6.1. EARLY LIFE.
Charles Sturt was born in India at Chunar-Ghur, on April the 28th, 1795.
His father, Thomas Lennox Napier Sturt, was a puisne Judge in Bengal
under the East India Company; his mother was Jeanette Wilson. The Sturts
were an old Dorsetshire family. In 1799, Charles, as was common with most
Anglo-Indian children, was sent home to England, to the care of his
aunts, Mrs. Wood and Miss Wilson, at Newton Hall, Middlewich. He went
first to a private school at Astbury, and in 1810 was sent to Harrow. On
the 9th of September, 1813, he was gazetted as Ensign in the 39th
Regiment of Foot. He served with his regiment in the Pyrenees, and in a
desultory campaign in Canada. When Napoleon escaped from Elba, the 39th
returned to Europe, but all too late to join in the victory of Waterloo,
and it was stationed with the Army of Occupation in the north of France.
In 1818, the regiment was sent to Ireland. Here for several years Sturt
remained in most uncongenial surroundings, watching smugglers, seizing
illicit stills, and assisting to quell a rising of the Whiteboys. It was
in Ireland that the devoted John Harris, his soldier-servant, who was
afterwards the companion of his Australian wanderings, was first attached
to him. In 1823, Sturt was gazetted Lieutenant, and his promotion to
Captain followed in 1825.
In December, 1826, he sailed for New South Wales with a detachment of his
regiment, in charge of convicts. The moment he set foot on this vast
unknown land, its chief geographical enigma at once occupied his
attention. Sir Ralph Darling, to whom he acted for some time as private
secretary, formed a high opinion of his tact and ability, and appointed
him Major of Brigade and Military Secretary.
6.2. THE DARLING.
As soon as an expedition inland was mooted, Sturt volunteered for the
leadership, and was recommended by Oxley, who was then on his deathbed.
The recommendation was adopted by Governor Darling, and Sturt embarked on
the career of exploration that was to render his name immortal.
It was ever Sturt's misfortune to be the sport of the seasons; drought
and its attendant desolation dogged his footsteps like an evil genius.
Oxley had followed, or attempted to follow, the rivers down when a long
period of recurrent wet seasons had saturated the soil, filled the swamps
and marshes, and swollen the river-courses so that they appeared to be
navigable throughout for boats. Sturt came at a period when the country
lay faint under a prolonged drought and the rivers had dwindled down into
dry channels, with here and there a parched and meagre water-hole. The
following description of his is too often quoted as depicting the usual
state of the Australian interior:--
"In the creeks, weeds had grown and withered, and grown again; and young
saplings were now rising in their beds, nourished by the moisture that
still remained; but the large forest trees were drooping, and many were
dead. The emus with outstretched necks, gasping for breath, search the
channels of the rivers for water in vain; and the native dog, so thin
that he could hardly walk, seemed to implore some merciful hand to
despatch him."
[Map. Sturt's Route. Hume and Hovell's Route 1824.]
To Sturt and his companions, who were the first white men to face the
interior during a season of drought, the scene may not have seemed too
highly-coloured; but, in common with many of Sturt's graphic
word-pictures, his description applies only to special or rare
circumstances.
In 1828, no rain had fallen for two years, and even the dwellers on the
coastal lands began to despair of copious rainfalls. Whenever their
glance wandered over their own dried-up pastures, men's thoughts
naturally turned to that widespread and boundless swamp wherein the
Macquarie was lost to Oxley's quest; and many saw in the drought a
favourable opportunity to discover the ultimate destination of these lost
rivers. An expedition to the west was accordingly prepared in order to
solve the problem under these very different existing circumstances, and
Sturt was selected as leader. To Hamilton Hume was offered the position
of second in command, and, as the dry weather had brought all farming
operations to a standstill, he was able to accept it. Besides Sturt and
Hume, the party consisted of two soldiers and eight prisoners, two of the
latter being taken to return with despatches as soon as they had reached
the limit of the known country. They also had with them eight riding and
seven pack-horses, and two draught and eight pack-bullocks. A small boat
rigged up on a wheeled carriage was also taken; but like many others
carried into the interior, it never served any useful purpose.
The country was by this time well-known, and partly settled up to and
below Wellington Vale; but when Sturt reached Mount Harris, Oxley's
former depot camp, he had come to the verge of the unknown, and halted in
order to consider as to his immediate movements. He consulted with Hume,
and as there seemed to be no present obstacle to their progress, it was
determined, as Sturt writes, "to close with the marshes."
This they did much sooner than was expected, for at the end of the first
day's march their camp was set in the very midst of the reeds. A halt for
a couple of days was made, whilst Sturt prepared his despatches to the
Governor. On the 26th, the two messengers were sent off to Bathurst, and
the progress of the party was resumed. Before the day closed, they found
themselves on a dreary expanse of flats and of desolate reed beds. The
progress of the main body was thus suddenly and completely checked, and
Sturt decided to launch the boat and with two men endeavour to trace the
course of the river, while Hume and two others endeavoured to find an
opening to the northward.
The boat voyage soon terminated, for Sturt was as completely baffled as
Oxley had been. The channel ceased altogether, and the boat quietly
grounded. Sturt could do nothing but return to camp and await Hume's
report. All search for the lost river proved vain.
Hume had found a serpentine sheet of water to the north which he was
inclined to think was the continuation of the elusive Macquarie. He had
pushed on past it, but had been checked by another body of reed beds. It
was decided to shift camp to this lagoon and launch the boat once more;
but without result, for the boat was hauled ashore again after having
vainly followed the supposed channel in amongst reeds and shallows. Again
the leader and his second went forward on a scouting trip. Each took with
them two men; Sturt going to the north-west, and Hume to the north-east.
They left on the last day of December, 1828.
Sturt toiled on until after sunset he came to a northward-flowing creek,
in which there was a fair supply of water. Next day their course lay
through plains intersected with belts of scrub, and they discovered
another creek, inferior to the last one both in size and the quality of
the water. They camped for a few hours on its bank, and Sturt called it
New Year's Creek, but it is now known as the Bogan River. They were about
to pass that night without water on the edge of a dry plain, when one of
the men had his attention drawn to the flight of a pigeon, and searching,
found a puddle of rain water which barely satisfied them. An isolated
hill with perpendicular sides, which Sturt had noticed for some time, now
attracted his attention, as being a lofty point of vantage from which to
get an extensive view to the west. They accordingly made for it, over
more promising country. They reached the hill which Sturt called Oxley's
Tableland, but from its summit he saw nothing but a stretch of monotonous
plain, with no sign of the long-sought river. That night they camped at a
small swamp, and the next morning turned back, Sturt agreeing with Oxley,
but without as much reason, that "the space I traversed is unlikely to
become the haunt of civilised man." Hume did not return until the day
after Sturt's arrival. He reported that the Castlereagh River must have
suddenly turned to the north below where Oxley crossed it, for he had
been unable to find it. He had gone westward, but had seen nothing except
far-stretching plains. After a few aimless and unprofitable ramblings,
they made their way again to Oxley's Tableland, and Sturt and Hume, with
two men, made a journey to the west, with only a negative result. On the
31st of January they commenced to follow down Sturt's New Year's Creek,
and the next day, to their unbounded surprise, came upon the bank of a
noble river. From its size and width they judged they had struck it at a
point as far from its source as from its termination; but when the men
rushed tumultuously down the bank to revel in the water and quench their
thirst, they cried out, with disgust and surprise, that the water was
salt.
Poor Sturt, whose heart was bounding with joy at the realisation of his
fondest hopes in this important discovery of a river which seemed to
answer all men's dreams and anticipations, felt the sudden revulsion of
despair. One saving thought he had, and that was that they were close to
its junction with the inland sea. Meantime, although human tracks were to
be seen everywhere, they saw none of the aborigines. Hume at length found
a pool of fresh water, which provided them with water for themselves and
their stock.
[Illustration. The Darling River, at Sturt's first view point. Photo by
the Reverend J. Milne Curran.]
The long-continued absence of rain having lowered the fresh water so that
the supply from the brine springs on the banks predominated, was the
explanation of the saltness of the water; but Sturt did not know this,
and for six days the party moved slowly down the river until the
discovery of saline springs in the bank convinced the leader that the
saltness was of local origin. Still that did not supply them with the
necessary drinking water, and on the sixth day, leaving the men encamped
at a small supply of fresh water, Sturt and Hume pushed on to look for
more, but in vain, and Sturt was compelled to order a retreat to Mount
Harris.
This shows how the exploration of the continent has ever been conditioned
by the uncertainty of the seasons. Had Sturt found the Darling in a
normal season, he would probably have followed it down to its junction
with the Murray, and the geographical system of the east would have been
at once laid bare. But it was not in such a simple manner that the great
river basin was to become known. Toil, privation, and the sacrifice of
human lives, had first to be suffered.
To the river which he had found Sturt gave the name Darling, in honour of
the Governor.
The return journey to Mount Harris continued without interruption. At
Mount Harris they expected to find fresh supplies; but as they approached
the place they could not restrain fears with regard to their safety. The
surrounding reed beds were in flames in all parts. The few natives that
were met with displayed a guilty timidity, and one was observed wearing a
jacket. Fortunately, however, their fears were groundless; the relief
party had arrived and had been awaiting their return for about three
weeks. An attack by the natives had been made, but it had been easily
repulsed. While Sturt rested at Mount Harris, Hume struck off to the
west, beyond the reeds. He reported the country as superior for thirty
miles to any they had yet seen, but beyond that limit lay brushwood and
monotonous plains.
On the 7th of March the party struck camp and departed for the
Castlereagh River. They found that the flooded stream, impassable by
Oxley, had totally disappeared. Not a drop of water lay in the bed of the
river. They commenced to follow its course down, and the old harassing
hunt for water had to be conducted anew. No wonder that Sturt could never
free himself from the memory of his fiery baptism as Australian explorer,
and that his mental picture of the country was ever shrouded in the haze
of drought and heat.
As they descended the Castlereagh into the level lower country, they were
greatly delayed by the many intricate windings of the river and its
multiplicity of channels. On the 29th of March they again reached the
Darling, ninety miles above the place where they had first come upon it,
and they observed the same characteristics as before, including the
saltness. This was a blow to Sturt, who had hoped to find it free from
salinity. Fortunately they were not distressed for fresh water at the
time, and knowing what to expect if the river was followed down again,
the party halted and formed a camp.
The next day Sturt, Hume, and two men crossed the river and made a short
journey of investigation to the west, to see what fortune held for them
further afield. Not having passed during the day "a drop of water or a
blade of grass," they found themselves by mid-afternoon on a wide plain
that stretched far away to the horizon. Sturt writes that had there been
the slightest encouragement afforded by any change in the country, he
would even then have pushed forward, "but we had left all traces of the
natives behind us, and this seemed a desert they never entered -- that
not even a bird inhabited."
Back to Mount Harris once more, where they arrived on the 7th of April,
1829. On their way they had stopped to follow a depression first noticed
by Hume, and decided that it was the channel of the overflow of the
Macquarie Marshes.
6.3. THE PASSAGE OF THE MURRAY.
The mystery of the Macquarie was now, to a certain extent, cleared away,
but the course and final outlet of the Darling now presented another
riddle, which Sturt too was destined to solve.
The discovery of such a large river as the Darling, augmented by the
Macquarie and Castlereagh, and (so people then thought) in all
probability the Lachlan, naturally inflamed public curiosity as to the
position of the outlet on the Australian coast. All the rivers that had
been tried as guides to the hidden interior having failed to answer the
purpose, the Murrumbidgee -- the beautiful river of the aboriginals --
was selected as the scene of the next attempt. There were good reasons
for the choice: it derived its volume from the highest known mountains,
snow-capped peaks in fact, that reminded the spectator of far northern
latitudes, and thus it was to a great extent independent of the variable
local rainfall.
Captain Sturt was naturally selected to be the leader of the Murrumbidgee
expedition, and with him as second went George MacLeay, the son of the
then Colonial Secretary. Harris, who had been Sturt's soldier-servant for
nearly eighteen years, and two other men of the 39th, who had been with
their Captain on the Macquarie expedition, also accompanied him, with a
very complete and well-furnished party, including the usual boat rigged
up on a carriage. This time, however, unlike the craft that had
accompanied previous exploring parties, the whaleboat was destined to be
immortalised in Australian history.
Settlement had by this time extended well up to and down the banks of the
Murrumbidgee, and Sturt took his departure from the borders of
civilisation about where the town of Gundagai now stands, almost at the
junction of the Tumut River, at Whaby's station. The course for some time
lay along the rich river-flats of the Murrumbidgee. The blacks, who of
course from their position were familiar with the presence of white men,
maintained a friendly demeanour. One slight excursion to the north was
made to connect with Oxley's furthest south, made when on his Lachlan
expedition; but though they did not actually verify the spot, Sturt
reckoned that he went within twenty miles of it, showing how narrowly
that explorer had missed the discovery of the Murrumbidgee.
As they got lower down the river they found themselves travelling through
the flat desolate country that reminded them only too forcibly of late
experiences on the Macquarie. Owing to some information gleaned from the
natives, Sturt and MacLeay rode north to try and again come upon the
Lachlan. They struck a dry channel, which Sturt believed was the drainage
from the Lachlan into the Murrumbidgee. This proved to be correct, as
natives afterwards testified that they had seen the two white men
actually on the Lachlan.
On the 25th, which was an intensely hot day, MacLeay, who was on ahead,
found himself suddenly confronted with a boundless sea of reeds, and the
river itself had suddenly vanished. He sent a mounted messenger back to
Sturt with these disastrous tidings. Sturt thereupon turned the drays,
which were already in difficulties in the loose soil, sharp round to the
right, and finally came to the river again, where they camped to discuss
the untoward circumstance.
At daylight the next morning, Sturt and MacLeay rode along its bank,
whilst Clayton, the carpenter, was set to work felling a tree and digging
a sawpit. Progress along the bank with the whole party was evidently
impossible. Sturt, however, had faith in the continuity of the river, and
announced to MacLeay his intention to send back most of the expedition,
and with a picked crew to embark in the whaleboat, committing their
desperate fortunes to the stream, and trusting to make the coast
somewhere, and leaving their return in the hands of Providence.
The more one regards this heroic venture, the more sublime does it
appear. The whole of the interior was then a sealed book, and the river,
for aught Sturt knew, might flow throughout the length of the continent.
But the voyage was commenced with cool and calm confidence.
In a week the whaleboat was put together, and a small skiff also built.
Six hands were selected for the crew, and the remainder, after waiting
one week in case of accident, were to return to Goulburn Plains and there
await events. It would be as well to embody here the names of this band.
John Harris, Hopkinson, and Fraser were the soldiers chosen, and Clayton,
Mulholland, and Macmanee the prisoners. The start was made at seven on
the morning of January 7th, the whale-boat towing the small skiff. Within
about fifteen miles of the point of embarkation they passed the junction
of the Lachlan, and that night camped amongst a thicket of reeds. The
next day the skiff fouled a log and sank, and though it was raised to the
surface and most of the contents recovered, the bulk of them was much
damaged. Fallen and sunken logs greatly endangered their progress, but on
the 14th they "were hurried into a broad and noble river." Such was the
force with which they were shot out of the Murrumbidgee that they were
carried nearly to the opposite bank of the new and ample stream. Sturt's
feelings at that moment were to be envied, and for once in a life
chequered with much disappointment he must have felt that a great reward
was granted to him in this crowning discovery. He named the new river the
Murray, after Sir George Murray, the head of the Colonial Department. As
some controversy has of late arisen as to the question of Sturt's right
to confer the name, we here quote his own words, written after surveying
the Hume in 1838.
"When I named the Murray I was in a great measure ignorant of the other
rivers with which it is connected...I want not to usurp an inch of ground
or of water over which I have not passed."
On the bosom of the Murray they could now make use of their sail, which
the contracted space in the bed of the Murrumbidgee had before prevented
them from doing. The aborigines were seen nearly every day, and once when
the voyagers had to negotiate a very ticklish rapid, some of them
approached quite close, and seemed to take great interest in the
proceedings.
Sturt's thoughts now turned towards the junction of the Darling, and at
last he sighted a deserted camp on which the huts resembled those he had
seen on that river. On the 23rd of January they came upon the junction at
a very critical moment. A line of magnificently-foliaged trees came into
view, among which was perceived a large gathering of blacks, who
apparently were inclined to be hostile. Sturt, who was at the helm, was
steering straight for them and made the customary signs of peace. Just
before it was too late to avoid a collision, Sturt marked hostility in
their quivering limbs and battle-lusting eyes. He instantly put the helm
a-starboard, and the boat sheered down the reach, the baffled natives
running and yelling defiantly along the bank. The river, however, was
shoaling rapidly, and from the opposite side there projected a sand-spit;
on each side of this narrow passage infuriated blacks had gathered, and
there was no mistaking their intentions. Sturt gave orders to his men as
to their behaviour, and held himself ready to give the battle-signal by
shooting the most active and forward of their adversaries.
Mention has been made of a small party of blacks who had been interested
in the shooting of a rapid by the boat's crew. Four of these savages had
camped with the explorers the preceding night, leaving at daylight in the
morning. Sturt imagined that they had gone ahead as peace delegates, and
he was thus most anxious to avoid a fight. But the life of the whole
party depended on prompt action being taken, and Sturt's eye was on the
leader and his finger on the trigger when "my purpose," he says "was
checked by MacLeay, who called to me that another party of blacks had
made their appearance on the left bank of the river. Turning round, I
observed four men at the top of their speed." These were the dusky
delegates, and the description given by Sturt of the conduct of the man
who saved the situation is very graphic:--
[Illustration. Junction of the Darling and Murray Rivers.]
"The foremost of them, as soon as he got ahead of the boat, threw himself
from a considerable height into the water. He struggled across the
channel to the sand-bank, and in an incredibly short space of time stood
in front of the savage against whom my aim had been directed. Seizing him
by the throat, he pushed him backwards, and forcing all who were in the
water on the bank, he trod its margin with a vehemence and an agitation
that was exceedingly striking. At one moment pointing to the boat, at
another shaking his clenched hand in the faces of the most forward, and
stamping with passion on the sand, his voice, that was at first distinct,
was lost in hoarse murmurs."
This episode, unequalled in the traditions of the Australian aborigines,
removed the imminent danger; and Sturt's tact, in a few moments changed
the hundreds of demented demons into a pack of laughing, curious
children, an easy and common transition with the savage nature. But for
the intervention of this noble chief, Sturt and his followers, penned
within the boat in shallow water, would have been massacred without a
chance to defend themselves. Surrounded as they were by six hundred
stalwart foes, their fate, save from unreliable native tradition, would
never have been known to their countrymen.
During the crisis, the boat had drifted untended, and grounded on the
sand. While the men were hastily pushing her off, they caught sight of "a
new and beautiful stream coming apparently from the north." A crowd of
natives were assembled on the bank of the new river, and Sturt pulled
across to them, thus creating a diversion amongst his erstwhile foes, who
swam after, as he says, "like a parcel of seals."
After presenting the friendly native with some acknowledgement and
refusing presents to the others, the pioneers examined the new river. The
banks were sloping and well-grassed, crowned with fine trees, and the men
cried out that they had got on to an English river. To Sturt himself the
moment was supreme. He was convinced "that we were now sailing on the
bosom of that very stream from whose banks I had been twice forced to
retire." They did not pull far up the stream, for a native fishing-net
was stretched across, and Sturt forbore to break it. The Union Jack was,
however, run up to the peak and saluted with three cheers, and then with
a favouring wind they bade farewell to the Darling and the now
wonderstruck natives.
As they went on, the party landed occasionally to inspect the surrounding
country, but on all sides from their low elevation they could see nothing
but a boundless flat. The skiff being now only a drag upon them, it was
broken up and burnt for the sake of the ironwork. On account of the
damage to the salt pork caused by the sinking of this boat, the strictest
economy of diet had to be exercised, and though an abundance of fish was
caught, they had become unattractive to their palates. The continuation
of the voyage down the course of the Murray was henceforth a monotonous
repetition of severe daily toil at the oar. The natives whom they
encountered, though friendly, became a nuisance from the constant
handling and embracing that the voyagers had, from purposes of policy, to
suffer unchecked. The tribes met with were more than ordinarily filthy,
and were disfigured by loathsome skin diseases. After twenty-one days on
the water, Sturt began to look most anxiously for indications of the sea,
for his men were fagging with the unremitting labour and short rations,
and they had only the strength of their own arms to rely on for their
return against the current. Soon, however, an old man amongst the natives
described the roaring of the waves, and showed by other signs that he had
been to the sea coast. But more welcome than all were some flocks of
sea-gulls that flew over and welcomed the tired men.
On the thirty-third day after leaving the starting-point on the
Murrumbidgee, Sturt, on landing to inspect the country, saw before him
the lake which was indeed the termination of the Murray, but not the end
that he had dreamt of. "For the lake was evidently so little influenced
by tides that I saw at once our probable disappointment of practical
communication between it and the ocean."
This foreboding was realised after examination of Lake Alexandrina, as it
is now called. Upon ascertaining their exact position on the southern
coast, nothing was left but to take up the weary labours of their return;
the thunder of the surf brought no hopeful message of succour, but rather
warned the lonely men to hasten back while yet some strength remained to
them.
Sturt re-entered the Murray on his homeward journey on the 13th of
February; and the successful accomplishment of this return is Sturt's
greatest achievement. His crew were indeed picked men, but what other
Australian leader of exploration could have inspired them with such a
deep sense of devotion as to carry them through their herculean task
without one word of insubordination or reproach. "I must tell the Captain
to-morrow that I can pull no more," was the utmost that Sturt heard once,
when they thought him asleep; but when the morrow came the speaker
stubbornly pulled on.
Three of these men, it must be remembered, were convicts; yet, despite
their heroic conduct, one only (Clayton) received a free pardon on their
return, though Sturt did his utmost to win fuller recognition of their
merits.
In such a work of generalisation as this, space will not permit of a
detailed account of the return voyage, but on the 20th of March they
reached the camp on the Murrumbidgee from which they had started. The
relief party were not there, and there was nothing left but to toil on,
though the men were falling asleep at the oars, and the river itself rose
and raged madly against them. When they reached a point within ninety
miles of the depot where Sturt expected the relief party to be, they
landed, and two men -- Hopkinson and Mulholland -- went forward on foot
for succour. They were now almost utterly without food, and had to wait
six dragging days before men arrived with drays and stores to their aid.
One little item let me add; the boat being no longer serviceable, was
burnt, Sturt giving as a reason that he was reluctant to leave her like a
log on the water. What a priceless relic that boat would now have become!
Sturt received but scant appreciation on his return from this heroic
journey. His eyesight was impaired and his health was failing; but
instead of obtaining much-needed rest, he was sent to Norfolk Island,
with a detachment of his regiment. There the moist climate still further
prejudiced his health, though he was able to quell a mutiny of the
convicts, and to save Norfolk Island from falling into their hands.
Governor Darling too proposed that Sturt should be sent as British
Resident to New Zealand, but filled with the love of continental
exploration, he would not leave Australia, to the satisfaction of the
fossils of the Colonial Office, who did not know of him, and promptly
appointed Busby. Even Sir G. Murray, after whom the river had been named,
had never heard of the river.
In 1832 or a little later, the temporary loss of the sight of one eye
forced him to go to England on leave, when he also bade adieu to his
regiment, which was ordered to India.
While in England, he published the first of his maps and books, but his
eyesight totally failing him, he retired from the army, July, 1833.
Sturt's eyesight, although never the same as before, was gradually
restored to him, and on September the 21st, 1834, he was married at Dover
to Charlotte Greene.
We must now take leave of this distinguished man, until he reappears in
these pages as an explorer of Central Australia.*
*[Footnote.] See Chapter 12.