BOATING UP THE RIVER.
Whilst I was making acquaintances at Perth, my brothers, mounted on
our Timor steeds, were making a tour of inspection beyond the Darling
Hills. They fixed at length upon a farm at York, with about three
thousand acres belonging to it, and having a good farm-house, with
excellent barn and out-buildings attached. This evinced a more
comfortable and luxurious state of things than they had anticipated,
and they returned in high spirits to head-quarters.
It now became necessary to consider how the various goods and
utensils were to be conveyed to the new settlement, which was seventy
miles distant from Fremantle. We sold most of our flour and pork at
a fair profit, and left by far the greater part of the other articles
which we had brought out with us to be sold by a commission agent, as
opportunity offered.
From various causes, but chiefly from our own ignorance in selecting
our goods in London, we lost a considerable sum upon the things we
had brought out. Emigrants, unless they are men of great experience,
should bring all their capital to a colony in bills or specie, and
not attempt to increase their property by speculating in goods. On
their arrival, they will most probably find the markets already
glutted, and they will be compelled either to sell at a sacrifice, or
leave their effects in the hands of an agent, who will charge
enormously for warehouse-rent and other expenses, and will take
especial care that the unfortunate emigrant is not the party who
profits most by the sale of his goods.
We had brought out with us an old artillery waggon; and all hands now
set to work to put it together, which was accomplished after a good
deal of difficulty. We also purchased three pair of bullocks, which
were at that date very dear. One pair -- magnificent animals
certainly -- cost fifty guineas, and the other animals twenty pounds
a-piece. Now, however, the best working bullocks may be obtained for
about fifteen pounds a pair. As the road so far as Guildford was
excessively heavy, we resolved to convey most of our goods by water
to a spot a few miles beyond that town, where a friendly settler had
placed at our disposal a wooden building, consisting of a single
room, situated on the banks of the river, and used occasionally by
himself as a store-house for his own goods on their transit to his
dwelling. The same friend lent us his own whale-boat; and by
determining to convey our effects ourselves we avoided a very heavy
expense. The cost of conveying necessaries from the coast to the
farm settlements in the interior, has been one of the chief drawbacks
to the colony. The boatmen made fortunes, whilst the farmers were
nearly ruined by their charges, and those of the storekeepers in the
towns.
For fifteen years, at least, the latter have grumbled with violent
indignation unless their goods have realised from two to five hundred
per cent profit. Resolved, therefore, to be our own boatmen, we
moored our vessel at a little wooden jetty below our house, and began
to pack up such articles as were designed to compose the first cargo.
I remember well the pleasure with which we stood upon that wooden
jetty one summer's evening, looking upon the boat in which we were to
perform our first voyage up the river, as she lightly floated before
us, scarcely giving a strain upon the rope which held her to one of
the posts at the end of the pier. Fig and Jezebel, always intimate
friends, were hunting for bandicoots -- animals less than a
kangaroo-rat -- which abounded in the bank below our dwelling.
Upon this bank, Hannibal was to be seen cleaning the tandem harness,
suspended from the bough of a tree, and occasionally casting an eye
in the direction of the sheep, for whose safety he was responsible.
By the river side, our bullocks were busily engaged picking the
scanty herbage. The sea-breeze blowing steadily up the river cooled
the air, and seemed to bear health and spirits on its wings.
The only sound that met the ear was a rushing noise, which every now
and then rose from the water along the shore. It was caused by
myriads of little fish rushing into shoal water to escape from
some pressing foe.
There are some minds that draw pleasure from things which in no
degree affect others; to such, this was one of those seasons of
tranquil happiness that leave no regrets behind. The consciousness
of independence -- the pleasant nature of our duties -- the cheerful
aspect of all around -- the flattering whispers of Hope, though false
as usual -- all helped to form for the mental eye a picture which it
loved to look upon.
And now we were busied in loading our boat. What pride we felt! no
shame at being seen performing manual labour; but pride, and
pleasure, and exultation. We had always been fond of boating, and
now that it was about to be an useful employment, it seemed
additionally agreeable. And what a noble scene for this our first
adventurous voyage, upon that broad river or rather arm of the sea!
We had found out the secret of human happiness, long hidden from us
-- business had become our pleasure. I was to be the captain, and my
youngest brother and Simon composed the crew.
The boat was not loaded until late in the afternoon, and our
departure was therefore postponed until the sea-breeze should set in
on the following day. Still, we could not resist the delight of
making an experimental trip, and so the sprit-sail and jib were set,
and we shoved off into the tide-way. A whale-boat goes very fast
before the wind, but will not beat, nor will she go about well
without using an oar; she is not, therefore the craft best adapted
for nautical evolutions, but we were too happy to find much fault
with her on that occasion; and so we sailed several times across the
river and back again in the very height of enjoyment. Then suddenly
luffing up in the middle of the stream, the anchor was let go, and
the sail brailed up, in order that we might have the pleasure of
sitting still in the very midst of the waters, and rest, as it were,
in the plenitude of our satisfaction; and when the anchor dragged a
few yards over the sand before it held, and then suddenly brought up
the boat with a jerk, it seemed the climax of our pleasure. This,
the sagacious reader, in the depth of his gravity, will consider
extremely boyish. But should we not rejoice and be thankful whenever
we find among the many simple pleasures of our boyhood, a single one
which retains the power of gladdening our maturer years? Alas! one
after another they die down, and are no more to be revived. We are
apt to fancy that when the pleasures of youth have lost their
sweetness, and are no longer desired, it is an evidence of our
increasing wisdom. But it proves only that our tastes, grown more
vitiated, have taken new directions. We have only changed our
follies -- and for the worse.*
[footnote] *"'Tis sweet to think we grow more wise
When Radcliffe's page we cease to prize,
And turn to Malthus, and to Hervey,
For tombs, or cradles topsy-turvy;
'Tis sweet to flatter one's dear self,
And altered feelings vaunt, when pelf
Is passion, poetry, romance; --
And all our faith's in three per cents."
R. R. Madden
The breeze! the breeze! the glorious sea-breeze comes stealing
swiftly over the bar; it crosses the first bay. Like a dark shadow
it moves along the face of the river, and now it has reached our
landing-place and gone swiftly forwards, bringing pleasure and
thankfulness on its path. Now, my men, jump in! hand me the grog and
provision basket -- and now loose the sails, and shove off. There,
we are fairly under weigh, and little Fig whimpers his adieu to
Jezebel and Nero, who for some minutes accompany the course of the
boat along the shore; and then finding we are really going, remain
fixed with astonishment, gazing upon their departing friend. Soon,
how soon, vanishes from their breasts every feeling of regret!
Before we have turned the first headland we perceive them playfully
biting each other about the ears and neck: and now Nero scampers off
under the trees in the direction of the house, and Jezebel (type of
her sex!) hurries after him.
The breeze came rattling up the river, and the boat flew merrily
before it. We had occasionally sailed to Perth in the passage-boats,
and therefore knew something of the channel. Sand-spits frequently
run far out into the river, and those who think only of steering a
straight course, are very sure of running aground several times
during the voyage.
The distance from Fremantle to Perth, by water, is about twelve
miles, and it is about as many more from Perth to Guildford. After
passing the ferry-reach, the river appeared about a quarter of a mile
broad, having abrupt rocky banks on either side; far a-head was the
wooded bottom of Freshwater Bay. Instead of coasting round this bay,
we passed through a channel cut across the spit into Melville water.
Here is a beautiful site for a house: a sloping lawn, covered with
fine peppermint trees, which in form resemble the weeping willow, and
a great variety of flowering shrubs, down to the water's edge. The
view from the house (lately the seat of Alfred Waylen, Esq.) is
exceedingly pleasing; on one hand is the fine sheet of Melville
water, seven miles in extent, and three or four in breadth,
surrounded by thick woods; in front is the graceful curve of
Freshwater Bay; and on the opposite side of the house from Melville
water, the river sweeps abruptly round through the deep and broad
channel I have already mentioned towards the ferry-reach.
We passed up Melville water, and in about an hour and a quarter after
starting came abreast of the town of Perth, which we left about
three-quarters of a mile on our larboard side, and continued our
passage up Perth water. We had now a difficult channel to pass
through, where the river is extremely shoal; and in our inexperience
we soon got the boat aground. Jumping into the water, we succeeded
in shoving her again into the channel, and passed by a small island
called Harrison's Island. It was here that a French exploring party
took refuge after they had come so far up the river in spite of many
alarms. These men were some of the crew of Captain Perron, who was
engaged in a survey of this part of the coast of Australia, for the
French Government. During the night they were thrown into a state of
agitation and alarm by hearing incessant noises in the thick woods on
the main land, that were thought by some to be the bellowing of wild
bulls; by many the howling of wolves; and by others the cries of
savages. After a night spent in momentary expectation of attack and
massacre, the Frenchmen got into their boats and hastened down the
river again with the utmost expedition, and scarcely thought
themselves quite safe until they were once more on board their ship.
This account of the French navigators was uppermost in the minds of
the English settlers on their first arrival, and contributed greatly
to the dread they felt at wandering a few yards from the settlement.
In those days, an orderly scarcely durst take a message from the
Governor to the Surveyor General's tent, within sight, unless
accompanied by a couple of his fellows, with their muskets ready for
action.
The borders of the river were in many parts, especially on the
present town site of Perth, so entangled with thick brushwood, that
enemies might be lying in swarms, close at hand, without the least
fear of detection. When Sir James Stirling and his party first
passed up the river in boats, they had the accounts of the French
sailors fully in mind, and were very cautious how they landed. They
passed the night in a state of preparation, if not of alarm, and were
kept in constant vigilance by the same fearful noises.
The woods were now supposed to be filled with wild beasts, and it was
not until some time had elapsed that people became convinced that the
dreadful sounds which assailed their ears at night proceeded from
myriads of frogs. These little creatures swarm in the samphire
marshes near the river, and possess voices far surpassing anything
known in their species in Europe.
I was once looking out for ducks or coots in a thicket of bulrushes
higher than my head, when I was startled by hearing a loud "bomb!" at
no great distance from me. Having no idea what kind of wild beast
had made its lair in that dense thicket, I got ready to fire both
barrels on the first appearance of danger. Again the same awful
noise! It must be the snorting of a bison, or vast buffalo, seeking
shelter from the sun -- or it may proceed from some kind of
water-dragon, I thought. I looked in every direction, but could see
no living creature; and at last was about to retreat in the quietest
manner possible, when I espied a little frog perched on the top of a
reed, about a yard from my nose, and apparently looking full in my
face, whilst, ever and anon he inflated his cheeks, and uttered the
fearful sounds I had heard.
But besides the dread of wild beasts, the colonists were long in the
greatest apprehension of losing themselves in the vast wilderness of
forest by which they were on every side enclosed. The country being
extremely level, up to the Darling range of hills, which is seen
trending north and south about twelve or fourteen miles at the back
of Perth, a man once in the woods has no object but the sun by which
to direct his course. Every now and then he comes upon an impassable
swamp, which throws him out of his track, and causes him infinite
difficulty before he can get round it, and then he begins to doubt of
his true direction. This is certainly, an awkward predicament; and
nothing is so easy as for inexperienced bushmen to lose their way.
When once a man begins to doubt whether he is right, he loses all
confidence in himself; he wanders first in one direction and then in
another, in the hope of finding something to guide him; and fears
lest every step should take him farther into the labyrinth of the
forest-wilderness. I have myself been several times lost for a short
period, and know how very unpleasant is the sensation. A common
soldier, sent on a message from Perth to Fremantle, happened to get
off the track. Becoming alarmed, he tried to recover it, but as it
had made a bend, he walked as far as he thought its position ought to
be, without success, and then fancied he must have mistaken the
direction. He therefore diverged at right angles, and after walking
a short time, recollected that he must now be going in the wrong
direction, as he had left the path originally on his left hand.
Accordingly he turned back again, and walked so far without
perceiving any signs of the track that he now fancied he must be
going parallel with it. Had he gone on a few yards father, all would
have been right, but now he really took a parallel course, and after
walking for some time longer, he again turned back, and walked in
another direction. Now this man had the sea on one side of him, and
the river on the other, at most not more than four miles apart; yet
the dread of having walked back into the wilderness behind Perth
overpowered his faculties, and he walked for hours in a circle of
about half a mile in diameter. He might have considered that the
Darling Hills were behind Perth, and must have brought him up, but
reason does not always act freely at these times. At length,
completely exhausted, he sat down at the foot of a tree, where he
remained all night, expecting death from starvation, from the
natives, or some unknown wild beasts.
The next day he walked again as long as his strength would allow, but
before night sank down in the extremity of despair. It was not until
the third day of his misfortunes that he was tracked up by a party
sent in search of him, and guided by friendly natives, who followed
his many devious steps with unerring eyes.
Another man, similarly lost in the interior, after vainly trying to
recover the road, determined to make for the coast, which he knew lay
to the west. He was also confident that the sun regularly set in
that quarter, and therefore, he boldly determined to trust himself to
the guidance of the sun, making sure, that if he followed it far
enough, it must lead him to the coast at last. Accordingly, he
marched after the sun till night-fall and then went cheerfully to
sleep, having supped upon some bread and pork, which he carried with
him. The next morning, at sunrise, he started off in the direction
of his guide, perfectly unconscious that he was now retracing his
steps, and journeying eastward. All day, however, he continued to
follow the sun, and when it set, wondered that he had not yet reached
the sea. At night, he finished his bread and pork, and the next
morning set off again on his long and tedious journey; still, at
night, there was no appearance of the ocean, and he fired off his gun
at a black cockatoo, which he killed with his only charge of shot.
Upon this bird he lived for the next two days, and for two more he
subsisted upon roots. He had now given up all hopes of discovering
the sea, and had lain down to die, when he was found by his master
and a party of natives, who had come in search of him.
It appeared that he was found upon almost the very spot on which he
had first lost himself.
When once a man begins to believe that he is lost in the wilderness,
he feels as helpless as one who is blind-folded at the game of
blindman's buff, and who has been twirled round so often, that he has
no idea whereabouts the door or the fire-place is situated. Those
who are used to the bush steer their course with almost unerring
precision by the sun, and a few known objects, but there are numbers
who never acquire this power. The natives appear to know by instinct
the direction of every spot they wish to reach; and many white men
seem to possess the same faculty.
But I have almost forgotten that we are all this time sailing up the
rive in our whale-boat. It was a very beautiful sail, and we
repeatedly passed cheerful-looking farm-houses on either bank --
sometimes goodly mansions with park-like enclosures about them. In
the afternoon we dined upon cold wild-duck; and as each man sipped
his grog in his pannikin, we felt so exceedingly cheerful, that Simon
and Meliboeus favoured the public with "Away with melancholy!" and
divers other agreeable ditties. The wind however died away, and
evening set in as we passed Guildford. The banks of the river had
now risen into steep cliffs, which threw a deep gloom over our
course. We had furled the sails, and taken to the oars, and as we
blindly poked our way, we began to think this kind of work was not
quite so agreeable as it had at first appeared. Nothing was now to
be seen but the outlines of the steep sides of the river on which
occasional houses were visible, the light streaming through the
windows, and making us fancy how comfortable every thing must be
within, and how pleasant it would be to be sitting at supper in a
cheerful room, instead of toiling at our oars with blistered hands,
and without the prospect of a good bed at the end of the voyage.
Romance was gone; the sad reality of life remained. Still we pulled
along, steering by turns, and doubting and wondering every hundred
yards whether we had not gone past the place we sought. Sometimes we
paused on our oars to debate the question, but still we continued to
push on; till at length we found ourselves close abreast of the
wooden building we were so anxiously looking out for, and experienced
a sensation of surprise as well as of delight.
The boat was soon safely moored, and the door of the building
unlocked; and by the light of a wax taper, which we had brought on
purpose, we found ourselves in a large empty room, without any
fire-place. A heap of dead wood was soon collected at the entrance;
and a glorious fire lighted up the small enclosure which surrounded
the building, and sufficiently illuminated a considerable portion of
the room itself. The kettle being put on, we soon had tea ready, and
managed to get through our rations of bread and pork, not forgetting
to give little Fig his supper, who sat very seriously before the
fire, wondering what it all meant.
Cigars, and brandy and water, having been duly administered before
bed-time, we next proceeded to litter down coats and cloaks; and
having made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would admit of,
stretched ourselves on the floor, with a few sighs and thoughts of
home, and slept until day-break.
The first thing we did next morning was to unload the boat; and then
having breakfasted, and secured the door on our effects, we started
on our homeward trip, and had the satisfaction of pulling the whole
distance to Perth, where we were obliged to sleep the next night, as
it was impossible for us to get down Melville water in the teeth of a
strong sea-breeze.
When we had to start again with another load of goods, our hearts
were much heavier than on the first excursion.