AUSTRALIAN EXPLORERS.
After the departure of Ayrton, and during this compulsory halt,
promenades and conversations became the order of the day. There was
an abundance of agreeable surroundings to talk about, and nature
seemed dressed in one of her most attractive garbs. Birds, novel and
varied in their plumage, with flowers such as they had never before
gazed on, were the constant theme of the travelers' remark; and when,
in addition, they had in Mr. Olbinett one who knew how to spread
before them and make the best of all the culinary novelties that were
within reach, a very substantial foundation was possible for the
"feast of reason and the flow of soul" which followed, and for which,
as usual, they were to no small extent indebted to their learned
historico-geographical professor, whose stock of information was as
varied as it was pleasant.
[Illustration: A crack was heard; the cart inclined at an alarming
angle; the water reached the feet of the ladies, and the whole vehicle
threatened to give way. It was an anxious moment.]
After dinner the traveling party had, as if in anticipation, seated
themselves at the foot of a magnificent banksia; the young moon was
rising high into the heavens, lengthening the twilight, and prolonging
it into the evening hour; whilst the smoke of the major's cigar was
seen curling upwards, losing itself in the foliage of the tree.
[Illustration: After dinner the traveling party had, as if in
anticipation, seated themselves at the foot of a magnificent banksia;
the young moon was rising high into the heavens, lengthening the
twilight, and prolonging it into the evening hour.]
"Monsieur Paganel," said Lady Helena, "you have never given us the
history that you promised when you supplied us with that long list of
names."
The gentleman addressed did not require any lengthened entreaties on
this subject, but, with an attentive auditory, and in the grandest
of all lecture-rooms, he rehearsed to them the two great dramas of
Australian travel, which have made the names of Burke and Stuart
immortal in the history of that continent.
He told them that it was on the 20th of August, 1860, that Robert
O'Hara Burke set out, under the auspices of the Royal Society of
Melbourne, to cross the continent from south to north, and so to reach
the Indian Ocean. Eleven others--including a botanist, an astronomer,
and an army officer--accompanied him, with horses and other beasts of
burden. But the expedition did not long continue so numerous or so well
provided; in consequence of misunderstandings, several returned, and
Burke pressed on with but few followers and fewer aids. Again, on the
20th of November, he still further diminished his numbers by leaving
behind at an encampment several of his companions, that he and three
others might press on towards the north with as little incumbrance as
possible. After a very painful journey across a stony desert, they
arrived at the extreme point reached by Stuart in 1845; and from this
point, after determining as accurately as possible their latitude and
longitude, they again started northward and seaward.
[Sidenote: LYING DOWN TO DIE.]
By the 7th of January they had gone so far as to reach the southern
limit of the tropical heat; and now under a scorching sun, deceived by
the mirage, often without water, and then hailing a storm as a source
of refreshment, now and then meeting with the aborigines, who could in
no wise help them, they had indeed a hard road to travel, though having
neither rivers, lakes, nor mountains to bar their path.
At length, however, there were various signs that they were approaching
the sea; by-and-by they reached the bank of a river which flows into
the Gulf of Carpentaria; and finally Burke and Wills, after terrible
hardships, arrived at the point where the sea-water flowed up to and
inundated the marshes, though the sea-shore itself they did not reach.
With naught but barrenness in sight on either hand, their great desire
was to get back and rejoin their companions; but peril after peril
awaited them, many of which their note-book has preserved an account
of, but many more will be forever unrecorded. The three survivors
(for one of the party had succumbed to the hardships) now strained
every effort to reach the encampment, where they hoped to find their
companions and a store of provisions. On the 21st of April they
gained the goal, but the prize was missing; only seven hours before,
after five months of waiting in vain, their companions had taken
their departure. Of course nothing remained but to follow them with
their feeble strength and scanty means of subsistence; but calamities
still dogged their footsteps, and at last the leader, Burke, lay down
exhausted, saying to his companion, King, "I have not many hours to
live; here are my watch and my notes; when I am dead, place a pistol
in my right hand, and leave me without burial." His forebodings were
realized, and the next morning he died. King, in despair, went in
search of some Australian tribe, for now Wills had begun to sink,
and he shortly afterwards died also. At length the sole survivor was
rescued by an expedition sent out in search of Burke; and thus the sad
tale was told of this Australian tragedy.
[Illustration: "When I am dead, place a pistol in my right hand, and
leave me without burial." His forebodings were realized, and the next
morning he died.]
The narrative concerning Stuart was a less melancholy one, though the
trials endured on his expedition were likewise great. Aided by the
parliament of South Australia, he likewise proceeded northward,
in the year 1862, about seven degrees to the west of the line taken
by Burke. He found his route to be a more accessible and easy one
than the other, and was rewarded for his toil when, on the 24th of
July, he beheld the waters of the Indian Ocean, and proudly unfurled
the Australian flag from the topmost branch of the highest tree he
could find. His return to the inhabited regions was successfully
accomplished, and his entry into Adelaide, on the 17th of December, was
an ovation indeed. But his health was shattered, and, after receiving
the gold medal of the Royal Geographical Society, and returning to his
native Scotland, he died on the 5th of June, 1866.
[Illustration: He beheld the waters of the Indian Ocean, and proudly
unfurled the Australian flag from the topmost branch of the highest
tree he could find.]
The histories of these Australian travels were lengthy, as told by
Paganel. When he had finished, hope and despair seemed to fight for the
mastery in the breasts of his listeners; but they did not fight long,
for peaceful slumbers soon enwrapped the company, except those whose
turn it was to watch over their fellow-travelers.