CHAPTER 10. LATER EXPLORATION IN THE NORTH-EAST.

10.1. WALKER IN SEARCH OF BURKE AND WILLS.

Frederick Walker commenced his bush career as a pioneer squatter in the

districts of Southern Queensland, but afterwards made his residence near

the centre, where he joined the Native Police. He had long bush

experience, was a firm believer in the training of the natives in

quasi-military duty, and had taken a prominent part in the formation of

the Queensland Native Police. On this relief expedition, the party was

composed almost entirely of Native Police troopers under his leadership.

On receiving his commission, he pushed rapidly out to the Barcoo, and,

near the Thomson River, came upon another tree marked L. This might have

been made by Leichhardt. He ascended the main watershed, and crossed it

coming down on to the head of the Flinders River. Here he experienced

many hindrances arising from the rough basaltic nature of the country

that borders the northern head-waters of that river. When he finally

debouched upon the wide western plains, he crossed the Flinders, without

recognising it as the main branch, in the search for which he went on

northward. Approaching the Gulf of Carpentaria, he had several encounters

with the aboriginals. As he neared the coast, the bend of the Flinders

brought that river again across his route, and it was then that he came

on some camel tracks, which assured him that the missing party, the

object of his search, had at any rate reached the Gulf safely. On his

outward way Walker may be said to have pursued a course parallel with

that of the Flinders, a little further to the northward.

He pushed on to the Albert River, to replenish his provisions at the

depot provided for the use of the various relief parties. He arrived

there safely, after having had two more skirmishes with the blacks on the

way. He reported the finding of the camel tracks, and having come to the

conclusion that Burke and Wills had probably made for the Queensland

settlements, he decided to follow them thither. He traced out a tributary

of the Flinders, the Saxby, on his homeward route, but saw no more of the

camel tracks, and finally crossed the water-shed on to the rough basaltic

country at the head of the Burdekin. Here his horses suffered so severely

from the rugged nature of the country, that by the time they reached

Strathalbyn, a station on the lower Burdekin, the whole of the party were

well-nigh horseless, as well as almost out of provisions.

Walker was afterwards engaged by the Queensland Government to mark out a

course for a telegraph line between Rockingham Bay and the mouth of the

Norman River in Carpentaria. This work he carried out successfully; but

when at the Gulf, he was attacked by the prevalent malarial fever, and

died there.

10.2. BURDEKIN AND CAPE YORK EXPEDITIONS.

The main portion of eastern Australia was now fairly well known; it had

been crossed from south to north, and from east to west, and it was only

the elongated spur of the Cape York peninsula that stood in urgent need

of detailed exploration.

Amongst what may be called the minor pastoral expeditions of that period,

was one conducted by G.E. Dalrymple, who penetrated the coastal country

north of Rockhampton as far north as the Burdekin. In 1859 he followed

that river down to the sea, and found that the mouth had been located

further to the south than was really the case. His party then struck

inland, examined the head of that river, and found the Valley of Lagoons.

The following year another party, consisting of Messrs. Cunningham,

Somer, and three others, explored the tributaries of the Upper Burdekin,

and opened up several good tracts of pastoral country. The permanent

running stream which flows through a rugged wall of basalt into an

ana-branch of the Burdekin, was first noticed by this party, and called

Fletcher's Creek.

[Illustration. Frank L. Jardine.

Illustration. Alec W. Jardine.]

Frank and Alec Jardine jointly led up the Cape York Peninsula an

expedition that in its hardships and dangers emulated that of Kennedy's,

but fortunately without a tragic ending. The year 1863 was one of great

activity in the northern part of eastern Australia. At Cape York, the

Imperial Government had, on the recommendation of Sir George Bowen, the

first governor of Queensland, decided to form a settlement. John Jardine,

the police magistrate of the central town of Rockhampton, was selected to

take charge, and a detachment of marines was sent out to be stationed

there. Somerset, the new settlement, was formed on the Albany Pass,

opposite to the island of the same name. Jardine was to proceed by sea to

his new sphere of office, but, anticipating the want of fresh meat at the

proposed station, he entered into an arrangement with the Government

whereby his two sons were to take a small herd of cattle thither

overland, and on the way make careful observations of the land through

which they were to pass. Somerset was situated near the scene of

Kennedy's death, and knowing what tremendous difficulties that explorer

had met with on the eastern shore, it was decided that the expedition

should attempt to follow the western shore through the unknown country

that faced the Gulf of Carpentaria. Both the Jardine brothers were quite

young men at the time when they started on their exceedingly adventurous

trip, which combined cattle-droving with exploration: Frank, the accepted

leader, being only twenty-two years old, and his brother Alexander but

twenty. Their father had come from Applegarth, in Dumfriesshire; they had

both been born near Sydney, and had been educated by private tutors and

at the Sydney Grammar School.

They took with them A.J. Richardson, a surveyor sent by the Government,

Scrutton, Binney, Cowderoy, and four natives. The stock consisted of

forty-two horses and two hundred and fifty head of cattle. The cheerful

acceptance of this hazardous enterprise by these youths was a fine

indication of adventurous spirit, and reflects great credit on their

courage and the courage of the native-born. The fate of the last explorer

who dared to face the perils of the Peninsula would have deterred any but

the boldest from taking up his task.

Before the final start from Carpentaria Downs, then the furthest station

to the north, supposed to be situated on Leichhardt's Lynd River, Alec

Jardine made a trip ahead in order to secure knowledge of an available

road for the cattle, and save delay in the earlier stages of the main

journey. On this preliminary observational excursion, he followed the

presumed Lynd down for nearly 180 miles, until he was convinced that

neither in appearance, direction, nor position did it correspond with the

river described by Leichhardt. On the subsequent journey with the cattle,

this conviction was found to be in accordance with fact, for the stream

was then proved to be a tributary of the Gilbert, now known as the

Einnesleigh.

On the 11th of October the final start was made, and the party commenced

a journey seldom equalled in Australia for peril and adventure. The head

of the Einnesleigh was amongst rough ranges, and on the 22nd of the month

they halted the cattle while they conducted another search for the

invisible Lynd. They found other good-sized creeks, but no Lynd, nor did

they ever see it. They afterwards found that, owing to an error in the

map they had with them, the Lynd was placed 30 miles out of position. A

misfortune happened at the outset of their expedition. In the morning a

large number of horses were missing. Leaving some of the party to stay

behind and look for them, the two brothers and the remainder went on with

the cattle. On the second day they arrived at a large creek, without

having been overtaken by the party with the missing horses and the

pack-horses. After an anxious day spent in waiting, Alec Jardine started

back to find out the cause of the delay. He met the missing party, who

were bringing bad news with them. Through carelessness in allowing the

grass round the camp to catch fire, half of their rations and nearly the

whole of their equipment had been burnt. In addition, one of the most

valuable of their horses had been poisoned. This terrible misfortune,

coming at such an early stage of their journey when they had all the

unknown country ahead of them, seriously imperilled the success of their

undertaking. But there was nothing to do but to bear it with what

equanimity they could muster.

The Cape York natives now seemed to rejoice that they had another party

of white men to dog to death. Once about twenty of them appeared about

sundown and boldly attacked the camp with showers of spears. Two days

afterwards, they surprised the younger Jardine when alone, and he had to

fight hard for his life. The creek they had been following down led them

on to the Staaten River, where the blacks succeeded in stampeding their

horses, and it was days before some of them were recovered.

On the 5th of December, they left this ill-omened river, and steered due

north. Bad luck still haunted them; tortured by flies, mosquitoes, and

sand-flies, their horses scattered and rambled incessantly. While the

brothers were absent, searching one day for the horses, the party at the

camp allowed the solitary mule to stray away with its pack on. The mule

was never found again, and it carried with it, in its pack, some of their

most necessary articles, reducing them nearly to the same state of

deprivation as their determined enemies, the aboriginals. Two more horses

went mad, through drinking salt water; one died, and the other was so ill

that he had to be abandoned. On the 13th of December they reached the

Mitchell River, not without having had another hot battle with the

blacks, who followed them day after day, watching for every opportunity

and displaying the same relentless hostility that they had formerly shown

to Kennedy. Whilst the party were on the Mitchell, the natives mustered

in force and fell upon the explorers with the greatest determination.

After a severe contest, in which heavy loss had been inflicted upon the

savages, they sullenly and reluctantly retired. From what was afterwards

gathered from the semi-civilised natives about Somerset, these tribes

followed the Jardines for nearly 400 miles. This perseverance and

inappeasable enmity had been equalled before only by the Darling natives.

It can be imagined how these incessant attacks, combined with the

harassing nature of the country, gave the party all they could do to hold

their own, and but for the prompt and plucky manner in which the attacks

were met, not one of them would have survived.

After crossing the Mitchell, steering north, they got into poor country,

thinly-grassed and badly-watered, with the natives still hanging on their

flanks. On the 28th of December, the blacks began to harass the horses,

and another hard struggle took place. Storms of rain now set in, and they

had to travel through dismal tea-tree flats, with the constant

expectation of being caught by a flood in the low-lying country.

In January, they had a gleam of hope. On the 5th they came to a

well-grassed valley, with a fine river running through it, which they

named the Archer. On the 9th they crossed another river, which they

supposed to be the one named the Coen on the seaward side. But once

across this river, troubles gathered thick again; the rain poured down

constantly, the country became so boggy that they could scarcely travel,

and to crown all their misfortunes, two horses were drowned when crossing

the Batavia, and six others were poisoned and died there.

Fate seemed now to have done her worst, and the explorers faced the

future manfully. Burying all that they could dispense with, they packed

all their remaining horses and started resolutely to finish the journey

on foot. On the 14th two more of their horses died, and the blacks once

more came up behind to reconnoitre. As may be imagined, the whites were

not in a patient humour, and this last skirmish was brief and severe.

On the 17th two more horses died from the effects of the poison plant.

Fifteen only were left out of the forty-two with which they had started.

They were now approaching the narrow point of the Cape, and found

themselves on a dreary waste of barren country whereon only heath grew,

and which was intersected with boggy creeks.

On the 10th of January, they caught a glimpse of the sea from the top of

a tree, and on the 20th they were in full view of it. As they went on,

they were entangled in the same kind of scrub that baffled Kennedy, and

at last on the 29th, after some days of scrub-cutting, it was determined

to halt the cattle, whilst the brothers should push on to Somerset in the

endeavour to find a more practicable track. In the tangled, scrubby

country through which they had passed, it had been difficult to form a

true conception of the distance, and their estimate of twenty miles for

the distance separating them from the settlement was much too short.

On the 30th of January, the two Jardines and their most trusted black

boy, Eulah, started to find the settlement. For a time they were hemmed

in by a bend of what they took to be the Escape River, but on getting

clear of it, they were surprised to come to another large and swollen

river, which apparently ran into the Gulf. This forced them to return.

After a few days' rest, they made a second vain attempt. Hemmed in by

impassable morasses and impenetrable thickets, in some places they were

cut off from approaching even the river, by formidable belts of

mangroves. In fact, the Jardine River, as it is now called, heads almost

from the eastern shore, from Pudding Pan Hill in fact, Kennedy's fatal

camp. It overlaps the Escape River, and after many devious windings and

twistings, flows across the Cape out on to the Gulf shore.

It was not until the end of February that, on the subsidence of some of

the flooded creeks, the brothers made a successful effort, and got into

somewhat better travelling country. The next morning they came across

some blacks who were eager to be on good terms, and hailed them to their

surprise with shouts of "Franco; Allico; Tumbacco". These cries had been

taught them by Mr. Jardine, who was getting anxious because of his sons'

delay, and had done all he could think of to help them. He had cut a

marked tree line, almost from sea to sea; and coached the local natives

up in a few English words, so as to be recognised as friends. This last

device succeeded admirably. From these newcomers, they selected three as

guides, and the following day reached the settlement.

The rest of the party and the stock were soon brought into Somerset,

where a cattle-station was formed. When we look back at the difficulties

that beset the path of this expedition, and the unforseen disasters that

befel them, one cannot help feeling the greatest admiration for the

leaders and their conduct. In spite of the numberless treacherous attacks

of the blacks to which they had been subjected, not a member of the band

had been lost. They had fought their way through the same species of

danger that had environed the unfortunate Kennedy, and had all lived to

tell the tale. The Royal Geographical Society rewarded the labours of the

two brothers by electing them Fellows of the Society, and by awarding

them the Murchison medal.

Frank Jardine was for some period Government Resident at Thursday Island,

whither the settlement has been removed; but of late he has resided at

his own station at Somerset, and engaged in pearl-shelling. Alec entered

the Queensland civil service, as Roads Engineer, and in that capacity did

much important work in the construction of the roads of that State. In

1871 and 1872, he designed and constructed the road and railway-bridge

over the Dawson River, and in 1890 he became Engineer-in-Chief for

Harbours and Rivers.

But the scrubby and hilly nature of the country on Cape York militated

against its speedy settlement, and it needed the lure of gold to induce

men to risk their lives in a land with such hostile inhabitants. In 1872

the Queensland Government decided upon another exploration of the neck of

land that forms the northern-most point of Australia. More than eight

years had elapsed since the Jardines had made their dashing journey; but

their report, coupled with Kennedy's fate, did not offer much temptation

to follow up their footsteps. There was, however, a tract of country near

the base of the Peninsula still comparatively unknown; and a party was

organised and placed under the leadership of William Hann. Hann was a

native of Wiltshire, who had come out to the south of Victoria with his

parents at an early age. He was afterwards one of the pioneer squatters

of the Burdekin, in which river his father was drowned. The object of the

trip was to examine the country as far as the 14th parallel South, with a

special view to its mineral resources. The discovery of gold having

extended so far north in Queensland had raised a hope that its existence

would be traced along the promontory. Hann had with him Taylor as

geologist, and Dr. Tate as botanist, the latter being a survivor of the

melancholy Maria expedition to New Guinea. Apparently his ardour for

exploration had not been cooled by the narrow escape he had then

experienced.

The party left Fossilbrook station on the creek of the same name, a

tributary of the Lynd, north of the initial point of the Jardine

expedition. Crossing much rugged and broken country, they found two

rivers running into the Mitchell, and named them the Tate and the Walsh.

From the Walsh, the party proceeded to the upper course of the Mitchell,

and crossing it, struck a creek, marked on Kennedy's map as "creek ninety

yards wide." This was named the Palmer, and here Warner, the surveyor

found traces of gold. A further examination of the river resulted in

likely-looking results being obtained; and the discovery is now a matter

of history, the world-wide Palmer rush to north Queensland being the

result in 1874.

On the 1st of September, Hann reached his northern limit, and the next

day commenced the ascent of the range dividing the eastern and western

waters. A few days afterwards, he sighted the Pacific at Princess

Charlotte Bay. From this point the party returned south, and came to a

large river which he called the Normanby, where a slight skirmish with

the natives occurred, the blacks having hitherto been on friendly terms.

While the men were collecting the horses in the morning, the natives

attempted to cut them off, each native having a bundle of spears. A few

shots at a long distance were sufficient to disperse them, and the affair

ended without bloodshed.

On the 21st of September, Hann crossed the historical Endeavour River,

and upon a small creek running into this inlet, he lost one of his horses

from poison. Below the Endeavour, the party encountered similar

difficulties to those that dogged poor Kennedy's footsteps --

impenetrable scrub and steep ravines. This went on for some days, and an

attempt to reach the seashore involved them in a perfect sea of scrub,

and necessitated the final conclusion that advance by white men and

horses was impossible. Hann had reluctantly to make up his mind to return

by the Gulf Coast, and abandon the unexplored ground to the south of him.

After many entanglements in the ranges, and confusion arising from the

tortuous courses of the rivers, the watershed was at last crossed, and on

the 28th of October they camped once more on the Palmer, whence they

safely returned along their outward course.

The gold discoveries on the Palmer, and the rush caused thereby, coming

soon after this expedition, led to a great deal of minor exploration done

under the guise of prospecting; and it is greatly to the work of

prospectors for gold that much of the knowledge of the petty details of

the geographical features of Australia is due. To the courage and

endurance of this class of settler, Australia owes a great debt, but

their labours are unrecorded and often forgotten.

PART 2. CENTRAL AUSTRALIA.

[Illustration. Statue of John McDouall Stuart, in the Lands Office,

Sydney.]

CHAPTER 11. EDWARD JOHN EYRE.

11.1. SETTLEMENT OF ADELAIDE AND THE OVERLANDERS.

The exploration of the centre of the continent was long retarded by the

difficult nature of the country -- by its aridity, its few

continuously-watered rivers, and the supposed horse-shoe shape of Lake

Torrens, which thrust its vast shallow morass across the path of the

daring explorers making north.

For most of us of the present day, to whom Lake Torrens is but a

geographical feature, it is hard to imagine the sense of awe it inspired

in the breasts of the South Australian settlers, who appeared to be cut

off completely from the north by its gloomy and forbidding environs of

salt and barrenness.

In 1836, Colonel Light surveyed the shores of St. Vincent's Gulf, and

selected the site of the city of Adelaide. Governor Hindmarsh and a

company of emigrants arrived soon afterwards, and the Province of South

Australia was proclaimed.

The very promising discoveries made to the south of the Murray by Major

Mitchell soon induced an invasion of adventurous pastoralists bringing

their stock from the settled parts of New South Wales.

Charles Bonney led the way across to the Port Phillip settlement in 1837

with sheep. G.H. Ebden accompanied him, and they were shortly followed by

many more: Hamilton, Gardiner, Langbourne, and others, whose names are

well-known in Australian history as the first Overlanders. Very shortly

this overlanding of stock was extended to the newly-founded city of

Adelaide, Charles Bonney and Joseph Hawdon being the first drovers on

this long journey. Their Adelaide journey was in fact an exploration

trip, and an important one, as they followed the bank of the Murray below

its junction with the Darling; this part of the river having been

followed down before only by Sturt, and then only by water.

It was in January, 1838, that Hawdon and Bonney left Mitchell's crossing

at the Goulburn River with cattle as pioneers on the overland route to

Adelaide. Unknown to them they were closely followed by E.J. Eyre, with

another mob of cattle. Eyre, as we shall afterwards see, was thrown out

of the race through trying to make a short cut to avoid the sweeping bend

of the river. Bonney and Hawdon crossed the Murray above the junction of

the Darling, and in places found the bed of the latter river dry. The

natives, strange to say, were quite friendly; perhaps they had taken to

heart the lesson Mitchell had read them. But their amiable demeanour did

not last long. Bonney and Hawdon were almost the last overlanding party

to proceed unmolested. Within a comparatively short time afterwards, an

incessant war began to be waged between the blacks and every Overlander

who passed down the Murray. It ended only with the sanguinary battle of

the Rufus. More fortunate than Sturt, Hawdon and Bonney were able to cut

off many of the wearisome bends that had so fatigued Sturt's crew. Sturt

had had to follow every turn and curve, whilst the Overlanders avoided

the bends of the Murray by following the native paths, which spared them

in some cases a journey of one or two days. It was while following a

native path that they discovered and named Lake Bonney. At last they

sighted the Mount Lofty ranges, and after some difficulty in getting

through some rough mallee-covered country, arrived at Adelaide, and

gladdened the residents with the prospect of roast beef. "Up to this

time," says Bonney in his diary, "they had been living almost exclusively

on kangaroo flesh." Eyre, whose name was afterwards so closely allied

with a famous story of thirst and hardship, narrowly escaped with his

life during his overlanding trip.

It was owing to a very natural mistake that Eyre was led astray. He

intended to try a straighter and shorter route than the one round the

Murray, and for a time got on very well, but coming across a tract of dry

country across which he could not take the cattle, he determined to

follow Mitchell's Wimmera River to the north, naturally thinking that it

would lead him easily to the Murray, and would probably prove to be

identical with the Lindsay, as marked on Sturt's chart. From Mitchell's

furthest point, he traced it a considerable distance to the north-west,

and at last found its termination in a large swampy lake, which he called

after the first Governor of South Australia, Lake Hindmarsh. From this

lake he could find no outlet, so taking with him two men, he made an

attempt to push through to the Murray, leaving his cattle to await him.

He found the country covered with an almost impenetrable mallee scrub,

and as there was neither grass nor water for the horses, he was forced to

retreat. He reached his camp after a weary struggle on foot, the horses

having died from thirst. Eyre was then compelled to return and gain the

bank of the Murray by the nearest available route. The bitter

disappointment of the trip was, that when forced to retreat by the

inhospitable nature of the country, he was but twenty-five miles from the

river.

Bonney, however, on another occasion, took a mob of cattle from the

Goulburn River to Adelaide in almost a direct line. In February 1839, he

left the Goulburn and steered a course for the Grampian Mountains, where

he struck the Wannon, and followed it down to the Glenelg. Here he came

upon one of the Henty stations, and was strongly advised not to persist

in his attempt. Captain Hart, who had been examining the country with the

same purpose in view as Bonney's, stated that it would be impossible to

take cattle through and turned back with his own to follow the old route

round the Murray bend. But Bonney was not to be daunted, and resolutely

pushed on west of the Glenelg. He discovered and named Lake Hawdon, and

also named two mountains, Mount Muirhead and Mount Benson. But at

Lacepede Bay his most serious troubles commenced. The party had pushed on

steadily to within forty miles of Lake Alexandrina when, in the middle of

a sandy desert, the working bullocks failed. Bonney divided his party,

and sending some of the men back to take the workers to a brackish pool

which they had passed, he himself with the stockmen and two black boys,

made a desperate effort to reach the Lake with the main mob. For two days

they pushed steadily on, travelling day and night, until men and beasts

were alike at their last gasp. Bonney then tried a desperate expedient:

"I then determined," he says, "as a last resource, to kill a calf and use

the blood to assuage our thirst. This was done, and though the blood did

not allay the pangs of thirst to any great extent, it restored our

strength very much."

The exhausted men then lay down to rest; but whilst they slept their

thirsty beasts scented a faint smell of damp earth on a wandering puff of

wind, and stampeded off to windward. Too weak to follow on at once, the

men, after an hour or two, staggered after them and tracked them to a

half-dry swamp, which still maintained a little mud and water. It was

brackish, but palatable enough for men in their exhausted condition, and

saved the lives of all. After some trouble in crossing the Murray, they

reached Adelaide in safety with the stock.

When the news of their arrival reached Port Phillip, many other

Overlanders were encouraged by Bonney's example to try the shorter route,

and the trade in shipping cattle across the straits from Tasmania almost

ceased.

Bonney had been born at Sandon, near Stafford, and educated at the

Grammar School, Rugby. He had come out to Sydney in 1834, as clerk to Sir

William Westbrooks Burton; but the love of adventure prevailed over his

other inclinations, and in 1837, he joined Ebden in squatting pursuits,

and eventually distinguished himself as one of the leading Overlanders.

He subsequently settled in South Australia. From 1842 to 1857 he was

Commissioner for Crown Lands, and he afterwards served the State as

manager for railways, and in other capacities. Subsequently he returned

to Sydney, where he died.

11.2. EYRE'S CHIEF JOURNEYS.

[Illustration. Edward John Eyre.]

Edward John Eyre was the son of the Reverend Anthony Eyre, vicar of

Hornsea and Long Riston, Yorkshire, and was born on August 14th, 1815. He

was educated at Louth and Sedburgh Grammar Schools. He came to Australia

in 1833, and immediately engaged in squatting pursuits, his enterprising

spirit constantly leading him beyond the pale of civilization, where his

natural love for exploration rapidly increased. His fortunes as an

Overlander have already been noticed. On the 5th August, 1839, he left

Port Lincoln, on the western shore of Spencer's Gulf, meaning to

penetrate as far as he could to the westward. Some time before he had

made an expedition to the north of Adelaide as far as Mount Arden, a

striking elevation to the North-North-East of Spencer's Gulf. He had

ascended this mount, and from the summit seen a depression which he took

to be a lake with a dry bed. This lake afterwards played an important

part in the history of South Australian settlement under the name of Lake

Torrens.

Eyre's party on his westward trip consisted of an overseer, three men,

and two natives. Twenty days after leaving Port Lincoln, they arrived at

Streaky Bay, not having crossed a single stream, rivulet, or chain of

ponds the whole distance of nearly three hundred miles. Three small

springs only had been found, and the country was covered with the gloomy

mallee and tea-tree scrub. Westward of Streaky Bay the country was still

found to be scrubby; so Eyre formed a camp, and taking only a black boy

with him, he forced a stubborn way onward, until he was within nearly

fifty miles of the western border of South Australia. To all appearance

the country was slightly more elevated than the level scrubby flats he

had been traversing, but there was neither grass nor water, and an

immediate return became necessary. Before he got back to Streaky Bay

camp, he nearly lost three of his horses.

Leaving Streaky Bay again, he went east of north to the head of Spencer's

Gulf, finding the country on this route a little better, but still devoid

of water, the party getting through, thanks only to a timely rainfall. On

the 29th of September, he came to his old camp at Mount Arden, where he

wrote:--

"It was evident that what I had taken on my last journey to be the bed of

a dry lake now contained water, and was of considerable size; but as my

time was very limited, and the lake at a great distance, I had to forego

my wish to visit it. I have, however, no doubt of its being salt, from

the nature of the country, and the fact of finding the water very salt in

one of the creeks draining into it from the hills. Beyond this lake

(which I distinguished with the name of Colonel Torrens) to the westward

was a low, flat-topped range, extending north-westerly, as far as I could

see."

From this point Eyre returned, pursuing his former homeward route.

[Map. Eyre's Explorations, 1840 and 1841.]

The main objects that now attracted the attention of the colonists of

South Australia were (1) discovery to the northward, regarding both the

extent of Lake Torrens and the nature of the interior; and (2) the

possibility of the existence of a stock route to the Swan River

settlement. Eyre, however, after his late experience, was convinced that

the overlanding of stock around the head of the Great Bight was

impracticable. The country was too sterile, and the absence of

water-courses rendered the idea hopeless. For immediate practical

results, beneficial to the growing pastoral industry, Eyre favoured the

extension of discovery to the north. This then was the course adopted,

and subscriptions were raised towards that end. Eyre himself provided

one-third of the needful horses and other expenses; and the Government

and colonists found the remainder.

Meantime it was found that the country in the immediate neighbourhood of

Port Lincoln was not altogether of the same wretched nature as that

traversed by Eyre between Streaky Bay and the head of Spencer's Gulf.

Captain Hawson, William Smith, and three others had made an excursion for

some considerable distance, and found well-grassed country and abundance

of water. From the point whence they turned back, they had seen a fine

valley with a running stream. This valley they named Rossitur Vale, after

Captain Rossitur of the French whaler Mississippi, the first foreign

vessel to enter Port Lincoln. Rossitur was the man who was destined later

to afford opportune aid to Eyre, without which he would never have

reached Albany.

On the 18th of June, 1840, Eyre's preparations were complete, and he left

Adelaide after a farewell breakfast at Government House, where Captain

Sturt presented him with a flag -- the Union Jack -- worked by some of

the ladies of Adelaide.

His party was not a large one considering the nature of the undertaking,

consisting as it did of six white men and two black boys. At Mount Arden

they formed a stationary camp. A small vessel called the Waterwitch was

sent to the head of Spencer's Gulf with the heaviest portion of their

supplies, and the party had three horse drays with them. Eyre trusted

that a range of hills, which he had seen stretching to the north-east,

would continue far enough to take him clear of the flat and depressed

country around Lake Torrens -- would, in fact, as he says, form a

stepping-stone into the interior.

Taking one black boy with him, Eyre made a short trip to Lake Torrens,

leaving the rest of the party to land the stores from the Waterwitch. He

found the bed of the lake coated with a crust of salt, pure white, and

glistening brilliantly in the sunshine. It yielded to the footstep, and

below was soft mud, which rapidly grew so boggy as to stop their

progress. In fact they had to return to the shore without being able to

ascertain whether there was any water on the surface or not. At this

point the lake appeared to be about fifteen or twenty miles across,

having high land bounding it on the distant west.

There seemed no chance of crossing the lake; and following its shore to

the north was impossible. There was neither grass nor water; the very

rainwater turned salt after lying a short time on the saline soil. The

only chance of success appeared to be to keep close to the north-eastern

range, which Eyre named the Flinders Range, trusting to its broken

gullies to supply them with some scanty grass and rainwater.

It was a cheerless outlook. On one side was an impassable lake of

combined mud and salt; on the other a desert of bare and barren plains;

whilst their onward path was along a range of inhospitable rocks.

"The very stones, lying upon the hills," says Eyre, "looked like scorched

and withered scoria of a volcanic region, and even the natives, judging

from the specimen I had seen to-day, partook of the general misery and

wretchedness of the place."

He directed his course to the most distant point of the Flinders Range,

but when he arrived there, he was obliged to christen it Mount Deception,

as his hope of finding water there was disappointed. Subsisting as well

as they could on rain puddles on the plains, Eyre and his boy searched

about for some time and at last found a permanent-looking hole in a small

creek. They then returned to the main party. Having concealed the

supplies landed from the cutter, Eyre sent the vessel back to Adelaide

with despatches, and moved the whole of the men out to the pool of water

that he had just found. From this vantage point he made various scouting

trips with the black boy, both to the eastward and westward of north. The

2nd of September found him on the summit of an elevation which he

appropriately named Mount Hopeless, gazing at the salt lake that he now

thought hemmed him in on three sides, even to the eastward. There was no

prospect visible of crossing the lake, which seemed persistently to defy

him, meeting him at every attempt with a barrier of stagnant mud. There

was nothing for it but to leave the interior unvisited by this route, and

to return to Mount Arden.

He divided his party, sending Baxter, the overseer, with most of the men

and stores straight across to Streaky Bay, where he had formerly made a

camp, while, with the remainder, he made his way to Port Lincoln. Having

abandoned his intention to penetrate to the interior on a northern

course, he now determined to push out westward, to King George's Sound,

finding, perhaps, on the way across, some inducement that would lead him

north.

At Port Lincoln he could not obtain the extra supplies he wanted without

sending to Adelaide; it was therefore the 24th of October when he finally

started for Streaky Bay. He found that Baxter had arrived there safely,

and was anxiously awaiting him.

He now camped for many weeks at Fowler's Bay, which was as far as the

cutter they now had, the Hero, could act as convoy, her charter not

extending beyond South Australian waters. The Waterwitch having sprung a

leak, the Hero had taken her place. During the time that they remained

there, Eyre made many journeys ahead to estimate his chances of getting

across the dry and barren country intervening between him and the Sound,

but the outlook was disheartening. He met some natives, who all assured

him that there was no water ahead; nor could he find any but some

brackish water obtained by digging in some sandhills. Worse than all, he

sacrificed three of his best horses during these fruitless attempts.

On the 25th of January, the Hero arrived with the oats and bran he had

sent back for. So poverty-stricken was the country that Eyre, in the

circumstances, resolved to send back nearly the whole of his expedition

by the vessel, and then, with only a small party, to push through to King

George's Sound or perish in the attempt.

Baffled successively to the north and to the west, Eyre had been put upon

his mettle, and he could not endure the thought of returning to Adelaide

a beaten man.

On the 31st of January the cutter departed, and Eyre, Baxter, and three

native boys, one of whom had come by the vessel on her last trip, were

left alone to face the eight hundred miles of desert solitude before

them. Some time was spent in making their final preparations, but on the

24th of February they had actually begun their journey when, to their

astonishment, they heard two shots fired at sea. Thinking that a whaler

had put in to the bay, Eyre turned back, but found the Hero again in port

with an urgent request from Adelaide to abandon his desperate project,

and return in the vessel. Upon a man of Eyre's temperament, this recall

could have only one effect, that of strengthening his resolve to proceed

westward at all hazards. He did not emulate Cortez by burning his ship

behind him, but he none the less effectually deprived himself of means of

retreat by dismissing the little Hero.

It was at the close of a hot summer when Eyre started, and the nature of

the sandy soil, combined with the low prickly scrub, soon began to hamper

their progress and render the lack of water especially severe. On one

side of them, flanking their line of march, were the cliffs of the Great

Bight, against which thundered the ever-restless southern rollers; on the

other there stretched a limitless expanse of dark, gloomy scrub. Their

only hope of relief was the faint chance of striking some native path

which might lead them to an infrequent soakage-spring. Even in these

depressing circumstances, Eyre seems to have found time to express his

admiration of Nature as she then revealed herself to him:--

"Distressing and fatal as the continuance of these cliffs might prove to

us, there was a grandeur and sublimity in their appearance that was most

imposing, and which struck me with admiration. Stretching out before us

in lofty, unbroken outline, they presented the singular and romantic

appearance of massy battlements of masonry, supported by huge buttresses,

glittering in the morning sun which had now risen upon them, and made the

scene beautiful even amidst the dangers and anxieties of our situation."

Five days of slow, dragging toil passed, until, with the horses at their

last gasp, and the men baked and parched, they found relief in some

native wells amongst the sandhills, at a point where the cliffs receded

from the sea.

After resting for some days at this camp, Eyre, misled by a report he had

obtained from the natives, again moved forward, taking with him but a

small supply of water. When he had discovered the blunder, he had gone

forty miles, and over this weary distance the horses had to return. It

was one of those mishaps that helped so much to wear out his unfortunate

animals.

Trouble after trouble now added itself to the burden of the explorers.

Another five days had passed without water, and their only hopes rested

upon some sandhills ahead, seen from the sea by Flinders, and marked by

him upon his chart. Retreat was impossible, and with their horses failing

one after another, they toiled on, desperate and well-nigh hopeless.

Eyre's anxiety was increased by Baxter's growing despondency and

pessimistic view of the issue of their enterprise. They were now

travelling along the sea beach, firm and hard, and ominously marked with

wreckage. Their last drop of water had been consumed, and that morning

they had been collecting dew from the bushes with a sponge, as a last

resource. When they reached the sand-dunes, they were almost too weak to

search for a likely place to dig for water; but making a final effort,

they discovered a patch whence, at six feet, they obtained a supply of

water.

It was now that Eyre approached the grand crisis of his adventurous

journey. According to the chart compiled by Flinders, he had another long

succession of cliffs to encounter, and he knew that where these cliffs

came in and sternly fronted the ocean, he need hope for no relief. Should

this space be happily surmounted by a desperate effort, he hoped to reach

a kindlier country. Disaffection appeared in his small camp. Baxter was

always suggesting and even urging a return. Perhaps some shadow of his

tragic fate overhung his spirit. The native boys were ripe for desertion,

and two of them did desert, only to return in a few days, starving, and

apparently repentant. Better for Eyre had they gone altogether. Amid such

discouraging surroundings did Eyre commence his last struggle with the

cliffs of the Great Bight.

The party had been tantalised by threatening clouds, which never broke in

rain. When on the third day they gathered once more, black and lowering.

Baxter urged Eyre to camp that night instead of pushing on, as rain

seemed certain, and the rock holes by which they were then passing were

well adapted to catch the slightest shower. Eyre consented, against his

better judgment. It was necessary to watch the horses lest they should

ramble too far, and Eyre kept the first watch. The night was cold, the

wind blowing a gale and driving the flying scud across the face of the

moon. The horses wandered off in different directions in the scrub,

giving the tired man much trouble to keep them together. About half-past

ten he drove them near the camp intending shortly to call the overseer to

relieve him.

Suddenly the dead stillness of the night and the wilderness was broken by

the report of a gun. Eyre was not at first alarmed, thinking it was a

signal of Baxter's to indicate the position of their camp. He called, but

received no answer. Hastening in the direction of the shot, he was met by

Wylie, the King George's Sound native, running towards him in great alarm

crying out: "Oh, massa, massa, come here!" and then losing speech from

terror. Eyre was soon at the camp, and one glance was enough to see that

his purpose must now be pursued grimly alone. Baxter, fatally wounded,

was stretched upon the ground, bleeding and choking in his last agony. As

Eyre raised his faithful companion in his arms he expired.

"At the dead hour of night, in the wildest and most inhospitable waste of

Australia, with the fierce wind raging in unison with the scene of

violence before me, I was left with a single native, whose fidelity I

could not rely on, and who, for aught I knew might be in league with the

other two, who, perhaps were even now lurking about to take my life, as

they had done that of the overseer."

On examining the camp, Eyre found that the two boys had carried off both

double-barrelled guns, all the baked bread and other stores, and a keg of

water. All they had left behind was a rifle, with the barrel choked by a

ball jammed in it, four gallons of water, forty pounds of flour, and a

little tea and sugar.

When he had time to think the matter over calmly, Eyre judged, from the

position of the body, that Baxter must have been aroused by the two

natives plundering the camp, and that, getting up hastily to stop them,

he was immediately shot. His first care was to put his rifle into

serviceable condition, and then, when morning broke, he hastened to leave

the ill-omened place. It was impossible to bury the body of his murdered

companion; one unbroken sheet of rock covered the surface of the country

for miles in every direction. Well might Eyre write, many years

afterwards:--

"Though years have now passed away since the enactment of this tragedy,

the dreadful horrors of that time and scene are recalled before me with

frightful vividness, and make me shudder even now when I think of them. A

lifetime was crowded into those few short hours, and death alone may blot

out the impressions they produced."

The two murderers followed the white man and boy during the first day,

evading all Eyre's attempts to bring them to close quarters, and calling

to the remaining boy, Wylie, who refused to go to them. They disappeared

the next morning, and must have died miserably of thirst and starvation.

Seven days passed without a drop of water for the horses, before they

reached the end of the line of cliffs, and providentially came to a

native well amid the sand dunes. From this point water was more

frequently obtained, and what wretched horses they had left showed feeble

symptoms of renewed life. At last, when their rations were completely

exhausted, they sighted a ship at anchor in Thistle Cove. She proved to

be the Mississippi, commanded by Captain Rossitur, the whaler already

referred to as the first foreign vessel to enter Port Lincoln; and once

more Eyre had to give thanks for relief at a most critical moment.

For ten days, in the hospitable cabin of the French whaler, he forgot his

sufferings, and regained some of his lost strength. Then, provided with

fresh clothes and provisions, and with his horses freshly-shod, Eyre

recommenced his weary pilgrimage, and, in July, 1841, arrived at his

long-desired goal, King George's Sound.

In reflecting upon this painful march of Eyre's round the Great Bight,

one feels an exceeding great pity that so much heroic suffering should

have been spent on the execution of a purpose the fulfilment of which

promised but little of economic value. The maritime surveys had fairly

established the fact that no considerable creek or river found its way

into the Southern Ocean, either in or about the Great Bight. Granted that

the outflow of some of our large Australian rivers had been overlooked by

the navigators, the local conditions were such as to render it virtually

certain that any such omission was not made along this part of the south

coast. Here there was to be found no fringe of low, mangrove-covered

flats, studded with inlets and saltwater creeks, thus masking the

entrance of a river. In some parts, a bold forefront of lofty precipitous

cliffs, in others a clean-swept sandy shore, alone faced the ocean.

Flinders, constantly on the alert as he was for anything resembling the

formation of a river-mouth, would scarcely have been mistaken in his

reading of such a coast-line. And the journey resulted in no knowledge of

the interior, even a short distance back from the actual coast-line. The

conjectures of a worn-out, starving man, picking his way painfully along

the verge of the beach, were, in this respect, of little moment.

Eyre, however, won for himself well-deserved honour for courage and

perseverance, in as exacting circumstances as ever beset a solitary

explorer. The picture of the lonely man in his plundered camp bending

over his murdered companion, separated from his fellow-men by countless

miles of unwatered and untrodden waste, appeals resistlessly to our

sympathies. But admiration of Eyre's good qualities has blinded many to

his errors of judgment.

He was accorded a generous public welcome on his return to Adelaide, and

was subsequently appointed Police Magistrate on the Murray, where his

inland experience and knowledge of native character were of great

service. When Sturt started on his memorable trip to the centre of

Australia, Eyre accompanied his old friend some distance. But his

activities were exercised in other fields than those of Australian

exploration during his after life. He was Lieutenant-Governor of the

Province of New Munster in New Zealand under Sir George Grey from 1848 to

1853, when that colony was divided into two provinces. He was afterwards

Governor-General of Jamaica, where the active and energetic measures he

took to crush the insurrection of 1865 incited a storm of opposition

against him in certain quarters, and he played a leading part in the

great constitutional cases of Philips v. Eyre, and The Queen v. Eyre. He

died at Steeple Aston, in Oxfordshire, in 1906.

CHAPTER 12. ATTEMPTS TO REACH THE CENTRE.

[Map (Diagram). Supposed Extent and Formation of Lake Torrens in 1846.]

12.1. LAKE TORRENS PIONEERS AND HORROCKS.

It will be remembered that Eyre, in 1840, reached, after much labour, an

elevation to the north-east, at the termination of the range which he had

followed, and had named it Mount Hopeless. From the outlook from its

summit he came to the conclusion that the lake was of the shape shown in

the diagram, completely surrounding the northern portion of the new

colony of South Australia. In fact, he formed a theory that the colony in

far distant times had been an island, the low-lying flats to the east

joining the plains west of the Darling. It was in 1843 that the

Surveyor-General of South Australia, Captain Frome, undertook an

expedition to determine the dimensions of this mysterious lake. He

reached Mount Serle, and found the dry bed of a great lake to the

eastward, as Eyre had described, but discovered that Eyre had made an

error of thirty miles in longitude, placing it too far to the east. He

got no further north. He thus confirmed the existence of a lake eastward

of Lake Torrens (now Lake Frome), but achieved nothing to prove or

disprove Eyre's theory of their continuity. Prior to this the pioneers

had spread settlement both east and west of Eyre's track from Adelaide to

the head of Spencer's Gulf. Amongst these early leaders of civilisation

in the central state are to be found the names of Hawker, Hughes,

Campbell, Robinson, and Heywood. But unfortunately the details of their

expeditions in search of grazing country have not been preserved.

[Illustration. John Ainsworth Horrocks.]

John Ainsworth Horrocks is one of those whose accidental death at the

very outset of his career plunged his name into oblivion. Had he lived to

climb to the summit of his ambition as an explorer, it would have been

written large in Australian history. That he had some premonition of the

conditions necessary to successful exploration to the west is shown by

his having been the first to employ the camel as an aid to exploration.

He took one with him on his last and fatal trip, and it is an example of

fate's cruel irony that the presence of this animal was inadvertently the

cause of his death.

Horrocks was born at Penwortham Hall, Lancashire, on March 22nd, 1818. He

was very much taken with the South Australian scheme of colonisation, and

left London for Adelaide, where he arrived in 1839. He at once took up

land, and with his brother started sheep-farming. He was a born explorer,

however, and made several excursions into the surrounding untraversed

land, finding several geographical features, which still preserve the

names he gave them. In 1846 he organised an expedition along more

extended lines, intending to proceed far into the north-west and west.

After having over-looked the ground, he would then prepare another party

on a large scale to attempt the passage to the Swan River. He started in

July, but in September occurred the disaster which cut him off in the

flower of his promise. In his dying letter he describes how he saw a

beautiful bird, which he was anxious to obtain:--

"My gun being loaded with slugs in one barrel and ball in the other, I

stopped the camel to get at the shot belt, which I could not get without

his lying down.

"Whilst Mr. Gill was unfastening it, I was screwing the ramrod into the

wad over the slugs, standing close alongside of the camel. At this moment

the camel gave a lurch to one side, and caught his pack in the cock of my

gun, which discharged the barrel I was unloading, the contents of which

first took off the middle fingers of my right hand between the second and

third joints, and entered my left cheek by my lower jaw, knocking out a

row of teeth from my upper jaw."

His sufferings were agonising, but he was easy between the fearful

convulsions, and at the end of the third day after he had reached home,

whither his companions had succeeded in conveying him, he died without a

struggle.

12.2. CAPTAIN STURT.

Charles Sturt, whose name is so closely bound up with the exploration of

the Australian interior, had settled in the new colony which the South

Australians loyally maintain he had created by directing attention to the

outlet of the Murray. After a short re-survey of the river, from the

point where Hume crossed it to the junction of the Murray and

Murrumbidgee, which had been one of Mitchell's tasks, he re-entered civil

life under the South Australian Government. He was now married, and

settled on a small estate which he was farming, not far from Adelaide. In

1839 he became Surveyor-General, but in October of the same year he

exchanged this office for that of Commissioner of Lands, which he held

until 1843. In the following year he commenced his most arduous and

best-known journey, a journey that has made the names of Sturt's Stony

Desert and the Depot Glen known all over the world, and that has,

unhappily for Australia, done much to create the popular fallacy that the

soil and climate of the interior are such as preclude comfortable

settlement by whites. Sturt's graphic account is at times somewhat

misleading, and the lapse of years has proved his denunciatory judgment

of the fitness of the interior for human habitation to have been hasty.

But if we examine the circumstances in which he received the impressions

he has recorded, we must grant that he had considerable justification for

his statements.

He was a broken and disappointed man, worn out by disease and frustrated

hopes, and nearly blind. During six months of his long absence, he had

been shut up in his weary depot prison, debarred from attempting the

completion of his work, and compelled to watch his friend and companion

die a lingering death from scurvy. And when the kindly rains released

him, he was doomed to be repulsed by the ever-present desert wastes. No

wonder that he despaired of the country, and viewed all its prospects

through the heated, treacherous haze of the desert plains. Yet now, close

to the ranges where Sturt spent the burning summer months of his

detention, there has sprung up one of the inland townships of New South

Wales, where men toil just as laboriously as in a more temperate zone.

[Map. Sturt's Route 1844, 1845 and 1846.]

But, though baffled and unable to win the goal he strove for, never did

man better deserve success. The instructions that he received from the

Home Office were, to reach the centre of the continent, to discover

whether mountains or sea existed there, and, if the former, to note the

flow and direction of the northern waters, but on no account to follow

them down to the north coast. Sturt was instructed to proceed by Mount

Arden, a route already tried, condemned, and abandoned by Eyre; and he

elected to proceed by way of the Darling. His plan was to follow that

river up as far as the Williora, a small western tributary of the

Darling, opposite the place whence Mitchell turned back in 1835, after

his conflict with the natives, an episode which Sturt found that they

bitterly remembered. Poole, Sturt's second in command, resembling

Mitchell in figure and appearance, the Darling blacks addressed him as

Major, and evinced marked hostility towards him. From Williora, or

Laidley's Ponds, Sturt intended to strike north-west, hoping thus to

avoid the gloomy environs of Lake Torrens, and the treacherous surface of

its bed. At Moorundi, on the Murray, where Eyre was then stationed as

Resident Magistrate, the party was mustered and the start made.

In addition to Poole, Sturt was accompanied by Dr. Browne, a thorough

bushman and an excellent surgeon, who went as a volunteer and personal

friend. With the party as surveyor's draftsman, went McDouall Stuart,

whose fame as explorer was afterwards destined nearly to equal that of

his leader. In addition there were twelve men, eleven horses, one

spring-cart, three bullock-drays, thirty bullocks, one horse-dray, two

hundred sheep, four kangaroo dogs, and two sheep dogs.

Eyre accompanied the expedition as far as Lake Victoria, which they

reached on the 10th of September, 1844. On the 11th of October they

arrived at Laidley's Ponds. This was the place from which Sturt intended

to leave the Darling for the interior, and where he expected to find,

from the account given him by the natives, a fair-sized creek heading

from a low range, visible at a distance to the north-west. But he found

the stream to be a mere surface channel, distributing the flood water of

the Darling into some shallow lakes about seven or eight miles distant.

Sturt despatched Poole and Stuart to this range to see if they could

obtain a glimpse of the country beyond to the north-west.

They returned with the rather startling intelligence that, from the top

of a peak of the range, Poole had seen a large lake studded with islands.

Although in his published journal, written some time after his return,

Sturt makes light of Poole's fancied lake, which of course was the effect

of a mirage, at that time his ardent fancy, and the extreme likelihood of

the existence of a lake in that locality, made him believe that he was on

the eve of an important discovery. In a letter to Mr. Morphett of

Adelaide, he wrote:--

"Poole has just returned from the range. I have not time to write over

again. He says there are high ranges to the North and North-West, and

water, a sea, extending along the horizon from South-West by South and

then East of North, in which there are a number of lofty ranges and

islands, as far as the eye can reach. What is all this? To-morrow we

start for the ranges, and then for the waters, the strange waters, on

which boat never swam and over which flag never floated. But both shall

ere long. We have the heart of the interior laid open to us, and shall be

off with a flowing sheet in a few days. Poole says that the sea was a

deep blue, and that in the midst of it was a conical island of great

height."

Poor Sturt! No boat was ever to float upon that visionary sea, nor flag

to wave over those dream-born waters. To those who know the experiences

that awaited the expedition, it is pathetic to read of the leader's

soaring hopes, as delusive as the desert mirage itself.

The whole of the party now removed to a small shallow lakelet, the

commencement of the Williora channel (Laidley's Ponds). After a short

excursion to the distant ranges reported by Poole, Sturt, accompanied by

Browne and two men, went ahead for the purpose of finding water of a

sufficient permanency to remove the whole of the party to. At the small

lake where they were then encamped, there was the ever-present likelihood

of a conflict with the pugnacious natives of the Darling. He was

successful in finding what he wanted, and on the 4th of November the main

body of the expedition, finally leaving the Darling basin, removed to the

new water depot.

The next day Sturt, with Browne and three men and the cart, started on

another trip in search of water ahead. This was found in small

quantities, but rain coming on, Sturt returned and sent Poole out again

to search while the camp was being moved. On his return, Poole reported

having seen some brackish lakes, and also having caught sight of Eyre's

Mount Serle. They were now well on the western slope of the Barrier

Range, and, but for the providential discovery of a fine creek to the

northward, which was called Flood's creek, after one of the party, they

would have been unable to maintain their position. To Flood's creek the

camp was removed, and Sturt congratulated himself on the steady and

satisfactory progress he was making.

[Illustration. Sturt's Depot Glen. The Glen, eroded in vertical silurian

slate, is less than a mile long. Poole rests by the creek where the gorge

opens quite abruptly on to a vast cretaceous plain. Photo by the Reverend

J.M. Curran.]

The party now left the Barrier Range, and followed a course to another

range further north, staying for some time at a small lagoon while

engaged in making an examination of the country ahead. On the 27th of

January, 1845, they camped on a creek rising in a small range, and

affording, at its head, a fine supply of permanent water. When upon its

banks the explorers pitched their tents, they little thought that it

would be the 17th of the following July before they would strike camp

again. This was the Depot Glen, and an extract from Sturt's journal

depicts the situation of the party:--

"It was not, however, until after we had run down every creek in the

neighbourhood, and had traversed the country in every direction, that the

truth flashed across my mind, and it became evident to me that we were

locked up in the desolate and heated region into which we had penetrated,

as effectually as if we had wintered at the Pole. It was long, indeed,

ere I could bring myself to believe that so great a misfortune had

overtaken us, but so it was. Providence had, in its all wise purposes,

guided us to the only spot in that wide-spread desert where our wants

could have been permanently supplied, but had there stayed our further

progress into a region that almost appears to be forbidden ground."

This then was Sturt's prison -- a small creek marked by a line of gum

trees, issuing from a glen in a low range. By a kindly freak of nature,

enough water had been confined in this glen to provide a permanent supply

for the exploring party and their animals, during the long term of their

detention.

Of Sturt's existence and occupation during this dreary period little can

be said. He tried to find an avenue of escape in every direction, until

convinced of the futility of the attempt; sometimes encouraged and lured

on by the shallow pools in some fragmentary creek, at others, seeing

nothing before him but hopeless aridity. Now, too, he found himself

attacked with what he then thought to be rheumatism, but which proved to

be scurvy. Poole and Browne were afflicted in the same manner.

Sturt made one desperate attempt to the north during his imprisonment in

the Depot Glen, and succeeded in reaching a point one mile beyond the

28th parallel, but further north he could not advance, nor did he find

any inducement to risk the safety of his party.

There passed weeks of awesome monotony, relieved by one strange episode.

From the apparently lifeless wilderness around them there strayed an old

aboriginal into their camp. He was hungry and athirst, and in complete

keeping with the gaunt waste from which he had emerged. The dogs attacked

him when he approached, but he stood his ground and fought them valiantly

until they were called off. His whole demeanour was calm and courageous,

and he showed neither surprise nor timidity. He drank greedily when water

was given to him, ate voraciously, and accepted every service rendered to

him as a duty to be discharged by one fellow-being to another when cut

off in the desert from his kin. He stopped at the camp for some time and

recognised the boat, explaining that it was upside down, as of course it

was, and pointing to the North-West as the region where they would use

it, thus raising Sturt's hopes once more. Whence he came they could not

divine, nor could he explain to them. After a fortnight he departed,

giving them to understand that he would return, but they never saw him

again.

"With him" writes Sturt pathetically, "all our hopes vanished, for even

the presence of this savage was soothing to us, and so long as he

remained we indulged in anticipations for the future. From the time of

his departure a gloomy silence pervaded the camp; we were indeed placed

under the most trying circumstances: everything combined to depress our

spirits and exhaust our patience. We had witnessed migration after

migration of the feathered tribes, to that point to which we were so

anxious to push our way. Flights of cockatoos, of parrots, of pigeons,

and of bitterns; birds also whose notes had cheered us in the wilderness,

all had taken the same road to a better and more hospitable region."

And now the water began to sink with frightful rapidity, and all thought

that surely the end must be near. Hoping against hope, Sturt laid his

plans to start as soon as the drought broke up. He himself was to proceed

north and west, whilst poor Poole, reduced to a frightful condition by

scurvy, was to be sent carefully back to the Darling, as the only means

of saving his life.

[Illustration. Poole's Grave and Monument, near Depot Glen, Tibbuburra,

New South Wales. Photo by the Reverend J.M. Curran.]

On the 12th and 13th of June the rain came, and the drought-beleaguered

invaders of the desert were relieved. But Poole did not live to profit by

the rain. Every arrangement was made for his comfort that their

circumstances permitted, but on the first day's journey he died. His body

was brought back and buried under the elevation which they called the Red

Hill, and which is now known as Mount Poole, three and a-half miles from

Depot Camp.

Sturt's way was now open. He again despatched the party selected to

return to the Darling, whose departure had been interrupted by Poole's

untimely death, and, with renewed hope, made his preparations for the

long-denied north-west.

Having first removed the depot to a better grassed locality, he made a

short trip to the west. On the 4th of August he found himself on the edge

of an immense shallow, sandy basin, in which water was standing in

detached sheets, "as blue as indigo, and as salt as brine." This he took

to be a part of Lake Torrens. He returned to the new depot, called Fort

Grey, which was sixty or seventy miles to the north-west of the Glen, and

arranged matters for his final departure.

McDouall Stuart was left in charge of the depot. Dr. Browne accompanied

the leader, and on the 14th of August a start was made. For some

distance, owing to the pools of surface water left by the recent rain,

they had no difficulty in keeping a straightforward course. The country

they passed over consisted of large, level plains, intersected by

sand-ridges; but they crossed numerous creeks with more or less water in

all of them. To one of these creeks Sturt gave the name of Strzelecki.

Finally they reached a well-grassed region which greatly cheered them

with the prospect of success it held out. Suddenly they were confronted

with a wall of sand; and for nearly twenty miles they toiled over

successive ridges. Fortunately they found both water and grass, but the

unexpected check to their brighter anticipations was depressing. Nor did

a walk to the extremity of one of the ridges serve to raise their

spirits.

Sturt saw before him what he describes as an immense plain, of a dark

purple hue, with a horizon like that of the sea, boundless in the

direction in which he wished to proceed. This was Sturt's Stony Desert.

That night they camped within its dreary confines, and during the next

day crossed an earthy plain, with here and there a few bushes of

polygonum growing beside some straggling channel in which they

occasionally found a little muddy rain-water remaining. At night when

they camped just before dusk, they sighted some hills to the north, and,

on examining them through the telescope, they discerned dark shadows on

the faces, as if produced by cliffs. Next morning they made for these

hills, in the hope of finding a change of country and feed for the

horses, but they were disappointed. Sand ridges in repulsive array

confronted them once more. "Even the animals," writes Sturt, "appeared to

regard them with dismay."

Over plains and sand dunes, the former full of yawning cracks and holes,

the party pushed on, subsisting on scanty pools of muddy water and

fast-sinking native wells. On the 3rd of September, Flood, the stockman

who was riding in the lead, lifted his hat and waved it on high, calling

to the others that a large creek was in sight.

When the main party came up, they feasted their eyes on a beautiful

watercourse, its bed studded with pools of water and its banks clothed

with grass. This creek Sturt named Eyre's Creek, and it was an important

discovery in the drainage system of the region that he was then

traversing.

Along this new-found watercourse, they were enabled to make easy stages

for five days, when the course of the creek was lost; nor could any

continuation be traced. The lagoons, too, that were found a short

distance from the banks, proved to be intensely salt. Repeated efforts to

continue his journey to other points of the compass only led Sturt

amongst the terrible sandhills, their parallel rows separated by barren

plains encrusted with salt. Sturt now came to the erroneous conclusion

that he had reached the head of Eyre's Creek, and that further progress

was effectually barred by a waterless tract of country. In fact, he was

then within reach of a well-watered river, along which he could have

travelled right up to the main dividing range of the northern coast. But

Sturt was baffled in the most depressed area on the surface of the

continent, where rivers and creeks lost their identity in the numberless

channels into which they divided before reaching their final home in the

thirsty shallows of the then unknown Lake Eyre. There was neither sign

nor clue afforded him; his men were sick, and any further progress would

jeopardise his retreat. There was nothing for it but to fall back once

more; and, after a toilsome journey, they reached Fort Grey on the 2nd of

October.

Sturt's last effort had been made to the west of north; he now made up

his mind for a final effort due north. Before starting, however, he

begged of Browne, who was still suffering, to retreat, while the way was

yet open, to the Darling. This Browne resolutely refused to do; stating

that it was his intention to share the fate of the expedition. The 9th of

October saw Sturt again under way to the seemingly forbidden north,

Stuart and two fresh men accompanying him. On the second day they reached

Strzelecki Creek, and on the 13th they came on to the bank of a

magnificent channel, with fine trees growing on its grassy banks, and

abundance of water in the bed. This was the now well-known Cooper's

Creek, which Sturt, on his late trip, had crossed unnoticed, as it was

then dry and divided into several channels on their route. This was the

most important discovery made in connection with the lake system,

Cooper's Creek being one of the far-reaching affluents, its tributaries

draining the inland slopes of the main dividing range.

Sturt, on making this unexpected discovery, was undecided whether to

follow Cooper's Creek up to the eastward or persevere in his original

intention of pushing to the north. A thunder-storm falling at the time

made him adhere to his original determination, and defer the examination

of the new river until his return.

Seven days after crossing Cooper's Creek, he had the negative

satisfaction of seeing his gloomy forebodings fulfilled. Once more he

gazed over the dreary waste of the stony desert, unchanged and repellant

as ever. They crossed it, but were again turned back by sandhill and salt

plain, and forced to retrace their steps to Cooper's Creek. This creek

Sturt followed up for many days, but found that it came from a more

easterly direction than the route he desired to travel along; moreover,

the one broad channel that they had commenced to follow became divided

into several ana-branches, running through plains subject to inundation.

This became so tiring to their now exhausted horses, who were woefully

footsore, that he reluctantly turned back. He had found the creek peopled

with well-nurtured natives, and the prospects of advancing were brighter

than they had ever been; but both Sturt and his men were weak and ill,

and the horses almost incapable of further effort. Moreover, he was not

certain of his retreat.

As they went down Cooper's Creek on their way back, they found that the

water was drying up so rapidly that grave fears were entertained lest

Strzelecki's Creek, their main resource in getting back to Fort Grey,

should be dry. Fortunately they were in time to find a little muddy fluid

left, just enough to serve their needs. Here, though most anxious to get

on, they were forced to camp the whole of one day, on account of an

extremely fierce hot wind.

Sturt's vivid account of the day spent during the blast of that

furnace-like sirocco has been oft quoted. But the reader should remember

when reading it that the man who wrote it was in such a weakened

condition that he had not sufficient energy left to withstand the hot

wind, whilst the shade under which the party sought shelter was of the

scantiest description.

They had still a distance of eighty-six miles to cover to get back to

Fort Grey, with but little prospect of finding water on the way. After a

long and weary ride they reached it, only to find the tents struck, the

flag hauled down, and the Fort abandoned. The bad state of the water and

the steady diminution of supply had forced Browne to fall back to Depot

Glen, riding day and night Sturt reached the old encampment, so exhausted

that he could hardly stand after dismounting.

The problem of their final escape had now to be resolved. The water in

Depot Creek was reduced so low that they feared there would be none left

in Flood's Creek. If this failed, they were once more imprisoned. Browne,

now much recovered, undertook the long ride of one hundred and eighteen

miles which would decide the question. Preparations had been made for his

journey by filling a bullock skin with water, and sending a dray with it

as far as possible. On the eighth day he returned.

"Well, Browne," asked Sturt, who was helpless in his tent, "what news? Is

it good or bad?" "There is still water in the creek," replied Browne,

"but that is all I can say; what there is is as black as ink, and we must

make haste, for in a week it will be gone."

The boat that was to have floated over the inland sea was left to rot at

Depot Glen. All the heaviest of the stores were abandoned, and the

retreat of over two hundred miles commenced.

More bullock-skins were fashioned into water-bags, and with their aid and

that of a scanty but kindly shower of rain, they crossed the dry stage to

Flood's Creek in safety. Here they found the growth of the vegetation

much advanced, and with care, and constant activity in searching ahead

for water, they gradually increased the distance from the scene of their

sufferings, and approached the Darling. Sturt had to be carried on one of

the drays, and lifted on and off at each stopping-place. On the 21st of

December, they arrived at the camp of the relief-party under Piesse, at

Williorara, and Sturt's last expedition came to an end.

In taking leave of this explorer, we quote a short extract from his

Journal to show the exalted character of the man whom Australians should

ever regard with the greatest of pride:--

"Circumstances may yet arise to give a value to my recent labours, and my

name may be remembered by after generations in Australia as the first who

tried to penetrate to its centre. If I failed in that great object, I

have one consolation in the retrospect of my past services. My path among

savage tribes has been a bloodless one, not but that I have often been

placed in situations of risk and danger, when I might have been justified

in shedding blood, but I trust I have ever made allowance for human

timidity, and respected the customs of the rudest people."

Sturt's health and eyesight had been greatly impaired by his last trip,

but although he was for a time almost totally blind, he still managed to

discharge the duties of Colonial Secretary. He was at last pensioned by

the South Australian Government, and soon afterwards returned to England.

He died at his residence at Cheltenham. Though the Home Office had

treated him disgracefully during his life, and ignored his services, he

lives for ever in the hearts of the Australians as the hero and chief

figure of the exploration of their country. When he was on his death-bed,

in 1869, the empty title of knighthood was conferred upon him. As he

could not enjoy the tardy honour, his widow, who lived until 1887, was

graciously allowed to wear the bauble.

CHAPTER 13. BABBAGE AND STUART.

13.1. B. HERSCHEL BABBAGE.

[Illustration. B. Herschel Babbage. Born 1815; died 1878.]

The unsolved problem of the extent and other details of that vast region

of salt lakes and flat country then known under the generic name of Lake

Torrens still greatly occupied the attention and excited the imaginations

of the colonists of South Australia. And the accounts brought back by the

different exploring parties were conflicting in the extreme. In 1851, two

squatters, named Oakden and Hulkes, out run-hunting, pushed westward of

Lake Torrens, and found suitable grazing country. They also discovered a

lake of fresh water, and heard from the natives of other lakes to the

north-west some fabulous legends of strange animals. Their horses giving

in, Oakden and Hulkes returned, but although they applied for a squatting

licence for the country they had been over, it was not then settled or

stocked. In 1856, Surveyor Babbage made some explorations in the field

partly traversed by Eyre and Frome. He penetrated through the plains that

were supposed to occupy the central portion of the horseshoe formation at

that time associated in the public opinion with Lake Torrens. More

fortunate than his predecessors, he found permanent water in a gum-tree

creek, and saw some fair-sized sheets of water, one of which he named

Blanche Water, or Lake Blanche. Some further excursions led to the

discovery of more fresh water and well-grassed pastoral country. The

aboriginals, too, directed him to what they said was a crossing-place in

that portion of Lake Torrens that had been sighted, in 1845, by Poole and

Browne of Captain Sturt's party, when Poole thought he saw an inland sea.

Their directions, however, proved unreliable, or Babbage failed to find

the place, for he lost his horse in the attempt to cross the lake.

In 1857, another excursion to the westward of Lake Torrens was made by a

Mr. Campbell, who discovered a creek of fresh water, which he called the

Elizabeth. He also visited Lake Torrens, of which he reported in similar

terms to those of previous explorers -- that it was surrounded with

barren country.

In April of the same year, a survey conducted by Deputy Surveyor-General

Goyder, over the same country as that lately explored by Babbage, led to

some absurd mistakes. A few miles north of Blanche Water he came to many

surface springs surrounding a fine lagoon. To the north of them was an

isolated hill, which he called Weathered Hill. From the summit of this

hill he had a curious example of the effects of refraction in this region

in a similar illusion to that which suggested Poole's inland sea. To the

northward he saw a belt of gigantic gum-trees, and beyond them what

appeared to be a sheet of water with elevated land on the far side. To

the eastward was another large lake. But all this was but the glamourie

of the desert -- on closer examination the gigantic gums dwindled down to

stunted bushes, and the mountainous ground to broken clods of earth.

But the greatest surprise reserved for Goyder was at Lake Torrens, where

he found the water quite fresh. He described the Lake as stretching from

fifteen to twenty miles to the north-west, with a water horizon, with an

extensive bay forming to the southward; while to the north, a bluff

headland and perpendicular cliffs were clearly to be discerned with the

telescope. From the appearance of the flood-marks, Goyder came to the

conclusion that there was little or no rise and fall in the lake, drawing

the natural conclusion that its size was such as not to be influenced

appreciably by flood waters, but that it absorbed them without showing

any variation in its level.

Adelaide was overjoyed at the news. The threatening desert that hemmed in

their fair province to the north was suddenly converted into a land of

milk and honey. The Surveyor-General, Colonel Freeling, immediately

started out, taking with him both a boat and an iron punt with which to

float on these new waters. But there was a sudden fall to their hopes

when a letter was received from him stating that the cliffs, the bay, and

the head-lands were all built up on the airy foundation of a mirage. The

elves and sprites of this desolate region had been playing a hoax upon

Goyder's party. But it is no wonder that Goyder had been so open to

deception after unexpectedly finding fresh water in the lake that had

been so long known as salter than the sea.

On reaching the lake, Freeling found the water still almost fresh; but

one of Goyder's men who accompanied him, told him that it had already

receded half-a-mile since the latter's visit. An attempt to float the

punt was made, but after dragging it through mud and a few inches of

water for a quarter of a mile, the men abandoned the attempt as hopeless.

Freeling and some of the party then started to wade through the slush,

but after proceeding three miles, and then sounding only six inches of

water, they returned. Some of the more adventurous extended their muddy

wade, but only met with a similar result. Lake Torrens was re-invested

with its evil name, only somewhat shrunken in proportions.

In the same year, 1857, Stephen Hack started with a party from Streaky

Bay to examine the Gawler Range of Eyre, and investigate the country west

of Lake Torrens. He reached the Gawler Range and examined the country

very carefully, finding numerous fresh-water springs, and large plains

covered with both grass and saltbush. He also discovered a large salt

lake, Lake Gairdner. Simultaneously with Hack's expedition, a party under

Major Warburton was out in the same neighbourhood; in fact, Hack's party

crossed Warburton's tracks on one or two occasions. Strange to say, the

reports of the two were flatly contradictory. Warburton described the

country as dry and arid; but Hack's account was distinctly favourable. Of

the two men, however, it is most probable that Hack possessed the more

experience and knowledge of country, and, moreover, Time, the great

arbitrator, has endorsed his words.

The year 1857 saw much exploration done in South Australia. One party,

consisting of Swinden, Campbell, Thompson, and Stock, at about seventy

miles from the head of Spencer's Gulf, found good pastoral country and a

permanent water-hole called by the natives Pernatty. to the north they

came upon Campbell's former discovery of the Elizabeth, but their

provisions failing they were forced to return.

A month afterwards Swinden started again from Pernatty. North of the

Gawler Range he found available pastoral country, which became known as

Swinden's country. During this year also, Miller and Dutton explored the

country at the back of Fowler's Bay. Forty miles to the north they saw

treeless, grassy plains stretching far inland, but could find no

permanent water. Warburton afterwards reported in depreciatory terms of

this region; but Delisser and Hardwicke, who also visited it, stated that

it would make first-class pastoral country if only surface water could be

obtained. During the whole of Warburton's career, his judgment of the

pastoral value of country seems to have been lamentably defective. He

made no allowance for the varying nature of the seasons. A suggestion

that he made to the South Australian Government to explore the interior,

which had turned back such men as Sturt and Gregory, with the aid of the

police, verges on the ludicrous.

In 1858, the South Australian Government voted a sum of money to fit out

a party to continue the northern explorations. This party was put under

the leadership of Babbage; but he was not given a free hand, being

hampered with official instructions, and there being no allowance made

for unforeseen exigencies. His instructions were to examine the country

between Lakes Torrens and Gairdner, and to map the respective western and

eastern shores of the two lakes, so as to remove for the future any doubt

as to their actual formation and accurate position. This alone, apart

from any extended exploration, meant a work of considerable time; but,

unfortunately for the surveyor in charge, the general public was just

then eager for fresh discoveries of available pastoral land, and was

inclined to regard survey work as of secondary importance. It took

several months to complete the survey work of the two lakes, and when

Babbage returned to Port Augusta he found that Harris, the second in

command of his depot camp, had started to return to Adelaide with many of

the drays and horses. Babbage rode one hundred and sixty miles before he

overtook him at Mount Remarkable, and there learned that the South

Australian Government had changed its official mind with regard to the

conduct of the expedition, and had decided that it should be conducted in

future with pack-horses only.

It was A.C. Gregory's arrival in Adelaide with pack-horses from his last

expedition down the Barcoo that had led to this change of tactics.

Charles Gregory, who had accompanied his brother, was now engaged by the

Government to overtake Babbage and acquaint him with their intention, but

when he reached Port Augusta, Gregory took it upon himself to order the

drays home, Babbage being away surveying. Babbage overtook them and

ordered them back; but pleading Government orders, they refused to

return. Babbage wrote to the authorities pointing out the unfairness of

their action, and, mustering up a small party, returned to continue his

work with six months' provisions.

On this occasion, Babbage gave more time to discovery than he had done

before. He went out beyond the boundaries of his survey, and pushed on to

Chambers Creek, so called by Stuart, who discovered it while Babbage was

busy at Lake Gairdner. Babbage traced Chambers Creek into Lake Eyre, and

was thus the first discoverer of this lake, which he called Lake Gregory.

He found a range which he called Hermit Range, but from its crest

discerned no sign of Lake Torrens, thus settling a certain limit to its

extension to the north. He made further explorations to the west of Lake

Gregory, now Lake Eyre, and found some hot springs. Meanwhile, during the

time he was making these researches, the Government had, in a very

high-handed manner, appointed Warburton to supersede him. Warburton

started out to find Babbage, taking Charles Gregory as his second.

Failing to find him at the Elizabeth, he followed and overtook him at the

newly-discovered Lake Gregory. Warburton made a few discoveries while

seeking for Babbage, amongst them the Douglas, a creek which was

afterwards of great assistance to Stuart, and the Davenport Range; and he

also came upon some fair pastoral country.

Babbage's surveys and explorations had done much to clear up the mystery

and confusion that had hitherto obscured the geography of the salt lake

region. His discovery of Lake Eyre (Gregory) and of the complete

isolation of Lake Torrens, reduced the component parts of that huge

saline basin to some sort of method and order. In addition to these

achievements, Surveyor Parry made some further discoveries both of fresh

water and available pastoral country to the eastward of the Lake.

B. Herschel Babbage was the eldest son of the well-known inventor of the

calculating machine. He had been educated as an engineer, and for a

considerable time had followed his profession in Europe. He had been

engaged on several main lines in England, and had worked in conjunction

with the celebrated Brunel. He had also been commissioned by the

Government of Piedmont to report on a line across the Alps by way of

Mount Cenis. He had remained in Italy some years until his work was

interrupted by the revolution. He had returned to England, and had

subsequently come to South Australia in 1851, in the ship Hydaspes. He

died at his residence, in 1878, at St. Mary's, South Road, where he had a

vineyard.

13.2. JOHN MCDOUALL STUART.

[Illustration. John McDouall Stuart.]

John McDouall Stuart, the great explorer of the centre of Australia,

arrived in South Australia in 1839. His first experience of Australian

exploration was sufficiently trying, gained as it was when he was acting

as a draughtsman with Captain Sturt on his last arduous expedition. But

it had kindled in him a high ardour for discovery, and fostered a

stubborn resolution to carry through whatever he undertook.

He commenced his early explorations when in a position to do so

independently, to the north-west of Swinden's country, in search of some

locality called by the natives Wingillpin. Not finding it, he came to the

strange conclusion that Wingillpin and Cooper's Creek were one and the

same, although he was now on a different watershed. He also, at that

period, seems to have entertained somewhat extensive notions of the

course of Cooper's Creek, as in one part of his Journal he remarks:--

"My only hope of cutting Cooper's Creek is on the other side of the

range. The plain we crossed to-day resembles those of the Cooper, also

the grasses. If it is not there, it must run to the north-west, and form

the Glenelg of Captain Grey."

Now, although we know that Grey held rather extravagant notions of the

importance of the Glenelg, even he would not have thought it possible for

the Glenelg to be the outlet of such a mighty river as Cooper's Creek

would have become by the time it reached the north-west coast.

Stuart's horses were now too footsore to proceed over the stony country

he found himself then in, and he had no spare shoes with him. Failing

therefore to find the promised land of Wingillpin, although he had passed

over much good and well-watered country, he turned to the south-west, and

made some explorations in the neighbourhood of Lake Gairdner. Before

this, however, he had found and named Chambers Creek. From Lake Gairdner,

he steered for Fowler's Bay, and his description of some of the country

he passed is anything but inviting. From a spur of the high peak that he

named Mount Finke, he saw:--

"A prospect gloomy in the extreme: I could see a long distance, but

nothing met the eye save a dense scrub, as black and dismal as night."

[Map. Stuart's Routes 1858, 1859, 1860, 1861, 1862; Burke and Wills's

Route 1860 and 1861.]

From this point the party passed into a sandy spinifex desert, which

Stuart says was worse than Sturt's; there had been a little salt-bush

there, but here there was nothing but spinifex to be found, and the

barren ground provided no food of any kind for the horses.

The state of affairs was becoming desperate with the little band, as

their provisions were nearly finished; and though the leader was tempted

to persist in the search for good pastoral country, he was at last forced

to abandon the search and beat a hasty retreat. Dense scrub and the same

"dreary dismal desert," as he calls it in his Journal, surrounded them

day after day. Tired out and half-starved they reached the coast, and had

but two meals left to carry them to Streaky Bay, where they found relief

at Gibson's station. Here the sudden change from starvation to a full

diet invalided most of them, and Stuart himself was very ill for some

days. Finally they reached Thompson's station at Mount Arden, and there

Stuart's first expedition terminated.

But this severe test only whetted Stuart's appetite for further

exploration, and in April, 1859, he made another start. After crossing

over some of the already-traversed country, Hergott, one of his

companions, found the now well-known springs that bear his name. Stuart

crossed his former discovery of Chambers Creek, and made for the

Davenport Range, discovered by Warburton, finding many of the mound

springs that characterize some parts of the interior. On the 6th of June

he discovered a large creek, which he called the Neale. It ran through

very good country, and Stuart followed it down, hoping to find it

increase in volume and value as he went. In this he was not disappointed,

as large plains covered with salt-bush and grass were found, and the

party encountered several more springs. After satisfying himself of the

extent and economic value of the country he had found, Stuart was obliged

to return; for his horses' shoes had again worn out, and he had a lively

and painful remembrance of the misery which his horses had suffered

before from the lack of them.

In November of the same year, he made a third expedition in the vicinity

of Lake Eyre, but there is little of interest attaching to the Journal of

this trip, as his course was mostly over closely explored country. He

reached the Neale again, and instituted a survey of the promising

pastoral country he had traversed during his last trip, approaching at

times to within sight of what he calls in his Journal Lake Torrens, but

which in reality was what is now known as Lake Eyre. All these minor

expeditions of Stuart's may be looked upon as preparatory to his great

struggle to find an available passage through the unknown fastnesses of

the centre of the continent.

It was in 1860 that Stuart made the first of his daring and stubborn

attempts to cross Australia from south to north. The South Australian

Government had offered a standing reward of 2,000 pounds for the man who

should first succeed in this undertaking.

Stuart's party on his first trip was but a very small one: three men in

all, with but thirteen horses. It reads lilliputian compared with the

princely cavalcade that later on set out with Burke to travel over

comparatively well-known country, involving only a short excursion

through a land without natural difficulties or obstacles; and yet it

actually achieved the greatest part of the task set it.

Stuart started from Chambers Creek, but for part of the journey he was of

course travelling over country that was fairly well-known by that time.

After passing the Neale, he entered untrodden country, which proved to be

good available pastoral land. Numerous well-watered creeks were passed,

which were named respectively the Frew, the Finke, and the Stevenson, and

on the 6th of April they reached a hill of a remarkable shape, which had

for some time attracted and excited their attention and curiosity. They

found it to be a column of sandstone, on the apex of a hill. The hill was

but a low one of a few hundred feet in height, but the sandstone column

that surmounted it was one hundred and fifty feet in height and twenty

feet in width. This striking object was named by Stuart Chambers Pillar,

to commemorate a friend who had assisted him greatly in his explorations.

It stood amongst other elevations of fantastic shapes and grotesque

formations, resembling ruined forts and castles. On the 9th of April they

sighted two remarkable bluffs, and on the 12th reached the range of which

the bluffs formed the centre. The eastern bluff was called Brinkley Bluff

and the western Hanson Bluff; the range, which is now well-known as a

leading geographical feature of Australia, and on which the most elevated

peaks in the interior have since been found, Stuart named the MacDonnell

Range, after the then Governor of South Australia. The little band

crossed the range, which was rough but had good grass on its slopes.

There was, however, a scarcity of water; for they were now approaching

the tropical line, and on reaching the northern slope of the range found

themselves amongst spinifex and scrub, and obliged to undergo two nights

without water for the horses. At a high peak, which was named Mount

Freeling, they found a small supply; and as it was now evident that there

was dry country ahead, a more careful search was made before pushing any

further forward, in order to ensure certain means of retreat. Fortunately

they found, amongst some ledges of rock, a large natural reservoir, which

promised to be permanent, and capable of supplying their wants on their

homeward way.

On the 22nd of April, Stuart camped in the centre of Australia, on the

spot which his former leader, Sturt, had vainly undergone so much

suffering to reach; and his feeling of elation must have been tempered

with regret that his old leader was not then with him to share this

success. About two miles and a half to the North-North-East there was a

tolerably high hill which he called in reality Central Mount Sturt. It is

now, however, erroneously called Stuart, owing to the publishers of his

diary having misread his manuscript.

Having, in company with his tried companion Kekwick, climbed the mount,

he erected a cairn of stones at the top and hoisted the Union Jack. They

then recommenced their northern journey. That night they camped without

finding water, but the next morning were lucky enough to get a permanent

supply. Then ensued much delay, caused by fruitless attempts to strike

either to the eastward or the westward. Stuart tried on several occasions

to reach the head of the Victoria River, but failed, and sacrificed some

horses. On a creek he called the Phillips, some natives were encountered

who, according to Stuart, made and answered a masonic sign.

To the north of this spot, the explorers came to a large gum-tree creek,

with very fair-sized sheets of water in it. As they followed down, they

passed an encampment of natives, but kept steadily on their course

without interfering with them. Not finding any water lower down the

creek, the party had to return, and when close to the creek at the point

where they had crossed that morning, they were suddenly surrounded by a

mob of armed and painted savages, who had emerged unexpectedly from

concealment in a clump of scrub. To all attempts at peaceful parley they

returned showers of boomerangs and clubs, until the whites were compelled

in self-defence to fire on them. Even then they were not deterred from

following the party, even up to the camp of the night before. This

incident caused Stuart to hesitate. His party was so small that the loss

or even disablement of one man would have crippled the expedition; and

they had already lost a good many horses. He therefore wisely decided to

fall back, as they had penetrated far enough to prove that the passage of

the continent could be effected with a few more men. It was on the 27th

of June that he began his homeward march, and on the 26th of August he

reached Brodie's camp at Hamilton Springs, with the strength of all much

reduced, and Stuart himself suffering from scurvy.

After the result of Stuart's journey had been reported in Adelaide, and

it was seen how inadequate means only had led to his defeat, the

Government voted 2,500 pounds to equip a better-organized party; of this

he was to take command.

Stuart judged it best to keep his old track by way of the Finke and the

Hugh. On the 12th of April they arrived at the Bonney, and finding it

running strong, with abundance of good feed on the banks, they were

betrayed into following it down; but it soon spread abroad and was lost

in a large plain. Leaving the Bonney, they adhered to the old route, and

reached Tennant's Creek on the 21st of April, and four days afterwards

they were on the scene of the attack that had been made on them at Attack

Creek. But although the tracks of the natives were numerous, the

explorers were, at this time, permitted to pass on in peace. Keeping at

the foot of the low range, which there has an approximate northerly and

southerly direction, Stuart crossed many creeks which promised long

courses where they formed in the range, but which were all alike lost

when they reached the level country. On the 4th of May they attained to

the northern termination of this range, which he called the Ashburton

Range. Here he made several attempts to the north and north-west, but

could discover neither water nor watercourses in those directions;

nothing indeed but plains, beautifully grassed, but heavy to ride over

and yielding under the horses' feet. Beyond these plains, the country

changed for the worse, and became sandy and scrubby. On the 16th of May

he encountered a new description of scrub that grew in a very obstructive

manner, and is now known as Stuart's Desert Hedgewood.

On the 23rd he found a magnificent sheet of permanent water which he

called the Newcastle Waters, and at first he judged that a clear way

north was now assured. But he was deluded, for beyond these waters he

could not advance his party a mile; north, north-east, and north-west,

there was the one outlook -- endless grassy plains, terminating in dense

scrubby forest country. He had to give up all hope for the present, and

return to Adelaide.

Such however was the confidence of the authorities in him, and such his

own energy, that in less than a month after his arrival in Adelaide he

was on his way to Chambers Creek to make preparations for a fresh

departure. His last two journeys had proved the existence of a long line

of good country, fairly well-watered; and although beyond it he had not

been able to gain a footing, still there was no knowing what a fresh

endeavour would bring to light.

He had brought his party back in safety, with the loss of only a few

horses, and had actually reached in point of position as low a latitude

as the Victorian explorers had done, and that with a more difficult

country to travel through, without camels, and with an inferior equipment

in all other respects.

It is not necessary again to follow Stuart's horse-tracks over the

northern way he was now pursuing for the third time. On the 14th of

April, 1862, we find him encamped at the northern end of Newcastle

Waters, once more about to force a passage through the forest of

waterless scrub to the north. On the second day he was partly successful,

finding an isolated waterhole, surrounded by conglomerate rocks. This he

called Frew's Pond; and it is now a well-known camping-place for

travellers on the overland telegraph line.

Past this spot he was not able to make any progress. Twice he made

strenuous but vain efforts to reach some tributary of the Victoria River.

He then spent many days riding through dense mulga and hedgewood scrub.

At length, after much hope deferred, finding a few scanty waterholes that

did not serve the purpose he had in view, he succeeded in striking the

head of a chain of ponds running in a northerly direction. These being

followed down, led him to the head of the creek now called Daly Waters

Creek, and finally to the large waterhole on which the present telegraph

station bearing the name of Daly Waters, stands. The creek was then lost

in a swamp, and Stuart was unable to find the channel where it reformed,

which has since been named the Birdum. Missing this water-guide, Stuart

worked his way to the eastward, to a creek he named the Strangways, which

led him down to the Roper River, a river which he had never striven to

reach, his sole aim being the Victoria. He crossed the Roper, and

followed up a northern tributary, which he named after his constant

friend John Chambers.

Scarcity of water was now a thing of the past, but his stock of spare

horseshoes had to be most jealously guarded, for his horses were

beginning to fall lame, the country he was on was very stony, and he was

far removed from Adelaide. From the Chambers he came to the lower course

of a creek called by Leichhardt Flying-Fox Creek, re-named by Stuart the

Katherine, the name it now bears. Thence he struck across the stony

tableland and descended on the head waters of a river which he christened

the Adelaide, and on following this river down he found himself in rich

tropical scenery, which told him that at last he was approaching the

sea-shore.

On the 24th of July he turned a little to the north-east, intending to

strike the sea-beach and travel along it to the mouth of the Adelaide. He

told only two of the party of the eventful moment awaiting them. As they

rode on, Thring, who was riding ahead, suddenly called out, "The Sea,"

which so took the majority by surprise that they were some time before

they understood what was meant, and then three hearty cheers were given.

At this, his first point of contact with the ocean, Stuart dipped his

feet and hands in the sea, as at last he gazed across the water he had so

perseveringly striven for years to reach.

He attempted to get to the mouth of the Adelaide River along the beach,

but found it too boggy for the horses. Wishing to husband the forces at

his command, Stuart wisely resolved to push no further; he had a space

cleared where they were, and a tall sapling stripped of its boughs to

serve as a flagstaff. On this he hoisted the Union Jack which he had

carried with him. A record of their arrival, contained in an air-tight

case, was then buried at the foot of the impromptu staff, and Stuart cut

his initials on the largest tree he could find. The tree has since been

found and recognised, but the buried memorial has not been discovered.

More fortunate than the ill-fated Burke, Stuart surveyed the open sea

from his point of contact with the ocean, instead of having to be content

with some mangrove trees and salt water.

McDouall Stuart, whose last expedition we have thus followed out to its

successful end, is rightly considered the man to whom the credit for the

first crossing the continent is due. His victory was all his own; he had

followed in no other person's footsteps; he had crossed the true centre,

and he had made the coast at a point much further to the north than that

reached by Burke and Wills, their journey having been considerably

shortened by its northern end being placed on the southern shore of the

great gulf that bites so deeply into north Australia. Along Stuart's

track there is now erected the Overland Telegraph Line, an enduring

monument to his indomitable perseverance.

Stuart's health was fast failing, and his horses were sadly reduced in

strength. He therefore started back the day after the consummation of his

dearest ambition. On his way south, after leaving Newcastle Waters, he

found the water in many of the short creeks heading from the Ashburton

Range to be rapidly diminishing; in some there was none left, in others

it was fast drying. The horses commenced to give in rapidly one after the

other, and more were lost on successive dry stages. Stuart himself

thought that he would never live to see the settled districts. Scurvy had

brought him down to a lamentable state, and after all his hard-won

success, it seemed as though he would not profit by it. His right hand

had become useless to him, and his eyes lost power of sight after sunset.

He could not undergo the pain of riding, and a stretcher had to be slung

between two horses to carry him on. With painful slowness they crept

along until they reached Mount Margaret, the first station. Here the

leader, reduced to a mere skeleton, was furnished with a little relief;

and after resting and gaining a little strength, he rode on to Adelaide.

This was Stuart's last expedition; for he never recovered his health nor

former eyesight. He was rewarded by the government of the colony which he

had served so well, and was awarded the gold medal of the Royal

Geographical Society. He went to reside in England, where he died in the

year 1869, on the 16th of July.

CHAPTER 14. BURKE AND WILLS.

[Illustration. Robert O'Hara Burke. From a photograph in the possession

of E.J. Welch, of the Howitt Relief Expedition.

Illustration. William John Wills. From a photo in possession of E.J.

Welch, of the Howitt Relief Expedition.

Illustration. John King. From a photo in the possession of E.J. Welch.]

We have now to deal with an exploring expedition of greater notoriety

than that of any similar enterprise in the annals of Australia, though

its results in the way of actual exploration in the true meaning of the

term were quite insignificant. The expedition could not reasonably hope

to reveal any new geographical conditions; for the nature of the country

to be traversed was fairly well-known: there was no such expanse of

unknown territory along the suggested course of travel as to justify the

anticipation of any discovery of magnitude. Both Kennedy and Gregory had

followed much the same line of route when tracing the course of the

Barcoo and Cooper's Creek, a short distance to the eastward. The only

apparent motive for the expedition seems to have been not particularly

creditable, the desire to outdo Stuart, who after nearly accomplishing

the task might well have been allowed the honour of completing it. But

Time is after all the great arbitrator: Stuart re-entered Adelaide

successful, on the same day that the bodies of Burke and Wills arrived

for shipment to Melbourne.

Robert O'Hara Burke was born in the county of Galway, in Ireland, in

1821. He was the second son of John Hardiman Burke, of St. Clerans, and

was educated in Belgium. In 1840 he entered the Austrian army, in which

he rose to the rank of Captain. In 1848 he joined the Royal Irish

Constabulary, but five years later emigrated to Tasmania. Thence he went

to Victoria, where he entered the local police force, and became an

Inspector. Such was his position when he was offered the command of the

expedition which ended in his death.

William John Wills was born at Totnes, in Devonshire. He was the son of a

medical man, and after his arrival in Victoria, in 1852, he led for a

time a bush life on the Edwards River. He was later employed as a

surveyor in Melbourne, and then became assistant to Professor Neumayer at

the Melbourne Observatory, a post he quitted in order to act as

assistant-surveyor on the ill-starred journey.

Sentiment, and an hysterical sentiment at that, seems to have dominated

this expedition throughout. There was no urgent necessity for Victoria to

equip and send forth an exploring expedition. Her rich and compact little

province was known from end to end, and she had no surplus territory in

which to open up fresh fields of pastoral occupation for her sons. But

her people became possessed with the exploring spirit, and the planning

and execution of the scheme was a signal indication of national

patriotism. And if sense and not sentiment had marked the counsel, the

results might have conferred rich benefit upon Australia.

The necessary funds were made up as follows: 6,000 pounds voted by

Government; 1,000 pounds presented by Mr. Ambrose Kyte; and the balance

of the first expenditure of 12,000 pounds made up by public subscription.

But the final cost of the expedition and of the relief parties amounted

to 57,000 pounds. And the exploratory work done by the different relief

parties far and away exceeded in geographical results the small amount

effected by the original expedition.

A committee of management was appointed, and to his interest with this

committee Burke owed his elevation to the position of leader. He seems to

have been supported by that sort of general testimony which fits a man to

apply for nearly any position; but of special aptitude and training for

the work to be done he had none. He was frank, openhearted, impetuous,

and endowed with all those qualities which made him a great favourite

with women; moreover, his service in the Austrian army had given people

an exaggerated notion of his ability to command and organize. It would

appear on the whole that his appointment was due solely to the influence

he wielded, and to his personal popularity.

Wills appears to have been a man gifted with many of the qualities

essential for efficient discharge of the duties and responsibilities

appertaining to the post he held; but his amiable disposition allowed him

to be influenced too readily in council by the rash and foolish judgment

of his impetuous superior. If, for instance, he had persisted in

combating Burke's incomprehensible plan of leaving the depot for Mount

Hopeless, the last fatality would never have occurred.

When the expedition left Melbourne, it was amid the shouts and hurrahs of

acclaiming thousands, who probably had not the faintest idea of the easy

task that the explorers with their imposing retinue and outfit had before

them. In fact, with all the resources at Burke's command, a favourable

season and good open country, the excursion would have been a mere picnic

to most men of experience. A number of camels had been specially imported

from India at a cost of 5,500 pounds. G.J. Landells came to the country

in charge of them, and had been appointed second in command. Long before

they left the settled districts, Burke quarrelled with him, whereupon he

resigned and returned to Melbourne. There he openly declared that under

Burke's control the expedition would assuredly meet with disaster. Wills

was then appointed second by Burke, and Wright, who was supposed to be

acquainted with the locality which they were approaching, was engaged as

third, another most unfortunate selection. Besides those already

mentioned, there were Dr. Hermann Beckler, medical officer and botanist,

and Dr. Ludwig Becker, artist, naturalist, and geologist, ten white

assistants, and three camel-drivers.

The expedition in full reached Menindie on the Darling, where Wright

joined them. On the 19th of October, 1860, Burke, Wills, six men, five

horses and sixteen camels, left Menindie for Cooper's Creek. Wright went

with them two hundred miles to indicate the best route, and then returned

to take charge of the main body waiting at Menindie. On the 11th of

November, Burke with the advance party reached Cooper's Creek, where they

camped and awaited the arrival of Wright with the rest. Grass and water

were both plentiful, and the journey had hitherto proved no more arduous

than an ordinary over-landing trip.

The long delay and inaction worked sadly upon Burke's active and

impatient temperament, and he suddenly announced his intention to

subdivide his party and, with three men, to start across the belt of

unknown country -- a distance of five hundred miles at the furthest --

that separated him from Gregory's track round the Gulf. Although his

lavish outfit had been purchased specially to explore this comparatively

small extent of land, he thus deliberately left it behind him during the

most critical part of the journey. He had with him no means of following

up any discoveries he might make, and his botanist and naturalist and

geologist were also left behind. He killed time for a little while by

making short excursions northward, and then, on the 16th of December,

impatient of further delay, he started with Wills and two men for

Carpentaria. The others were left, with verbal instructions, to wait

three months for him. Thus, dispersed and neglected, he left the costly

equipment containing within itself all the elements of successful

geographical research. Certainly this was not the plan that had been

anticipated by the promoters and organisers. We have now, at this stage,

the spectacle of the main body loitering on the outskirts of the settled

districts, four men killing time on the banks of Cooper's Creek, and the

leader and three others scampering across the continent, all four of them

utterly inexperienced in bushcraft.

As might have been expected the results of the journey are most barren:

Wills's diary is sadly uninteresting, and Burke made only a few scanty

notes, at the end of which he writes: "28th March. At the conclusion of

report it would be as well to say that we reached the sea, but we could

not obtain a view of the open ocean, although we made every endeavour to

do so."

Shortly condensing Wills's diary, we gather the following account of

their route. The first point they intended to reach was Eyre's Creek, but

before arriving at it, they discovered a fine watercourse coming from the

north, which took them a long distance in the direction they desired to

follow. This watercourse, which McKinlay afterwards called the Mueller,

began in time to lead their steps too much to the eastward, in which

direction lay its source. They therefore quitted it and kept due north,

following a tributary well-supplied with both grass and water. This

tributary led them well on to the northern dividing range, which they

crossed without difficulty, coming down on to the head of the Cloncurry

River. By tracing that river down they reached the Flinders River, which

they followed down to the mangroves and salt water. They were, however,

considerably out in their longitude, for they thought that they were on

the Albert, over one hundred miles to the westward.

[Illustration. Scenes on Cooper's Creek (After Howitt).

1. Burke's Grave.

2. Where King was Found.

3. Grave of Wills.]