Kennedy traces the Victoria in its final course south--Re-named the
Barcoo--First notice of the PITURI chewing natives--Leichhardt's second
Expedition--Failure and Return--Leichhardt's last Expedition--His
absolute disappearance--Conjectures as to his fate--Kennedy starts from
Rockingham Bay to Cape York--Scrubs and swamps--Great exertions--Hostile
natives--Insufficiency of supplies provided--Dying horses--Main party
left in Weymouth Bay--Another separation at Shelburne Bay--Murder of
Kennedy at the Escape River--Rescue of Jacky the black boy--His pathetic
tale of suffering--Failure to find the camp at Shelburne Bay--Rescue of
but two survivors at Weymouth Bay--The remainder starved to death--Von
Mueller in the Australian Alps--Western Australia--Landor and Lefroy, in
1843--First expedition of the brothers Gregory, in 1846--Salt lakes and
scrub--Lieutenant Helpman sent to examine the coal seam discovered--Roe,
in 1848--His journey to the east and to the south--A. C. Gregory attempts
to reach the Gascoyne--Foiled by the nature of the country--Discovers
silver ore on the Murchison--Governor Fitzgerald visits the mine--Wounded
by the natives--Rumour of Leichhardt having been murdered by the
blacks--Hely's expedition in quest of him--Story unfounded--Austin's
explorations in Western Australia--Terrible scrubs--Poison camp--
Determined efforts to the north--Heat and thirst--Forced to return.
The importance of deciding the final course of the Victoria was at once
recognised, and Kennedy was chosen to lead a lightly equipped party.
However convinced Sir Thomas Mitchell was of the affluent of the Victoria
being in the Gulf of Carpentaria, others did not at once fall in with
the notion. It was evident that the vast flooded plains, and many
channels of Cooper's Creek absorbed immense quantities of water from the
interior, and apparently this water came from the north-east. What more
probable than that the Victoria was lost there.
Kennedy followed the old track to the river, found by Mitchell, and
reaching his lowest camp on the 13th of August, commenced to run the
river down from there. On the first day's journey he met a native, from
whom he learnt the aboriginal name of the Victoria, the BARCOO.
On the 15th Kennedy noticed with anxiety that the valley of the river
certainly fell to the south, and that ever since it had turned from its
northerly course, it was making for the point where Sturt turned back on
Cooper's Creek. He consequently began to dread that he might follow the
course of it, so far as not to be able to carry out the second part of
his instructions, namely, to look for a road to the Gulf, not having
enough means with him for both journeys. He decided to follow with two
men along the Barcoo, far enough to the south to leave no doubt about its
not being a north coast river. After two days' journey, the direction of
the Barcoo turned west, and even north of west, and the bed contained
fine reaches of water, one hundred, and one hundred and twenty yards
wide. Kennedy turned back for the whole of his party, considering that
his duty was to follow such a river, no matter in what direction it led
him.
On the 30th August, they came upon a large tributary from the N.N.E.,
which was named the Thomson, and they found the country very different
from the grassy plains of the upper reaches.
Finally, the river led them amongst plains gaping with fissures,
grassless and waterless, where the only change in the flat character of
the country was the sandhill formation, that exactly agreed with Sturt's
description. In fact, it was now evident to Kennedy that the only result
of his journey would be to connect with that explorer's most northerly
and easterly point, and, however satisfactory or unsatisfactory this
might be, it was scarcely worth risking the lives of his party, and the
certain loss of his horses to attain. Grass, or feed of any sort, had now
failed them for several days, and at last they could find no more water.
They were confronted with the desert described by Sturt with such
terrible accuracy, and there was nothing to be gained by entering into a
struggle with it. Kennedy turned back quite satisfied that the end of the
Victoria was in Cooper's Creek.
As the nomenclature of these watercourses is rather conflicting, and they
were the field of many subsequent explorations, it may be as well to
mention that the Victoria (now the Barcoo) joins Kennedy's Thomson, which
still retains its name, and below the junction the united stream is
always now called Cooper's Creek. Thus, as the residents out there tell
you, IT TAKES TWO RIVERS IN THAT PART OF AUSTRALIA TO MAKE A CREEK.
A noticeable incident here occurs in Kennedy's journal. Writing on the
11th September, he says:--
"A curious fact I observed here is, that the men chew tobacco; it is, of
course, in a green state, but it is strong and hot."
This was almost, certainly, the PITURI plant, which the natives of the
interior chew, and then bury in the sand, where the heat of the sun
causes it to ferment; it is then chewed as an intoxicant, the natives
carrying a plug behind their car in their hair. It is offered to a
stranger as an especial compliment, and great is the affront if this
toothsome morsel is declined. It only grows in certain localities, far
west of where Kennedy saw the natives using it, and the blacks of the
locality where it is found barter it away with other tribes, by which
means it is found at a considerable distance from where it grows. Amongst
the natives there are PITURI and NON-PITURI chewers.
On his downward journey Kennedy, to ease his horses as much as possible,
had buried a great quantity of flour and sugar. On his return he found
that the natives had discovered it, and wantonly emptied it out of the
bags into the hole, reducing it to a mixture of earth and flour that was
completely useless. This loss prevented Kennedy from making his intended
excursion to the Gulf. The party started back, and on his way Kennedy
picked up his carts, which he had also buried. He was just in time; a
native, probably one of the burglars already mentioned, had been
examining and sounding the ground but a short time before the party
arrived.
On reaching the head of the Warrego, Kennedy determined to follow it
down, and ascertain whether it was a southerly or westerly flowing river.
They followed the Warrego south, through fine grazing country, the river
being full of splendid reaches of water, but at last it failed them,
running out in flat country in waterless channels. From here they struck
across easterly to the Culgoa, which river they reached after a ride of
seventy miles without water, over a barren country, timbered with pine
and brigalow. Here they were delayed getting the carts across this dry
track, and lost six horses from heat and thirst. Thus vanished the high
hopes entertained of the Victoria River.
Meantime, Leichhardt, encouraged by his first success, had received
liberal support from the public to enable him to start on a new
expedition, which at once was to settle the question of the nature of the
interior, the ambitious project being nothing less than to traverse the
continent from the eastern to the western shore, on much the same
parallel of latitude if possible.
The party travelled overland from the Hunter River to the Darling Downs,
bringing with them their outfit of mules, cattle, and goats. On December
10th, 1846, the expedition left Mr. Stephens' station on the Condamine,
the members then consisting of seven whites and two blacks. Of stock,
they had two hundred and seventy goats, one hundred and eighty sheep,
forty bullocks, fifteen horses, and thirteen mules. This stock, with
their flour, tea, sugar, etc., was to last them on a two years' journey.
It is almost needless to go into particulars concerning this unfortunate
trip. They never succeeded in getting away from the old Port Essington
track. The rains came down on them in the sickly brigalow scrubs of the
Dawson and Mackenzie. Fever was the result, and they had no medicines
with them--a strange omission. Their only coverings during the wet were
two miserable calico tents. Their life, as told by members of the party,
consisted of semi-starvation, varied by gorging and feasting on killing
days, in which the Doctor apparently set the example; in fact, his
character throughout comes out in anything but an amiable light, and one
is led to wonder how anyone so destitute of tact and readiness of
resource ever achieved the journey to Port Essington, favoured even as he
was on that occasion by circumstances and seasons. Suffice it to say, to
end the miserable story, that, having first lost their sheep and goats,
then their cattle and most of their horses and mules, they turned up on
the 6th of July at Chauvel's station on the Condamine, having done
nothing but wander about on the old track and eat their supplies.
On reaching the station, Dr. Leichhardt was put in possession of the
finding of the Victoria, the Maranoa, &c., and being anxious to examine
the country between Sir Thomas Mitchell's track and his own, he, in
company with Mr. Isaacs and three of his late companions, left Stuart
Russell's station on a short excursion, during which he crossed to the
Balonne and back, making some subordinate discoveries.
Still persisting in his idea of crossing the continent, and fearful that
he might be forestalled, he made great efforts to get together a small
party of some sort to make another attempt. He succeeded; but this time
his party was neither so well provided nor so large. In fact, very little
is known of the members constituting it. The Rev. W. B. Clarke, speaking
of this final trip, says:--
"The parties who accompanied Leichhardt were, perhaps, little capable of
shifting for themselves in case of any accident to their leader. The
second in command, a brother-in-law of Leichhardt, came from Germany to
join him just before starting, and he told me, when I asked him what his
qualifications for the journey were, that he had been at sea, had
suffered shipwrecks, and was, therefore, well able to endure hardship. I
do not know what his other qualifications were."
For some inexplicable reason, this man, whose name was Classen or
Klausen, has always been selected as the hero of the many tales that have
been brought in of a solitary survivor of the party living in captivity
with the natives; probably, because his was the only name besides
Leichhardt's generally known and remembered.
The lost expedition is supposed to have consisted of six whites and two
blacks. The names known are those of the Doctor himself, Classen, Hentig,
Stuart, and Kelly. He had with him fifty bullocks, thirteen mules, twelve
horses, and two hundred and seventy goats, beside the utterly inadequate
allowance of eight hundred pounds of flour, one hundred and twenty pounds
of tea, some sugar and salt, and two hundred and fifty pounds of shot and
forty of powder.
His last letter [See Appendix.] is dated the 3rd of April, 1848, from
McPherson's station on the Cogoon, but in it he speaks only of the.
country traversed, and says nothing of his intended route. Since the
residents of this outlying station lost sight of him and his men, no clue
to his fate has ever been found. The total evanishment not only of his
men but of the animals (especially the goats) that accompanied him, is
one of the strangest mysteries of our mysterious interior.
Leichhardt's expressed intention was to endeavour to skirt the edge of
the desert--which was then supposed to exist in the centre--to the
northward, seizing the first opportunity of penetrating it, and then
making for Perth. From what we now know, it is quite impossible to guess
how much or little of this programme was carried out, as the existence or
non-existence of what he would consider a desert would entirely depend
upon what the season had been like immediately before his arrival.
The perusal of his journal to Port Essington, impresses one with the
opinion that, considering his scientific training, he was singularly
deficient in observation. In one place he writes that horses and bullocks
never showed that instinctive faculty of detecting water so often
mentioned by travellers, and that they seem to be guided entirely by
their sight when in search of it--an assertion which seems incredible on
the part of a man with any bush training at all. If Leichhardt had ever
had to steady a thirsty mob of cattle during a pitch dark night, with a
strong wind blowing from water, or even across the damp bed of a lagoon
or river, miles and miles away, he would soon have found out by what
sense cattle are guided in their search for water.
Although one does not want to harshly criticise these obvious errors in
the very rudiments of bush-craft, they serve to indicate how likely he
would have been, if entrapped in dry country, to commit a mistake that
would sacrifice his men. And one cannot but believe that he relied quite
as much on the chapter of accidents to pull him through as upon his own
helpfulness or experience. Of the causes that led to the destruction or
dispersion of the whole of the party it is next to impossible to hazard a
guess. The completeness of the disappearance is the most the puzzling
part of the mystery. Had they been killed by the natives, relics of the
explorers would long since have been recovered from them. In some shape
the iron work of the implements they had with them would have survived.
Many have tried to explain it by imagining them swept away by a flood
when camped on flat country, but this is scarcely likely, for even then,
on the subsidence of the waters, the blacks would have found something of
their belongings. Thirst was most likely the agent of their destruction,
and fire completed the work.
Once across the waters that wend their sluggish way into the lake
district of South Australia, Leichhardt and his followers would be in the
great region of fragmentary watercourses; rivers and creeks, when met
with, pursuing no definite courses--now lost in miles of level country,
now reforming again for a brief existence, but always delusive and
disappointing. Here they would one day find themselves in a position that
left them no other chance but the slender one of still pushing forward
into the unknown. Probably it was during one of the cycles of rainless
years that periodically visit the continent. Led on mile after mile,
following the dry bed of one creek, to lose it in some barren flat,
whereon the withered stalks of blue-bush alone told of a time of past
vegetation; again picking up another creek, to lose it in like manner,
knowing that to retrace their steps was impossible; making at last for a
hazy, blue line in the distance that turned out to be spinifex and
stunted forest; trusting still that this might indicate a change that
would lead them to higher country and to water, they would struggle
forward, weak and disorganised.
Then would come the beginning of the end. As they pressed on, the forest
became scantier, and the spinifex higher, spikier, and harder to march
through. One by one their animals had fallen and died, and the desperate
resort of drinking the blood had been tried by some. What little water
they had in their canteens was fast evaporating. Still some of them would
keep heart. The ground was getting stonier, and bare patches of rock were
constantly passed; surely they must be getting on higher country; they
were doubtless ascending the gradual rise of one of the inland
watersheds, and suddenly they hoped the ground would break away at their
feet in deep gullies and ravines; below they would see the tops of green
trees, shading some quiet waterhole. How anxiously they looked out for
any sign of life that might be a good augury of this, but none could be
seen.
Since leaving the open country, even the tireless kites had deserted them;
all around was silent, still, and lifeless. It was useless to stop to
rest, the ground was blistering to the touch, and there was no shade
anywhere. Then came night, but no change; throughout the long watches,
the radiance of the stars was never blurred by clouds. Some of the men
slept and dreamt of streams of clear, cold water, awaking only to greet
the dawn of another day of blinding, stifling heat, heralded by the faint
sultry sigh of the hot wind. And as the day grew hotter and hotter some
lost their reason, and all lost hope. Then came the end; they separated
and straggled away in ones and twos and fell and died. Day after day the
terrible and pitiless sun .looked down at them lying there, and watched
them dry and shrivel into mummies, and still no rain fell on the earth.
By day the sky was clear and bright, and by night the stars unclouded.
Years may have passed; higher and higher grew the spinifex, and its long
resinous needles entangled themselves in each other, unchecked by fire
for no black hunters came there in that season of drought, and the men's
bodies lay there, growing more and more unlike humanity, scorched by the
seven times heated earth beneath, and the glaring sun above untouched,
save by the ants, those scavengers of the desert, or the tiny bright-eyed
lizards. At last, the thunder clouds began to gather afar off, and when
they broke, a few wandering natives ventured into the woods, living for a
day or two on the uncertain rainfall. This failing, they retired again,
leaving perhaps, a trail of fire behind them. Then this fire, fed by the
huge banks of flammable spinifex, the growth of many years, spread into a
mighty conflagration, the black smoke covering half the heavens. The
hawks and the crows fled before it, swooping down on the vermin that were
forced to leave the shelter of log and bush. The great silence that had
reigned for so long was broken by the roar, and crash, and crackle of a
sea of flames; and beneath this fiery blast every vestige of the lost
explorers vanished for ever.
When, on the blackened ground, fell heavy rain once more, the spinifex
sprang up, fresh and green to look at, only in spots here and there,
where a human body had fertilised the soil, it was greener than
elsewhere.
So Leichhardt drops out of Australian history, and with every succeeding
year the chances of finding any trace grow more remote.
Expeditions have been started in search of him, but without result, and
the tale of their efforts will be told in their proper order.
As if the year 1848, when Europe seemed convulsed with some strange
tempest of riot and turmoil, should not be unmarked in Australia, two of
the most disastrous expeditions in the annals of exploration started
during its course. One, Leichhardt's, as we have just seen, vanished, and
all must have perished. Of the other, under Kennedy, two ghastly famished
spectres, that had once been white men, and a naked blackfellow, alone
were rescued out of thirteen.
The same impulses that led to Mitchell's and Leichhardt's northern
journeys, started Kennedy on his fatal venture up the eastern slope of
the long peninsula that terminates in Cape York. The desire to find a
road to the north coast, so that an available chain of communication
should exist between the southern settlements and a northern seaport.
Kennedy started from Sydney on board the barque TAM O'SHANTER, on the
29th of April, 1848. He had twelve men in his party, including Mr. Carron
as botanist, one of the survivors who published the account of the trip,
and Mr. Wall, naturalist. Their outfit consisted of twenty-eight horses
and one hundred sheep, besides the other necessary rations, carts, &c.
The instructions were to land at Rockingham Bay, and examine the eastern
coast of the peninsula, to Port Albany in the extreme north, where a ship
would meet and receive them. Such was the programme, alas for the
performance!
On the 30th of May, they landed in Rockingham Bay, with the loss of one
horse, and Kennedy made his first acquaintanceship with the tropical
jungles of northern Queensland (that now is), including the terrible
lawyer vine [Calamus Australis.] and the stinging tree. The first, a vine
with long hooks and spurs on it, that once fast, seem determined never to
let go again; the stalk being as tenacious and tough as wire, and
binding the scrub trees together so as to render advance impossible
without first cutting a way. The other, a tree with broad leaves, the
sting produced by touching which is so painful that horses, who on first
being stung have plunged about and been stung all over, have died from
the fever and inflammation caused.
These scrubs, marshy ground, salt water creeks, and high mountain ranges,
all inhabited by hostile natives, formed the pleasant prospect before
Kennedy.
From the very commencement almost, the monotonous record of Carron's
journal commences day after day thus--"Cutting scrub all day." Through
these marshes and swamps Kennedy strove to make for the ranges, hoping at
least to find clearer country to travel through. Often during this time,
he must have thought of his last journey over the boundless prairies of
the Barcoo, and sighed at the contrast. The natives, too, began to annoy
the travellers, and at last they were fired on and four killed and
wounded.
On the 18th July, the carts were abandoned, and they went on with
twenty-six pack horses, their sheep being reduced to fifty, and these
were rapidly falling away, as well as the horses, on the sour coast
grasses. They fared no better when they reached the range, or the spurs
of the Main Range, for the scrub still hemmed them in, and roads up and
down the rugged hills were hard to find; then to add to all, rain set
in.
On the 14th August, Carron took charge of the stores instead of Niblet,
who had been very extravagant with them, and also sent in false returns;
the allowance of flour was now reduced, and hopes were entertained that
with care it would hold out; but at first the supply provided was
insufficient. The horses too, began to knock up, and one after another
they were left behind dead or dying.
Crossing the dividing watershed, the party for some time travelled along
the heads of rivers running into the Gulf of Carpentaria, finding it a
great improvement in every way--thence they crossed back on to the
waters of the east coast once more, and their horses still giving in, one
by one, they fell back on them as an article of diet.
On the 9th of November, Kennedy realised that struggling on with the
whole of his party meant death by starvation to all, so he determined to
push ahead with three men and the black boy to Port Albany, and send back
relief by water. Port Albany, in the Pass of that name, being the
rendezvous agreed upon with the relief vessel. The camp was selected on
the top of a hill, fully visible from Weymouth Bay, and Mr. Carron put in
charge of it.
On the 13th, Kennedy started with the best seven of the horses leaving
the eight men in camp to await his return, or the relief boat. The only
account ever received of his journey came from the lips of the black boy
Jacky-Jacky, the sole survivor.
His story ran that three weeks after leaving Weymouth Bay they reached
Shelburne Bay, after cutting through a great deal of scrub and crossing
many rivers and creeks. Here Costigan accidentally shot himself, and
became very weak from loss of blood, so Luff, [Luff; the man mentioned
here, was with Kennedy on his Barcoo expedition, and some of the trees on
the Warrego, marked "L," and ascribed to Leichhardt, were probably some
of his marking.] another of the men, being ill, Kennedy left the third
man, Dunn, to look after them, and one horse for food; he and the boy
making a desperate effort to reach Cape York and send back succour. But
it was in vain. They reached the Escape River, and were in sight of
Albany Island, when they met a number of blacks who were apparently
friendly, although Jacky mistrusted them. Then came the end. Jacky's
story has been often told, but it will bear repetition.
"I and Mr. Kennedy watched them that night, taking it in turns every hour
that night. By-and-by I saw the blackfellows. It was a moonlight night,
and I walked up to Mr. Kennedy and said, 'There is plenty of blackfellows
now.' This was in the middle of the night. Mr. Kennedy told rue to get my
gun ready.
"The blacks did not know where we slept as we did not make a fire. We
both sat up all night. After this, daylight came, and I fetched the
horses and saddled them. Then we went on a good way up the river, and
then we sat down a little while, and then we saw three blacks coming
along our track, and then they saw us, and one ran back as hard as he
could run, and fetched up plenty more, like a flock of sheep almost. I
told Mr. Kennedy to put the saddles on the horses and go on; and the
blacks came up and they followed us all day. All along it was raining,
and I now told him to leave the horses, and come on without them, that
the horses made too much track. Mr. Kennedy was too weak, and would not
leave the horses. We went on this day until towards the evening; raining
hard, and the blacks followed us all day, some behind, some planted
before. In fact, blackfellows all around, following us. Now we went into
a little bit of scrub, and I told Mr. Kennedy to look behind always.
Sometimes he would do so, and sometimes he would not do so, to look out
for the blacks. Then a good many blackfellows came behind in the scrub,
and threw plenty of spears, and hit Mr. Kennedy in the back first. Mr.
Kennedy said to me, 'Oh, Jacky Jacky shoot 'em! shoot 'em!' Then I
pulled out my gun and fired, and hit one fellow all over the face with
buck shot. He tumbled down, and got up again, and again, and wheeled
right round, and two blacks picked him up and carried him away. They went
a little way and came back again, throwing spears all round, more than
they did before-very large spears.
"I pulled out the spear at once from Mr. Kennedy's back, and cut the jag
with Mr. Kennedy's knife. Then Mr. Kennedy got his gun and snapped, but
the gun would not go off. The blacks sneaked all along by the trees, and
speared Mr. Kennedy again in the right leg, above the knee a little, and
I got speared in the eye, and the blacks were now throwing always, never
giving over, and shortly again speared Mr. Kennedy in the right side.
There were large jags to the spears, and I cut them out and put them in
my pocket. At the same time we got speared the horses got speared too,
and jumped and bucked about and got into the swamps. I now told Mr.
Kennedy to sit down while I looked after the saddle bags, which I did,
and when I came back again I saw blacks along with Mr. Kennedy. I then
asked him if he saw the blacks with him. He was stupid with the spear
wounds, and said, 'No.' I then asked him where was his watch? I saw the
blacks taking away watch and hat as I was returning to Mr. Kennedy. Then
I carried Mr. Kennedy into the scrub. He said 'Don't carry me a good
way.' Then Mr. Kennedy looked this way, very bad (Jacky rolling his
eyes). Then I said to him don't look far away, as I thought he would be
frightened. I asked him often, are you well now, and he said, 'I don't
care for the spear wound in my leg, Jacky, but for the other two spear
wounds in my side and back, and I am bad inside, Jacky.' I told him
blackfellow always die when he got spear in there (the back). He said,
'I am out of wind, Jacky.' I asked him (Mr. Kennedy), are you going to
leave me? And he said, 'Yes, my boy, I am going to leave you.' He said,
'I am very bad, Jacky you take the books, Jacky, to the Captain, but not
the big ones, the Governor will give you anything for them.' I then tied
up the papers. He then said, 'Jacky, you give me paper and I will write.'
I gave him paper and pencil and he tried to write, and he then fell back
and died, and I caught him as he fell back, and held him, and I then
turned round myself and cried. I was crying a good while until I got
well, that was about an hour, and then I buried him.
"I digged up the ground with a tomahawk, and covered him over with logs
and grass and my shirt and trousers. That night I left him near dark. I
would go through the scrub, and the blacks threw spears at me, a good
many, and I went back again into the scrub. Then I went down the creek
which runs into Escape River, and I walked along the water in the creek,
very easy, with my head only above water to avoid the blacks and get out
of their way. In this way I went half a mile. Then I got out of the creek
and got clear of them, and walked on all night nearly, and slept in the
bush without a fire."
This was the sad tale. It took poor starving Jacky thirteen days to get
to Port Albany, short as the distance comparatively was. He lived on what
small vermin he could catch, climbing trees every now and again to look
for Port Albany and the ship. He carried the saddle bags, with Kennedy's
papers, for some distance, but had to leave them hidden in a log.
Immediately that Jacky's story was told to the people of the ARIEL, the
schooner awaiting Kennedy's party at Port Albany, sail was made for
Shelburne Bay to rescue the three men left there. A canoe was captured
which contained articles that left little doubt of the fate of the
unfortunates. The camp, however, was too far inland to reach without a
very strong party, and as it seemed certain that help was too late, and
there were eight men, whom Jacky described as being scarcely able to
crawl, awaiting relief at Weymouth Bay, sail was again made there.
The wretched men at Weymouth Bay had fared but badly. Douglas died first,
and he was buried; a rite which the party had afterwards to leave
unperformed, through sheer weakness. Taylor died next and was buried by
the side of Douglas.
Meantime, the blacks behaved in an inexplicable manner, at times they
would approach and offer the whites tainted fish as if to make friends,
and then come up with spears poised, and every token of hostility,
compelling the weary watchers to stand on their guard, expecting an
attack. Carpenter was the next to die, and he was buried with the others.
On the 1st December a schooner was seen in the Bay; and joyfully the flag
was hoisted and some rockets let off after dark. But she sailed away,
never having seen the signals, and the agony of the disappointed men can
be imagined. On the 28th December, Niblet and Wall died, and the blacks
came and surrounded the camp and threatened the two helpless survivors,
hardly able to stand up and hold their guns.
On the 30th, Goddard crawled out to try and shoot some pigeons, and
Carron sat with a pistol in his hand, to give him warning if the blacks
approached. Let him tell the end.
"About an hour after he was gone I could see some natives running over
the hill towards me. I fired a pistol immediately, but before Goddard
could get back they were into the camp, and handed me a piece of paper
very much dirtied and torn, but I was sure by their manner that there was
a vessel in the bay. It proved to be a note to me from Captain Dobson,
but I could only read part of it, it was so covered with dirt. I was for
a minute or two almost senseless from the hope of being relieved from our
miserable condition. I made them some presents, and wrote a note to
Captain Dobson and sent them away with it. I easily made them understand
what I wanted, but I soon saw that they had other intentions. I saw a
great number of natives coming in all directions, well armed. I saw two
from strange tribes amongst them. One man that I gave an old shirt to,
and put it on him, I saw him take it off and pick up his spears. We were
expecting every minute to be attacked by these treacherous villains,
when, to our great joy, we saw Captain Dobson, Dr. Vallack, Jacky (the
black boy), and another man who had received a spear wound in his arm
(Barrett), so that he could offer no resistance to the blacks, coming
across the creek. These men had risked their own lives by coming about
three miles through mangroves and thick scrub (surrounded by not less
than a hundred natives, well armed), with a hope of saving some of us
from starving."
The camp had to be vacated in such a hurry in consequence of the
threatened attack, that nothing was saved but a few instruments and
botanical specimens.
This was the end of a most unfortunate expedition from the first landing.
Against the impassable nature of the line of march, and the hostile
inhabitants, the harassed explorers had to combat from the first. Their
horses were not acclimated, so they soon wasted away, and when sickness
laid its hand upon the men they were doomed. The one brightening touch in
the whole gloomy picture is the simple devotion shown by poor Jacky: "He
then fell back and died, and I caught him as he fell back and held him,
AND THEN I TURNED ROUND MYSELF AND CRIED," was the funeral oration over
the brave and unfortunate Kennedy.
The brig FREAK was chartered by the Government to make another
examination of the coast. The remains of the men at Weymouth Bay were
reinterred, and search made for the missing men at Shelburne Bay, but
they were never found. Some of the papers secreted by Jacky were
recovered, but Kennedy's body had been taken away. This was all that was
ever discovered.
In the south of Australia, in 1847, Baron von Mueller was engaged in many
explorations, in some still unknown parts of the continent down there.
These travels were undertaken for botanical and geographical purposes
combined, partly in the province of South Australia, and latterly amongst
the many unexplored recesses of the Australian Alps. The culminating
points of several of the highest mountains in Australia were fixed, and
their geographical positions accurately defined amongst them being Mount
Hotham.
To the west coast once again. Still trusting that perseverance would be
finally rewarded, the colonists on Swan River kept making vigorous
attempts to penetrate what they would fain consider was only a desert
belt bounding their territory.
In 1843 a small private party, consisting of Messrs. Landor and Lefroy,
made a short excursion from York, being absent a fortnight. They came
across several shallow lakes, both salt and fresh, but their journey was
not recompensed by the discovery of any good country.
In 1846 we first come across the name of Gregory in the annals of
exploration. There were three brothers of this name, led by the eldest,
A. C. Gregory, who as a scientific explorer so greatly distinguished
himself in after life. On the 7th August, 1846, they started from Bolgart
Spring, the furthest stock station to the eastward.
Their equipment was of the slenderest, and they only took about two
months supply of rations. On leaving the settled districts they at once
found themselves in the barren country, that had so often stopped the
outward march of the pioneers, and their first discovery was a swampy
lake (fresh) on the edge of a small patch of better country, but this
quickly passed, and they entered into the salt lake region, through which
they pushed until they reached a range of granite hills, forming the
watershed of the coast streams. Turning somewhat to the northward, they
kept along these hills for the sake of the rain water to be found amongst
the rocks, until, striking again to the east, they encountered an
extensive salt lake or swamp; attempting to cross which their horses were
bogged, and only extricated with difficulty.
This lake was found afterwards to be of great size, and to fairly hem
them in to the eastward, so after several disappointments they turned to
the westward to examine some of the streams crossed by Grey during his
unfortunate expedition to Shark's Bay. On the head of one of these rivers
(the Arrowsmith), which from the uncertainty of Grey's chart, they were
unable to clearly identify; they found a seam of coal. This was the only
discovery of any importance that they made, the rest of their journey was
over very impoverished country, covered with scrub and sand, with here
and there salt flats and lakes. They returned to Bolgart Spring on the
22nd September.
On hearing of the coal discovery the Government sent Lieutenant Helpman
in the schooner CHAMPION, to Champion Bay, which place he reached at the
end of the year, accompanied by one of the Gregorys. They landed the cart
and horses, and on the 12th December reached the scene of the coal find.
They soon filled their cart with coal, and returned by a somewhat
different track to the schooner. F. Gregory making a detour to the
northward without any noteworthy result.
Not yet disappointed in the hope of finding country worth settling to the
eastward, Surveyor-General Roe started from York on the 14th September,
1848; he had with him six men, (including H. Gregory) and twelve horses,
with over three months' provisions. It will be unnecessary to follow them
over the salt lake country which they inevitably met with soon after
leaving civilization, or the outskirts of it Their first attempts beyond
were unsuccessful; they were successively turned from their course by
scrub of the densest character, and sandy plains, so they at last made
for the south coast, where they rested for a while at one of the small
settlements.
On the 18th, they again started, following the upward course of the
Pallinup River, which was the last stream crossed by Eyre before reaching
Albany, on his Great Bight expedition. They ascended a branch coming from
the north-east, and for a time travelled through well grassed and
promising valleys, but afterwards found themselves once more in the
scrubs and sandy plains of the desert. Catching sight of a granite hill
to the eastward, they proceeded there, but from its summit the outlook
was as gloomy as ever. Fortunately the weather had been showery, and the
want of water was not felt so much as the total absence of feed. Still,
on to the eastward their difficulties increased at every step. To the
impassable thickets and desolate plains was now added the absence of
fresh water, and it was not until after days of privation that they
reached some elevated peaks, where a little grass and water were found.
Their course was now to the south-east, towards the range sighted by
Eyre, and named the Russell Range, and a desperate struggle commenced
with the barren country through which they had to work their way. So
weakened were the horses, and such was the nature of the belts of scrub,
that it took them three days to accomplish fifty miles, and after being
four days and three nights without water for the horses, they reached a
rugged granite hill, called Mount Riley, where they got a scant supply.
From here, their journey to the Russell Range, fifty miles away, was but
a repetition of their former hardships. Nothing but continuous scrub;
sometimes the thickets were too dense to attempt a passage, even with
the axes, and long detours had to be made. At last, with worn-out horses,
they reached the Russell Range, and every hope they had entertained of a
change for the better was blasted. The range was a mass of naked rocks,
and from the summit nothing but the interminable sea of scrub and the
distant ocean, was visible. Fortunately, they got a little grass and
water, which saved the lives of their animals.
From the Russell Range, Roe's homeward track was not far removed from
Eyre's, so that no fresh geographical features could be expected, or were
discovered, with the exception of another coal seam in one of the rivers
running into the south coast. On the 2nd February, 1849, the
Surveyor-General reached Perth.
During the time this last expedition had been endeavouring to proceed
east, A. C. Gregory was put in charge of a party to make for the north,
and ascertain the value of the country reported by Grey as existing on
the Gascoyne. On his way, Gregory reported favourably of the country
around Champion Bay, which had been extolled by Gray, and subsequently
condemned by Captain Stokes. Beyond the Murchison, he did not succeed in
penetrating any considerable distance; being turned back at all points,
after repeated attempts, by the tract of impervious scrub that intervened
between the Murchison and the Gascoyne. He therefore returned, without
seeing the latter river, having attained a distance of three hundred and
fifty miles north of Perth. On their return to the Murchison, a vein of
galena was discovered, and the river traced upwards and downwards for a
considerable distance. They reached Perth on the 17th November.
The following month Governor Fitzgerald, accompanied by A. C. Gregory,
Bland, and three soldiers, went by sea to Champion Bay, and landing some
horses, proceeded inland to examine the new mineral discovery. The lode
was found to be more important than was at first supposed.
On their return journey to Champion Bay, an affray occurred with the
natives. The blacks followed them for some time, their numbers constantly
increasing, until fifty well-armed natives were present; in a thick scrub
they succeeded in surrounding the whites, and commenced hostilities. The
party found it necessary to resort to their firearms, and the Governor
fired the first shot, bringing down the leading native, who had just
thrown a spear at Gregory. A shower of spears then fell amongst the group
of explorers, and the Governor was speared through the leg. The natives
were, however, kept at bay, and that afternoon they reached the beach and
embarked on board the schooner.
This was the second time an Australian Governor had been wounded by the
natives, the first occasion being when Captain Arthur Phillip was
speared.
Fears now began to be entertained in the other colonies as to the safety
of Leichhardt and his party, and, in consequence of these fears being
augmented by the tales and rumours that drifted in from the outside
districts, gathered from the natives (referring to the murder of a party
of whites to the westward), it was decided to equip an expedition to try
and ascertain the truth of these reports.
The party was put in charge of Mr. Hovenden Hely, a former companion of
Leichhardt on his second expedition, and in the beginning of 1852 he left
Sydney on the search, his instructions being to act as circumstances
should determine him.
About forty miles from Mitchell's Mount Abundance he met with the first
of a series of native statements that were destined to keep luring him
forward on a false scent. The story, as usual, was most circumstantial,
and did credit to the imaginations of the authors; two blacks offered to
conduct Hely to the scene of the massacre, and under their guidance he
started, It was a very dry season, and when they reached Mitchell's old
depôt camp on the Maranoa, where, it will be remembered that his party
were encamped for four months, nothing of the fine sheet of water
mentioned by him was seen; it had shrunk to a shallow pool in a bed of
sand. Here the two guides insisted that the murder had taken place,
pointing to the remains of Mitchell's encampment as a proof thereof. This
naturally led Hely to disbelieve their statement, but the blacks added
such details to the original story as almost again convinced him. The
most minute search, however, resulted in nothing, and one of the natives
managed to make his escape. The other then altered his version of the
affair, and shifted the scene of the tragedy to the westward again, and
the party struck north-west to the Warrego.
More blacks were met with who confirmed the tale, and one guided them to
a water hole in a brigalow scrub, which she said was the place where the
tragedy was enacted. She also stated that she was present, and entered
into a most minute description of the affair, describing the whole
attack. Not the vestige of a trace could be found to give any colour to
her story, but ten miles down the river an unmistakeable camping ground
was found. There was a tree marked L, the letter being roughly cut into
the bark, and inside the letter, X V A was carved; also there were
indications that proved that a party of whites had been camped there
during wet weather.
Still led on by the natives, Hely at last reached the Nivelle River, when
his guides deserted him, and he returned.
On the Warrego he found another camp with a marked tree, exactly similar
to the first one, the X V A being repeated, so that it could not have
been intended to mean any distinguishing number. He also noticed amongst
the natives some tomahawks formed from the battered gullet plates of
saddles. His search served only to deepen the mystery around Leichhardt's
fate.
The meaning of the marked tree discovered on the Warrego is perplexing,
both on account of the recurring letters and its connection with an old
camping ground of some white party. Mitchell's party were camped in the
neighbourhood for some time; his camps were marked from XLI. to XLIll.,
but the weather was fine and dry during his stay. Kennedy encamped twice
in the locality, and he had with him a man named Luff, whereas no name in
Mitchell's camp began with L; but he, too, crossed the river when the
weather was dry, and no bushman could possibly make a mistake about the
state of the country during the time a large party had remained
stationary in a certain position.
The most likely explanation is that these marks had nothing whatever to
do with either Mitchell, Kennedy or Leichhardt, having probably been
made by some private party out run hunting.
This futile effort to track up the lost explorer has led us away from
Western Australia, where again the desert country was to be encountered,
and again fruitlessly.
In 1854, Mr. Robert Austin, Assistant Surveyor-General, was given charge
of a party to search for available pastoral country, and also (for now
the gold fever was at its height), to examine the interior for auriferous
deposits.
They started from the head of the Swan River, on a northeasterly course,
and on the 16th of July, reached the Cow-cowing Lake, reported by the
aborigines, and hoped by the colonists, to be a sheet of fresh water in
the Gascoyne valley. The take proved to be dry, and the bed covered with
salt incrustation, showing its character when full. Thence Austin made
directly north, and passed through the wretchedly-repellent country that
seemed fated to always cross the path of the western explorer; he
directed his course to a distant range of table-topped hills and peaks.
Here they found feed and water, and named the highest point Mount
Kenneth, after one of the party, Mr. Kenneth Brown. From thence to the
north-east they traversed stony plains, broken by sandstone and ironstone
ridges, and intersected by the dry beds of sandy watercourses; and in
this country, one of the worst possible misfortunes happened to them.
Their horses got on to a patch of poison plant, and nearly the whole of
them were laid up in consequence, and unfit for work. Some few escaped,
but the greater number never recovered the effects of the weed, and many
died. Pushing hastily on to a safer place to recruit, Austin found
himself so crippled by this accident, that he had to abandon all but his
most necessary stores for no less than fourteen of the horses having
succumbed.
They now turned north-west to make for Shark's Bay, where a vessel was to
be sent to render them assistance or bring them away, as should be
desired.
Their course to Shark's Bay led them over country that offered them no
temptation to linger on the way. On the 21st September they found a cave
in the face of a cliff, in which were drawings similar to those seen by
Gray near the Prince Regent's River. Near this cave was a spring, and,
while resting at this camp, one of the party, a young man named Charles
Farmer, accidentally shot himself in the arm, and in spite of the most
careful attention, the poor fellow died of lock-jaw, in terrible agony.
He was buried at the cave spring camp, and the highest hill in the
neighbourhood called Mount Farmer after him. Thus two lonely mountains in
the desert interior watch over the graves of men who first saw them-Mount
Poole and Mount Farmer.
They now got on to the head waters of the Murchison, or rather the dry
channels of these tributaries, and at last reached the Murchison itself;
a river with a deep-cut channel, but perfectly dry. Beyond this their
efforts were in vain, they fought their way to within a hundred miles of
Shark's Bay, but they had then been so long without water that it was
courting certain death to proceed. Even during the retreat to the
Murchison the lives of the horses were only saved by the party
accidentally finding a small native well in a most unexpected situation,
namely, in the middle of a bare ironstone plain.
Pushing on ahead of his party, Austin reached the Murchison twenty-five
miles south-west of his former course, but the river was the same, or
worse, tantalising him with pools of salt water.
A desperate search was made to the southward, during a day of fierce and
terrible heat, and when in utter despair they, on the second day, made
for some small hills that they sighted, providentially, they found both
water and grass. The whole of the party were then moved to this spot,
which out of gratitude was named Mount Welcome.
Nothing daunted by the sufferings he had undergone, Austin now made
another attempt to reach Shark's Bay. On their way to the Murchison they
captured an old native, and took him with them to point out the watering
places of the blacks. At first he was able to show them one or two that
they would probably have missed, but after they had crossed the Murchison
and got some distance to the westward, the watering places the native had
relied on were found to be dry, and it was only after the most acute
sufferings from thirst, and the loss of some more horses, that they
managed to straggle back to Mount Welcome. Austin's conduct during these
terrible marches seems to have approached the heroic. When his companions
fell off one by one and laid down to die, and the native inhabitant of
the wilds was cowering weeping under a bush, he managed to reach the
little well that the blackfellow had formerly shown them, and without
resting, tramped back with water to revive his exhausted comrades.
Arrived at Mount Welcome, they found the water there on the point of
giving out, and weak as they all were, an instant start had to be made
for the Geraldine mine, where a small settlement had been formed to work
the galena lode discovered by Gregory. The prospect before them was most
discouraging; to the mine the distance was one hundred and sixty miles,
and to the highest point on the Murchison, where Gregory had found water,
which would be their first stage, was ninety miles, but it had to be
done. They started at midnight, and by means of forced marches,
travelling day and night, reached Gregory's old camp on the river; having
fortunately found a small supply of water at one place on the way. From
this point they followed the river down, obtaining water from springs in
the banks, and on the 20th November arrived at the mine, where they were
warmly entertained. From thence they returned, some by sea and some by
land, to Perth.
Austin's exploration had led to no profitable result. The large lake
(Moore), that had so hampered Gregory, was found to be an arm or outlet
of the still larger Cow-cowing, and that was about all. The upper
Murchison had not turned out at all well, and the whole summary of the
journal amounts to repetitions of daily struggles with a barren and
waterless district, under the fiery sun of the southern summer.
Austin thought that eastward of his limit the country would improve, but
subsequent explorations have not borne this out. He had singularly hard
fortune to contend against; after the serious loss he sustained in
having his horses poisoned, an accident that the greatest care will not
always prevent, he was pitted against some of the worst country in
Australia--dry, impenetrably scrubby, and barren; and this, too, during
the hottest part of the year. That he succeeded in bringing his party
safely through such difficulties, was in itself a most wonderful
achievement.