and in the first chart I transmitted to the
Secretary of State assumed his position to be correct. There was a
small range, distant about 20 miles to the westward of the stony range
connected with the Depot Creek. It struck me that we might from them
obtain a distant view of Mount Serle, or see some change of country
favourable to my future views. Under this impression, I left the camp on
the 7th of the month, with Mr. Poole and two of the men. The ranges were
at a greater distance than I had imagined, but were of trifling
elevation, and on arriving at them I found that the horizon to the
westward was still closed from my view, by rising ground that intervened.
I should have pushed on for it, but Mr. Poole was unfortunately taken
ill, and I felt it necessary to give him my own horse, as having easier
paces than the one he was riding. It was with difficulty I got him on his
way back to the camp as far as the upper waterhole, just outside the
Rocky Glen, at which we slept, and by that means reached the tents early
on the following morning. I had anticipated rain before we should get
back, from the masses of heavy clouds that rose to the westward, after
the wind, which had been variable, had settled in that quarter; but they
were dispersed during the night, and the morning of the 8th was clear and
warm. We had felt it exceedingly hot the day we left the camp--there the
men were oppressed with intolerable heat, the thermometer having risen to
112 degrees in the shade. We had not ourselves felt the day so
overpowering, probably because we were in motion, and it is likely that a
temporary change in the state of the atmosphere, had influenced the
temperature, as the eastern horizon was banded by thunder clouds, though
not so heavy as those to the westward, and there was a good deal of
lightning in that quarter.
I have said that I was not satisfied with the result of my last excursion
with Mr. Browne to the north. I could not but think that we had
approached to within a tangible distance of an inland sea, from the
extreme depression and peculiar character of the country we traversed. I
determined, therefore, to make another attempt to penetrate beyond the
point already gained, and to ascertain the nature of the interior there;
making up my mind at the same time to examine the country both to the
eastward and westward of the northern ranges before I should return to
the camp. Mr. Poole and Mr. Browne being too weak to venture on a
protracted excursion of such a kind, I took Mr. Stuart, my draftsman,
with me. I should have delayed this excursion for a few days, however,
only that I feared the total failure of the creeks in the distant
interior; I proposed, in the first place, to make for the last and most
distant water-hole in the little creek beyond the ranges. Thence to take
the light cart with one horse, carrying as much water as he could draw,
and with one man, on foot, to pursue a due north course into the brush. I
hoped by this arrangement to gain the 27th parallel, and in so doing to
satisfy myself as to the point on which I was so anxious. I selected a
fine young lad to accompany me, named Joseph Cowley, because I felt some
confidence in his moral courage in the event of any disaster befalling
us. On this occasion I had the tank reconstructed, and took all the
barrels I could, to enable me to go as far as possible, and the day after
I returned to the camp with Mr. Poole, again left it with Mr. Stuart,
Joseph, and Flood, in whose charge I intended to leave my horse during my
absence--during which I also proposed that Mr. Stuart should employ his
time tracing in the hills.
We reached the muddy creek at the foot of the hills at 2 p.m., after a
ride of 25 miles, over the stony and barren plains I have described, and
as the distance to the next water was too great for us to attempt
reaching it until late, we stopped here for the night. Some natives had
been on the creek in the early part of the day, and had apparently moved
down it to the eastward. The water had diminished fearfully since the
time we passed on our return from the north.
The day was cool and pleasant, as the wind blew from the south, and the
thermometer did not rise above 95 degrees.
We had not ridden four miles on the following morning, when we observed
several natives on the plain at a little distance to the south, to whom
we called out, and who immediately came to us. We stopped with these
people for more than two hours, in the hope that we should gain some
information from them, either as to when we might expect rain, or of the
character of the distant interior, but they spoke a language totally
different from the river tribes, although they had some few words in
common, so that I could not rely on my interpretation of what they said.
They were all of them circumcised, and all but one wanted the right front
tooth of the upper jaw. When we left these people I gave them a note for
Mr. Poole, in the faint hope that they would deliver it, and I explained
to them that he would give them a tomahawk and blankets, but, as I
afterwards learnt, they never went to the camp.
When Mr. Browne and I were in this neighbourhood before, he had some
tolerable sport shooting the new pigeon, the flesh of which was most
delicious. At that time they were feeding upon the seed of the rice
grass, and were scattered about, but we now found them, as well as many
other birds, congregated in vast numbers preparing to migrate to the
north-east, apparently their direct line of migration; they were
comparatively wild, so that our only chance of procuring any was when
they came to water.
On the 9th we slept at the water in the creek at the top of the ranges;
but, on the 10th, instead of going through the pass, and by the valley,
under the two little peaks, through which we had entered the plains on
the first journey, we now turned to the westward in order to avoid that
rugged line, and discovered that the creek, instead of losing itself in
the flat to the eastward, continued on a westerly course to our left; for
being attracted by a flight of pigeons, wheeling round some gum-trees, we
might otherwise have overlooked it; I sent Flood to examine the ground,
who returned with the pleasing information that the creek had reformed,
and that there was a pool of water under the trees, nearly as large as
the one we had just left.
I was exceedingly pleased at this discovery and determined to send Mr.
Stuart back to it, as it would place him nearer his work. We reached the
farthest water, from which we had the second time driven the poor native,
late in the afternoon, and on examining the hut, found he had ventured
back to it and taken away his traps; but the water in the creek was
almost dried up; thick, muddy, and putrid, we could hardly swallow it,
and I regretted that we had not brought water with us from the hills, but
I had been influenced by a desire to spare my poor horse, as I knew the
task that was before him, although the poor brute was little aware of it.
About sunset an unfortunate emu came to water, and unconsciously
approached us so near that Flood shot it with his fusee. This was a
solitary wanderer, for we had seen very few either of these birds or
kangaroos in these trackless solitudes.
On the morning of the 10th we were up early, and had loaded the cart with
69 gallons of water before breakfast, when Joseph and I took our
departure, and Mr. Stuart with Flood returned to the hills. I had
selected one of our best horses for this journey, an animal I had
purchased from Mr. Frew of Adelaide. He was strong, powerful, and in good
condition, therefore well qualified for the journey. I had determined on
keeping a general north course, but in the kind of country in which I
soon found myself it was impossible to preserve a direct line. At about
four miles from the creek the brush became thick, and the country sandy,
and at six miles the sand ridges commenced. Wishing to ease the horse as
much as possible, Joseph endeavoured to round them by keeping on the
intervening flats, but this necessarily lengthened the day's journey, and
threw me more to the eastward than I had intended. A noon I halted for
two hours, and then pushed on, the day being cool, with the wind as it
had been for the last three or four days from the south. Had the country
continued as it was, we might have got on tolerably, but as we advanced
it changed greatly for the worse. We lost the flats, on a general coating
of sand thickly matted with spinifex, through which it was equally
painful to ourselves and poor Punch to tread. We crossed small sandy
basins or hollows, and were unable to see to any distance. The only trees
growing in this terrible place were a few acacias in the hollows, and
some straggling melaleuca, with hakeae and one or two other common
shrubs, all of low growth; there was no grass, neither were the few herbs
that grew on the hollows such as the horse would eat. We stopped a little
after sunset, having journeyed about 22 miles, on a small flat on which
there were a few acacias, and some low silky grass as dry as a chip, so
that if we had not been provident in bringing some oats poor Punch would
have gone without his supper. A meridian altitude of Capella placed us in
lat. 28 degrees 41 minutes 0 seconds. Our longitude by account being 141
degrees 15 minutes E. When I rose at daylight on the following morning, I
observed that the horse had eaten but little of the dry and withered food
on which he had been tethered; however, in consequence of our tank
leaking, I was enabled to give him a good drink, when he seemed to
revive, but no sooner commenced pulling than he perspired most profusely.
We kept a more regular course than on the previous day, over a country
that underwent no change. Before we started I left a nine gallon cask of
water in a small flat to ease the horse, and as the water in the tank had
almost all leaked out, his load was comparatively light. Still it was a
laborious task to draw the cart over such a country. Fortunately for us
the weather was cool, as the wind continued south, for I do not know what
we should have done if we had been exposed to the same heat Mr. Browne
and myself had experienced on our return from the little stony ranges now
about 10 miles to the westward of us. A little before noon the wind
shifted to the N.E.; I had at this time stopped to rest the horse, but we
immediately experienced a change of temperature, and the thermometer
which stood at 81 degrees rose before we again started to 93 degrees, and
at half-past three had attained 119 degrees. We were then in one of the
most gloomy regions that man ever traversed. The stillness of death
reigned around us, no living creature was to be heard; nothing visible
inhabited that dreary desert but the ant, even the fly shunned it, and
yet its yielding surface was marked all over with the tracks of native
dogs.
We started shortly after noon, and passed a pointed sand-hill, from
whence we could not only see the stony range but also the main range of
hills. The little peak on which Mr. Browne and I took bearings on our
last journey bore 150 degrees, the pass through which we had descended
into the plains 170 degrees, when I turned however to take bearings of
the stony range it had disappeared, having been elevated by refraction
above its true position. It bore about N.W. 1/2 W., distant from eight to
nine miles. It was again some time after sunset before we halted, on a
small flat that might contain two or at the most three acres. There was
some silky grass upon it, but this I knew the horse would not eat,
neither had I more than a pint of oats to give him. Our latitude here was
28 degrees 22 minutes 0 seconds.
On the morning of the 13th we still pushed on, leaving, as before, a cask
of water to pick up on our return. I had been obliged to limit the horse
to six gallons a day, but where he had been in the habit of drinking from
25 to 30, so small a quantity would not suffice. We had not gone many
miles when he shewed symptoms of exhaustion, and rather tottered than
walked. He took no pains to avoid anything, but threw Joseph into every
bush he passed. The country still continued unchanged, sand and spinifex
were the universal covering of the land, and only round the edges of the
little flats were a few stunted shrubs to be seen. It was marvellous to
me that such a country should extend to so great a distance without any
change. I could at no time see beyond a mile in any direction. Several
flights of parrots flew over our heads to the north-west, at such an
elevation as led me to suppose they would not pitch near us; but not a
bird of any kind did we see in the desert itself. The day being
exceedingly hot I stopped at one, rather from necessity than inclination,
having travelled 12 or 14 miles. Both Joseph and myself had walked the
whole way, and our legs were full of the sharp ends of the spinifex, but
it was more in mercy to poor Punch than to ourselves that I pulled up,
and held a consultation with Joseph as to the prudence of taking the cart
any further, when it was decided that our doing so would infallibly lead
to Punch's destruction. According to my calculation we were now in
latitude 28 degrees 9 minutes 0 seconds or thereabouts. I had hoped to
have advanced some 60 miles beyond this point, but now found that it
would be impossible to do so. There was no indication of a change of
country from any rising ground near us, and as it was still early in the
day I resolved on pushing forward until I should feel satisfied that I
had passed into the 27th parallel; my reason for this being a desire to
know what the character of the country, so far in the interior from, and
in the same parallel as Moreton Bay, would be. I had intended tethering
Punch out, and walking with Joseph, but as he remonstrated with me, and
it did not appear that my riding him would do the horse any harm, I
mounted, though without a saddle, and taking our guns, with a quart of
water, we commenced our journey. We moved rapidly on, as I was anxious to
return to the cart whilst there was yet daylight, to enable us to keep
our tracks, but no material change took place in the aspect of the
country. We crossed sand-ridge after sand-ridge only to meet
disappointment, and I had just decided on turning, when we saw at the
distance of about a quarter of a mile from us, a little rounded hill some
few feet higher than any we had ascended. It was to little purpose
however that we extended our ramble to it. At about a mile from where we
left the cart, we had crossed two or three small plains, if pieces of
ground not a quarter of a mile long might be so termed, on which rhagodia
bushes were growing, and I had hoped that this trifling change would have
led to a greater, but as I have stated such did not prove to be the case.
From the top of the little hill to which we walked (and from which we
could see to a distance of six or eight miles, but it was difficult to
judge how far the distant horizon was from us), there was no apparent
change, but the brush in the distance was darker than that nearer to us,
as if plains succeeded the sandy desert we had passed over. The whole
landscape however was one of the most gloomy character, and I found
myself obliged to turn from it in disappointment. As far as I could judge
we passed about a mile beyond the 28th parallel. Our longitude by account
only being 141 degrees 18 minutes E. The boiling point of water was 211
degrees 75/100. The evening had closed in before we got back to the cart,
but our course was fortunately true, and having given poor Punch as
liberal a draught as reason would justify we laid down to rest.
It was with great difficulty that we got our exhausted animal on, the
following morning, although I again gave him as much water as I could
spare. His docility under urgent want of food was astonishing. He was in
fact troublesomely persevering, and walked round and round the cart and
over us as we sat drinking our tea, smelling at the casks, and trying to
get his nose into the bung holes, and implored for relief as much as an
animal could do so by looks. Yet I am satisfied that a horse is not
capable of strong attachment to man, but that he is a selfish brute, for
however kindly he may be treated, where is the horse that will stay, like
the dog, at the side of his master to the last, although hunger and
thirst are upon him, and who, though carnivorous himself, will yet guard
the hand that has fed him and expire upon its post? but, turn the horse
loose at night, and where will you find him in the morning, though your
life depended on his stay?
We reached the creek on the morning of the 14th, about half-past 10,
having still a gallon of water remaining, that was literally better than
the water in the muddy puddle from which we had originally taken it. I
had thought it probable that we might find either Flood or Mr. Stuart
awaiting our return, but not seeing any trace of recent feet I concluded
they were in the ranges, and as the distance was too great for the horse
to travel in a day, in his exhausted state, I pushed on at 4 p.m., and
halted on the plains after having ridden about 6 miles. It was well
indeed that I did so, for we did not gain the ranges until near sunset on
the following day. Our exhausted horse could hardly drag one leg after
the other, although he pricked up his ears and for a time quickened his
pace as he fell into the track of the cart coming out. Both Mr. Stuart
and Flood were astonished at the manner in which he had fallen off, nor
did he ever after recover from the effects of that journey.
Mr. Stuart had completed his work with great accuracy, and had filled in
the chart so much that he saved me a good deal of trouble. The 16th being
Sunday, was a day of rest to us all, but one of excessive heat. Mr.
Stuart had stationed himself in the bed of the creek, which sloped down
on either side, and was partially shaded by gum-trees. The remains of
what must have been a fine pond of water occupied the centre, and
although it was thick and muddy it was as nectar to myself and Joseph. I
was surprised and delighted to see that the creek had here so large a
channel, and Flood, who had ridden down it a few miles, assured me that
it promised very well. During my absence he had shot at and wounded one
of the new pigeons, which afterwards reached my house alive.
I had intended proceeding to the eastward on my return from the north,
but was prevented by the total failure of water. I therefore determined
to trace the creek down, in the hope that it would favour my advance with
the party into the interior. On the 17th, therefore, leaving Joseph to
take care of Punch, I mounted my horse, and with Mr. Stuart and Flood,
rode away to the westward. At first the creek held a course between S. W.
and W. S. W. occasionally spreading over large flats, but always
reforming and increasing in size. It ran through a flat valley, bounded
by sand hills, against which it occasionally struck. The soil of the
valley was not bad, but there was little or no vegetation upon it. At 15
miles we arrived at the junction of another creek from the south, and
running down their united channels, at three miles found a small quantity
of water in a deep and shaded hollow. It was but a scanty supply however,
yet being cleaner and purer than any we had for some time seen, I stopped
and had some tea. There was a native's hut on the bank, from which the
owner must have fled at our approach; it was quite new, and afforded me
shelter during our short halt. The fugitive had left some few valuables
behind him, and amongst them a piece of red ochre. From this point the
creek trended more to the north, spreading over numerous flats in times
of flood, dividing its channels into many smaller ones, but always
uniting into one at the extremity of the flats. At 21 miles the creek
changed its course to 20 degrees to the west of north, and the country
became more open and level. There were numerous traces of natives along
its banks, and the remains of small fires on either side of it as far as
we could see. It was, therefore, evident that at certain seasons of the
year they resorted to it in some numbers, and I was then led to hope for
a favourable change in the aspect of the country.
The gum-trees as we proceeded down the creek increased in size, and their
foliage was of a vivid green. The bed of the creek was of pure sand, as
well as the plains through which it ran, although there was alluvial soil
partially mixed with the sand, and they had an abundance of grass upon
them, the seed having been collected by the natives for food. At about 14
miles from the place where we stopped, the creek lost its sandy bed, and
got one of tenacious clay. We soon afterwards pulled up for the night, at
two pools of water that were still of considerable size, and on which
there were several new ducks. They must, indeed, have been large deep
ponds not many weeks before, but had now sunk several feet from their
highest level, and, however valuable to a passing traveller, were useless
in other respects, as our cattle would have drained them in three or four
days. From this place also the natives appeared to have suddenly
retreated, since there was a quantity of the Grass [Note 9. "Panicum
laevinode" of Dr. Lindley.] spread out on the sloping bank of the creek to
dry, or ripen in the sun. We could not, however, make out to what point
they had gone. The heat during the day had been terrific, in so much that
we were unable to keep our feet in the stirrups, and the horses perspired
greatly, although never put out of a walk.
It was singular that we had no moisture on our skin; the reason why,
perhaps, we were at that time much distressed by violent headaches.
At about a quarter of a mile below the ponds the creek spreads over an
immense plain, almost as large as that of Cawndilla. A few trees marked
its course to a certain distance, but beyond them all trace of its
channel was lost, nor was it possible from the centre of the plain to
judge at what point its waters escaped. The plain was surrounded by sand
hills of about thirty feet in elevation, covered with low scrub. When we
started in the morning we crossed it on a west course, but saw nothing to
attract our notice from the tops of the sand hills. We then turned to the
northward, and at about two miles entered a pretty, well wooded, but
confined valley, in the bottom of which we once more found ourselves on
the banks of the creek. Running it down in a north-west direction for
seven miles, we were at length stopped by a bank of white saponaceous
clay, crossing the valley like a wall. As we rode down the creek we
observed large plains of red soil, precisely similar to the plains of the
Darling, receding from it to a great distance on either side. These
plains had deep water-worn gutters leading into the valley, so that I
conclude the lateral floods it receives are as copious as those from the
hills. On arriving at the bank running across the channel there were
signs of eddying waters, as if those of the creek had been thrown back;
but there was a low part in the bank over which it is evident they pour
when they rise to its level. Mr. Stuart and Flood were the first to
ascend the bank, and both simultaneously exclaimed that a change of
country was at hand. On ascending the bank myself, I looked to the west
and saw a beautiful park-like plain covered with grass, having groups of
ornamental trees scattered over it. Whether it was the suddenness of the
change, from barrenness and sterility to verdure and richness, I know
not; but I thought, when I first gazed on it, that I never saw a more
beautiful spot. It was, however, limited in extent, being not more than
eight miles in circumference. Descending from the bank we crossed the
plain on a south course. It was encircled by a line of gum-trees, between
whose trunks the white bank of clay was visible. We crossed the plain
amidst luxuriant grass; but the ground was rotten, and the whole area was
evidently subject to flood. It was also clear that the creek exhausted
itself in this extensive basin, from which, after the strictest search,
we could find no outlet. On reaching the southern extremity of the plain,
we crossed a broad bare channel, having a row of gum-trees on either
side, and ascending a continuation of the clay bank, at once found
ourselves in the scrub and amidst barrenness again; and at less than a
mile, on a north-west course, beheld the sand ridges once more rising
before us. I continued on this course, however, for eight miles, when I
turned to the north-east, in order to cut any watercourse that might be
in that direction, and to assure myself of the failure of the creek.
After riding for five miles, I turned to the south, with the intention of
ascending a sand hill at some distance, that swept the horizon in a
semicircular form and was much higher than any others. Mr. Poole had
informed me that he noticed a similar bank just before he made Lake
Torrens, and I was anxious to see if it hid any similar basin from my
view; but it did not. Sand hills of a similar kind succeeded it to the
westward, but there was no change of country. Although we had travelled
many miles, yet the zigzag course we had taken had been such that at this
point we were not more than sixteen miles from the pools we had left in
the morning; and as the day had been intolerably hot, and we had found no
water, I determined on returning to them; but I was obliged to stop for a
time for Flood, who complained of a violent pain in his head, occasioned
by the intense heat. There was no shelter, however, for him under the
miserable shrubs that surrounded us; but I stopped for half an hour,
during which the horses stood oppressed by languor, and without the
strength to lift up their heads, whilst their tails shook violently.
Being anxious to get to water without delay, I took a straight line for
the water-holes, and reached them at half-past 6 p.m., after an exposure,
from morning till night, to as great a heat as man ever endured; but if
the heat of this day was excessive, that of the succeeding one on which
we returned to Joseph was still more so. We reached our destination at 3
p.m., as we started early, and on looking at the thermometer fixed behind
a tree about five feet from the ground, I found the mercury standing at
132 degrees; on removing it into the sun it rose to 157 degrees. Only on
one occasion, when Mr. Browne and I were returning from the north, had
the heat approached to this; nor did I think that either men or animals
could have lived under it.
On the 20th we again crossed the ranges, and after a journey of 32 miles,
reached the lateral creek at their southern extremity, where I had rested
on my former journey. There was more water in it than I expected to have
found; but it was nevertheless much reduced, and in a week afterwards was
probably dry. On the 21st we gained the Muddy Creek, but had to search
for water where only a few days before there had been a pond of more than
a third of a mile in length. Here, on the following day, I was obliged to
leave Flood and Joseph, as the wheels of the cart had shrunk so much that
we could not take it on. I should have gained the camp early in the day,
but turned to the eastward to take bearings from some hills intermediate
between Mount Poole and the Northern Range, as the distance between these
points was too great. Our ride was over a singularly rugged country, of
equally singular geological formation, nor can I doubt but that at one
time or other there were currents sweeping over it in every direction. At
one place that we passed there was a broad opening in a rocky but earth
covered bank. Through this opening the eye surveyed a long plain, which
at about two miles was bounded by low dark hills. Along this plain the
channel of a stream was as distinctly marked in all its windings by small
fragments of snow-white quartz as if water had been there instead. On
either side the landscape was dark; but the effect was exceedingly
striking and unusual. From the hills we ascended I obtained bearings to
every station of consequence, and was quite glad that I had thus turned
from my direct course. It was dark, the night indeed had closed in before
we reached the tents; but I had the satisfaction to learn that both Mr.
Poole and Mr. Browne were better, though not altogether well, and that
every thing had gone on regularly during my absence. On the following
morning, I sent Lewis and Jones with a dray to fetch the cart, and for
the next three or four days was occupied charting the ground we had
travelled over.
The greatest distance I went northwards on this occasion was to the 28th
parallel, and about 27 {17 in published text} miles to the eastward
of the 141st meridian. Our extreme point to the westward being
lat. 28 degrees 56 minutes, and long. 140 degrees 54 minutes.
From what I have said, the reader will be enabled to judge what
prospects of success I had in either quarter; for myself I felt
that I had nothing to hope either in the north or the east; for even
if I had contemplated crossing eastward to the Darling, which was more
than 250 miles from me, the dreadful nature of the country would have
deterred me; but such an idea never entered my head--I could not, under
existing circumstances, have justified such a measure to myself; having
therefore failed in discovering any change of country, or the means of
penetrating farther into it, I sat quietly down at my post, determined to
abide the result, and to trust to the goodness of Providence to release
me from prison when He thought best.