Following the cotton strike in England during 1863, a large number of
Lancashire operatives emigrated to Australia. As the station needed
shepherds, the agents in Brisbane were instructed to engage two married
couples and three single men. I was despatched with a black boy, three
horses and a dray, to bring them from Maryborough. Their luggage filled
the dray, but I managed to find room for the two women and the children.
The others had to walk. The first day out we reached Mr. Helsham's
station at South Doongal. He allotted me an empty hut for the party. At
dinner that evening I told him and the overseer how very frightened the
emigrants were of the blacks. "Is that so," he said. "Well, we will try
them to-night after the boys have had their evening corroborree." A
number of blacks were camped there at the time, so he sent word to his
station boys to come up. When they did so, he told them to surround the
hut, and yell out, "Kill 'em white fella, kill 'em white Mary." We went
down to see what we thought was fun. I never had to run harder than I
did to reach the station before the new chums, who streamed out of the
hut in their night attire, and made for the house. I had the greatest
difficulty in pacifying them. They refused to return to the hut, and
camped on the verandah, the single men remaining on watch.
After their flight from the hut, the pigs appropriated their rations
which confirmed their belief in a narrow escape from wholesale
slaughter. I felt sorry for the joke, more particularly as for the
remainder of the journey they would not leave the dray, or go for water,
unless the black boy or I went with them. As shepherds these men were
not a success. They were invariably losing sheep, adding to my
responsibility as overseer.
In September of that year, I had my first experience of
shearing--getting through 20 the first day. It was back-aching and
wrist-breaking work, and I longed for the day when I went out with the
ration pack-horse.
In those days the sheep were hand-washed in a water hole, in which we
worked up to our middle all day. The blacks had to be watched very
closely, as, if opportunity offered, they would catch a sheep's hind leg
with their toes, and drown the animal, expecting they would get the
meat. I detected them in the act, so I burnt the carcase. This put an
end to the practice. Mustering and branding the cattle followed the
shearing, and these were much livelier occupations. We had a heavy wet
season in that year, and I had plenty of opportunities to gain
experience in flooded creeks. About April, 1863, Edward Palmer (years
afterwards M.L.A. for Carpentaria), who was in charge of his uncle's
station "Eureka," four miles from "Stanton Harcourt," started with the
sheep depasturing there for the Gulf country. He eventually settled at
Canobie, on the Williams River, a tributary of the Cloncurry.
In September one of the new shepherds absconded, leaving his sheep in
the yard at an out-station. I was instructed by my uncle to take out a
summons, and applied to Mr. W. H. Gaden, a neighbouring squatter, for
it. The summons was sent to Maryborough for service. In due time I had
to appear as prosecutor. The man had engaged a solicitor, who, when the
case was called on, applied for a discharge, as the summons did not
state it was sworn to, but only signed W. H. Gaden, J.P. The man was
discharged on these grounds. I was not sorry. He was useless as a
shepherd, but through him I had obtained an enjoyable ride to
Maryborough with all expenses paid.
My uncle in the meantime had again started out to seek new country for
the sheep, and engaged Mr. Walter Carruthers, of Carruthers and Wood,
Rocky Springs station, Auburn River, to take charge of the mob of
12,000, leaving instructions that they were to start before the end of
1864.
Great preparations were required to equip the party. We were taking 30
saddle horses, two bullock teams, and one horse team. In addition to the
stores, we had to provide all sorts of tools, etc., to build and form a
new station.
I preferred to drive one of the bullock teams. My duties on arrival at
camp were to erect a tent and two iron stretchers for Carruthers and
myself, take my watch every night from three to daylight, and then to
muster the bullocks. In the case of dry stages I also had to take water
to the men.
When passing through Gayndah I purchased tobacco from John Connolly (who
died lately at the very great age of 102 years), and for which I had to
pay £1 per pound.
When we came to the Dawson River, near Mrs. McNabb's station, it was in
flood. We felled a big tree across the stream, and with boughs and other
timber, improvised a bridge. For three days we were working in our
shirts only, getting the sheep and--when the water fell--the teams
across. Mosquitoes, sandflies, and a hot sun made us nearly raw. Along
this road Carruthers had his favorite horse "Tenby" stolen. He had hung
the animal up to the verandah post of a wayside public house, to see the
sheep and teams pass. After they had gone by, and while Carruthers was
having a drink, a man jumped on the horse and galloped away. Carruthers
walked on to the sheep, got a fresh horse, and with our black boy
followed the thief until they came to the spot where, in a piece of
scrub, he had pulled the mane and tail of the horse to alter its
appearance. Darkness coming on, they had to abandon further pursuit. The
horse was a very fine chestnut. A new saddle and bridle, a pouch
containing cheque book and revolver, were taken with him, so the robber
had a good haul. There were no telegraph stations out back in those
days.
When passing Apis Creek, near the Mackenzie River, I met a man named
Christie, whom I afterwards learnt was Gardiner, the ex-bushranger. We
passed through Taroom, Springsure, on to Peak Downs station, where we
essayed a short cut on to the Cotherstone road, but when we had got
half-way, the owner made us turn back. I had a very rough time driving
the leading dray through the loose, black soil, and was glad to get back
on the road, which was well beaten by the teams carrying copper from
Clermont to Broadsound.
We eventually reached Lord's Table Mountain, where we had permission to
remain, whilst I took the drays into Clermont to be repaired, and to
obtain an additional supply of rations. Whilst staying at Winter's
Hotel, I met Griffin, the warden--afterwards hanged for shooting the
troopers guarding the gold escort, of which he was in charge.
I also met Fitzmaurice, destined in after years to become my partner in
the far west. He had brought in drays from Surbiton station to be
repaired.
Carruthers then rented some country from Rolfe, on Mistake Creek, on
which to shear the sheep. I shore 800. My salary was now £80 per year,
for which I acted as overseer, bookkeeper, and giving a hand as general
utility at all kinds of work. After shearing, the sheep were taken down
to Chambers' Camp, on the same creek, whilst I took the wool to Port
Mackay. When crossing the Expedition Range, before reaching Clermont, on
my way from Mistake Creek, I rode over to a small diggings to purchase
meat. The only butcher was a man named Jackson, whose wife served me.
She was a fine, comely woman, whom I afterwards met on the Lower Palmer,
where her husband was keeping a store. He was burnt to death on
Limestone Creek on that river. Eventually, she married Thos. Lynett, a
packer from Cooktown to Edward's Town (as Maytown was popularly known),
and who, with Fitzmaurice and myself, was, in later years, one of the
founders of Winton, on the Western River. Mrs. Lynett lately died in
Winton at the ripe age of 84, her husband, Tom Lynett, having
pre-deceased her some years. Like most of the women who pioneered, she
had a grand heart, and I learnt how the diggers appreciated her motherly
kindness.
The early wet season caught me at Boundary Creek, ten miles beyond Nebo.
I was stuck in a bog for five weeks, rain pouring the whole time. I
eventually delivered the wool, loaded up rations from Brodziak Bros.,
and started on my return journey. In those days the range was in a
primitive state, and coming down my mate capsized his dray. While I was
assisting him, I had a Colt's revolver stolen off my dray, presumably by
some of the road party who were cutting down the steep parts.
After crossing the range, the pleuro broke out amongst my bullocks, and
I lost one whole team. I went into Retreat station and purchased several
steers. The hot weather and heavy pulling soon killed these, leaving me
stranded on the Isaacs River. One day a squatter from North Creek
station rode up, and hearing my plight, said there was a team of
bullocks running on his country for several months. Who the owner was,
or where they came from, was unknown. Acting on his hint, I picked out
what I considered the best, and continued my journey to the sheep.
Having met my requirements, I turned the bullocks loose. In response to
enquiries, I denied that I was the owner of them; they had served my
purpose, and I was content to let well alone.
The blacks were very bad, and continually worrying the men we had
shepherding. One of these was rather daft. One night the rams did not
return. I got on their tracks the next day and brought them to camp, but
there was no sign of the shepherd. Two evenings after we were surprised
to see a couple of Myalls bringing in the lost man. We gave the blacks
some tucker, and they left, but not before the shepherd, raising his
hat, said to them, "I thank you, gentlemen, most sincerely." His
eccentric manner had doubtless saved his life, as the coloured races
generally appear to respect a demented person.
I had a very bad attack of fever and ague, and managed to ride into
Clermont, where I was treated by a chemist named Mackintosh, who kindly
allowed me to stay at his house. I shall never forget the kindness of
him and his wife in pulling me through. Carruthers in the meantime had
taken the sheep back to a creek which is still known as "Corfield's
Creek." There the lambing took place.
We next moved down to Balgourlie Station, still on Mistake Creek, where
we had an early shearing, and left the wool to be taken by carriers to
Bowen.
I now had my first experience of what was called in those days,
"Belyando Spew." Everything one ate came back again and no one seemed to
know of an antidote to what appeared to be a summer sickness. The gidya
around seemed to accentuate the complaint, until I became a walking
skeleton.
In the meantime we received word that my uncle had purchased Clifton
Station from Marsh and Webster, of Mackay.
This country was situated on a billabong 12 miles from Canobie, where
Edward Palmer, as I have previously mentioned, had settled down.
The travelling away from the gidya scrubs down the Belyando River soon
dispelled all signs of the sickness.
Previous to leaving Balgourlie Station we had lost a mob of horses, and
on our arrival at Mount McConnell Station, the two men who had been
despatched to look for them, returned without success. Carruthers then
sent me back with an Indian named "Balooche Knight" to make a search. We
had a riding horse each, and a pack horse to carry our blankets, tucker,
etc. After scouring all the scrubs on Mistake Creek, we arrived at
Lanark Downs Station, where a traveller informed me he had seen a number
of horses at Miclere Creek, 17 miles on the road to Copperfield. My
optimism suggested I should ask the owner of Lanark Downs to lend me a
fresh horse. He did so, and I rode away one morning, returning the same
evening with the whole of the 17 horses we had lost. I had now to travel
over one hundred miles to where I had left the sheep, which were still
continuing their journey. It was a most enjoyable ride with only one
drawback. The Indian's blankets and mine being together, I had gathered
a lively community in my head. Procuring a small tooth-comb at a
way-side place, I commenced operations, with the result that soon I had
quite a colony on a newspaper in front of me. With the aid of tobacco
water, I finally succeeded in driving the pests away.
In following down the Belyando River, I proved my expertness as a
tracker by recognising the track of a bullock crossing the road. I did
not know the beast had been lost, but the peculiarity of the track,
caused by the hind feet touching the ground ahead of the fore feet, led
me to follow the tracks through a scrub, and there I found him camped.
We had over 60 miles to overtake the sheep, and as he could not keep up
with the horses, I had to leave him.
We had passed St. Ann's and Mt. McConnell's Stations where Lieutenant
Fred Murray was stationed with his black trackers. Proceeding up the
Cape River, we overtook the sheep at Natal Downs, then owned by Wm.
Kellett. We left the Cape River here, and followed Amelia Creek through
a lot of spinifex country.
On the third camp, in my early morning watch, I noticed several of the
sheep jumping. At daylight we found about 60 lying dead on the ground.
We learnt that they had been eating the poison bush which abounds
throughout what is designated as the "Desert Country."
The leaf of this bush is shaped like an inverted heart, and in colour is
a very bright green. The flower resembles a pea blossom, and when in
bloom the bush is most deadly to all stock. This experience taught us to
be more careful, and in one place we cut a track through five miles of
it for the sheep to pass.
When we reached Torren's Creek, we saw a water-hole containing the bones
of some 10,000 sheep which had perished from the same cause. They were a
portion of 20,000, which, we were informed, were in charge of a Mr.
Halloran, who had preceded us for the Flinders, and owned by a Mr.
Alexander.
We afterwards passed a green flat, quite dry, but in the wet season
covered with water, called "Billy Webb's Lake."
I was suffering from a severe attack of sandy blight in both eyes, so
had to ride a horse which was tied to the bullock dray. I was
_hors-de-combat_ for over a week. Not having any eye-water, the only
relief I could get was cold tea leaves at night. Both eyes were so
swollen that I was completely blind. Fortunately, we met the McKinlay
expedition returning from an unsuccessful search after Leichhardt. The
doctor gave me a bottle of his eye-water, which he informed me contained
some nitrate of silver; this he instructed me how to use, and I soon
regained my eye-sight, but the eyes continued very weak.
Shortly afterwards we met some travellers, and enquired how far it was
to the jump-up--meaning the descent from the plateau to the level
country at the head of the Flinders. They replied, "in two miles you
will be amongst the roly-poly."
These we found were not stones, as we thought, but dry stumps of a weed
which grows on the open downs in the shape of a ball. The strong
trade-winds blow the plant away from its roots, and send it careering
over the downs, jumping for yards, and high in the air, frightening
one's horse when it gets between his hind legs, giving him the
impression that he had slept, and dreamt he was young again.
We passed Hughenden Station, which had just been taken over by Mr.
Robert Gray from Mr. Ernest Henry, and camped the sheep where the town
of Hughenden now stands.
We then had a long stage of fifteen miles to the bend of the river
without water. The remainder of our trip down the river was uneventful.
We passed Telemon (Stewart's), Marathon (then owned by Carson), Richmond
Downs (Bundock and Hayes), Lara (Donkin Brothers), and Canobie (Edward
Palmer).
At Clifton, our destination, there was a fine water-hole two and a-half
miles long, trees on the banks were crowded with cockatoos, corellas,
with galahs in flocks on the plains.
Work soon commenced in earnest, and progress made, in building a small
house, sheep yards, and the necessary improvements for a sheep station.
The country consisted of plains, with patches of scrub between, in which
there was abundance of salt-bush, all carrying good feed for the sheep.