Proceed down the river from Reach Hopeless.
Meet watering party.
One of the men deserts.
Kangaroo shooting.
The writer left to complete survey of river.
Silk cotton-tree.
Fertility of Whirlwind Plains.
Attempt of one of the crew to jump overboard.
Reach the Ship.
Suffer from sore eyes.
Lieutenant Emery finds water.
Geological specimens.
Bird's Playhouse.
Tides.
Strange weather.
Range of Barometer.
Accounted for by proximity of Port Essington.
Hurricane.
Effects of the latter.
Dreary country behind Water Valley.
Fruitless attempt to weigh ship's anchors.
Obliged to slip from both of them.
Proceed down the river.
Complete survey of Main Channel.
Visit south Entrance Point of river.
Discover a number of dead turtles.
Cross over to Point Pearce.
Mr. Bynoe shoots a new finch.
The Author speared.
Pursued by natives.
Escape.
Flight of natives.
Armed party pursue them.
Night of suffering.
General description of the Victoria.
Gouty-stem tree and fruit.
REUNION OF THE BOATS.
November 13.
The day was devoted to fixing the position of several of the surrounding
hills; and in the afternoon we obtained observations for rating the
chronometers: I found that one by French, which I had worn in my pocket,
had gone most admirably. Captain Wickham joined us in the gig after dark.
The evening was cloudy, and we had a sharp squall at midnight from
south-east.
November 14.
Both boats were moved off down the river at daylight, and ere it had
passed away, the ford above Steep Head was left behind. We found that the
watering boats had not got over the shallow below, so that we spent the
night together; and a merry party we made. We talked over all we had
seen, and the hills that rose around echoed back for the first time the
laugh and the song of civilized man, and our strange language was
repeated as glibly by the rocks of Australia as if they were those of our
own native land. So true is it that nature is ever ready to commune
familiarly with us, whereas by our very brethren we are looked upon as
enemies to shun, and are incapable of making ourselves understood by
them.
A DESERTER.
When the morning of the 15th broke it was discovered that one of the men
belonging to the watering party had deserted during the night. He had
been guilty of this offence once before, in order to steal the spirits
which had been buried for the use of my exploring party. What however
could have induced him to take this step a second time--risking, without
any apparent motive, the danger of being left on a strange, and almost
uninhabited coast, it would be difficult even to suggest. Parties were
immediately despatched in quest of him, and at length, after an arduous
search, he was found behind a large sandstone rock on the side of a hill;
having revisited the spot where the provisions had been concealed for the
use of my party, in the hope of obtaining possession of his god the
rum-keg. He had evidently prepared for desertion: clothing, biscuit, and
fishing-tackle being among the stores with which he had made off. This
despicable wretch--for such must everyone consider the man who would
steal his shipmates' provisions, when each had only his bare
allowance--had nothing to say, either in extenuation or explanation of
his conduct. Most fortunate for him was it that our humane exertions to
discover his retreat were successful; he could not long have subsisted by
himself, and even had he been so happy as to fall in with, and receive
hospitable welcome from the natives, he must of necessity have lingered
out a life of toilsome, cheerless hardship while a companion of their
wanderings, and when unfitted for this by old age, he would, according to
the custom of the country, have been left to die, unfriended and alone,
upon the spot where his last weary efforts failed. The delay occasioned
by this extraordinary and unlooked-for event, made it late by the time
all the boats were fairly on their way down the river. The wind was light
from the north-east, and the temperature about 90 degrees, at 9 o'clock.
NEW KANGAROO.
I pushed on to gain a station at the commencement of the hills on the
eastern side of Whirlwind Plains, and also, if possible, to shoot a
kangaroo to send to the ship:* I was so fortunate as to secure two; one
of a new species, very small, and of a dark brown colour, with coarse
hair, I found in rocky land, which it appears solely to inhabit, as it
was also found near the ship. As, however, like the generality of
kangaroos, this species only move of their own accord in the night time,
they are rarely seen, and but one good specimen was obtained by
Lieutenant Emery, who brought it to England, and submitted it to Mr.
Gould, who has described it as Petrogale concinna. It is now in the
British Museum.
(*Footnote. I had now become quite an adept in this kind of sport. My
plan was to direct a man to walk along near the river, where they are
generally found, whilst I kept considerably above him and a little in
advance, so that all those that were started running up from the bank in
the curved direction, habitual with all kangaroos, passed within shot.)
The height we visited was of coarse sandstone formation, and attained an
elevation of 150 feet. As I was left to examine some parts of the river
which had been passed in the night, I had a further opportunity of
determining the value, and estimating the fertility of Whirlwind Plains.
My examination only confirmed my previous conjectures in favour of the
capabilities of the soil. From what I had seen at Port Essington, as
ground considered favourable for the growth of cotton, there can be no
doubt that on these plains it would thrive much better; but the soil on
the Victoria is of too fertile a character to bear any comparison with
that of Cobourg Peninsula.
SILK COTTON-TREE.
At Reach Hopeless, and at other points of the important stream I am
describing we observed numerous specimens of a kind of silk cotton-tree
(Bombax): the diameter was sometimes as great as twenty inches; and it
not unfrequently rose to the height of twenty or thirty feet, though
generally shorter. The pods were of an oval shape, and about two inches
and a half in length; each pod was in three divisions and full of a silky
cotton, with the seeds not imbedded but held at the extremity of the
fibres. I brought home a specimen and presented it to Sir William Hooker,
of the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, with whom I have since had some
correspondence on the subject. He informs me that the plant is one
hitherto undescribed; but that Sir Joseph Banks met with it in Captain
Cook's voyage.
November 17.
We continued our descent of the river: stopping from time to time to
complete the survey. In the end of Long Reach we noticed that the stream
ran up two hours after high-water. After securing some observations for
latitude under Station Peak in the early part of the night, we proceeded
further down the river, delighted to escape from that mosquito-haunted
neighbourhood.
EFFECTS OF DRINKING SALT-WATER.
November 18.
At day-break I was very much distressed and astonished to see one of the
men on a sudden start up under the influence of delirium, and attempt to
throw himself into the water, from which the combined strength of three
or four of the crew with difficulty restrained him. He was one of the
best men I had with me; his sudden and serious illness had doubtless been
produced by the draughts of saltwater which he had swallowed during the
night. He had been accustomed to indulge in very liberal potations while
we were up the river, and now, when from necessity the allowance was
restricted to a gallon per day, he had most foolishly attempted in the
dark to quench his thirst with the salt waters of the advancing tide. In
the afternoon we rejoined the ship, and he was placed under the care of
Mr. Bynoe; but it was some time before he fully recovered from the
effects of his rash experiment. The day was very oppressive, the
thermometer being 105 degrees in the shade, and there was no wind. We
were cordially greeted by our shipmates upon our return, and both Mr.
Forsyth and myself enjoyed the luxury of a night's rest in our hammocks;
a most agreeable change after the hot stones upon which we had generally
been compelled to court repose during our exploration. We had both
suffered much inconvenience from the attacks of flies upon our visual
organs, necessarily exposed and undefended as they had been when we were
occupied during the observations and in viewing the strange scenes of the
last eighteen days. The irritation upon the lids produced a copious
discharge, which fairly sealed them up at night; so that, at last, in
order to have them ready for immediate use, I found it requisite to sleep
with a wet linen cloth covering each eye.
We heard with great satisfaction that Lieutenant Emery's search for water
had been completely successful, and that two large wells had been dug in
the valley, abreast of which the ship was anchored. During our absence
the barometer had ranged between 30.08 and 29.97; the minimum height
being always at noon. There had been several sharp squalls from the
eastward, beginning at south-east and ending at north-east, with a few
showers of rain. North-west, or seabreezes, were regular near the changes
of the moon, and of greater duration. No meteors were observed since the
16th, but between the 7th and 11th they were very numerous.
GEOLOGICAL SPECIMENS.
November 20.
I went ashore to collect a few geological specimens: the sandstone which
prevailed everywhere was in a decomposed state, but there was a very
decided dip in the strata to the south-east, of about 30 degrees. On the
east side of Water Valley, I found the same kind of slate, noticed before
at Curiosity Peak: but what most interested me was a bituminous substance
found near the bottom of the wells recently dug, and 23 feet from the
surface of the ground. It was apparently of a clayey nature when first
brought up, but became hard and dark upon exposure to the air, and
ignited quickly when put into the flame of a candle. The sides of Water
Valley were very precipitous, and nearly 300 feet high: a growth of palms
marked the spot, and served to indicate our wells. We here saw also the
same fruit I had noticed on Curiosity Peak.
BIRD'S PLAYHOUSE.
I found matter for conjecture in noticing a number of twigs with their
ends stuck into the ground, which was strewed over with shells, and their
tops brought together so as to form a small bower; this was 2 1/2 feet
long, 1 1/2 foot wide at either end. It was not until my next visit to
Port Essington that I thought this anything but some Australian mother's
toy to amuse her child: there I was asked, one day, to go and see the
bird's playhouse, when I immediately recognised the same kind of
construction I had seen at the Victoria River: the bird* was amusing
itself by flying backwards and forwards, taking a shell alternately from
each side, and carrying it through the archway in its mouth.
(*Footnote. Figured in Mr. Gould's work as Chlamydera nuchalis.)
November 22.
The moon being full to-day we noticed that the tides were very strong:
particularly the flood-stream, which came in bores, and sometimes swept
by the ship at the rate of 6 1/2 knots, while the ebb did not exceed 4
1/2: the greatest rise also to-day was 24 feet.
SINGULAR CHANGE OF WINDS.
November 25.
My journal of this day begins with remarking a very extraordinary change
that took place in the winds. Instead of the usual fresh North-West
breeze after ten A.M., there was a moderate one from East-South-East.
This drew round gradually by east to north. At sunset the weather was
very gloomy; but the barometer indicated nothing, ranging as usual. In
the early part of the night the wind was light from North-North-West,
changing suddenly at midnight to a fresh breeze from South-East with
rain. When the morning broke, it had veered to East-South-East with
squalls from East-North-East and heavy rain. Dense masses of clouds
covered the sky, enveloping everything in gloom; which, though so far
agreeable as to reduce the temperature to 75 degrees, had a most singular
effect after the constant bright sunny days we had experienced. There was
still no unusual change in the barometer, the maximum being 30.06, and
the minimum 29.98 at two P.M. The night was squally without rain.
HURRICANE AT PORT ESSINGTON.
November 27.
The day broke with an appearance of fine weather; patches of blue sky
peeped between the heavy masses of clouds, and expanding as the day
advanced, left us at sunset with a cloudless vault of blue overhead. The
barometer was lower throughout the whole of this day than it had been at
all, being at two P.M. 29.91. When this strange weather first began I was
disposed to consider it to be of the same character as that which I had
before observed to occur within a few days of the change of the moon. But
its duration and occasional violence led me to think otherwise, and I
afterwards found my conclusions to be correct; as at this very time a
hurricane visited Port Essington, distant 270 miles, in a North 30
degrees East direction.*
(*Footnote. The following account of the effects of this hurricane at
Port Essington is from the pen of Captain Stanley, and has been published
in the Nautical Magazine for September 1841.
Monday 25th.
A strong breeze set in from the south-east with drizzling rain, but as
the barometer remained at 29.90, its usual point, and similar weather had
been experienced at the change of the monsoon in 1838, nothing was
apprehended, more particularly as the wind moderated (as had been
expected) at sunset. Between seven and eight o'clock the wind drew round
to the southward, and the barometer began to fall rapidly: at ten it blew
furiously from the same quarter, and the barometer was as low as 29.10;
many of the trees were blown down at this time. At midnight the wind drew
round to the eastward, and blew a perfect hurricane, before which nearly
everything gave way; the trees came down in every part of the settlement;
the marines' houses were all blown down; the church, only finished a
week, shared the same fate: the barometer fell to 28.52.
About two A.M. the wind shifted suddenly to the northward, from which
point for about half-an-hour, its fury was tremendous; the
government-house, built on stone piers, was blown away from them to a
distance of nine feet; the sea rose ten feet and a half, by measurement
afterwards, above the usual high-water mark. H.M.S. Pelorus, having
parted her cables, was driven on shore, and thrown over on her beam ends,
on the north-east point of the settlement, where heeling over 82 degrees,
her starboard side was buried nine feet in the mud, leaving the keel
three feet clear of the ground.**
At daylight the barometer rose slowly to 29.90, the gale moderated, and
the sea went down so fast, that between seven and eight we were able to
send a boat to the assistance of the Pelorus: after eight the breeze
continued to blow strong from the northward for two days, with heavy
rain.
The occurrence of such a hurricane must be very rare, as the natives were
as much astonished as ourselves, and came to beg for shelter: they have
no name for it, and no tradition of anything of the sort having happened
before: the state in which the very extensive fences at Raffles Bay were
in shortly before, must prove that the trees had never been blown down in
the way they were on the 25th of November, since that settlement was
abandoned in 1829.
The extent of the hurricane must have been very limited: at Coepang a
strong gale from the south-west was experienced, and also between Java
and Timor on the 26th, but the wind did not change. Even 18 miles north,
at Vashon Head, the change of wind must have been greater though equal in
force. There the first trees fell with the wind from West-South-West; a
few fell when the wind was east, and most when the wind was north-west.
The Malays have an idea that every fifth year the monsoon is stronger
than usual, but can give no reason for thinking so. According to them
this monsoon ought to have been a strong one.
(**Footnote. The Pelorus was dug out of the mud, and once more got afloat
towards the middle of February following. This immense undertaking was
accomplished by the indefatigable exertion and mechanical skill of her
commander, Captain Kuper, C.B., assisted by Captain Stanley. J.L.S.))
COURSE OF THE STORM.
The bad weather in the Victoria then would appear to have been caused by
the proximity of the southern edge of this storm as it passed to the
westward. The fact of the time when the weather was the worst, having
been the same at Port Essington, and in the Victoria; and of the French
discovery ships meeting it in Torres Strait first, shows the westerly
course of the storm. Its northern edge did not reach Coepang, but a
strong gale from the south-west on the 26th showed that it was passing.
Most probably it took a more southerly course before reaching Timor.*
(*Footnote. We were informed at Timor that hurricanes were never felt
there, but occur once in four or five years to the southward of it. It
may be added that a vessel lost her top-masts in the Port Essington
hurricane, near Sandalwood Island, and that to the southward of Java
hurricanes occur frequently.)
I passed the night on shore, making observations for latitude, and in the
hope also of being able to obtain another specimen of the new small
kangaroo, that being the time when it is generally to be found on the
move. But I did not succeed in this object; and failed also in my
expectation of knocking over one of a large kind seen in the interior. I
left the observation spot for this purpose with the first grey of the
morn, taking an East-North-East direction for about four miles.
DREARY COUNTRY.
The country was most dreary; vast ranges strewn over with huge blocks of
sandstone, rose in desolate grandeur around; chasms, ravines, and thirsty
stony valleys yawned on every side; all was broken, rugged, and arid, as
if the curse of sterility had fallen on the land; in short, the contrast
was complete between this desert place and the country we had so lately
traversed up the river. I was able, accordingly, to procure nothing in
the shape of a fresh meal, save a few black cockatoos and some of the
pigeons of a dark brown colour, with a white patch on the extremity of
the wing, which I have alluded to in the earlier part of the work
relating to King's Sound, as always inhabiting rocky districts and making
a whirring sound, like a partridge, on the wing.
LOSE TWO ANCHORS.
November 29.
This afternoon and the whole of the next day, when the tide suited, we
were endeavouring to weigh the ship's anchors; but they were together
with the cables so imbedded in the bottom, which must have been a
quicksand, that this proved impossible. Had the ship been fitted with
Captain Charles Phillips', R.N., capstan, there would have been a better
chance of succeeding. As it was, after heaving down the ship nineteen
inches by the head, and splitting the hawse pipes, we were ultimately
obliged to leave both behind, and thirty fathoms of cable with one and
fifteen with the other. This circumstance suggested the appropriate name
of Holdfast Reach for this locality; and perhaps in some future
generations, when this part of the world has undergone the changes that
seems destined for it, the archaeologist of Victoria River may in vain
puzzle his wits with speculations concerning the Beagle's anchors.
Whilst at this anchorage, just after dark, flocks of whistling ducks were
constantly heard passing over our heads in a South-West by West
direction, or towards the head of Cambridge Gulf, which led to the
supposition that there was a river in that neighbourhood. We placed the
south point of Water Valley in latitude 15 degrees 13 3/4 minutes South
and longitude 2 degrees 22 minutes West of Port Essington, variation one
degree easterly. Our tidal observation made the time of high-water, at
the full and change of the moon, 9 o'clock, when the mean rise at springs
was sixteen feet, and at neaps ten. The duration of the flood-stream was
seven hours, being two greater than the ebb. The former ran 50 minutes
after high-water, and the latter 30 minutes after low-water. Before
leaving Holdfast Reach, Lieutenant Emery observed one or two natives,
opposite Water Valley, being the only ones that had been seen from the
ship. He endeavoured to obtain an interview, by going up alone towards
them, but they drew off when he got near.
DROP DOWN THE RIVER.
December 1.
We slipped from our last anchor at daylight, and proceeded down the
river. After pirouetting through Whirlpool Reach, we got as far down as
the flats fronting River Peak, above which we anchored near noon. After
having been shut up among rocky ranges for a month, the sight of the sea
horizon was a novelty, and the cool, refreshing breeze, as it came
sweeping over the unbroken expanse of waters, created in us very pleasing
sensations.
Next morning we beat down the main channel, which was called the Queen's,
the deep water varying from five to nine fathoms being on the west side.
Some shoal patches of a quarter and two fathoms, lying midway between
Observation Island, and the end of the long sand extending off its
northern side, prevented our proceeding further. The boats completed the
survey of the western side of the channel in the afternoon: the largest
creek examined by Mr. Forsyth received his name.
REACH THE SEA.
December 3.
Dropping down the channel with a light air from the westward, and a boat
in advance sounding, no impediment occurred after passing the sands
extending off Observation Island, as a fine deep channel of six and eight
fathoms followed the western side of Quoin Island, and the long sand
stretching off its north end. When we had cleared this the anchor was
dropped in eight fathoms, and the boats were again employed in sounding.
That the Beagle was once more anchored outside all the banks--to have
touched on any of which, with the great strength of the tides that
hurried us along would have been fatal--was a great relief to all of us,
especially to me, in whom Captain Wickham had placed so much confidence
as to trust the ship to my guidance, whilst exposed to the dangers I have
mentioned.
December 4.
Moved the ship within three miles and a half of the south extreme point
of the river, the highest part bearing South 40 degrees West. A party of
us visited it, and, from a rather extraordinary sight we there beheld, it
was called Turtle Point.
DEAD TURTLES ON THE SHORE.
Behind some very low scattered sandhills that form it, fronting a
mangrove flat, we beheld great numbers of dead turtles, that seemed to
have repaired thither of their own accord to die. They were lying on
their bellies, with their shells for the most part uninjured, though some
were turned over, and showed other signs of visits from the natives. A
few skeletons of a large bustard* were also seen there, so that the place
had quite the appearance of a cemetery, and reminded me of a spot on the
River Gallegos in Patagonia, where the guanacos (a kind of llama)
assemble to pay the debt of nature, and leave their bones to whiten the
surface of the plain. Never before, on any occasion, had we seen dead
turtles in any similar position; how they could have got there was a
mystery, unless we suppose them to have been thrown up by some earthquake
wave. They had evidently not been transported thither by the hand of man,
though, as I have observed, some of the natives who thinly inhabit this
district, finding them there, ready to their hand, had availed themselves
of the gifts of fortune. I could not help, as I gazed on this remarkable
scene, calling to mind the marvellous elephant cemetery described by
Sinbad the Sailor. It is possible that the observation of some similar
phenomenon may have suggested to the imagination of the authors of the
Thousand and One Nights their romantic fiction. At any rate an air of
mystery will always hang round Turtle Point until the facts I have
mentioned shall have been explained.
(*Footnote. A specimen of one of them was brought away and deposited in
the Museum at Sydney.)
The nature of this part of the country I have before described on my
visit to Indian Hill. A ridge of breakers ran off north a couple of miles
from our station; a low point, bearing West 16 degrees South about eight
or nine miles, with an opening trending in south intervening, with some
slightly elevated land bearing South 34 degrees West about four or five
leagues, terminated our view to the westward. We found the tide much
weaker on this side of the entrance, not exceeding three miles an hour;
the stream ran up three-quarters of an hour after high-water. The times
of high-water for the last three days had been most unaccountably the
same.
December 5.
Crossed over to Point Pearce at daylight, but the wind being light all
the morning did not reach an anchorage till the afternoon; the extreme of
the point bearing North 41 degrees West three-quarters of a mile. A line
of ripplings extended a couple of miles off to the south-west of it, in
which we found there was only four fathoms. In standing across the
entrance we passed first a bank of three fathoms, with six and seven on
each side; Turtle Point bearing South 45 degrees West 11 miles; then two
more, one of seven and eight fathoms, with twelve and seventeen on each
side, the other of only two fathoms with twelve on the south, and twenty
on the north side.
MERMAID BANK.
We subsequently found the latter to be a continuation of the bank on
which Captain King had five fathoms, Point Pearce bearing North 22
degrees East 5 miles; and in order to record his visit we named it, after
his vessel, Mermaid Bank.
VISIT THE SHORE FOR OBSERVATIONS.
December 7.
I left the ship in the morning to make some observations at Point Pearce
for the errors of the chronometers. I was accompanied to the shore by Mr.
Bynoe, who was going on a shooting excursion. It being high-water, I was
obliged to select a spot near the cliffs forming the point, for carrying
out my intention. That selected was about 60 yards from the wood-crowned
cliff which rose behind; thinking such an intervening distance would
secure me from the spear of the treacherous native. This caution rather
resulted from what had before occurred at Escape Cliffs, where Messrs.
Fitzmaurice and Keys so narrowly escaped, than from any idea that natives
might be lurking about. Indeed, Mr. Bynoe had been shooting all over the
ground yesterday, and had neither seen nor heard anything to indicate
their existence in this neighbourhood; though doubtless, from what
followed, they had been very busily watching him all the time, and were
probably only deterred from making an attack, by the alarm with which his
destructive gun, dealing death to the birds, must have filled them.
Requiring equal altitudes, I was compelled to revisit the spot in the
afternoon for the corresponding observations. The boat in which Mr. Bynoe
returned to the ship, was to carry me on shore. We met at the gangway,
and in answer to my inquiry, he informed me that he had seen no traces of
the natives. He had shot a new and very beautiful bird of the finch
tribe, in which the brilliant colours of verdigris green, lilac purple,
and bright yellow, were admirably blended.* The time was short; half an
hour would have sufficed for the observations, and we should have left
the coast. As it was now low-water, and I had to traverse a coral reef
half a mile in width, I resolved to lighten myself of my gun, which I had
taken with me in the morning, that I might with greater safety carry the
chronometer. On landing I directed Mr. Tarrant and one of the boat's crew
to follow with the rest of the instruments. The walking was very bad, the
reef being strewed with coral fragments, and interspersed with large
pools. With my mind fully occupied by all we had seen of late, I hurried
on without waiting, and reached the observation spot, just glancing
towards the cliff, which presented nothing to the view except the silvery
stems of the never-failing gumtrees.
(*Footnote. Figured by Mr. Gould from this specimen as Amadina gouldiae.)
THE AUTHOR SPEARED.
I had just turned my head round to look after my followers when I was
suddenly staggered by a violent and piercing blow about the left
shoulder:* and ere the dart had ceased to quiver in its destined mark, a
loud long yell, such as the savage only can produce, told me by whom I
had been speared.
(*Footnote. See the view annexed. )
PURSUED BY THE NATIVES.
One glance sufficed to show me the cliffs, so lately the abode of silence
and solitude, swarming with the dusky forms of the natives, now indulging
in all the exuberant action with which the Australian testifies his
delight. One tall bushy-headed fellow led the group, and was evidently my
successful assailant. I drew out the spear, which had entered the cavity
of the chest, and retreated, with all the swiftness I could command, in
the hope of reaching those who were coming up from the boat, and were
then about halfway. I fully expected another spear while my back was
turned; but fortunately the savages seemed only to think of getting down
to the beach to complete their work. Onward I hurried, carrying the
spear, which I had drawn from the wound, and determined if, as I
expected, overtaken, to sell my life dearly. Each step, less steady than
the former one, reminded me that I was fast losing blood: but I hurried
on, still retaining the chronometer, and grasping my only weapon of
defence. The savage cry behind soon told me that my pursuers had found
their way to the beach: while at every respiration, the air escaping
through the orifice of the wound, warned me that the strength by which I
was still enabled to struggle through the deep pools and various other
impediments in my path, must fail me soon. I had fallen twice: each
disaster being announced by a shout of vindictive triumph, from the
bloodhounds behind. To add to my distress, I now saw, with utter dismay,
that Mr. Tarrant, and the man with the instruments, unconscious of the
fact that I had been speared, and therefore believing that I could make
good my escape, were moving off towards the boat. I gave up all hope, and
with that rapid glance at the past, which in such an hour crowds the
whole history of life upon the mind, and one brief mental act of
supplication or rather submission to Him in whose hands are the issues of
life and death, I prepared for the last dread struggle.
NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH.
At that moment the attention of the retreating party was aroused by a
boat approaching hastily from the ship; the first long, loud, wild shriek
of the natives having most providentially apprised those on board of our
danger. They turned and perceived that I was completely exhausted. I
spent the last struggling energy I possessed to join them. Supported on
each side I had just strength to direct them to turn towards our savage
enemies: who were hurrying on in a long file, shouting and waving their
clubs, and were now only about thirty yards off. Our turning, momentarily
checked their advance, whilst their force increased. During these very
few and awfully anxious moments, a party, headed by Lieutenant Emery,
hastened over the reef to our support. Another moment, and ours would
have been the fate of so many other explorers; the hand of the savage
almost grasped our throats--we should have fallen a sacrifice in the
cause of discovery, and our bones left to moulder on this distant shore,
would have been trodden heedlessly underfoot by the wandering native.
At the sight of Lieutenant Emery's party, the natives flew with the
utmost rapidity, covering their flight, either from chance or skill, by
my party; in a moment the air, so lately echoing with their ferocious
yells, was silent, and the scene of their intended massacre, as lonely
and deserted as before!
I was soon got down to the boat, lifted over the ship's side, and
stretched on the poop cabin table, under the care of Mr. Bynoe, who on
probing the wound gave me a cheering hope of its not proving fatal. The
anxiety with which I watched his countenance, and listened to the words
of life or death, the reader may imagine, but I cannot attempt to
describe. The natives never throw a spear when the eye of the person they
aim at is turned towards them, supposing that everyone, like themselves,
can avoid it. This was most fortunate, as, my side being towards them,
the spear had to pass through the thick muscles of the breast before
reaching my lungs. Another circumstance in my favour was that I had been
very much reduced by my late exertions.
NIGHT OF SUFFERING.
The sufferings of that night I will not fatigue my readers by describing;
but I can never forget the anxiety with which Mr. Bynoe watched over me
during the whole of it. Neither can I forget my feelings of gratitude to
the Almighty when my sunken eyes the next morning once more caught the
first rays of the sun. It seemed as though I could discover in these an
assurance that my hour was not yet come, and that it would be my lot for
some time longer to gaze with grateful pleasure on their splendour.
Several excursions were made during our stay in search of the natives,
but without success. An encampment was found in the neighbourhood, near a
small freshwater swamp, and by the things that were left behind it was
evident that a hasty retreat had been made. It would have been as well if
we could have punished these people in some way for their unprovoked
attack; but to have followed them far into the bush would have been quite
useless. A comparison of their conduct with that of the natives of Shoal
Bay, confirms what I have before stated of the extraordinary contrast
presented by the dispositions of the aboriginal inhabitants of Australia;
for in both instances we were the first Europeans they had ever
encountered.
TREACHERY BAY.
The observations, which nearly cost me my life in endeavouring to obtain,
placed Point Pearce in latitude 14 degrees 25 minutes 50 seconds, South
longitude 2 degrees 49 minutes West of Port Essington. The time of
high-water, at the full and change, was seven o'clock, when the tides
rose from twenty to twenty-six feet. The cliffs forming it are of a
reddish hue, from the quantity of iron the rocks in the neighbourhood
contain. To commemorate the accident which befell me, the bay within
Point Pearce was called Treachery Bay, and a high hill over it Providence
Hill.
In the nights of the 10th and 11th we had sharp squalls from the
eastward, being early in the season for their repeated appearance. There
was the usual gathering of clouds, the hard edges of which were lit up by
the constant flashing of lightning. It is singular that all these
squalls, wherever we have met them, should happen within five hours of
the same time, between nine at night and two in the morning.
COURSE OF THE VICTORIA.
I have thus detailed the circumstances attending the discovery and
partial exploration of the Victoria, that new and important addition to
our geographical knowledge of one of the least known and most interesting
portions of the globe. Its peculiar characteristics--for, like all
Australian rivers, it has distinctive habits and scenery of its own--the
nature of the country through which it flows--its present condition, its
future destiny, are all subjects, to which, though I may have cursorily
alluded before, I am under promise to the reader of returning. Of that
promise, therefore, I now tender this in fulfilment.
The Victoria falls into the Indian Ocean in latitude 14 degrees 40
minutes South and longitude 129 degrees 21 minutes East, being at its
confluence with the sea, between Turtle and Pearce Points, twenty-six
miles wide. The land upon either side as you enter the river is bold and
well defined, but from the margin of the western shore, an extensive mud
and mangrove flat, not entirely above the level of high-water, and
reaching to the base of a range of hills, about seventeen miles from the
water's edge, seems to indicate that at one time the waters of the
Victoria washed the high land on either side.
For the first thirty miles of the upward course, the character of the
river undergoes but little change. The left side continues bold, with the
exception of a few extensive flats, sometimes overflowed, and a
remarkable rocky elevation, about twenty-five miles up, to which we gave
the name of The Fort, as suggested by its bastion-like appearance, though
now called Table Hill in the chart. To the right the shore remains low,
studded with mangroves, and still, from appearance, subject to not
unfrequent inundations: towards the mouth, indeed, it is partially
flooded by each returning tide. Thirty-five miles from its mouth its
whole appearance undergoes the most striking alteration. We now enter the
narrow defile of a precipitous rocky range of compact sandstone, rising
from 4 to 500 feet in height, and coming down to the river, in some
places nearly two miles wide, in others not less than twenty fathoms
deep, and hurrying through, as if to force a passage, with a velocity
sometimes not less than six miles an hour.
NATURE OF THE COUNTRY.
It continues a rapid stream during its passage through this defile, an
extent of some thirty miles, and beyond it is found slowly winding its
way towards the sea across a rich alluvial plain, fifteen miles in width.
Above this plain is found a second range of similar character and
formation to that before mentioned; the stream, however, having of course
somewhat less both of width and depth, and flowing with a decreased
rapidity. The elevation of the hills on either side was at first entering
considerably less than in the former range; they had also lost much of
their steep and precipitous appearance; but as we gradually proceeded up,
the former distinctive characteristics returned: the hills rose higher
and more boldly, almost immediately from the water's edge, and continued
each mile to present a loftier and more rugged front; never however
attaining the extreme altitude of the former or Sea Range. Above Reach
Hopeless the width of the alluvial land, lying between the immediate
margin of the river and the hills which bound its valley, considerably
increased; and just in proportion as the high bold land approached the
channel on one shore, it receded from it on the opposite, and left an
extensive alluvial flat between that bank and the retreating hills; the
whole valley, too, widened out, so that, supposing the stream at one time
to have filled it from the bases of the high land on either side, it must
have had a breadth above Reach Hopeless of from three to five miles, and
this still increased when I last traced its presumed course beyond Mount
Regret.
The extreme altitude of Sea Range is from 7 to 800 feet, and of the hills
last seen, near Mount Regret, from 4 to 500. The distinctive formation
common to both consists in their level summits, within twenty feet of
which a precipitous wall of rock, of a reddish hue, runs along the
hillside.
VEGETABLE PRODUCTIONS.
The upper portion of the valley through which the river passes varies in
its nature from treeless, stony plains to rich alluvial flats, lightly
timbered with a white-stemmed gum. The banks are steep and high, thickly
clothed with the acacia, drooping eucalyptus, and tall reeds. The various
lake-like reaches had, of course, no perceptible stream, but their banks,
no less than the dry patches in the bed of the river, satisfied us that
the Victoria had recently been, and in all probability would soon again
become, a large and rapid river.
GOUTY-STEM TREE.
Among the most curious vegetable productions along its banks are the silk
cotton-tree and the gouty-stem tree. The latter has been already
mentioned by Captains King and Grey, and here attains a great size: it
bears a very fragrant white flower, not unlike the jasmine; the fruit is
used by the natives, and found to be a very nutritious article of food,
something similar to a coconut. Not having previously noticed it in this
neighbourhood I conclude this to be the northern limit of its growth. The
reader will remember my having before alluded to seeing it near the mouth
of Fitzroy River, where I have also mentioned the extent of coast on
which we found it, and given the limits of its indigenous empire,
extending not quite over two degrees of latitude. The peculiar character
of the tree I leave the reader to learn from the woodcuts annexed.
ITS FRUIT.
That containing the fruit* is from a specimen obtained near the Fitzroy,
as it was in flower when I saw it in the month of November on the banks
of the Victoria.
(*Footnote. For description of this fruit, see Volume 1.)
I may here remind the reader, that among the results of our exploration
of the Victoria was the addition of a new species of kangaroo, a
freshwater tortoise, some fish, and several beautiful birds to the
domains of natural history.