and Palmer to endeavour to trace the unfortunate man Kirby who has not
made his appearance. He must have had a bitter cold night of it; this
morning south wind was as cold or colder than I have felt it for twelve
months--we were glad to get to the fire besides fortifying ourselves with
warmer clothing than usual. I with Poole started to cut his tracks if he
came out through the range on his course through open country south of
this, but were unsuccessful in finding any trace of him. Middleton and
Palmer got on his tracks and followed them to about dark when within a
very short distance of our tracks here, and more than half the distance
to this camp, and thought it not improbable, from the course he was then
pursuing, that he had got to our camp and came home but the unfortunate
had not; had he been followed the day before by Hodgkinson with the same
perseverance all would have been well and much anxiety spared to all. If
the poor man has kept to the ranges I'm afraid there is little hopes of
him--it will be a sad end for the poor fellow--a better man for his
occupation could not be found. Just fancy an unfortunate man lost between
two and three hundred miles from the coast in a perfect wild with
twenty-three sheep (and I question if he has any matches) left to sink or
swim beyond reach of any Christian soul. If he is recovered he may thank
God. Will still keep up the search for some days to come in hopes of
recovering him. Camp bearing 208 1/2 degrees about four and a half miles;
furthest north point visible of McKinlay's Range 304 degrees, from thirty
to forty miles. No range visible between that and 18 1/2 degrees. Nothing
but heavily timbered creeks, innumerable tributaries from both sides and
south end. Exact course of main creek not positively discernible, but for
the first twenty miles from camp it bears much east, from Observation
Hill it appears as far east as 3 degrees--termination of McKinlay's Range
as visible from camp on bearing 341 degrees. Furthest southern point of
McKinlay's Range as visible from Observation Hill 214 degrees. Some miles
beyond the watershed south, hill where watershed takes place about six
miles from camp bears from the Hill Observation 216 degrees from camp.
Saturday, April 19.
Horses sent for per first light; night very cold again. Not having had
anything in the shape of food since the morning Kirby was lost, except a
couple or three spoonfuls of flour each in water, I determined, Kirby not
yet arriving, to kill one of our bullocks; had them up to camp and shot
one in the grey of the morning; three now remaining; in the event of
Kirby not being found with the sheep all correct, not very bright
prospect for the party to travel to the Gulf and round to Port Denison
upon; certainly we have the horses but I would be loath to kill them
except in extreme need, but I will still hope for the best, but cannot
stay beyond a week whether found or not, as our provisions, beef, will be
lessening daily; the flour we still have is a small quantity reserved in
case of sickness and for the purpose of putting a small quantity daily in
our soup to make it appear more substantial; at present the vegetable the
party were all so fond of has disappeared except some old dry remnants
which all feel the want of much. I hope it may reappear. After cooking
some of the liver etc. for breakfast and some to take with them, started
Middleton and Palmer again to follow up Kirby's tracks from where they
left them, and started Bell back to the last camp to examine minutely the
track as he went along, and all about the camp in case he may have
retraced his steps, which is what he ought to have done. By noon of same
day, on our not making our appearance on his course, I started out and
skirted the foot of the range where he ought to come out on his course,
but was unsuccessful in finding the slightest trace of the unfortunate
man. What thoughts must pass in his mind. Not a probability of ever again
seeing anyone of his own colour. Possibly destroyed by the natives whose
fires are to be seen daily, although they don't make their
appearance--never again to see his home nor his friends; it must be awful
for the poor man. Dusk now setting in I have better hopes of his recovery
as neither of the three horsemen have made their appearance. Just at dark
up rides Middleton with the joyous intelligence that man and sheep are
found, Palmer staying behind to push on and overtake Bell and Kirby with
the sheep on our track here, and Middleton took a more direct route here
to give information of the good news, at which all of us were glad and
thankful. About 11 p.m. horsemen, Kirby, and sheep arrived safe, and I
was truly grateful for the deliverance. The poor man says he never
expected to see us again. Bell fortunately picked him up within three
miles of our last camp; he was then, after having been considerably
south, and now completely bewildered and thinking he had missed the camp
while travelling in the dark, steering a north-west course, and in ten
minutes longer would have been on our track for this place. Middleton and
Palmer had traced him throughout; and as they found they were drawing
near our track Palmer went to the track to see if anything was to be seen
of him there, and called out to Middleton that they were found, and gone
towards home on the tracks, when Middleton immediately started with the
information, leaving Palmer to follow and overtake and assist them to
camp with the sheep. The man Kirby on arrival was completely worn out,
not for want of food but with a troubled mind and want of sleep. He had
killed a sheep the second night after leaving last camp and had with him
a small portion for his use. How thankful he must have been to see Bell!
Sunday, April 20.
Very cold morning. Kirby sleeping and recruiting himself. The meat
drying; in consequence of the last detention it has put us far back from
where we otherwise would have been, and the course appears pretty open to
us now.
Monday, April 21.
No dew last night, still the meat is unfit to pack, will have to give it
today still, and then will make a start in the morning. A splendid large
creek flows west of south over the fall of water, and at fifteen to
sixteen miles from this there is abundance of water in it, and must
increase wonderfully as it goes southward and receives its various
tributaries. I have called it the Hamilton after G. Hamilton, Esquire,
Inspector of Police, Adelaide. The one flowing south from our last camp
(39) I have called the Warburton, after the Commissioner of Police, P.E.
Warburton, Esquire, of Adelaide. The range between the two going south I
have called Crozier's Range after John Crozier, Esquire, Murray River.
The ranges west side of the Hamilton going southward I have called
William's Ranges. From the division of waters the ranges west of this and
the creek flowing northwards, a branch of which we are now on, I have
called McKinlay Creek and Ranges; I only hope the creek may hold a course
west of north. The ranges on the east side of this creek going northward
I have called Kirby's Ranges to remind him of his narrow escape.
Tributaries come into this creek south of this position, and west and
east as far as I can discern from top of range, about five miles
north-north-east of this; there is abundance of water in many of the
minor as well as the main creeks; mussels in all. Magnificent pasture all
around and lots of game but wild.
Tuesday, April 22.
Camp 40. We have been here now since the afternoon of Thursday last the
17th, and high time it is that we make some progress. Wind south-east;
cold dewless nights; the meat has dried after a fashion but not
sufficient for keeping any length of time without further exposure to sun
and air--which we must do as soon as we get to camp for several days.
Kirby has now quite recovered and we start on a bearing of 345 degrees. I
call this small creek Black-eyes Creek--after the bullock we slaughtered
here; at three and three-quarter miles crossed the what appears main
channel of the creek coming from west-south-west, and various others
coming in all directions; this is an immense creek, sandy and gravelly
bed, with large and to me perfectly new trees, with short and broad dark
green leaf and often clustering in fine saplings from the bottom and
growing to a good height; also some fine gums. Creek now on the right;
country after crossing the creek is splendidly grassed and firm sound
ground between creek and range which is some distance off; but we will be
gradually approaching it on our present course. At seven and a half miles
crossed sandy creek from west; at ten one-eighth miles crossed large deep
creek from west, at twelve miles sandy creek from west; and at fourteen
miles sandy creek from west; at fourteen and a quarter miles large sandy
creek, west, with water in sand; went down the creek east for a quarter
of a mile to water and camped at the junction of the other creek we
crossed a short distance back with this; the creek immediately below this
is about 300 yards wide with excellent timber; there has been a little
spinifex during today's travel but the bulk of it has been well-grassed
and fresh varieties of good sound country; a specimen of copper picked up
in one of the creeks; a great abundance of quartz and mica strewed
everywhere. I think I forgot to mention that at the division of waters on
the low bald undulations limestone is strewed about in large and small
circular pieces from the size of a saucer to three and four feet in
diameter, besides large blocks of it; the hills on the west are of a hard
stone between flint and sandstone, strewed about with quartz; the eastern
one is of burned slate or clay, pretty much resembling many that we have
already passed and what I was on, topped with spinifex, and the side with
good grasses.
Wednesday, April 23.
Camp 41. Mild night, wind light from west; started on a bearing of 345
degrees. A fresh broad-bean from a fine runner found here but rather
green to obtain seed from; may get some ripe further north. A couple of
small fish about two and a half to three inches long are in this
waterhole, came up at the flood no doubt and left here. The horses are
gone back on their old tracks and the two men who went after them, like
idiots, got about half of them and retraced their steps to camp, afraid
no doubt to go off the tracks to look after them in case they should get
lost--this I am sorry to say is not an uncommon occurrence and has all
along pestered me very much, and has in many instances caused vast
detention; the worst of it is that some of them instead of improving in
following tracks appear to me to be getting daily more stupid. The sheep
and bullocks I have sent on on the proper bearing, so that if it is even
late when the horses are found they can be overtaken and a journey made;
but it does not give me an opportunity of finding water and good camp as
I otherwise would be able to do getting them in a proper time. Wind at 10
a.m. changed to east-north-east, beautiful morning. At middle of the day,
the horses not making their appearance, I sent after the sheep and
bullocks and had them turned back to camp; they arrived at sunset and the
horses just arrived at the same time, having strayed amongst the spinifex
a considerable distance. I took a horse and went to the nearest hill
about seven miles distant to observe the course of the main creek, but
the day proving warm and misty I did not get so distinct a view as I
anticipated, it was extensive enough but indistinct although the
elevation I was on must have been more than 3000 feet from level of the
creek, and much higher ranges on to west of it; from top of it portions
of the main range appear in the far distance at 347 1/2 degrees; no other
eminence round the horizon to 95 degrees; the whole intervening space
filled with creeks running in all directions towards the main creek, that
must be distant from the hill I was on easterly nearly twenty miles with
an apparent northerly course; this hill is detached from the main mass of
range and distant from four to five miles. It and the most of the
intervening space between the camp and it is literally one mass of quartz
and quartz-reefs, mica, etc., and on top of range is a sort of flaggy
slate, all apparently having undergone the action of fire--this range I
have called Sarah's Range; it bears from camp 323 degrees seven miles; a
great deal of spinifex and abrupt creeks between camp and it, not a speck
of gold visible but it appears to have undergone the action of fire; this
is another day lost. Such detention makes me quite irritable and fidgety.
Thursday, April 24.
Camp 41. Night mild, warm morning. Bearing of 345 degrees for three
miles, within which distance three tributaries from the range from the
west cross us, not of any great size. Change course to 352 degrees, the
ground being rather stony and full of spinifex, and the side creeks very
sandy, and little hopes of water for the animals although plenty could be
had for our own use. At one mile, tributary; at two miles another; four
and a quarter miles another; at seven miles junction of two, where we
camp; although the distance is short, the bullocks being absent this
morning when I left camp, and it appears had gone towards our old camp
about eight miles before they were overtaken. I hope all the animals will
be at hand in the morning to enable us to make a good day of it tomorrow.
Just below the junction of these two creeks (although the southern one is
only a small one and in it we got the water) the creek is from 250 to 300
yards broad with splendid gums in it on its banks. Although I searched up
and down the main creek some distance still no water to be found, the bed
of the creek is so very sandy. My reason for camping at so short a stage
was that from the top of the hill I was on I fancy I could discern a
continuation of dry-looking country beyond this creek. Very little
spinifex on the way today; plenty of grass and very good travelling;
masses of quartz and mica all along our tracks; ridges low with some
spinifex run in considerably to the east towards the main creek--lots of
myall and other shrubs. The natives are busy burning on the ranges some
distance west of this and have been burning daily ever since we came on
the creek, and I suppose are still unaware of our presence or they would
have paid us a visit. For the last 150 miles at least there have been on
the slopes and tops of all the ranges decaying red anthills, not tenanted
and gradually decaying--many of them appearing like sharp spires and
washed in every shape by the rains and the weather.
Friday, April 25.
Camp 42. Mild night, warm morning. Animals all at hand for a good start.
Bearing of 352 degrees; crossed good-sized creek at three and a half
miles; another good-sized creek at eight miles; and at ten and a quarter
miles another, but deep. During first part of the journey over good open
white gum and myall forest; last part ridgy, with spinifex; quartz all
the way; at twelve miles and a half crossed creek; at fourteen and a half
miles crossed creek; native got water by digging in the sand; at sixteen
and a quarter miles changed course to 5 degrees, the ridges and spurs
coming too much in my way; four and three-quarter miles on this last
bearing to a mound of slabs of sparkling stony-like mica, about fifty
feet, and two mounds of similar form, but wooded on the right, no water;
left Middleton here to tell them to camp for the night and watch the
animals, and went myself westward to endeavour to find water for them in
the morning and found it at three miles on bearing of 301 degrees, so
returned; met them just having dinner; repacked and led them to
water--distance travelled twenty-four miles. This is an immense creek and
is still flowing slowly through and over the sand in its bed; it is
upwards of 300 yards wide, comes from the west and south through the
ranges, joins another about a mile north of this and passes round a small
stony hill on its right bank, then takes a northerly course then, and
lastly as far as I could discern, a north-east course. Very heavy gum
timber. I am sorry to say today our marking chisel was lost so we will
not be able to mark any more trees. The creek I have called the Marchant
after William Marchant, Esquire, of Mananarie. The main creek is now a
very considerable distance east. I hoped to have struck it before this
but the spurs from the main range keep it off. Passed today a vast number
of smaller tributaries from west; immense reefs and masses of quartz and
small ranges composed of shining slabs of a grey, tough and wavy stone
with masses of quartz. A good deal of spinifex but no scrub to interrupt
us. Will make for a distant low spur of main range tomorrow in my course.
Saturday, April 26.
Camp 43. Very mild night; a great many clouds; a likelihood of rain.
Started on bearing of 336 degrees over a vast quantity of strong
spinifex; bad travelling although not very stony. Not so much quartz
today although large piles of it are to be seen. Crossed Marchant's Creek
and at one mile crossed a tributary. At ten miles came to a very fine
creek about 400 yards broad, in one of its branches from sixty to eighty
yards; broad water completely fills the space as far as you can see
southward and westward. I have called it the Williams after Edward
Williams, Esquire, of the North of Adelaide. Immense holes in a light
blue rock in the creek a few hundred yards north of this full of water
and apparently very deep, an abundance immediately beyond in the creek,
which appears to flow northward. I have come rather a short journey today
as the sheep and bullocks had no time to feed yesterday. Very cloudy and
sultry. Lots of small fish in this creek, none yet seen longer than three
inches; amongst them are a lot of fish about the same size or a little
larger, with fine vertical black stripes commencing at the shoulder and a
black tip to lower part of tail--body generally lighter-coloured than the
other fish.
Sunday, April 27.
Camp 44, Williams Creek. Mild night, not so like rain this morning.
Bearing of 355 degrees crossing this creek at an acute angle, crossed
this creek again at three miles, crossed again at five miles--creek close
on the right; at six and one-eighth miles crossed a deep tributary at its
junction--heavy timber, plenty of water. Williams Creek still close on
the right full of spinifex on the slopes and short rough abrupt creeks;
bad travelling; at seven and three-quarter miles commenced travelling in
bed of the creek, west side, till eight and three-quarter miles, the
creek bearing off more to the east. At present I keep on my course of 355
degrees, over good country the latter part of course. At thirteen miles
came to and crossed a splendid creek with abundance of water and lots of
fish coming from the hills west and flowing apparently east. This creek I
have called the Elder after Thomas Elder, Esquire, of Adelaide.
Monday, April 28.
Camp 45, Elder's Creek. Last night we slept in the bed of the creek on
the sand. There must have been a terrific flood here lately, such as this
part of the world has not been visited with for many years; between
thirty and forty feet over our heads in the bed of this creek are now to
be seen logs, grass, and all sorts of rubbish left by it; and immense
trees torn up by the roots, and others broken off short at twenty to
thirty feet from their roots--showing the violence of the current. No
doubt there is plenty of permanent water in the range further up in the
last three creeks we have camped on. Mild morning with fleecy clouds.
Wind south-south-west. Another deep creek joins this where we struck it,
coming more from the south-west; water at its junction with this. Plenty
of water up this creek; did not go down it. Our journey today on bearing
of 355 degrees over sixteen and three-quarter miles was over good,
lightly-timbered, well-grassed country and a good deal of flooded
country. Saw no water but lots of birds. Shot an emu. Changed course to
347 degrees for a small hill in the distance and at two and a half miles
crossed several irregular watercourses from the north flowing to south
and east; went then to a small spinifex rise, timbered. At eight and a
half miles struck a creek with water; I have called it Poole's Creek
after Mr. R.T. Poole of Willaston. Distance travelled today twenty-five
and a half miles. After getting into camp myself and Middleton went on to
the hill in front and at two and a quarter miles arrived at it. It is
perfectly detached and stands in the open plain--is very stony or rather
rocky. Open plains to the north and west as far as you can discern; to
the north-north-east appears dark timber which I hope to be the main
creek, and appears to be bearing to north and west. A couple of isolated
hills from fifteen to twenty miles off bearing respectively, the southern
one 251 1/2 degrees, the northern one 254 degrees. The southern one I
have called Mount Elephant, the one to the north Mount McPherson, and the
one I am on Margaret. Another in the distance bearing 258 degrees.
Tuesday, April 29.
Camp 46, Poole's Creek. This creek takes its rise from the westward on
the plains between this and the hills which are now a considerable
distance from us; and after passing this encampment bears to east round
by north. Mild morning, wind easterly. Shot two young emus. Pass over
immense plains with small belts of bushes here and there and in places
more especially near the isolated hill on the plain. At eleven and a
quarter miles further came to a watercourse from the westward and flowing
considerably to north of east with plenty of water. Camped to give sheep
and bullocks time to feed, as it was half-past 8 p.m. ere they reached
their camp last night, and one of the bullocks considerably lame.
Distance travelled about thirteen and a half miles. Instead of plains, as
I have called this open country, it is rather very gentle undulations and
a considerable portion of it occasionally inundated as for instance of
late. Another large waterhole in this course at about a mile on bearing
of 355 degrees; the creek then appears to bear off to the eastward. I
will still hold on my course of 15 degrees, but would sooner it were 25
degrees west of north as on that course I would be going pretty direct
for the mouth of the River Albert, now I imagine about 150 miles distant,
if the watch has not put me too much out--it stops sometimes and when it
does go it gains one hour in twelve.
Wednesday, April 30.