PORTLAND BAY
Squattlesea Mere was about ten miles from the coast, and equidistant
from the towns of Port Fairy and Portland, the latter lying about thirty
miles westward. My first visit to it was on the occasion of a sale of
some fat cattle to Mr. Henty for the use of the whalers--who were then
still extant. Of course there were plenty of bullocks at Muntham, but it
was hardly worth while to send so far for so small a lot. I was ready to
deliver, and not indisposed for the trip and adventure myself.
So, having been helped off the run by Joe Burge, I started with my
beeves, and made the journey safely to the slaughter-yards, which were
then a few miles on the hither side of the town, near the beach. The
road lay through the marshes for five or six miles, then through the
stringy-bark forest, whence I emerged on an open sandy tract known as
"the heath." Such land is not uncommon in the vicinity of Portland and
west of Port Fairy; indeed, the greater part of the country between
Portland and the wondrous downs of the Wannon consists of this
undesirable formation alternately with stringy-bark forest.
The soil upon the heath is pure sand of a white or greyish colour. Small
lagoons, thickly covered with dark-brown reeds, are spread over the
surface; it is mostly firm riding ground, though very indifferent
pasture. Several species of epacris grow there, the pink and white
blossoms of which were gay and even brilliant in spring. Open as a
plain, and, apart from a question of grass, an effective contrast to the
endless eucalyptus. A few miles of heath--the forest again--and we come
to Darlot's Creek, narrow, but running deep and strong, like a New
Zealand river.
This singular stream must in some way receive the water of the great
Eumeralla marshes, which, as they have no visible outlet, probably
filter through the lava country, from which, near Lake Condah, Darlot's
Creek issues without previous notice.
Summer and winter this cheery little stream, from twenty to fifty feet
wide, and hardly ever less than from six to ten feet deep, rushes
whirling and eddying to the sea. We cross at a stone causeway, over
which the water runs, and in another mile or two come to the Fitzroy
River. This is a true Australian watercourse, and has the usual abruptly
alternating depth of channel. Both streams debouch on a sandy sea-beach,
a few miles from Portland. The channel mouths are continually shifting,
and as the main road from Port Fairy then crossed them, the depth of
water was often unpleasantly altered, to the manifest danger of
travellers. Many a misadventure was credited to the "mouth of the
Fitzroy," and more than one poor fellow, when the tide was high,
essaying to cross with a heavy swag, lost the number of his mess. The
proper thing for non-pedestrians at that time was to ride or drive some
distance into the waves, where the depth was shallower; but there were
said to be quicksands, in which horse or wheel might sink, and, with the
surf breaking over, in such case the look-out was bad.
Before reaching this part of the road, at an elevated point of the
heath, a full view of the ocean burst suddenly on my view. What a sight
it was! A world of forest greenery lay north, east, and west; on the
south the tumbling billows of the unbounded sea. Far as eye could reach
was the wondrous plain of the South Pacific, stretching away to the
farthest range of vision, where it was lost in a soft, shimmering haze.
Did I clap my hands and shout "Thalatta! Thalatta!" like the author of
_Eothen_? I had the inclination to do it, I know.
In the distance, lying north-west, were the cliffs and noble bay of
Portland--not a very grand town, but noteworthy as the _point d'appui_
whence those representative Englishmen and distinguished colonists, the
Hentys, commenced the Anglo-Saxon conquest of Australia Felix.
I had the pleasure of knowing these gentlemen; and the longer I live,
the stronger becomes my conviction that the genuine Englishman,
compacted as he is of diverse races, holding the strong points of each,
is the best "all-round man" the earth affords. And the Hentys, as a
family, have demonstrated my proposition perhaps more completely than
any other which ever landed on our shores. For, consider what manner of
colonisers they were! Explorers, sailors, whalers, farmers, squatters,
merchants, politicians (Mr. William Henty was chief secretary of
Tasmania)--in all these different avocations the brothers were of
approved excellence. Indeed, each displayed in his own personality an
aptitude for the whole range of accomplishments.
Stalwart and steadfast were they in body and mind, well fitted to
contend with the rude forces of nature, and still ruder individuals,
among which their lot was chiefly cast in those days. But withal genial,
hilarious, and in their moments of relaxation prone to indulge in the
full swing of those high animal spirits which, for the most part,
accompany a robust bodily and mental organisation.
Always familiar with the great industry of stock-breeding both in
Tasmania and their new home, they imported, from their earliest
occupation, the very choicest stud animals, as well as the best
implements in all departments of husbandry. "Little John," "Wanderer,"
imported thoroughbreds, were at one time in their possession. Suffolks
and Lincolns were not lacking to ensure production of waggon horses, and
in general effect to speed the plough. And I saw at Muntham the first
English coaching sire that my eyes had rested upon--a grand upstanding
bay horse, with a well-shaped head, lofty forehand, and clean, flat
legs. I remember describing him to a horse-loving friend as an enlarged
thoroughbred in appearance--a description which would hold good of some
of the better sort of coachers of the present day, the only doubt being
whether, having regard to the abnormal shapes of some of our modern
racehorses, the coacher's reputation might not suffer by the comparison.
At the time of which I speak Mr. Edward Henty was at Muntham--that
Australian "promised land" of rolling downs, hill and dale, all equally
fertile, well grassed, well watered; favoured as to climate, soil, and
situation; the only drawback being that the great grass crop,
summer-ripened, was occasionally ignited in a dry autumn, and, like a
prairie fire, swept all before it. In a later day preparation was made
for such a contingency, and light waggons, with adequate teams known as
the "fire-horses," kept ready to start at a moment's notice for the
warning smoke-column. Mr. Frank Henty abode at Merino Downs, the name of
which explains the early attention paid by him to the chief source of
Australian wealth. Mr. Stephen Henty had his residence in the town of
Portland, where at that time he was the leading merchant, and, excepting
Mr. Blair, the police magistrate, the leading inhabitant.
No more delightful country home ever existed than the wide-verandahed
spacious bungalow, from the windows of which the view was unbroken of
the waters of the bay. A well-trimmed garden hedge hid the intervening
street and slope to the beach without obstructing the view. There, if
anywhere, was to be found true earthly happiness, if such can ever be
predicated of this lower world and its inhabitants.
A promising family, full of health, spirits, and intelligence; parents
and children alike overflowing with kindness; hospitality
unostentatiously extended both to friends and acquaintances, residents
and strangers; a noble property gradually and surely increasing in
value; family affection exhibited in its purest form. But
It is written on the rose--
Alas! that there, decay
Should claim from love a part,--
From love a part!
Where are now the energetic, kindly husband and father, the merry boys
and girls, the tender mother, then sheltered and united in that most
happy home? The mournfullest task of memory lies in realising how large
a toll is yielded in a few fleeting years to the unsparing tax-gatherer
Death.
Portland, although devoid of the fertile lands which encompass Port
Fairy and Warrnambool, had yet beauties of its own. Its situation was
romantic. Lofty cliffs rose from the beach, and from many a picturesque
eminence the residences of the townspeople looked on the broad ocean and
the peaceful waters of the bay. Still were visible when I first saw
Portland the grass-grown furrows turned by the hand of Edward Henty, who
had not only accomplished that highly important feat--vitally necessary,
indeed, in a settlement poorly provided with grain--but put together the
plough with which the first rite to Ceres was performed. In those days a
deep-rutted, miry road connected the port with the rich lands of the
Wannon--forty miles of sore affliction to the driver of any species of
vehicle, bullock drays included. Now the rail has simplified all
difficulties. From the glorious "downs country" to the shore is but a
journey of hours--from Hamilton to Melbourne how trifling a stage!
What if the gallant explorer, the immortal Major Mitchell, could return
and look upon the network of farms, the metalled roads, the railway
terminus, the telegraph, the mail-coach! How would he recall the day
when, with his toil-worn party, he reached Portland, and, unaware of the
presence there of wayfarers other than themselves, took the Hentys'
settlement for one of an escaped gang of bushrangers! How little can we
forecast the future in these days of rapid development and almost
magical national growth! Besides the Messrs. Henty the principal Wannon
squatters were the Winters (George, Samuel, and Trevor), men of
remarkable intellect; the Messrs. Coldham were at Grassdale, where,
indeed, they have the good fortune still to remain; Lang and Elms were
at Lyne, near neighbours to Mount Napier; Acheson Ffrench at Monivae,
near Hamilton; John Robertson Nowlan, who rented Murndal for some years
from Mr. Samuel Pratt Winter. He afterwards went into partnership with
Captain Stanley Carr, an ex-military man domiciled in Silesia, who
imported Saxon merino sheep, and had a very proper idea of the "coming
event" in Australia--the great rise and development of the merino
interest. Farther on, the Hunters (Alick, Jemmy, and latterly Frank and
Willie) were at Kalangadoo, Mount Gambier, with Willie Mitchell, Evelyn
Sturt, and John Meredith as next-door neighbours. Charles Mackinnon and
his partner Watson--am I trenching on sacred confidences when I allude
to the sobriquet "Jeeribong"? What a lot of splendid fellows, to be
sure! All the men I have named were gentlemen by birth and education. It
may be imagined what a jolly, genial society it was, what a luxurious
neighbourhood, when a few miles' ride was a certain find for culture,
good fellowship, and the warmest hospitality. While at the race meetings
at Portland and Port Fairy, when these joyous comrades amalgamated
confessedly for enjoyment, as the old song has it--
And for that reason,
And for a season,
We'll be merry before we go,
there was a week's revelry fit for the gods on high Olympus.
Not only from across the Adelaide border--for Mount Gambier was on the
farther side--did both knights and squires wend their way in pilgrimage
to the Port Fairy revels, but from Trawalla and Mount Emu, from
Warranbeen, Ercildoune, and Buninyong. Adolphus Goldsmith from Trawalla,
William Gottreaux from Lilaree, Philip Russell from Carngham (I can hear
him now ordering his gray colt's legs to be bandaged the night he rode
in), Charley Lyon, Compton Ferrers, Alick Cuningham, Will Wright. Ah!
We were a gallant company,
Riding o'er land, sailing o'er sea.
* * * * *
And some are dead and some are gone,
... ay di mi--Alhama!
And some are robbers on the hills,
That look along Epirus' valleys.
Well, perhaps not exactly. They abide on those hills which overlook the
winding Thames, and in the season the Serpentine or historic Seine. Any
robbery they may engage in is getting the better of unwary brethren at
pool, or picking up the odds on the favourite a trifle before the
general public is taken into the confidence of the stable.
It is hard to find a poet who expresses your feelings and circumstances
with precision. Yet even Byron's friends and fellow-believers in Greek
independence have hardly had a more complete dispersion than the
comrades of that lost "Arcady the Blest."
We ought to have made the most of those days--of the time which came
"before the gold." We never saw their like again. Then we tasted true
happiness, if such ever visits this lower world. Every one had hope,
encouragement, adequate stimulus to work,--hard work which was well
paid,--leading to enterprise, which year by year fulfilled the promise
of progress.
Nobody was too rich. No one was wealthy enough to live in Melbourne.
Each man had to be his own overseer; had to live at home. He was,
therefore, friendly and genial with his neighbours, on whom he was
socially dependent. No one thought of going to Europe, or selling off
and "cutting the confounded colony," and so on. No! there we were,
_adscripti glebæ_ as we thought, from a dozen or so to a score of years.
It was necessary for all to make the best of it, and very cheery and
contented nearly everybody was.
In these days of universal fencing it seems curious to think that from
Portland Bay to Geelong, from Geelong to Melbourne, was there never a
fenced-in estate--only the horse and bullock paddocks. Tens of
thousands of cattle were managed and controlled by the stockman--as he
was then called--(stock-rider came later), with, perhaps, an assistant
black boy or white urchin of some sort. It was held that in that respect
the cattlemen had the best of it, as one good stockman with occasional
aid could look after two or three thousand head of cattle--none of our
herds were over this number--whereas every thousand or fifteen hundred
sheep needed a shepherd, great loss ensuing if the labour and tendance
were not provided.
The great industries of Port Fairy were agriculture on the one hand, and
pastoral on the other. The rich lands which lay westward of Warrnambool
were gradually sold, always after survey and by auction, having been
subdivided into moderate-sized farms. These were purchased by resident
farmers or small capitalists who desired to try agriculture for an
occupation. There was a good market for produce, and the fame of the
Port Fairy wheat crop, as well as that of the potato harvest, commenced
to spread.
Than the lands on the banks of the Merai, around Warrnambool, and
between that town and Port Fairy, none more fertile are known in
Australia. They enjoy the conditions of deep, rich loam, resting on a
substratum of tufa and limestone, with perfect natural drainage. So
friable, too, as to be ready for the plough immediately after rain.
Apparently of an inexhaustible fertility, and lying near the sea, which
occasionally sends its spray over the wheat sheaves, they are but little
subject to frost. The coast showers preserve the moisture of the soil,
and, whether for grain, roots, or grass, prevent the disastrous
desiccation so unhappily common in the fields and pastures of the
interior.
As the farmer commenced to press closely upon the pastoral Crown tenant,
a certain soreness was engendered, but no complaint of wrong-doing on
the part of the Government followed. The squatters accepted the
situation; they did their best to lighten the difficulty. Those who had
high-class grazing or arable lands bestirred themselves to buy as much
around the homestead as would serve to make a moderate estate. The
situation and climate being undeniably good, they argued that they could
make as much out of a few thousand acres of freehold as formerly from
the whole area under an imperfect tenure.
As a matter of fact, when the dreadful "auction day" arrived, the
greater portion of the menaced squatters thus saved themselves. Men
sympathised with them, too, and did not bid too persistently against the
former Lord of the Waste, whose day of dominion was over.
The nearest station to Port Fairy was Aringa, the property of Mr.
Ritchie. It was only distant about four miles. Partly arable land, but
possessing more "stony rises" and oak ridges, it was capable of growing
excellent grass, but not likely to need the plough.
The proprietor made an excellent survey of his run, carefully excluding
the more tempting agricultural portions. And so judiciously did he
purchase at auction that he found himself the owner of twelve or
fourteen thousand acres of splendid grass land, without a road through
it, and therefore capable of being enclosed within a ring fence. The
average of price was, I fancy, below 25s. per acre. After fencing this
truly valuable freehold, Mr. Ritchie discovered that he could let it for
such a yearly rental as would enable him to live handsomely without the
responsibility of stock. Mr. Edols, of Geelong, was, I think, the first
tenant on a five years' lease, and ever since that day Aringa has been a
highly productive estate, covered with a matted sward of clover and
rye-grass, adapted either for sheep or cattle, equally profitable to
farm or to let.
Yambuk, formerly the property of Lieutenant Andrew Baxter, a retired
military officer, did not come off quite so well. But I fancy the
present proprietor, Mr. Suter, who has lived there since 1854, or
thereabouts, finds that he has a freehold sufficient for all ordinary
wants.
"Tarrone," lying to the eastward, was not distant more than ten or
twelve miles from Port Fairy. It was occupied in those early days by
another army man, Lieutenant Chamberlain. Both of the ex-militaires made
exceptionally good squatters, refuting the general experience which does
not assign a high rank as successful colonists to soldiers. With
enormous reed-beds and marshes, and a certain proportion of stony rises
and well-grassed open forest, Tarrone was a model cattle run, carrying
generally between two and three thousand head of cattle. It was a
splendid tract of fattening country, and some of the grandest drafts of
bullocks that ever left the West bore the Tarrone brand, "KB." It had
formerly belonged to Messrs. Kilgour and Besnard, but for alleged doing
to death of aboriginals the license of these gentlemen had been
withdrawn. It was subsequently granted to Mr. Chamberlain. The paternal
Government of New South Wales, until late years, kept the whip-hand of
the squatters by reason of its power to withhold the only title by which
we held our lands, and occasionally, as in the case referred to, the
power was exercised. This run was also assailed by the auctioneer's
hammer, but being strictly non-agricultural land, it retained virtually
its integrity as a grazing estate. "Tarrone" was the station which
suffered most on that day of fiery wrath, long remembered as "Black
Thursday." All did so more or less; but Mr. Chamberlain, who then lived
there, lost fences and homestead, house and furniture, his household
escaping barely with their lives. For weeks previously the summer
weather had been hot and dry. There was, for a wonder, a cessation of
the coast showers. The fated morning was abnormal--sultry and
breezeless. The vaporous sky became lurid, darksome--awful. More than
one terrified spectator believed that the Last Day had come, and not
altogether without reason. The whole colony of Victoria was on fire at
the same time, from the western coast to the eastern range of the
Australian Alps. Farms and stations were burning at Port Fairy and
Portland. The wife and children of a shepherd on the Upper Plenty
rivulet, eastward of Melbourne, were burned to death, nearly three
hundred miles in another direction. Far out to sea passengers viewed
with wonder and alarm a dense black cloud overhanging the coast-line
like a pall, such as may have shrouded buried Pompeii when the volcano
heaved its fiery flood. Far from land showers of ashes fell upon the
decks of approaching ships.
Though not without expectation of a larger bush-fire than usual, we were
chiefly unprepared as the flame-wave rolled in over grass and forest
from the north. The fire travelled fast on the preceding night, and the
north-east wind rising to a gale towards mid-day, the march of the
Destroyer waxed resistless and overpowering. Mr. Chamberlain told us
afterwards that, feeling indisposed for exertion, and unaware of actual
danger, he was lying down reading _Vanity Fair_. So enthralled was he by
Becky Sharp's fascinations that he delayed going out to reconnoitre,
though uneasily conscious that the smoke-clouds were thickening.
He went at length on foot. Then he saw, to his astonishment, a wall of
fire approaching the homestead with appalling rapidity. He turned and
fled for his life, but had barely time to warn the station hands when
the devouring element swept after. It was idle to resist in any ordinary
method. The flames seemed to leap from the tree tops, as they scaled the
trunks, then the higher branches, and were borne on loose fragments of
bark far ahead of the line of fire.
In a quarter of an hour each fence, building, and shed of a
well-improved homestead was in flames. So great was the heat that after
the first flight of the inmates from the dwelling-house, it was
impossible to re-enter. Nothing of the contents was saved but a desk and
a picture, while the household stood awestricken in a plot of garden
vegetation, moistening their parched lips from time to time,
suffocating with heat and smoke, and holding much doubt as to their
ultimate safety. As they gazed around they could see the wild birds
dropping dead from the forest trees, the kangaroos leaping past with
singed and burning fur, while cattle, bellowing with fear and
astonishment, dashed wildly to the river-bank, to plunge into the deeper
pools.
At Dunmore a better look-out had been kept. By the united efforts of the
establishment the flames were arrested on the very verge of the
homestead; but so close and desperate was the contest that the garden
gate was burned, and Mr. Macknight was carried indoors insensible,
having fainted from the severity of the protracted struggle. Had he died
it would not have been the only instance on record of the danger of
over-exertion with the thermometer at more than a hundred and fifty
degrees of Fahrenheit in the sun.
We at Squattlesea Mere were more lucky than our neighbours, inasmuch as
the fire took a turn southward, behind Dunmore, and continued its
devastating progress through the heaths and scrubs which lay on the
north bank of the Shaw. It was in a manner shunted away from our
homestead by the region of marsh country which stretched around and
beyond it.