Search for Mr. Cunningham.
No traces to be seen.
Supposed to have met with an accident.
Souter and Murray sent back along the track.
My search South-South-West 40 miles.
Interview with two natives.
Range of porphyry.
Mr. Cunningham's track found.
Mr. Larmer and a party sent to trace it.
Mr. Cunningham's track followed for 70 miles, his horse found dead.
His own footsteps traced.
Mr. Larmer meets a tribe.
The footsteps traced into the channel of the Bogan.
Death of the Kangaroo.
Reflections.
Five natives brought to me with a silk handkerchief in their possession.
Their names.
The party halt at Cudduldury.
Interview with the King of the Bogan.
Muirhead and Whiting sent to examine the dry channel of the river.
Search extended to the plains of the Lachlan.
Camp of Natives.
Pass the night in a hollow without water.
View towards Mount Granard.
A second night without water.
Awoke by the forest on fire.
Interview with three natives.
Roots of trees sucked by the natives.
Horses reach the camp with great difficulty.
Part of Mr. Cunningham's coat found.
SEARCH FOR MR. CUNNINGHAM.
April 19.
After an almost sleepless night I rose early, and could relieve my
anxiety only by organising a search, to be made in different directions,
and getting into movement as soon as possible. The darkness of a second
night of dreary solitude had passed over our fellow-traveller under the
accumulated horrors of thirst, hunger, and despair!
It was most mysterious that he had not fallen in with our line of route
which was a plain, broad road since the passage of the carts; and had a
direction due north and south for ten miles. The last time he had been
seen was twelve miles back, or about two miles from the dry bed of the
creek (since named Bullock creek) where I changed the direction from
north-west by compass to due north, that I might sooner reach the Bogan,
for the sake of water. It was probable that in following my marked trees
without much attention he had not observed the turn I took there, and
that continuing in the same direction beyond the creek he had therefore
lost them, and had proceeded too far to the westward. This was the more
likely as the dry creek was on the eastward of our line; where, had he
gone that way, he must have found our cattle-tracks, or met with the
cattle. I therefore determined to examine myself the whole country
westward of our line for twelve miles back. I sent The Doctor and Murray
west by compass six miles, with orders to return in a south-east
direction till they intersected the route, and then return along it; and
I sent two other men back along the route in case our missing friend
might have been coming on in a weakly state that way. All three parties
carried water and provisions. I proceeded myself with two men on
horseback, first, seven miles in a south-west direction, which brought me
into the line Mr. Cunningham might have followed, supposing he had
continued north-west. The country I traversed consisted of small plains
and alternate patches of dense casuarina scrubs, and open forest land.
I seldom saw to less distance about me than from one to two miles, or at
least as far as that in some one direction. We continued to cooey
frequently, and the two men were ordered to look on the ground for a
horse's track.
In the centre of a small plain, where I changed my direction to the
south-east, I set up a small stick with a piece of paper fixed in it,
containing the following words:
Dear Cunningham,
These are my horse's tracks, follow them backwards, they will lead you to
our camp, which is north-east of you.
T.L. Mitchell.
Having proceeded in the same manner seven miles to the south-east I came
upon our route where it crossed Bullock creek, and there I found the two
men who had been sent from the camp.
We then continued our search back along the west side of our route, the
party, which now consisted of five, spreading so as to keep abreast at
about 200 yards from each other, one being on the road.
NO TRACES TO BE SEEN.
We thus ascertained that no track of Mr. Cunningham's horse or of himself
appeared on the soft parts of our road; and although we retraced our
steps thus to where Murray, one of the men, said he saw Mr. Cunningham
the last time with the party, no traces could be found of him or his
horse. A kangaroo dog was also missing, and supposed to be with him.
Returning, we continued the search, and particularly to the westward of
Bullock creek, where the direction of our route had been changed; but I
was disappointed in all our endeavours to find any traces of him there,
although I enjoyed for some time a gleam of hope on seeing the track of a
horse near the bed of the creek, but it returned to our line, and was
afterwards ascertained to have been made by the horse of Mr. Larmer.
Although scarcely able to walk myself from a sprain (my horse having
fallen in a hole that day, and rolled on my foot) I shall never forget
with what anxiety I limped along that track, which seemed to promise so
well; yet we were so unsuccessful that evening, on the very ground where
afterwards Mr. Cunningham's true track was found, that I could no longer
imagine that our unfortunate fellow-traveller could be to the westward.
By what fatality we failed to discover the tracks afterwards found there
I know not; but as the sun descended we returned once more to the camp in
the hope that Mr. Cunningham might have reached it.
SUPPOSED TO HAVE MET WITH AN ACCIDENT.
That hope was soon disappointed, and I became apprehensive that some
accident had befallen him. Holes in the soft surface and yawning cracks
formed rather a peculiar feature in that part of the country; and as my
horse had fallen both on this day and the preceding, when at a canter,
and as Mr. Cunningham was often seen at that pace, it was probable that
he might have met with some severe fall, and lay helpless, not far,
perhaps, from where he had last been seen. The nights were cold, and I
was doubtful whether he could be still alive, so difficult was it to
account otherwise for his continued absence under all the circumstances.
SOUTER AND MURRAY SENT BACK ALONG THE TRACK.
April 20.
After another night of painful anxiety the dawn of the THIRD day of Mr.
Cunningham's absence brought some relief, as daylight renewed the chance
of finding him, or of his finding us by our line, as he might have
endeavoured to retrace his steps on losing the party, or he might be on
our route still farther back than we had looked; but I was desirous that
the natives whom we had left at Beny might be sent in search. I
despatched the Doctor and Murray back along the line, the latter saying
that he knew where Mr. Cunningham had turned off the road. It was not
unlikely that the horse, if he had got loose, might have returned to
where he had last drunk water (20 miles distant) therefore they were
directed, if traces were not found nearer, to go so far back, and to
promise the natives, if they could meet with any, tomahawks, etc. if they
found the white man or his horse. No other course could be imagined. The
line of route, as already stated, was a beaten road, and extended north
and south. To the east of it and nearly parallel, at two or three miles
distance, was the dry channel (Bullock creek) which led to the Bogan; on
the north was our camp and the Bogan, whose general course was west, as
well as our intended route, circumstances both known to Mr. Cunningham.
Southward was the marked route, and the country whence we had come. Still
however I thought it so likely that he must have gone to the north-west
when we changed our route to north, that I determined, although my
sprained ankle was painful, to examine again, and still more extensively,
the country into which such a deviation must have led him.
MY SEARCH SOUTH-SOUTH-WEST 40 MILES.
April 21.
I proceeded in a south-south-west direction (or South 17 degrees West by
compass) or on a intermediate line between our route and the north-west
line by which I had explored that country on the nineteenth, the men
cooeying as before.
We explored every open space; and we looked into many bushes, but in
vain.
I continued my journey far to the southward in order to ascertain what
water was nearest in that direction, as it was probable, were any found,
that Mr. Cunningham, if alive, must have reached it, and I had in vain
sought his track on the other side of the country. I soon came to
undulating ground or low hills of quartzose gravel without any grass,
consisting of unabraded small angular fragments of quartz. I observed a
few trees of the ironbark eucalyptus and pines or callitris on the
highest grounds. At twenty miles from our camp we crossed a grassy flat,
in which we at length found a chain of ponds falling to the
south-south-east, and also about them were recent marks of natives.
INTERVIEW WITH TWO NATIVES.
At length I espied two at a distance as I proceeded along the valley. In
vain we cooeyed and beckoned to them to approach; it was clear they would
not come to us; on seeing which I left the men and horses and walked
towards them, carrying a green bough before me. They seemed at once to
understand this emblem of peace; for as soon as I was near enough for
them to see it they laid down their spears and waddies, and sat down on
the ground to receive me. Not a word however could they understand, being
evidently quite strangers to the colonists. They were both rather old
men, but very athletic, and of commanding air and stature, the body of
one was painted with pipe-clay, that of the other with yellow ochre; and
through these tints their well-defined muscles, firm as those of some
antique torso, stood out in bold relief in the beams of the setting sun.
The two made a fine group on which dress would have been quite
superfluous, and absolutely a blot on the picture.
No gesture of mine could convey the idea with which I wished so much to
impress them, of my search for ANOTHER WHITE MAN, and after using every
kind of gesture in vain, I made a bow in despair and departed. They rose
at the same time, apparently glad (from fear) to see me going, and
motioned as if to say you may depart now, we are friends. One of them who
sat behind and who appeared to be the older of the two had a bone-handled
table-knife stuck in the band over his forehead; one had also an iron
tomahawk. The rest of the tribe were concealed about, as we heard their
cooeys, but no others ventured to appear. I thought I could not give them
further proof of no harm being intended to them than by quietly going on
my way, and I hoped that this friendly demonstration might remove any
apprehensions respecting Cunningham if he chanced to meet the tribe. The
greatest danger to be apprehended from natives is on a stranger first
approaching them when, chiefly from fear, they are apt to act on the
offensive.
Continuing on the same line I crossed another small watercourse falling
north-east; and beyond it were hills of mica-schist and quartz, which
sloped rather boldly to the southward. We then entered one of the finest
tracts of forest land I ever saw. It was there three miles in width, and
bounded on the south by another low hill of quartzose gravel, the soil of
which was indifferent. We at last tied up our horses on a little patch of
forest land, and laid down under a few boughs, as it was quite dark and
began to rain.
RANGE OF PORPHYRY.
April 22.
After a fruitless ride of twelve more miles still further southward in
pursuit of distant columns of smoke, we turned our horses' heads towards
the camp on a bearing of North 56 degrees East, in which direction some
summits appeared. We crossed much good whinstone land, and arrived at a
small ridge where I ascended a hill consisting of a reddish granite or
porphyry. From this height I again saw Harvey's and Croker's ranges and
various hills to the southward, but I was disappointed in the view of the
western horizon, which was confined to a very flat-topped woody range. I
took as many angles as I could from a round pinnacle of porphyry which
barely afforded standing room.
From this hill we saw smoke near another eminence which bore North 36
degrees East, distant about seven miles; and in that direction we
proceeded (as it led homewards) but twilight overtook us as we crossed
its side, on which the bushes appeared to have been recently burnt.
This hill consisted of a rock resembling felspar, and was connected with
the former, which was of granite, by low hills consisting of schistus and
trap. The former had good grass about it, and produced a chain of
well-filled ponds, but here we found no water, having arrived so late.
The country in general was (in point of grass at least) much better than
the rotten ground on the banks of the Bogan. The water also, although
scarce, was much better, and I heartily regretted that it was not in my
power to proceed, according to my original plan, along this higher
ground, in my progress towards the Darling.
April 23.
Early this morning I ascended the hill although much incommoded by my
sprained ankle, which obliged me to ride my horse over rocks to the very
summit. I could perceive no more smoke. The Canobolas were just visible
to the right of Mount Juson. The height on which I stood seemed to be the
furthest interior point of this chain whence those hills could be seen.
We left the summit at nine o'clock, and proceeded towards our route on a
bearing of North 17 degrees East. At ten miles we halted to allow the
horses to pick some green grass in a casuarina scrub; and then, after
riding two miles further, we reached our marked route, at about three
miles back from Bullock creek. We saw no traces on it of the men I had
sent back, for which I was at a loss to account; but I readily turned
every circumstance, even my own ill success, in favour of the expectation
that I should find Mr. Cunningham in the camp on my return: thus hope
grew even out of disappointment.
MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOUND.
There however I learned that the two men sent back had at length found
Mr. Cunningham's track exactly where we had at first so diligently sought
for it, and that they had traced it into the country which I had twice
traversed in search of him in vain, and, more distressing than all, that
they had been compelled to leave the track the preceding evening for want
of rations! They had been however sent back to take it up, and we
anxiously awaited the result.
April 24.
Late in the evening the two men (The Doctor and Murray) returned, having
lost all further trace of Mr. Cunningham in a small oak scrub. They had
distinctly seen the track of the dog with him, and that of his own steps
beside those of the horse, as if he had been leading it.
MR. LARMER AND A PARTY SENT TO TRACE IT.
April 25.
Early this morning I despatched Mr. Larmer and The Doctor, Muirhead and
Whiting, supplied with four days' provisions and water. The party was
directed to look well around the scrub, and on discovering the track to
follow it, wherever it led, until they found Mr. Cunningham or his
remains; for in such a country I began to despair of discovering him
alive after so long an absence. They did not return until the evening of
the 28th, when all they brought of Mr. Cunningham was his saddle and
bridle, whip, one glove, two straps, and a piece of paper folded like a
letter inside of which were cut (as with a penknife) the letters N.E.
MR. CUNNINGHAM'S TRACK FOLLOWED FOR 70 MILES, HIS HORSE FOUND DEAD.
Mr. Larmer reported that, having easily found the track of the horse
beyond the scrub, they had followed it until they came to where the horse
lay dead, having still the saddle on and the bridle in its mouth; the
whip and straps had been previously found, and from these circumstances,
the tortuous track of the horse, and the absence of Mr. Cunningham's own
footsteps for some way from where the horse was found; it was considered
that he had either left the animal in despair, or that it had got away
from him. At all events it had evidently died for want of water; but the
fate of its unfortunate rider was still a mystery.
HIS OWN FOOTSTEPS TRACED.
It appeared from Mr. Larmer's map of Mr. Cunningham's track that he had
deviated from our line after crossing Bullock creek, and had proceeded
about fourteen miles to the north-west where marks of his having tied up
his horse and lain down induced the party to believe that he had there
passed the first dreary night of his wandering.
From that point he appeared to have intended to return and, by the zigzag
course he took, that he had either been travelling in the dark, or
looking for his own track, that he might retrace it. In this manner his
steps actually approached within a mile of our route, but in such a
manner that he appeared to have been going south while we were travelling
north (on the 18th). Thus he had continued to travel southward, or
south-south-west, full 14 miles, crossing his own track not far from
where he first quitted our route. On his left he had the dry channel
(Bullock creek) with the water-gumtrees (eucalypti) full in view, though
without ever looking into it for water.* Had he observed this channel and
followed it downwards he must have found our route; and had he traced it
upwards he must have come upon the waterholes where I had an interview
with the two natives, and thus, perhaps, have fallen in with me. From the
marks of his horse having been tied to four different trees at the
extreme southern point which he reached, it appeared that he had halted
there some time, or passed there the second night. That point was not
much more than half a mile to the westward of my track out on the 21st.
From it he had returned, keeping still more to the westward, so that he
actually fell in with my track of the 19th, and appeared to have followed
it backwards for upwards of a mile, when he struck off at a rightangle to
the north-west.
(*Footnote. These trees being remarkable from their white shining trunks,
resembling those of beech trees; a circumstance to which, as connected
with the presence of water, I had just before drawn his attention.)
It was impossible to account for this fatal deviation, even had night, as
most of the party supposed, overtaken him there. It seemed that he had
found my paper directing him to trace my steps backwards, and that he had
been doing this where the paper marked N.E. had been found, and which I
therefore considered a sort of reply to my note. If we were right as to
the nights, this must have taken place on the very day on which I had
passed that way, and when my eye eagerly caught at every dark-coloured
distant object in hopes of finding him! After the deviation to the
north-west it appears that Mr. Cunningham made some detours about a clear
plain, at one side of which his horse had been tied for a considerable
time, and where it is probable he had passed his third night, as there
were marks where he had lain down in the long dry grass. From this point
only his horse's tracks had been traced, not his own steps which had
hitherto accompanied them; and from the twisting and turning of the
course to where it lay dead, we supposed he had not been with the horse
after it left this place. The whip and straps seemed to have been trod
off from the bridle-reins to which Mr. Cunningham was in the habit of
tying his whip, and to which also the straps had been probably attached,
to afford the animal more room to feed when fastened to trees.
To the place therefore where Mr. Cunningham's own steps had last been
seen I hastened on the morning of the 29th April with the same men,
Muirhead and Whiting, who had so ably and humanely traced all the tracks
of the horse, through a distance of 70 miles.
The spot seemed well chosen as a halting-place, being at a few trees
which advanced beyond the rest of the wood into a rather extensive plain:
a horse tied there could have been seen from almost any part around, and
it is not improbable that Mr. Cunningham left the animal there fastened,
and that it had afterwards got loose, and had finally perished for want
of water.
We soon found the print of Mr. Cunningham's footsteps in two places: in
one, coming towards the trees where the horse had been tied, from a thick
scrub east of them; in the other, leading from these trees in a direction
straight northward. Pursuing the latter steps we found them continuous in
that direction and, indeed, remarkably long and firm, the direction being
preserved even through thick brushes.
This course was direct for the Bogan; and it was evident that, urged by
intense thirst, he had at length set off with desperate speed for the
river, having parted from his horse, where the party had supposed. That
he had killed and eaten the dog in the scrub, whence his footsteps had
been seen to emerge was probable, as no trace of the animal was visible
beyond it; and as it was difficult otherwise to account for his own
vigorous step, after an abstinence of three days and three nights. I then
regretted that I had not at the time examined the scrub but, when we were
at his last camp (the trees on the plain) we were most interested in Mr.
Cunningham's further course.
This we traced more than two miles, during which he had never stopped,
even to look behind towards the spot where, had he left his horse, he
might still have seen him. Having at length lost the track on some very
hard ground we exhausted the day in a vain search for it.
MR. LARMER MEETS A TRIBE.
On returning to the camp I found that Mr. Larmer, whom I had sent with
two armed men down the Bogan, had nearly been surrounded, at only three
miles from our camp, by a tribe of natives carrying spears. Amongst these
were two who had been with us on the previous day, and who called to the
others to keep back. They told Mr. Larmer that they had seen Mr.
Cunningham's track in several parts of the bed of the Bogan; that he had
not been killed but had gone to the westward (pointing down the Bogan)
with the Myall (i.e. wild) Blackfellows. Thus we had reason to hope that
our friend had at least escaped the fate of his unfortunate horse by
reaching the Bogan. This was what we wished; but no one could have
supposed that he would have followed the river downwards, into the jaws
of the wild natives, rather than upwards. His movements show that he
believed he had deviated to the eastward of our route rather than to the
westward; and this mistake accounts for his having gone down the Bogan.
Had he not pursued that fatal course, or had he killed the horse rather
than the dog, and remained stationary, his life would have been saved.
The result of our twelve days' delay and search was only the discovery
that, had we pursued our journey down the Bogan, Mr. Cunningham would
have fallen in with our track and rejoined us; and that, while we halted
for him, he had gone ahead of us, and out of reach.
THE FOOTSTEPS TRACED INTO THE CHANNEL OF THE BOGAN.
April 30.
I put the party in movement along the left bank of the Bogan, its general
course being north-west, and about five miles from our camp we crossed
the same solitary line of shoe-marks, seen the day before, and still
going due north! With sanguine hopes we traced it to a pond in the bed of
the river, and the two steps by which Mr. Cunningham first reached water,
and in which he must have stood while allaying his burning thirst, were
very plain in the mud! The scales of some large fish lay upon them, and I
could not but hope that even the most savage natives would have fed a
white man circumstanced as Mr. Cunningham must then have been. Overseer
Burnett, Whiting and The Doctor proceeded in search of him down the river
while the party continued, as well as the dense scrubs of casuarinae
permitted, in a direction parallel to its course. Just as we found Mr.
Cunningham's footsteps a column of smoke arose from the woods to the
southward, and I went in search of the natives, Bulger accompanying me
with his musket. After we had advanced in the direction of the smoke two
miles it entirely disappeared, and we could neither hear nor see any
other traces of human beings in these dismal solitudes. The density of
the scrubs had obliged me to make some detours to the left, so that I did
not reach the Bogan till long after it was quite dark. Those who had gone
in search of Mr. Cunningham did not arrive at our camp that night
although we sent up several skyrockets and fired some shots.
May 1.
The party came in from tracing Mr. Cunningham's steps along the dry bed
of the Bogan, and we were glad to find that the impressions continued.
There appeared to be the print of a small naked foot of someone either
accompanying or tracking Mr. Cunningham. At one place were the remains of
a small fire, and the shells of a few mussels, as if he had eaten them.
It was now most desirable to get ahead of this track, and I lost no time
in proceeding, to the extent of another day's journey, parallel to the
Bogan or, rather, so as to cut off a great bend of it.
DEATH OF THE KANGAROO.
We crossed some good undulating ground, open and grassy, the scenery
being finer, from the picturesque grouping and character of the trees,
than any we had hitherto seen. On one of these open tracts I wounded a
female kangaroo at a far shot of my rifle, and the wretched animal was
finally killed after a desperate fight with the dogs.
REFLECTIONS.
There is something so affecting in the silent and deadly struggle between
the harmless kangaroo and its pursuers that I have sometimes found it
difficult to reconcile the sympathy such a death excites with our
possession of canine teeth, or our necessities, however urgent they might
be.
The huntsman's pleasure is no more, indeed, when such an animal dies thus
before him, persecuted alike by the civilised and the savage. In this
instance a young one, warm from the pouch of its mother, frisked about at
a distance, as if unwilling to leave her, although it finally escaped.
The nights were cold, and I confess that thoughts of the young kangaroo
did obtrude at dinner, and were mingled with my kangaroo-steak.
As we turned to our right in the afternoon in search of the Bogan, we
encountered some casuarina scrub, to avoid which we had to wind a little,
so that we only made the river at dusk, and at a part of the bed which
was dry. Water, as we afterwards found, was near enough upwards, but the
two parties sent in the evening having by mistake both sought for it in
the other direction, we had none till early in the morning.
FIVE NATIVES BROUGHT TO ME WITH A SILK HANDKERCHIEF IN THEIR POSSESSION.
May 2.
Five natives were brought to me by Whiting and Tom Jones, on suspicion;
one of them having a silk pocket-handkerchief which they thought might
have belonged to Mr. Cunningham.
The native wore it fastened over his shoulders, and seemed so careless
about our scrutiny that I could not think he had obtained the
handkerchief by any violence; and still less from Mr. Cunningham, as it
was engrained with a smoky tinge, apparently derived from having been
long in his possession. No mark was upon it, and the only information we
could obtain as to where they got it, was the answer "old fellow," and
pointing to the north-east. As these men had been at some out-station of
ours and could speak a little English, and as they had a young kangaroo
dog called by them olony (Maloney) I did not think at the time that the
handkerchief had belonged to Mr. Cunningham; and the men appointed to
attend him declared they had never seen that handkerchief in his hands.
THEIR NAMES.
These five natives were overtaken suddenly at a waterhole two miles lower
down the Bogan. The name of him with the handkerchief was Werrajouit,
those of the other four Yarree Buckenba and Tackijally Buckenba
(brothers) Youimooba, and Werrayoy (youths). The most intelligent was
Tackijally, and even he understood but little, not enough to comprehend
anything I said about the white man lost in the bush.
To secure their goodwill and best services however I immediately gave
them three tomahawks; and when Yarree Buckenba took a new handkerchief
from my pocket I presented him with it. They accompanied us when we moved
forward to encamp nearer water.
THE PARTY HALT AT CUDDULDURY.
We passed a small pond, the name of which was Burdenda, and afterwards
came to Cudduldury where we encamped with the intention of making what
further search we could for Mr. Cunningham.
INTERVIEW WITH THE KING OF THE BOGAN.
While the men were pitching the tents at this place I rode with the
natives, at their request, towards some ponds lower down. There, by their
cooeys and their looks, they seemed to be very anxious about somebody in
the bush beyond the Bogan. I expected to see their chief; at all events
from these silent woods something was to emerge in which my guides were
evidently much interested, as they kept me waiting nearly an hour for
The unseen genius of the wood.
At length a man of mild but pensive countenance, athletic form, and
apparently about fifty years of age, came forth, leading a very fine boy,
so dressed with green boughs that only his head and legs remained
uncovered; a few emu-feathers being mixed with the wild locks of his
hair. I received him in this appropriate costume, as a personification of
the green bough, or emblem of peace.*
(*Footnote. The Grecians used to supplicate with green boughs in their
hands, and crowns upon their heads, chiefly of olive or laurel, whence
Statius says:
Mite nemus circa ----
Vittatae laurus, et supplicis arbor olivae.)
One large feather decked the brow of the chief; which with his nose, was
tinged with yellow ochre. Having presented the boy to me, he next
advanced with much formality towards the camp, having Tackijally on his
right, the boy walking between, and rather in advance of both, each
having a hand on his shoulder.
The boy's face had a holiday look of gladness, but the chief remained so
silent and serious, without however any symptoms of alarm, that my
recollections of him then, and as he appeared next day, when better
acquainted, are as of two distinct persons.
To this personage all the others paid the greatest deference, and it is
worthy of remark that they always refused to tell his name, or that of
several others, while those of some of the tribe were familiar in our
mouths as household words. The boy, who was called Talambe Nadoo, was not
his son; but he took particular care of him. This tribe gloried in the
name of Myall, which the natives nearer to the colony apply in terror and
abhorrence to the wild blackfellows, to whom they usually attribute the
most savage propensities.
Not a word could this chief of the Myalls speak besides his own language;
and his slow and formal approach indicated that it was undoubtedly the
first occasion on which he had seen white men. It was evident at once
that he was not the man to wander to stock-stations; and that, whatever
others of his race might do, he preferred an undisputed sway:
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds.
Numbers of the tribe came about us, but they retired at the chief's
bidding. Not one however except those first met with in the Bogan, could
speak any of the jargon by which the natives usually communicate with the
stockmen.
MUIRHEAD AND WHITING SENT TO EXAMINE THE DRY CHANNEL OF THE RIVER.
We could not make them understand that we were in search of one of our
party who was lost; neither could Muirhead and Whiting, who were
returning to follow up Mr. Cunningham's track, prevail on any of these
natives to accompany them.
May 3.
The two men having departed to take up Mr. Cunningham's track, I must
here observe that the footsteps had not been discovered in the Bogan,
either at our last camp or at this, although Whiting and Tom Jones had
been in search of them when they found the man with a handkerchief; it
was therefore most important to ascertain, if possible, where and under
what circumstances the footsteps disappeared. The skill with which these
men had followed the slightest impressions was remarkable; and I fixed my
hopes on the result of their further exertions.
SEARCH EXTENDED TO THE PLAINS OF THE LACHLAN.
I cannot say that I then expected they would find Mr. Cunningham,
conceiving it was more probable that he had left the Bogan and gone
northward towards our stations on the Macquarie, a river distant only a
short day's journey from the Bogan. My anxiety about him was embittered
with regret at the inauspicious delay of our journey which his
disappearance had occasioned; and I was too impatient on both subjects to
be able to remain inactive at the camp. I therefore set out, followed by
two men on horseback, with the intention of reconnoitring the country to
the southward, taking with us provisions for two days. After riding 17
miles, the first eight through thick scrub, we came into a more open and
elevated country where we saw pigeons, as sign that water was not distant
on some side of us. The hills were covered with a quartzose soil,
containing angular fragments. The Callitris pyramidalis and the Sterculia
heterophylla were among the trees. At 19 miles we crossed some dry ponds
in open forest ground, and we then continued along fine flats for five
miles more, when we again intersected the dry bed of the creek.
CAMP OF NATIVES.
Still pursuing the same direction, and having the watercourse near us on
the left, we passed (at the distance of 26 miles) some native fires; but
I was too anxious to examine the country before me to stop, although I
saw some of the natives seated by them.
PASS THE NIGHT IN A HOLLOW WITHOUT WATER.
We soon after ascended a low ridge of mica-slate; beyond which we came
again on the dry creek, and after crossing it several times we finally
lay down for the night in its bed (which afforded the best grass) 33
miles from the party at Cudduldury. Although this watercourse was
perfectly dry throughout yet it was an interesting feature in a valley
enclosed on each side by undulating hills of mica-slate; and I thought of
continuing in its course next morning, in hopes it might at last lead to
some chain of ponds falling westward.
May 4.
Our horses had fared but indifferently as to grass, and they had no water
until this morning when we spared to each about half a gallon of what we
carried; but this supply seemed only to make them more thirsty. As soon
as it was clear daylight we continued in the direction of the creek; but
although its bed deepened and at one place (much trodden by the natives)
we discovered a hole which had only recently dried up, still we found no
water. Further on the recent marks of the natives and their huts also
were numerous; but how they existed in this parched country was the
question! We saw that around many trees the roots had been taken up, and
we found them without the bark and cut into short clubs or billets, but
for what purpose we could not then discover. At eleven o'clock I changed
my course to 300 degrees from north and, after travelling about three
miles in that direction, I descried a goodly hill on my left, and soon
after several others, one of which was bare of trees on the summit. After
so long a journey over unvarying flats, we had at length come rather
unawares, as it seemed, into a hilly country, the heights of which were
bold, rocky, and of considerable elevation. I should estimate the summit
of that which we ascended was 730 feet above the lower country at its
base. The dry creek which had led us towards these hills from such a
distance northward, had vanished through them somewhere to our left; and,
bold as the range was, still we could see no better promise of water than
what this seemed to afford.
VIEW TOWARDS MOUNT GRANARD.
The summit up which we forced our horses over very sharp rocks commanded
a most extensive and magnificent view of hills, both eastward and
westward. The country in the north, whence we had come, was nevertheless
higher, although the horizon there was unbroken. Southward the general
line of horizon was a low level on which the hills terminated, as if it
had been the sea. There, I had no doubt, flowed the river Lachlan, and,
probably, one of the highest of the hills was Mount Granard of Oxley.
Towards the east the most elevated hill bore 142 degrees 30 minutes from
North, and was at a distance of about 12 miles. It was a remarkable mass
of yellow rock, naked and herbless, as if nature there had not yet
finished her work. That hill had an isolated appearance; others to the
westward were pointed, and smoke arose from almost every summit, even
from the highest part of the mass on which we stood. Some sharp-edged
rocks prevented us from riding to where the smoke appeared, and I was too
lame to go on foot. No natives were visible, and I could not comprehend
what they could be all about on the various rugged summits whence smoke
arose; as these people rather frequent valleys and the vicinity of ponds
of water. The region I now overlooked was beautifully diversified with
hill and dale, still I could not discover much promise of water; but as
smoke ascended from one flat to the westward I conjectured that we might
there find a pool, but it was too far distant to be then of use to us.
The general direction of hills appeared to be 318 degrees from north;
that of the continuation westward of the flat higher land, North 343
degrees. A broad and extensive smoke was rising from the country where we
had slept and towards which I was about to return by a direct course from
this hill (North 56 degrees East).
A SECOND NIGHT WITHOUT WATER.
Accordingly we travelled until night overtook us in an extensive
casuarina scrub, where we tied our horses, and made our fire, after a
ride of at least 40 miles.
AWOKE BY THE FOREST ON FIRE.
During the night we were made aware, by the crackling of falling timber,
that a conflagration was approaching, and one of us by turns watched,
while the others slept with their arms at hand. The state of our horses,
from want of water, was by no means promising for the long journey which
was necessary to enable us to reach home next day; a circumstance on
which the lives of these animals in all probability depended, especially
as the grass here was very indifferent. We had also little more than a
pint of water for each horse; and it was difficult to give that scanty
allowance to any one of the animals in sight of the others, so furious
were they on seeing it.
May 5.
Proceeding in search of our first day's track we entered almost
immediately the burning forest. We perceived that much pains had been
taken by the natives to spread the fire, from its burning in separate
places.
Huge trees fell now and then with a crashing sound, loud as thunder,
while others hung just ready to fall, and as the country was chiefly open
forest, the smoke, at times, added much sublimity to the scenery.
INTERVIEW WITH THREE NATIVES.
We travelled five miles through this fire and smoke, all the while in
expectation of coming unawares upon the natives who had been so busy in
annoying us. At length we saw the huts which we had passed the day
before, and soon after three natives, who immediately got behind trees as
we advanced; but although one ran off, yet the others answered my cooey,
and I went towards them on foot, with a green branch. They seemed busy,
digging at the root of a large tree; but on seeing me advance they came
forward with a fire-stick and sat down; I followed their example, but the
cordiality of our meeting could be expressed only by mutual laughing.
They were young men, yet one was nearly blind from ophthalmia or filth. I
called up one of my men and gave a tomahawk to the tallest of these
youths, making what signs I could to express my thirst and want of water.
ROOTS OF TREES SUCKED BY THE NATIVES.
Looking as if they understood me, they hastened to resume their work, and
I discovered that they dug up the roots for the sake of drinking the sap.
It appeared that they first cut these roots into billets, and then
stripped off the bark or rind, which they sometimes chew, after which,
holding up the billet and applying one end to the mouth, they let the
juice drop into it. We now understood for what purpose the short clubs
which we had seen the day before had been cut. The youths resumed their
work the moment they had received the tomahawk without looking more at us
or at the tool. I thought this nonchalance rather singular, and
attributed their assiduity either to a desire to obtain for us some of
the juice, which would have been creditable to their feelings; or to the
necessity for serving some more powerful native who had set them to that
work. One had gone, apparently to call the tribe, so I continued my
journey without further delay. We soon regained our track of the first
day, and I followed it with some impatience back to the camp.
HORSES REACH THE CAMP WITH GREAT DIFFICULTY.
My horse had been ill on the second day, and as this was the third on
which it, as well as the others, had gone without water, they were so
weak that, had we been retarded by any accident another night in the
bush, we must have lost them all. They could be driven on only with
difficulty, nevertheless we reached the camp before sunset.
PART OF MR. CUNNINGHAM'S COAT FOUND.
The tidings brought by the men sent after Mr. Cunningham's footsteps were
still most unsatisfactory. They had followed the river bed back for the
first twelve miles from our camp without finding in it a single pond.
They had traced the continuation of his track to where it disappeared
near some recent fires where many natives had been encamped. Near one of
these fires they found a portion of the skirt or selvage of Mr.
Cunningham's coat; numerous small fragments of his map of the colony;
and, in the hollow of a tree, some yellow printed paper in which he used
to carry the map. The men examined the ground for half a mile all around
without finding more of his footsteps, or any traces of him besides those
mentioned. It was possible and indeed, as I then thought, probable, that
having been deprived by the natives of his coat, he might have escaped
from them by going northward towards some of the various cattle stations
on the Macquarie. I learnt that when the men returned with these vestiges
of poor Cunningham, there was great alarm amongst the natives, and
movements by night, when the greater part of the tribe decamped, and
amongst them the fellow with the handkerchief who never again appeared.
The chief, or king (as our people called him) continued with us, and
seemed quite unconscious of anything wrong. This tribe seemed too far
from the place where the native camp had been to be suspected of any
participation in the ill treatment with which we had too much reason to
fear Mr. Cunningham had met. As we had no language to explain even that
one of our party was missing, I could only hope that, by treating these
savages kindly, they might be more disposed, should they ever see or hear
of Mr. Cunningham, to assist him to rejoin us. To delay the party longer
was obviously unnecessary; and indeed the loss of more time must have
defeated the object of the expedition, considering our limited stock of
provisions.
I therefore determined on proceeding by short journeys along the Bogan,
accompanied by these natives, not altogether without the hope that Mr.
Cunningham might still be brought to us by some of them.