Drive to Claremont—Osborne—Keane’s Point—The
Chine—Cottesloe—The Ocean—North Fremantle—Arthur’s
Head—Smelting Works—Our Contingent—Fremantle.
One bright morning I started to drive from Perth to Fremantle, a distance
of twelve miles. Taking the lower road around Mount Eliza, a beautiful
prospect lay before me. The Mount rises 200 feet above the road, which
is only a little way from the broad river; the sun shone on Melville
Water in the distance, while on the other side lay the Canning river,
with trees and hills beyond. The pretty suburb of South Perth on its arm
of land, with the old mill at the extreme end; the many little boats and
steamers going to and fro, made a charming summer-day’s picture. Along
the road past Perth Park we saw the blue and silvery water all the time,
and then, when we came to Crawley, we entered a road fenced on each side.
Valuable land is placarded for sale, and no doubt in course of time will
become even more valuable. Already streets have been laid out for a
suburb, which, being so beautifully situated, will be charming to live
in. After a pretty drive of six miles we reached the fashionable suburb
of Claremont, where there are some very elegant villas and mansions.
A mile farther on is Osborne, the most magnificent hotel and grounds
in Western Australia. This fine building stands in large gardens and
grounds, and is surrounded by splendid conservatories and terraces. There
are wide balconies, arbours, and seats, and, in the matter of beauty,
the place almost realises Claude Melnotte’s description of “a palace
lifting to eternal summer.” It seems almost incredible that three years
ago this exquisite spot was the abode only of the blackboy, banksia, and
other native trees, and a shelter for the dusky son of the soil. Towering
high above the hotel is a turret of spacious dimensions, from which the
growing port of Fremantle, with many merchant vessels and steamships
riding peacefully at anchor, may be clearly seen in the distance. The
adjacent islands of Carnac, Garden, and Rottnest, with their rugged
coast-lines, lashed by the surging waves of the ocean, are but a few
miles distant. The clearness of the air gives a wonderful range of vision
from the tower. As you turn, you behold in the distance the dark woodland
of the Darling Ranges, whose summits seem to touch the sky. In the zenith
of summer heat in Western Australia, Osborne is always delightfully
shaded and cool.
An artesian well in the grounds, which struck water at a depth of 150
feet, gives an abundant supply, capable of supplying the whole of Perth.
No less than 50,000 gallons of water are used every day on the grounds of
Osborne alone. Steamers come to Osborne jetty during the week, and every
Sunday in the summer, bringing hundreds of people to enjoy the scene.
The steamer moors at a landing at the bottom of the cliff, and hundred
of steps have to be climbed before the top is reached. The climb is made
easy by a platform with seats at the end of every flight of steps, of
which there are five, and one can rest on these to enjoy the pleasing
prospect. Pretty villas are built all around the hillsides; dear little
Freshwater Bay, with its numerous bathing-houses and jetties, the pretty
yachts and boats on its bosom looking like white-winged birds, lies at
your feet; and the wild note of the magpies, not yet frightened away
by civilisation as the aborigines have been, is heard from the trees
in the distance. Continuing our drive, we took the inner road up the
hill. Another pretty little bay and suburb called Peppermint Grove, from
the fact that at one time it was a grove of delicate peppermint-trees,
discloses itself. There are many beautiful villas with gardens, a nice
white, hard sandy beach, a fine jetty for the many boats that come from
Perth and Fremantle, and the Yacht Club House. Keane’s Point, with a
handsome old bungalow on a fine site, hides a bend of the river. The
Chine, so called from its peculiar conformation, the ridge appearing
like the backbone of an enormous whale or other gigantic sea monster, is
another pretty spot. Any one who has the fortitude to climb to the top of
the Chine will be rewarded by one of the most exquisite panoramic views
of ocean, river, flower, shrub, sea and sky ever seen. The tints of the
water from the reflection of the azure sky melting into pale yellow, then
into rich gold and crimson from the setting sun, once seen will never be
forgotten. Turning back, we resumed our drive up Forrest Street and into
the main Fremantle Road. We were now in the seaside suburb of Cottesloe,
and away over the hill lay the beautiful Cottesloe Beach, stretching
along for miles. Cottesloe is one of the most flourishing suburbs of
Perth. A few years ago it was all one dense bush; now it is full of human
life, and houses are going up in all directions as fast as the builders
can erect them. Past the quarries we went until a turn of the road
brought us to a view so magnificent that its effect can never fade from
my memory. In the distance the dark blue Indian Ocean rolled in all its
majestic splendour; North Fremantle was in sight, and so was the mouth of
the Swan river. We approached the bridge to cross it, and saw an effect
even more beautiful. From the bridge on which we stopped a few minutes
in order to gaze on this gorgeous scene we saw many fine ships lying at
anchor on the broad ocean; up the river many small boats and steamers
were moored; in the distance were white cliffs and pretty houses; the
magnificent German steamer, the _Friedrich der Grosse_, was just going
out to sea—and altogether the scene was truly a grand one. I hope I
shall not be thought to rhapsodise too much, but I can assure my readers
that I am writing exactly as I felt when first viewing the approach to
Fremantle.
[Illustration: FRESHWATER BAY, CLAREMONT]
When the new harbour is finished, Fremantle will be, as Sir John Forrest
puts it, the Brindisi of Australia. And now we crossed the bridge and
entered East Fremantle, leaving behind us the broad river winding its way
to the ocean between two splendid breakwaters.
On we drove down Cantonment Road into High Street, the principal
thoroughfare, at the top of which is the fine Town Hall with its splendid
clock. From that point the street runs to Arthur’s Head, and is connected
by a tunnel with the sea; on the top of the limestone cliff is an old
building called the Old Cantonment, formerly used as a lock-up. Fremantle
is built on a low-lying neck of land between Arthur’s Head on the one
side and the limestone heights on the other, hemmed in on one hand by
the river and on the other by the sea. The city was named after Captain
Fremantle, who first hoisted the British flag there, in 1829.
There is a fine lighthouse on Arthur’s Head. It is a white stone tower
71 feet high, with a fixed white light, visible for 16 miles. Fremantle
still possesses some old and singular-looking buildings. The old gaol
and court-house, with the harbourmaster’s quarters and the barracks,
will, no doubt, in course of time be replaced by more up-to-date
structures; there are already many very fine new buildings. Fremantle
has an excellent Grammar School, where most of the boys from Perth and
the country districts receive their education. Mr. G. Bland Humble, the
present worthy and respected Town Clerk of Fremantle, was the first
master, having been brought from England in 1886 to teach the young idea
of Western Australia how to shoot.
There are many good hotels, the Hotel Fremantle being the best at the
city end of the town, and the Hotel Australia at the upper end. This
latter is really a splendid hotel, standing in an excellent position,
with a grand view of the river, harbour, and islands beyond. The jetty is
half a mile long, and some large vessels are always lying there.
Fremantle is rapidly increasing in size and population, and social life
is not so divided as in Perth; there seem to be more geniality and not
so much stiffness about the people. A volunteer artillery corps, turf,
bicycle, rowing, cricket, and football clubs provide various forms of
social activity. There is a nice park, also a good recreation-ground, and
several places of entertainment, and the large hall in the Town Hall is
very handsome and superbly decorated. An inexhaustible supply of water is
obtained from three large wells connected by drives. The water is pumped
up by steam into reservoirs at the rate of 45,000 gallons an hour.
The smelting works about two miles from Fremantle, at Owen’s Anchorage,
have lately commenced working, and are a great boon to the goldfields,
which until recently were very much handicapped by having to send their
ore to the other colonies to be smelted.
[Illustration: NORTH FREMANTLE]
The South African War is the general topic of the day, and with what
sorrow do we read of the sacrifice of so many noble lives! Several
contingents of our brave Australians have left the different parts of the
colonies to assist their British brothers with a little of the courage
we have in the Sunny South. The second contingent has just left these
shores, and Fremantle has had the honour of giving them the send-off.
Over 30,000 people assembled to bid them farewell, and a scene of such
unbounded enthusiasm ensued as has never before been witnessed in the
colony. The magnificent steamer _Surrey_ brought the New South Wales
and South Australian contingents, and these soldiers came in for their
share of admiration no less than the Western Australians. The enthusiasm
shown for the Western Australian contingent from the time they left
the camp at Karrakatta until they waved their last good-bye from the
steamer’s side will never be forgotten. The street decorations, although
hurriedly got up, were handsome and patriotic. At the Oval, where the
reception to the troops was held, a huge marquee occupied considerable
space, and rows of tables laden with every delicacy were provided for
the troops and for the many distinguished visitors. Over 200 of the
leading society ladies of Fremantle acted as waitresses, proud to attend
on brave men soon to embark for the perils of war. Although the men were
going away to face battle, all seemed jubilant, proud, and confident.
The three contingents were all like brothers. The cries of the multitude
were: “Cheers for the Cornstalks of New South Wales,” another for the
“Gum-suckers of Victoria,” one for the “Crow-eaters of South Australia,”
and “A great big one for Westralians; do your best, boys!”[1] At the
wharf, prior to the _Surrey_ leaving next day, somebody handed up a
bottle of whisky, intending it for a Westralian trooper. A Cornstalk,
however, became possessed of it. “That’s not for you, it’s for one of the
Western Australians,” shouted the donor. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all
alike, we’ll soon be Federated Australia,” laughed the Cornstalk, and
opening the bottle took a drop, then handed it round to the rest, who all
participated in it with real federal spirit. When the time came for the
troopship to leave, some affecting scenes took place between mothers,
sisters, wives and soldiers, but all bore up as bravely as possible.
Were they not going for the glory of Old England and the honour of their
beloved Queen?
A Bushmen’s contingent has since left all the colonies, comprising men
who are accustomed to rough-riding and thoroughly used to rough life in
most trying conditions. From what I know of many of the Bushmen I have
met in my travels, I should say that they will afford the British troops
valuable aid in reconnoitring the wily Boer.
As we all know, the Australians have since bravely distinguished
themselves, and our late dearly beloved Queen testified her approval of
their actions in many ways. Her late Majesty’s gracious act of proposing
that the Duke and Duchess of York should go so far in order to open
the Federal Parliament of Australia endeared her still more, were that
possible, to the hearts of her colonial subjects. As one of them who saw
the late lamented Prince Edward and Prince George when they went out to
Australia years ago in the _Bacchante_, “I can testify to the unswerving
loyalty and affection of Australians for our beloved Queen and all her
family.”
[Illustration: HIGH STREET, FREMANTLE]
And what a brilliant record our Western Australians, especially those of
the first contingent, who have returned to Perth, have taken back with
them! Truly they deserve the laurel-wreath of honour, while those who
fell on the field of battle, giving up their lives for their beloved
Queen and country, will live for all time in our hearts. I cannot do
better, I am sure, than give Major McWilliams’ description (at the
banquet given in Perth in honour of their return) of the way in which
some Australians bravely distinguished themselves.
“Before closing, he desired to tell them a story about their entry
into Pretoria. He thought it was an incident that all who participated
in would remember to the last days of their lives. The hills around
Pretoria were most strongly held by the enemy. Their mounted infantry,
which included the 1st Western Australians, were ordered to take a hill.
They climbed up the kopje, the horses being led behind them, and fought
until relieved by the Gordon Highlanders. Their little band had to do
the work of infantry, and the handful of men held the top of that hill,
and kept the enemy at bay, until the Imperial troops appeared on the
scene. The latter said: ‘This is our job now; you are mounted, and you
will be required somewhere else.’ The colonials informally handed over
the work to the Highlanders, and an order came from Colonel De Lisle to
move back to the hills to outflank the enemy, if possible. They did so
under a heavy fire, but the enemy, on seeing them, must have exaggerated
their numbers, for they made off into Pretoria as fast as they could. The
Western Australians followed, and on that night got within a thousand
yards of Pretoria. At that time Lord Roberts’ main column was six miles
in their rear. Their infantry decided to hold the position close to
Pretoria until morning. During that night one of their number, a son of
an esteemed resident of Perth—he referred to Captain Parker—was sent with
a few men into Pretoria to blow up the line, and he certainly had the
honour of being the first armed man to enter Pretoria. That, he thought,
was a great thing to claim for a Western Australian. He might also state
a fact not generally known, that the flag of truce on the night before
was taken in by a New South Wales officer, an Australian born. This
little company numbered less than one hundred men.”
TWO MORE COLONIAL VICTORIA CROSSES.
The _Gazette_ of October 4 states that the King has been
graciously pleased to signify his intention to confer the
decoration of the Victoria Cross on Lieut. F. W. Bell, West
Australian Mounted Infantry, and Farrier-Major W. J. Hardham,
4th New Zealand Contingent.
At Brakpan, on May 16, 1901, when retiring through a heavy
fire after holding the right flank, Lieut. Bell noticed a man
dismounted, and returned and took him up behind him; the horse
not being equal to the weight fell with them; Lieut. Bell then
remained behind, and covered the man’s retirement till he was
out of danger.
Lieut. F. W. Bell is a Western Australian of the third
generation. He was one of the handful of men who so
distinguished themselves at Slingersfontein, when twenty-five
members of the corps held a body of twelve times their number
of Boers in check while the main body of troops—to which the
corps was attached—and the guns retired.
Near Faauwpoort, on January 28, 1901, Farrier-Major W. J.
Hardham was with a section which was extended and hotly engaged
with a party of about twenty Boers. Just before the force
commenced to retire Trooper M’Crae was wounded and his horse
killed. Farrier-Major Hardman at once went under a heavy fire
to his assistance, dismounted, and placed him on his own horse,
and ran alongside until he had guided him to a place of safety.
Farrier-Major Hardham is a blacksmith, of Wellington, New
Zealand.