AN ACCOMPLISHED MIRACLE AND A PREDICTION
The problem of obtaining water, of conserving it, and of distributing
it, is _the_ problem of Western Australia. In the Eastern States
there are many natural waterways, which in part solve the question of
irrigation. In the West there are few or none. Until a year or two
ago Nature wore a stern aspect outside the few inhabited spots in the
West. The desert stretched for hundreds of miles. The country was
trackless. Transit was accomplished by the aid of camels. There were no
wells or oases to relieve the monotony of the everlasting sand dunes.
For the greater part of the year rain does not fall, and when it does
it penetrates the sand and rapidly disappears beneath the surface.
Water is the need of these great areas. Wherever men have obtained
and conserved water, there, as by magic, the face of Nature has been
changed. And one day, by the help of science, the transformation will
be complete: the desert will blossom as the rose; in the wilderness
will springs of water be found.
When the goldfields were opened up the first demand was for water. It
was more precious than wine. The gold reefs were situated in the midst
of a sterile region entirely inhospitable for man. Water in small
quantities was gained and jealously kept. Superfluous baths were not
permitted. Photographs of the early scenes in the goldfields suggest
the lack of cleanliness. To-day all this is changed. In that former
desert settlement there are green lawns and flower gardens. The hard
lines on the face of Nature have been softened. The beauty of virginal
youth is lacking, but it is much to have gained what has already been
won. Five million gallons of pure water are pumped daily a distance
of 350 miles, from the coast to the goldfields. It is a triumph of
engineering, one of the marvels of the modern world. It was to the
scene of the Mani reservoir at Mundaring that we were conveyed by the
courtesy of the Government officials, who placed at our disposal an
automobile. The “Bush” in every part of Australia possesses certain
common features. There are the interminable stretches of wild country,
heavily timbered with every variety of eucalyptus tree; the glorious
splashes of brilliant yellow wattle; the “clearings” here and there,
where settlers transform the unruly riot of Nature’s wild life into
the beautiful order of cultivated gardens; the isolated church and
school-house; and charred stumps of trees reduced to desolation by the
all-devouring forest fires. In the world of animal and bird life there
are the wallaby, the kangaroo, the dingo, the treacherous snake, the
impudent magpie, the destructive parrot, and the clown of the bush--the
laughing jackass. All these we encounter on our journey.
The bush is at once fascinating and oppressive. These awful solitudes;
this terrifying stillness! Oh, for the roar of London traffic for one
brief hour to break the spell cast over us by the eternal silence of
the unending forest. It is all so primitive, so simple, is life in the
bush. We pass the pillar post-box--a kerosene tin affixed to a tree.
Now and again we cross a solitary railway line, over which trains
run twice a week. The notice, “Look out for the trains,” seems to be
the quintessence of humour; one might wait during half a week before
a train appeared on this bush railway. One strange notice smites us
with a smart stroke. It runs thus: “_Twenty Miles to_ YORK.” So there
is a York here; the newest York of all! These notices, natural enough
to the inhabitants, seem _bizarre_ to us. “Twenty miles to York.” Ah,
then! in an hour’s time this flight through the bush will turn out to
have been a curious dream, and we shall be gazing upon the towers of
the Minster!... Some of the houses we pass are incarnate poems. Built
of wood and surrounded with ample balconies, they are festooned with
masses of roses, buried, in fact, beneath the bloom of a thousand
flowers. In the gardens surrounding these houses grow oranges, lemons,
and palms in profusion, together with fruit and vegetables of every
description. Already in this early springtime--corresponding in time to
an English April--peas and beans are nearly ready for gathering.
But the wild flowers! We stop the car and penetrate into the bush to
gather handfuls of the most wonderful wild flowers I have ever seen.
The flora is unique both in colouring and in fantastic shapes. Some of
these wild flowers are not found in any other part of the world. We are
here at the precise season for beholding this display at its very best.
The air is heavy with a strange and subtle perfume. The exquisite and
unique scent of the boronia dominates all, while the fainter perfume
of the golden wattle insinuates itself, despite its proximity to the
heavily scented boronia. In an hour we have gathered an armful of
flowers representing every tint known to nature. Above them all stands
out, first, “the kangaroo’s paw,” surely one of the oddest productions
of the magician Nature. A long, slender stalk, measuring one or two
feet in length, and terminating in a flower resembling the outspread
paw of the kangaroo--that is the “kangaroo’s paw.” Sometimes the colour
is green and scarlet, sometimes black, sometimes purple, orange or red.
It is the assertive flower of the forest: the flower one cannot fail
to notice. And then, think of it, O Englishmen who gaze in rapture at
delicate and expensive orchids; amongst the wild flowers of Western
Australia grows the orchid--the orchid grows _wild_ here! A member
of our party once gathered in one afternoon no less than fourteen
varieties of the wild orchid. One sees here, growing in a perfectly
wild state, flowers and plants which are highly treasured in hot-houses
“at home,” and for which high prices are gladly paid. But it must be
remembered that Western Australia is one gigantic, natural hot-house.
And now we have reached the weir at Mundaring. Here, situated in the
midst of magnificent scenery, is the immense artificial reservoir,
with its capacity for 4,600 million gallons of water. This enormous
tank collects all the water of the district. From here it is pumped
through a steel conduit by a series of eight pumping installations to
the main distributing reservoir, 308 miles away; then by gravitation
it descends to the two great goldfields at Coolgardie and Kalgoorlie.
The engine plant is said to be the finest in the world. Of course, it
was constructed in Great Britain. The entire cost of the scheme was
£3,300,000, an enormous sum of money for fewer than 300,000 people
to find for supplying water to two cities and the towns _en route_.
The whole work was planned and consummated in five years. It ended in
conferring a boon upon the people--or some of them--and in bringing
tragedy to the chief engineer, who, worried beyond endurance with the
criticisms passed upon his work, committed suicide.
We were happy in being able to see the reservoir when it overflowed
with water, the surplus passing over the weir in a long, graceful
sheet, thus joining the water of the river below. This living blind,
incessantly being drawn down, dancing as it fell, offered a spectacle
of rare beauty. Western Australia has good reason to be proud of
its achievement in constructing this admirable piece of hydraulic
engineering. It stands quite unique in the history of the world.
Nothing else of a similar nature is on such a great scale.
The experiment has been successful, and it has pointed out the way
in which one of the greatest difficulties in a desert country may
be overcome. Sufficient water falls in the course of the year for
all purposes. Hitherto it has run to waste, lacking a proper system
of conservation and distribution. A great and generous increase of
population would result in the extension of this system, so that what
was formerly regarded as unredeemable land might become rich and
productive country. For the natural wealth of the country is almost
illimitable.
Thus the miracle. Now for the prediction.
What will be the future of the great Golden West--that immense area of
nearly one million square miles which comprises Western Australia? The
question is inevitable, and it is of surpassing interest, not only to
Australia, but to the entire Empire. A study of the map should convince
any reasonable person that this “front door to Australia” is of no
ordinary importance in the plan of Empire development. Vast coloured
populations lie almost at this door. Facing the north and north-west
are the millions of Java and Borneo and the islands, while India is
but ten days’ steaming from the port of Fremantle. Beyond, in the
north, lie four hundred millions of Chinese. With a discontented India,
an awakening China, an overcrowded and ambitious Japan--all near at
hand--the question, What will be the future of the Golden West? assumes
a new and serious importance.
Let us consider the land to begin with. It is the “giant of the
Australian States,” containing the vastest area and the smallest
population (I am not including Tasmania). Until recently it has been
largely neglected by the other States and by the rest of the world.
For many years it lay stagnant, until the gold boom brought it into
prominence. That immense “desert” which lies between Perth and Port
Augusta has acted as a barrier between the inhabitants of Western
Australia and those of other States. The coming of the railway,
however, will change all that.
The future of the country, commercially, may be deduced from the story
of the past. During the last few years what was practically a desert
has become a garden. A mere handful of people have wrought the change.
Silently, and without advertisement, plough and drill have been at
work with amazing results. During the last twenty-two years--from 1890
to 1912--the population has grown from 46,290 to 304,627. When every
allowance has been made for immigration and emigration--for the ebb
and flow have been continuous--the natural growth in the way of births
has been excellent and above the average. Yet the total population at
present is ridiculous for so vast a territory. In the United Kingdom
there are 370 persons to the square mile; in Western Australia there is
one person to three square miles. It is evident that a great increase
of population must take place before it is necessary to speak of
overcrowding! This small population has really accomplished wonderful
things. It has created a number of industries, all of which are
capable of almost indefinite extension. It has cleared thousands of
acres of “scrub,” and converted them into orchards and wheatfields.
It has carried through, at a cost of over three millions sterling,
one of the most successful schemes for pumping water. It has built a
harbour at Fremantle at a cost of a million pounds. It has erected some
noble buildings. It has established a splendid system of education.
It is obvious that for such enterprises to have been conceived and
consummated the natural wealth of the country is enormous. The people
bear a heavy taxation with great cheerfulness. They can well afford it,
and withal, as is shown by the figures I have previously cited, they
are very thrifty, in the aggregate having saved some millions of money.
The total revenue of the State for the year 1890--the year before the
gold boom--was £414,314. In 1912 it was £3,966,674.
The past achievements are a prophecy of future success. Professor
Lowrie prepared two years ago certain estimates of the agricultural
possibilities of the south-western part of the State. He predicted that
in two decades the yield of wheat could be easily three times what it
is at present; the yield of barley four times as much; the yield of
oats seventy times as much; the yield of fruit fifteen times as much;
the yield of potatoes twenty times as much; and the yield of dairy
produce fourteen times as much; while sheep could be increased by 100
per cent. And this, remember, is an estimate for one part only of the
State.
In the north-eastern part of the State the climate is tropical. It is
capable of bearing an enormous amount of stock and timber, while almost
any kind of luxurious vegetation can flourish under the generous heat
of the sun. Tropical fruits also can be grown in profusion. A large
trade is now done in pearl fishing, and this, too, can be increased;
while in certain places the turtle abounds. The turtle industry
is capable of great extension. One can imagine even a M. Louis de
Rougemont quite contented with the size of these strange creatures.
Fishing, pearling, and turtling offer great openings. All kinds of
citrus fruits flourish in the State, together with the Smyrna fig,
which reaches a state of perfection.
The commercial value of timber in this Golden West is enormous. The
sandal wood grows in the north, and the jarrah hard wood in abundance
everywhere. In other States there has been a cruel and wicked waste of
valuable timber. The beautiful blackwood has been thrown in hundreds
of tons to the flames; it “did not pay” to remove it to the coast.
Surely Western Australia will never repeat this supreme folly! I have
heard a whisper that some valuable ebony has been recently found in an
out-of-the-way corner, but inquiries concerning it have elicited only
the vaguest information.
What, then, with agriculture, gold mining, general minerals--including
coal--pearling, fishing, timber, turtles, and fruit, the State has a
reserve of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.
Water is always a difficulty in a country like this. Heaven is generous
in its bountiful supplies of rain and springs, but man has not yet been
wise enough to treasure the gifts so lavishly sent. There are rivers
hundreds of miles long which have yet to be utilised for the necessary
work of irrigation. Already the West, by its provision of water for
the arid goldfields, has shown what can be done in the way of using to
the best advantage the natural supplies which are confined to certain
areas. And this country of young people, with the success of Coolgardie
under its eyes, will know how to confer a like benefit upon other
districts. With the practice of complete irrigation, the success of the
country, agriculturally, is assured.
Passing from commerce to education, there is great promise for the
West. Primary education is compulsory and free. The curriculum includes
Nature study and practical instruction in such arts and crafts as will
need to be practised by youths and maidens whose lot is cast, not
in dense manufacturing centres, but in the midst of a laughing and
fertile Nature. The education department provides systematic medical
examination for all State school children. It is gratifying to observe
how the best models are being followed in Australian education. There
may be less of the academic polish associated with our English schools,
but the pupils, when they leave the hands of their masters, will, at
least, know sufficient to enable them to gain an honest living in
a practical manner. For teachers, free education is given at the
training colleges, together with board, when necessary, and pocket
money. Nearly every child living near the coast, or in the vicinity of
a river, can swim. In the summer-time children practically live in the
water.
That there should be a wonderful future for the great West no
reasonable man can doubt. But before that future can be assured the
people must be possessed of higher ideals than those associated with
money-making and pleasure-seeking. The foundations of a nation must
be moral and religious, or it can be certain of nothing worthy of its
true life. The obstacles to the laying of such foundations will be
considered in due course.