Journal of an Expedition into the Interior of Tropical Australia,
by Thomas Mitchell
Journal of an Expedition
into the Interior of Tropical Australia
In Search of a Route from Sydney
to the Gulf of Carpentaria (1848)
by
Lt. Col. Sir Thomas Livingstone Mitchell Kt. D.C.L. (1792-1855)
Surveyor-General of New South Wales
Originally published in 1848
TO
THE HONOURABLE
THE SPEAKER AND MEMBERS
OF THE
LEGISLATIVE COUNCIL OF NEW SOUTH WALES,
THIS JOURNAL
OF
AN EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY,
PETITIONED FOR BY THE COUNCIL,
AND
UNDERTAKEN AT THE EXPENSE OF THE COLONY,
IS
DEDICATED
BY
THEIR MOST OBEDIENT,
HUMBLE SERVANT,
T. L. MITCHELL
PREFACE.
“Admiring Nature in her wildest grace,”[* Burns.] it has ever been the most
attractive of the author’s duties to explore the interior of Australia. There the
philosopher may look for facts; the painter and the poet for original studies and
ideas; the naturalist for additional knowledge; and the historian might begin at
a beginning. The traveller there seeks in vain for the remains of cities, temples,
or towers; but he is amply compensated by objects that tell not of decay but of
healthful progress and hope;—of a wonderful past, and of a promising future.
Curiosity alone may attract us into the mysterious recesses of regions still
unknown; but a still deeper interest attaches to those regions, now that the
rapid increase of the most industrious and, may we add most deserving people
on earth, suggests that the land there has been reserved by the Almighty for
their use.
In Australia, the great family of civilized man seems still at that early period
between history and fable, upon which, even in “the world as known to the
ancients,” the Roman poet had to look very far back:—
“Communemque priùs, ceu lumina solis et auras,
Cautus humum longo signavit limite mensor.”
[* Ovid, Met. lib. i.]
The Journey narrated in this work was undertaken for the extension of
arrangements depending on physical geography. It completes a series of
internal surveys, radiating from Sydney towards the west, the south, and the
north, which have occupied the author’s chief attention during the last twenty
years; and, as on former occasions, it has enabled him to bring under the notice
of men of science some of the earth’s productions hitherto unknown. He cannot
sufficiently express his sense of obligation in this respect, to Mr. Bentham, Sir
William Hooker, Dr. Lindley, and Professor De Vriese, for supplying the
botanical matter and notes contained in this volume, and thus contributing to
the general stock of human knowledge. It is also his pleasing duty to state, that
during the long journey of upwards of a year, Captain P. P. King, R. N., kept a
register of the state of the barometer at the sea side; and, in the midst of his
important avocations, determined, by a very elaborate comparison of minute
details, all the heights of localities herein mentioned.
The new geographical matter is presented to the public with confidence in its
accuracy, derived as it is from careful and frequent observations of latitude;
trigonometrical surveying with the theodolite, whereever heights were
available; and, by actual measurement of the line of route. This route was
connected, at its commencement and termination, with the trigonometrical
survey of the colony; and, in closing on Mount Riddell, a survey extending
two degrees within the tropics, the near coincidence of his intersections with
that summit, as fixed by his survey of 1830, could not but be very satisfactory
to the author.
The geological specimens collected during this journey have been deposited
in the British Museum, and their original locality is shown on the maps by the
numbers marked upon the specimens, so that they may be available to
geologists; hence, in the progress of geological science, the fossils now
brought from these remote regions will be accessible at any future time, and
something known of the geology as well as of the geography of the interior. As
Professor Forbes most readily undertook to describe the freshwater shells after
the work had passed through the press, that portion of the collection also has
thus been brought under the notice of geologists.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
Objects of the expedition.—Unexpected delay—by reference to Lord
Stanley.—List of the Party.—Departure from Buree.—Sheep stations.—Scattered
population.—Passage through Hervey’s Range.—Encroachment of sheep on cattle
runs.—A tea-totaller.—Meet an old acquaintance.—Sulphureous
springs.—Currandong—Necessity for damming up the Bogan. Leave Bultje’s
country.—Ephemeral existence of Aborigines.—Line between the squatters and
the wild natives.—Velocity of the Bogan.—Supply of young bullocks.—Richard
Cunningham—Young cattle troublesome.—A night without water.—Distress from
heat and thirst.—Excessive heat.—Reunion of the party.—Melancholy fate of
the Bogan tribe.—Interesting plants discovered.—Encampment at Mudaà.—Carry
water forward.—Arrive at Daròbal.—Nyingan.—Water at Canbelègo.—Discovery
of a lagoon.—Encamp near Canbelègo. Explore the Bogan in search of
water.—Long ride.—Quit the Bogan.—Party attacked with ophthalmia
CHAPTER II.
MAP OF THE RIVERS BOGAN AND MACQUARIE
Move to the ponds of Cannonbà.—Set up our bivouac.—Hot wind.—Piper’s
intention to quit the party.—Piper sent to Bathurst.—Change of weather.—A
day of rain.—Mr. Kennedy returns.—Salt made from the salt plant.—Reconnoitre
Duck Creek.—Ophthalmia still troublesome.—Approach of a flood announced.—It
arrives in clear moonlight.—Marshes of the Macquarie.—Difficulty of watering
cattle.—A new guide.—Cattle astray.—Yulliyally.—Docility of the
Aborigines.—Water insufficient for cattle.—Want of water.—Small ponds
destroyed by cattle.—At last find abundance.—Aboriginal preferable to modern
names.—Cattle again astray—and delay the journey.—Junction of the Macquarie
and Bàrwan.—The Darling as at present, and formerly.—Admirable distribution of
water. The ford at Wyàbry.—The party crosses the Darling
CHAPTER III.
MAP OF THE RIVERS NARRAN, CULGOA, AND BALONNE TO ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE,—SHOWING ALSO THE ROUTE HOMEWARD, AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER X.Plains and low hills.—The Caràwy ponds.—Delayed by weak cattle.—The
Narran.—Arrived at—encamp by:—Narran swamp.—A bridge required.—During the
delay of drays take a ride forward.—Rich pastures on the Narran.—New
plants.—Arrival of drays.—Bridge laid down for their passage.—The party
fords the Narran.—Advances but slowly.—Low hills examined.—Good grassy
country.—Food of the natives.—Rising ground west of the river.—Ride
up.—Abodes and food of natives.—Rich grass.—Parley with a native.—Gravelly
ridges.—Two natives conduct us to the river.—Approach the assembled
natives.—Interview with the tribes.—Cordial reception.—Cross the
Balonne.—Reach the Culgòa.—Cross that river.—Route beyond.—The Upper
Balonne.—Explore its course.—Numerals cut on trees.—A native scamp.—Fine
country.—Splendid reaches of the river—Lagoons near it.—Lake
Parachute.—Seek a position—for a depôt camp.—Ride to the
north-west.—Character of the country.—Search for water. Uncommon
birds.—Return to the camp.—New Acacia
CHAPTER IV.
MAP OF THE ADVANCE TO THE MARANÒA—SHOWING ALSO THE ROUTE BY WHICH THE PARTY RETURNED TO ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE, AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER VII.Advance with a light party.—Fine river scenery.—Junction of rivers.—Trace
one up, then cross to the other.—Mr. Kennedy instructed to explore it.—Fine
country for grazing.—Turanimga lagoon.—Trace up a small tributary.—Mountains
discovered.—Camp visited by three natives.—”Cogoon” the name of
tributary.—Charms of the Australian climate.—Mount Minute.—Extreme
cold.—Traces of high floods in the Cnogoa.—-Mount Inviting.—Mount
Abundance.—Ascend that mountain.—Fitzroy Downs.—The Bottle Tree, or
DELABECHEA.—Frosty Creek.—Travel due north over open downs.—Advantages of
mountains.—Ascend one.—Mount Bingo.—Thenod Tagando tribe.—The party
advances to the Amby—followed by the tribe.—How we got rid of them.—Enter
the country through the pass.—Find one pond.—A large river
discovered.—Position taken up on its banks.—There await Mr. Kennedy’s arrival.—Explore
to the north-west.—Ascend a hill and tree to take angles from.—Interior
country visited.—View of the western interior.—Its character.—Determine to
trace the river upwards.—Ascend Mount Kennedy.—Extensive prospect.—Native
visit during my absence.—Arrival of Mr. Kennedy’s party.—The Tagando tribe
again.—Their visit to Mr. Kennedy.—Prepare to advance again with a light
party.—Instructions left with Mr. Kennedy
CHAPTER V.
MAP OF THE COUNTRY AND THE ROUTES BETWEEN THE MARANOA AND MOUNT MUDGE, AND THOSE ALONG THE RIVER VICTORIA AS DESCRIBED IN CHAPTER VII.My departure.—A team of bullocks sent back for.—Good grassy country.—Ride
north-west during rain.—Hostile natives menace our camp.—The party crosses
Possession Creek.—A small river found.—Another ride to the north-west.—Banks
of the little river.—Mount Owen seen.—Travel towards it.—Flank movement to
the Maranòa for water.—None found in its bed.—View from Mount Owen.—Names of
localities on the map.—Scarcity of water impedes our progress.—Water found
in rocky gullies.—Excursion northward.—Mount Aquarius.—View from northern
summit of Mount Owen.—Progress through a broken country.—Night without
water.—Another route explored amongst the gullies.—Plants found near Mount
Owen.—Route for the advance of the carts.—View of mountains—from Mount
P. P. King.—View from western extremity of Table Land of Hope.—Mount
Faraday.—Strange Hakea.—A running stream discovered.—Return towards the
camp.—The party with the carts advances.—Course of the new found river.—New
plants.—A large lake receives the river.—The outlet dry.—Enter a
scrub.—Return to the Salvator.—Discovery of the Claude.—Rich soil on the
downs.—The party moves to the Claude.—Cross that river. Fossil wood.—Again
shut up in a rocky country.—Slow progress in a gully.—Balmy Creek.—New
plants.—Emerge from the ravines.—Tower Almond.—View from Mount Kilsyth.—View from Mount Mudge.—Two natives met.—Remarkable tree
CHAPTER VI.
MAP OF THE RIVER BELYANDO,Head of another river.—Water again scarce.—Abundance found.—Climate and
country—under the Tropic Line.—Plants.—Peculiar character of the
water-course.—One cause of open spaces in the woods.—New plants.—Causes of
the outspread of channel.—Plains of wild indigo.—Large river channel from
the south.—Cross.—Novelties beyond.—The river much increased.—Long journey
through scrub.—New plants.—Journey along the river bank.—Character of this
river.—Distant prospect.—No water.—Fatiguing journey through scrubs. Reach
the river by moonlight.—Large lagoons.—New tributary—from the
S. W.—Excursion to the N. W.—Night without water.—Interview with natives.—Camp
visited by natives during my absence.—An affair at the camp.—The party
crosses the river.—Conclusions.—The party returns.—Tilled ground of the
natives.—The shepherd astray.—Singular phenomenon.—Extraordinary vegetable
production.—Heavy rain comes on.—Probability of finding a river.—Singular
meteor.—Intertropical temperature.—Effects of the rain.—Recross the
Tropic.—Regain the higher land.—Remarkable tree.—(Hakea?)—Dip of the
strata.—Character of the Belyando.—How to explore a river in brigalow.—A
more direct way homewards.—Successful passage with carts and drays.—Open
downs.—Fossil wood.—Recross the Claude.—Mantuan downs.—Natives of the
Salvator.—Position taken up for a depôt camp.—Interesting plants
CHAPTER VII.
(Having reference to Map V.)Preparations and departure.—Mount Pluto.—Route amongst the three volcanic
hills.—Interview with a female native.—Cross a range beyond.—The Nive and
the Nivelle.—Burning of grass by the natives.—Water found, after a night of
thirst.—Pastures green, and quiet waters at sunset.—Morning view from a
rock.—A new river followed down-over extensive open downs.—Brigalow scrubs
away from the river.—River much increased.—Security from natives—Thoughts
in these solitudes.—The downs and the river.—An emu shot there.—A river
joins from the east.—Structure of native’s huts.—Two separate channels
unite.—The river well filled.—Packhorse unserviceable.—Rare
pigeon—numerous.—A wild tribe—surprised at a lagoon.—Recross the river—and
return homewards.—The savage compared—with the civilized.—Hills in the
S. W.—Short cut along the left bank of the river.—Name it the
Victoria.—Privations in exploring.—Return to the Nive and Nivelle.—Gallant charge by
a snake.—Sources of the Salvator.—View from Mount Pluto.—Arrival at the camp
of the pyramids.—Rare and new plants collected there
CHAPTER VIII.
(Having reference to Map V.) and (Having reference to Map Map IV.)Fossils and plants.—A new genus.—LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.—Ascend Mount
Faraday.—Valley of the Warregò.—Meet an old native.—Return to the camp over
the gullies.—Encamp by the Maranòa.—The river found to be near our former
track—with water in abundance.—Loss of a horse.—Cattle tracks.—Arrival at
the camp of Mr. Kennedy.—Visits of the natives—during our absence.—Plants
gathered at the depôt camp.—New plants.—Fossils
at Mount Sowerby.—Ascent of Mount Kennedy.—The party leaves the
depôt camp following the course of the Maranòa.—Discovery of a fine open
country.—Numbered trees at camps.—The country on the Maranòa.—Singular
habits of a fish.—Name of river obtained from good authority.—The
Acacia varians.—Water scarce again.—Some at
length discovered by a dog.—Country between the two routes.—Plants.—Arrive
at the Balonne.—Return to St. George’s Bridge
CHAPTER IX.
(Having reference to Map III.)Despatches sent forward.—Acquisitions
during the delay.—Mr. Kennedy’s return and report.—The party crosses the
Balonne.—Arrives at the Mooni.—A white woman.—Cattle stations.—Heavy
rain.—The country impassable.—Camp removed to a hill.—Dam thrown up.—The
waters subside.—The party proceeds.—Arrival at the Barwan.—A
flood.—Cross the Màal, also in boats.—Country between the rivers.—Mount Riddell
recognised.—The Gwydir crossed.—Termination of the journey.—A stockman.
—Night on the open plain.—The Nammoy.—First news
CHAPTER X.
Instructions to Mr. Kennedy for the survey of the river Victoria.—Of
the Aborigines.—Simple conditions of human existence.—Grass, fire, kangaroos,
and men.—Case of the aboriginal natives.—My native guides.—Experiment worth
trying.—Of the Convicts.—Character of the men of the party.—Of convicts
generally.—Of the Colony of New South Wales,—capabilities of soil and
climate.—Progress of colonization,—Division and appropriation of the
territory.—Capricornia and Austral-india
MAP OF EASTERN AUSTRALIA
APPENDIX.
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor General of New South Wales.—Letter,
dated 28th October, 1830Systematical List of Plants
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Flood coming down the Macquarie
Map I. The Indian Archipelago
Portrait of Bultje
Remnant of the Bogan tribe
Map II. The Rivers Bogan and Macquarie
First use of the boats
Map III. The Rivers Narran, Culgoa, and Balonne to St. George’s Bridge, shewing also the route thence homeward to Snodgrass Lagoon
Separation of the Balonne into the Culgoa, Narran, etc.
The River Balonne, 7th April
Map IV. Advance to the Maranòa, and route returning to St. George’s Bridge
The Bottle tree, DELABECHEA
The black awaiting the white
Map V. The country and the routes between the Maranòa and Mount Mudge, and those along the River Victoria
Tree without branches
The Pyramids
Martin’s Range
Tower Almond
Map VI. The River Belyando
Missile club of natives of Central Australia
Remarkable tree (HAKEA ?)
The River Salvator, 5th Sept.
Lindley’s Range
Old native female
Aboriginal dance
View on the River Maranòa
Acacia VARIANS
St. Georgia’s Bridge
Last use of the boats
Map VII. Eastern Australia, with recent discoveries
JOURNEY INTO TROPICAL AUSTRALIA, ETC.
Chapter I.
OBJECTS OF THE EXPEDITION.—IT IS DELAYED BY A REFERENCE TO LORD
STANLEY.—LIST OF THE PARTY.—DEPARTURE FROM BUREE.—SCATTERED
POPULATION.—IRISH AMONGST THE SQUATTERS.—A TEA-TOTALLER FROM
SYDNEY.—A SHEPHERDESS IN AUSTRALIA. SHEEP WALK WHERE CATTLE RUN.—MEET
AN OLD ABORIGINAL ACQUAINTANCE.—CATTLE STATIONS ABANDONED.—THE BOGAN
RIVER.—YOUNG BULLOCKS TROUBLESOME.—EXCESSIVE HEAT.—GREAT SCARCITY
OF WATER.—THE PARTY MUCH DISTRESSED BY HEAT AND DROUGHT.—MELANCHOLY
FATE OF THE BOGAN TRIBE.—INTERESTING PLANTS DISCOVERED.—CARRY WATER
FORWARD.—DESPERATE RIDE DOWN THE BOGAN.—FIND ITS CHANNEL DRY.—DOGS
DIE FROM THIRST.—THE PARTY ATTACKED WITH OPHTHALMIA.—QUIT THE BOGAN,
BY MOVING TO THE PONDS OF CANNONBÀ.—ENCAMP THERE TO REST AND REFRESH
THE PARTY.
The exploration of Northern Australia, which formed the object of my
first journey in 1831, has, consistently with the views I have always
entertained on the subject [* See London Geographical Journal, vol. vii.
part 2, p. 282.], been found equally essential in 1846 to the full
development of the geographical resources of New South Wales. The
same direction indicated on Mr. Arrowsmith’s map, published by the
Royal Geographical Society in 1837, was, in 1846, considered, by a
committee of the Legislative Council of New South Wales, the most
desirable to pursue at a time when every plan likely to relieve the colony
from distress found favour with the public.
At no great distance lay India and China, and still nearer, the rich
islands of the Indian Archipelago; all well-peopled countries, while the
industrious and enterprising colonists of the South were unable to avail
themselves of the exuberance of the soil and its productions,
“Which mock’d their scant manurings,
and requir’d more hands than theirs to prune their wanton growth.”
The same attraction which drew the greatest of discoverers westward,
“al nacimiento de la especeria [* To the region where spices grew.],”
seemed to invite the Australian explorer northward; impelled by the
wayward fortunes of the Anglo-Saxon race already rooted at the southern
extremity of the land whose name had previously been “Terra Australis
incognita.” The character of the interior of that country still remained
unknown, the largest portion of earth as yet unexplored. For the mere
exploration, the colonists of New South Wales might not have been very
anxious just at that time, but when the object of acquiring geographical
knowledge could be combined with that of exploring a route towards
the nearest part of the Indian Ocean, westward of a dangerous strait,
it was easy to awaken the attention of the Australian public to the
importance of such an enterprise. A trade in horses required to remount
the Indian cavalry had commenced, and the disadvantageous navigation of
Torres Straits had been injurious to it: that drawback was to be avoided
by any overland route from Sydney to the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria.
But other considerations, not less important to the colonists of New
South Wales, made it very desirable that a way should be opened to the
shores of the Indian Ocean. That sea was already connected with
England by steam navigation, and to render it accessible to Sydney by
land, was an object in itself worthy of an exploratory expedition. In
short, the commencement of such a journey seemed the first step in the
direct road home to England, for it was not to be doubted that on the
discovery of a good overland route between Sydney and the head of the
Gulf of Carpentaria, a line of steam communication would thereupon be
introduced from that point to meet the English line at Singapore.
In this view of the subject, it seemed more desirable to open a way to
the head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, the nearest part of the sea, than to the
settlement at Port Essington, on a presque-île forming the furthest point
of the land; and, that the journey would terminate at the Gulf was
therefore most probable. The map of Australia, when compared with that
of the world, suggested reasonable grounds for believing that a
considerable river would be found to lead to the Gulf of Carpentaria.
My department having been reduced to a state of inactivity in 1843, I
submitted a plan of exploration to Sir George Gipps, the Governor, when
His Excellency promised, that if the Legislative Council made such
reductions as they seemed disposed to make in the public expenditure, he
should be able to spare money for such an expedition. The Legislative
Council not only made reductions in the estimates to save much more
money than His Excellency had named, but even voted 1000L. towards
the expense of the journey, and petitioned the Governor to sanction it.
His Excellency, however, then thought it necessary to refer the subject to
the Secretary for the Colonies. Much time was thus lost, and, what was
still worse, the naturalist to whom I had explained my plan, and invited
to join my party, Dr. Leichardt. This gentleman, tempted by the general
interest taken by the colonists at the time in a journey of discovery,
which afforded a cheering prospect amid the general gloom and
despondency, raised and equipped a small party by public subscription,
and proceeded by water to Moreton Bay. Dr. Leichardt, and the six
persons who finally accompanied him thence to the northward, had not
been heard of, and were supposed to have either perished or been
destroyed by natives. [* Dr. Leichhardt returned afterwards to Sydney from
Port Essington by sea; and the journal of his journey, recently published,
shows what difficulties may be surmounted by energy and perseverance.]
The reply of Lord Stanley was, as might have been anticipated,
favourable to the undertaking; but the Governor of the colony still
declined to allow the journey to be undertaken, without assigning any
reason for keeping it back. This was the more regretted by me, when it
became known in New South Wales that Captain Sturt was employed,
with the express sanction of Lord Stanley, to lead an exploring
expedition from Adelaide into the northern interior of Australia, and that
he was actually then in New South Wales. Sir George Gipps had
expressed, in one of his early despatches to the British Government, his
readiness to encourage such an undertaking as that, and stated that “no
one came forward to claim the honour of such an enterprise;” yet now
that Lord Stanley had sanctioned the plan of the Surveyor General,
whose duty it was to survey the country, he refused to allow this officer
to proceed. The Legislative Council, however, renewed the petition for
this undertaking, to which the Governor at length assented, in 1845; and
the sum of 2000L. was unanimously voted for the outfit of the party, but
with the clear understanding on the part of the Council, that the plan of
the Surveyor General should be adopted.
The idea of a river flowing to the northward, was not, however, new.
The journey in 1831 was undertaken chiefly in consequence of a report
that a large river had been followed down to the coast by a bushranger,
accompanied by the natives: and the ultimate course of the Condamine,
still a question, was a subject of controversy in some of the first papers
published in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society. My
suggestions on the subject are detailed at length in the London
Geographical Journal, Vol. VII., Part 2., page 282., and accompanied by
a map showing the line of exploration then recommended.
In making preparations for this expedition, the means of conveyance by
land and water required the earliest consideration. These were strong
bullock-drays and portable boats. Horses and light carts had been
preferred by me: but the longer column of march, and necessity for a
greater number of men, were considered objections; while many
experienced persons suggested that the bullocks, though slow, were more
enduring than horses. [* The results of this journey proved quite the reverse.]
Eight drays were therefore ordered to be made of the best seasoned wood:
four of these by the best maker in the colony, and four by the prisoners in
Cockatoo Island. Two iron boats were made by Mr. Struth, each in two parts,
on a plan of my own, and on the 17th of November the whole party moved off
from Paramatta on their way to the proposed camp at Buree.
I joined the party encamped at Buree on the 13th of December, having
rode there from Sydney in four and a half days, and on the following
Monday, 15th of December, 1845, I put it in motion towards the interior.
The Exploring party now consisted of the following persons:—
With the exception of a few whose names are printed in italics, the
party consisted of prisoners of the Crown in different stages of probation,
with whom the prospect of additional liberty was an incentive so
powerful, that no money payment was asked by them or expected, while,
from experience, I knew that for such an enterprise as this I could rely on
their zealous services. The patience and resolution of such men in the
face of difficulties, I had already witnessed; and I had hired three of the
old hands, in order the more readily to introduce my accustomed camp
arrangements. Volunteers of all classes had certainly come eagerly
forward, offering their gratuitous services on this expedition of
discovery; but discipline and implicit obedience were necessary in such a
party to ensure the objects in view, as well as its own preservation; and it
was not judged expedient, where some prisoners were indispensable as
mechanics, to mix with them men of a different class, over whom the
same kind of authority could not be exercised.
Following the same road by which I quitted Buree, in 1835, my former
line of route across Hervey’s Range lay to the left. The party thus arrived
at Bramadura, a sheep station occupied by Mr. Boyd. It was on the same
chain of ponds crossed by me on the journey of 1835, and then named
Dochendoras Creek, but now known as the Mundadgery chain of ponds.
These ponds had been filled by heavy rains which fell on Tuesday the
9th December—the day on which I left Sydney, where the weather had
been clear and sultry. A tornado or hurricane had, on the same day,
levelled part of the forest near this place, laying prostrate the largest
trees, one side of which was completely barked by the hailstones. Many
branches of trees along the line of route, showed that the wind had been
very violent to a considerable distance.
16TH DECEMBER.—Some of the bullocks missing: the party could not,
therefore, quit the camp until 11 o’clock. The passage of the bed of the
chain of ponds (which we travelled up) was frequently necessary, and
difficult for heavily laden drays, which I found ours were, owing, chiefly
to a superabundance of flour, above the quantity I intended to have taken,
but supplied to my party, and brought forty miles by my drays before my
arrival at the camp.
We halted at another sheep station of Mr. Boyd’s. Here I perceived that
Horehound grew abundantly; and I was assured by Mr. Parkinson, a
gentleman in charge of these stations, that this plant springs up at all
sheep and cattle stations throughout the colony, a remarkable fact, which
may assist to explain another, namely, the appearance of the Couchgrass,
or Dog’s-tooth-grass, wherever the white man sets his foot,
although previously unknown in these regions.
17TH DECEMBER.—Set off about 7 a.m. and travelled along a good
road, for about 6 miles. Then, at a sheep station, we crossed the chain of
ponds, following a road leading to Dr. Ramsay’s head station, called
Balderudgery. Leaving that road, and, at 7 miles, taking to the left, we
finally encamped on Spring Creek, after a journey of about 9 miles. We
had passed over what I should have called a poor sort of country, but
everywhere it was taken up for sheep; and these looked fat; yet not a
blade of grass could be seen; and, but for the late timely supply of rain, it
had been in contemplation to withdraw these flocks to the Macquarie.
Calling at a shepherd’s hut to ask the way, an Irish woman appeared
with a child at her breast and another by her side: she was hut-keeper.
She had been there two years, and only complained that they had never
been able to get any potatoes to plant. She and her husband were about to
leave the place next day, and they seemed uncertain as to where they
should go. Two miles further on, a shoemaker came to the door of a hut,
and accompanied me to set me on the right road. I inquired how he found
work in these wild parts. He said, he could get plenty of work, but very
little money; that it was chiefly contract work he lived by: he supplied
sheep-owners with shoes for their men, at so much per pair. His
conversation was about the difficulty a poor man had in providing for his
family. He had once possessed about forty cows, which he had been
obliged to entrust to the care of another man, at 5S. per head. This man
neglected them: they were impounded and sold as unlicensed cattle under
the new regulations.
“So you saw no more of them?”
“Oh, yes, your honour, I saw some of them after they had been sold at
the pound!—I wanted to have had something provided for a small
family of children, and if I had only had a few acres of ground, I could
have kept my cows.”
This was merely a passing remark made with a laugh as we walked
along, for he was one of the race—
“Who march to death with military glee.”
But the fate of a poor man’s family was a serious subject: such was the
hopeless condition of a useful mechanic ready for work even in the
desolate forests skirting the haunts of the savage. So fares it with the
disjecta membra of towns and villages, when such arrangements are left
to the people themselves in a new colony.
18TH DECEMBER.—The party moved off about 7 a.m., and continued
along a tolerable road, crossing what shepherds called Seven Mile Creek,
in which there was some water; and a little further on we quitted the
good beaten road leading to Balderudgery, and followed one to the left,
which brought us to another sheep station on the same chain of ponds,
three miles higher up than Balderudgery. Having directed the party to
encamp here, I pursued the road south-westward along the chain of
ponds, anxious to ascertain whether I could in that direction pass easily
to the westward of Hervey’s Range, and so fall into my former line of
route to the Bogan. At about five miles I found an excellent opening
through which the road passed on ground almost level. Having ascended
a small eminence on the right, I fell in with some natives with spears,
who seemed to recognise me, by pointing to my old line of route, and
saying, “Majy Majy” (Major Mitchell). I little thought then that this was
already an outlying picquet of the Bogan Blacks, sent forward to observe
my party. The day was hot, therm. 97° in the shade. The chain of ponds,
there called “the Little River,” contained water in abundance, and was
said to flow into the Macquarie, in which case the Bogan can have but
few sources in Hervey’s Range.
The station beside which we had encamped, comprised a stock yard,
and had been formerly a cattle station belonging to Mr. Kite. It was now
a sheep station of Dr. Ramsay’s, and there was another sheep station a
mile and a half from it, along the road I had examined. Thus the country
suitable for either kind of stock is taken up by the gradual encroachment
of sheep on cattle runs, not properly such. This easily takes place—as
where sheep feed, cattle will not remain, and sheep will fatten where
cattle would lose flesh. Fortunately, however, for the holders of the latter
description of stock, there are limits to this kind of encroachment. The
plains to the westward of these ranges afford the most nutritive pasturage
in the world for cattle, and they are too flat and subject to inundations to
be desirable for sheep. A zone of country of this description lies on the
interior side of the ranges, as far as I have examined them. It is watered
by the sources of the rivers Goulburn, Ovens, Murray, Murrumbidgee,
Lachlan, Bogan, Macquarie, Castlereagh, Nammoy, Peel, Gwydir, and
Darling; on which rivers the runs will always make cattle fat. There are
two shrubs palpably salt, and, perhaps, there is something salsolaceous in
the herbage also on which cattle thrive so well; and the open plains and
muddy waterholes are their delight. Excessive drought, however, may
occasionally reduce the owners of such stock to great extremities, and
subject them to serious loss. The Acacia pendula, a tree whose habitat is
limited and remarkable, is much relished by the cattle. It is found only in
clay soils, on the borders of plains, which are occasionally so saturated
with water as to be quite impassable; never on higher ground nor on any
lower than that limited sort of locality, in the neighbourhood of rivers
which at some seasons overflow. In such situations, even where grass
seems very scarce, cattle get fat; and it is a practice of stockmen to cut
down the Acacia pendula (or Myall trees, as they call them) for the cattle
to feed on.
At this sheep station where we had encamped, I met with an individual
who had seen better days, and had lost his property amid the wreck of
colonial bankruptcies—a tea-totaller, with Pope’s Essay on Man for his
consolation, in a bark hut. This “melancholy Jaques” lamented the state
of depravity to which the colony was reduced, and assured me that there
were shepherdesses in the bush! This startling fact should not be
startling, but for the disproportion of sexes, and the squatting system
which checks the spread of families. If pastoralisation were not one
thing, and colonisation another, the occupation of tending sheep should
be as fit and proper for women as for men. The pastoral life, so
favourable to love and the enjoyment of nature, has ever been a favourite
theme of the poet. Here it appears to be the antidote of all poetry and
propriety, only because man’s better half is wanting. Under this
unfavourable aspect the white man first comes before the aboriginal
native; were the intruders accompanied by women and children, they
could not be half so unwelcome. One of the most striking differences
between squatting and settling in Australia consists in this. Indeed if it
were an object to uncivilise the human race, I know of no method more
likely to effect it than to isolate a man from the gentler sex and children;
remove afar off all courts of justice and means of redress of grievances,
all churches and schools, all shops where he can make use of money,
then place him in close contact with savages. “What better off am I than
a black native?” was the exclamation of a shepherd to me just before I
penned these remarks.
19TH DECEMBER.—The party moved along the road I had previously
examined. On passing through to the western side, I recognised the trees,
plants, and birds of the interior regions. Granitic hills appeared on each
side, and the sweet-scented Callitris grew around, with many a curious
shrub never seen to the eastward of these ranges. On descending, grassy
valleys, with gullies containing little or no water, reminded me of former
difficulties in the same vicinity, and it was not until we had travelled
upwards of sixteen miles that I could encamp near water. This consisted
of some very muddy holes of the Goobang Creek, on which I had formerly
been pleasantly encamped with Mr. Cunningham. [* See Vol. I. of Three
Expeditions, etc., page 171.] Two or three natives soon made their
appearance, one of whom I immediately recognised to be my old friend Bultje,
who had guided me from thence to the Bené Rocks, on my former journey along
the Bogan. He brought an offering of honey. Ten years had elapsed since I
formerly met the same native in the same valley, and time had made no
alteration in his appearance. With the same readiness to forward my views
that he formerly evinced, he informed me where the water was to be found;
and how I should travel so as to fall in with my former route, by the least
possible détour. Mount Laidley bore 23° E. of N.
20TH DECEMBER.—This day I gave the cattle a rest, as the grass
seemed good, while I rode to look at my old line of marked trees. A
cattle station (of Mr. Kite) was within a mile and a half of our camp, and
at about three miles below it, I fell in with the former line. Where it
crossed the Goobang, a track still continued by them, but finally
diverged, leaving the line of marked trees, without the slightest trace of
the wheels or hoofs that had formerly passed by it. Reaching a hill laid
down on my former survey, and from which I recognised Mount Laidley,
I returned directly to the camp. We had encamped near those very
springs mentioned as seen on my former journey, but instead of being
limpid and surrounded by verdant grass, as they had been then, they were
now trodden by cattle into muddy holes, where the poor natives had been
endeavouring to protect a small portion from the cattle’s feet, and keep it
pure, by laying over it trees they had cut down for the purpose. The
change produced in the aspect of this formerly happy secluded valley, by
the intrusion of cattle and the white man, was by no means favourable,
and I could easily conceive how I, had I been an aboriginal native,
should have felt and regretted that change. The springs which issue from
the level plains of clay, while the bed of the water-course some twenty
feet lower continues dry and dusty, are numerous. One had a strong taste
of sulphur, and might probably be as salubrious as other springs more
celebrated. They show that, in this country at least, the water-courses are
not supplied by springs, but depend wholly on heavy torrents of rain
descending from the mountains. Some holes in the bed of the Goobang
Creek did however retain some water which had fallen during the last
rain. The thermometer stood at 107° in the tent.
21ST DECEMBER.—Guided by my old friend Bultje, we pursued a
straight line of route through the forest to Currandong, which was half
way to the Bogan. We passed over a very open, gently undulating
country, just heading a gully called Brotherba—showing how well our
guide knew the country—and we reached Currandong at 2 o’clock. Here
also were two flocks belonging to Dr. Ramsay; Balderudgery, the head
station, being fifteen miles distant, by a mountain road through a gap.
While travelling this day, Corporal Graham overtook me with letters
from Buree, and a cart had also been sent after us by Mr. Barton with a
small supply of corn. That country is considered excellent as a fattening
run for sheep; the shepherd told me they there find a salt plant, which
keeps them in excellent condition and heart for feeding. The scarcity of
water at some seasons occasions a conversion here of cattle runs into
sheep runs, and VICE VERSÂ, a contingency which seems to render these
lands of Hervey’s range of temporary and uncertain value.
22D DECEMBER.—Guided by Bultje we continued to follow down the
little chain of ponds which, as he said, led to the Bogan. The road was
good—the Currandong ponds running in a general direction about N. N.
W. It was the first of the sources of the Bogan we had reached. Crossing
at length to its left bank, near an old lambing station of Dr. Ramsay’s, we
further on came to a large plain with the Yarra trees of the Bogan upon
its western skirts. Some large lagoons on the eastern side of the plains
had been filled by the late rains, and cattle lay beside them. We at length
arrived in sight of a cattle station of Mr. Templar’s, called Ganànaguy,
and encamped on the margin of a plain opposite to it. The cattle here
looked very fat, and although the herd comprised about 2000 head, there
was abundance of grass. The Bogan thus first appeared on our left hand,
and must have its sources in the comparatively low hills, about the
country crossed by my former line of route, rather than in Hervey’s or
Croker’s ranges, as formerly supposed. The water in the ponds of the
Bogan seemed low.
This fine grazing country had been abandoned more than once from the
failure of the water, and yet these ponds seemed capable of holding an
almost inexhaustible supply. A single dam would have retained the water
for miles, the Bogan always flowing through clay in a bed of uniform
width and depth like a canal. No doubt a little art and labour would be
sufficient to render the land permanently habitable: but on an uncertain
tenure this remedy was not likely to be applied, and therefore the
sovereignty of art’s dominion remained unasserted there. The incursions
of the savage, who is learning to “bide his time” on the Darling, are
greatly encouraged by the hardships of the colonists when water is
scarce; and I was shown where no less than 800 head of fat bullocks had
been run together by them when water was too abundant. Then horses
cannot travel, and cattle stick fast in the soft earth and are thus at the
mercy of the natives. The stone ovens, such as they prepare for cooking
kangaroos, had been used for the consumption of about twenty head of
cattle a day, by the wild tribes who had assembled from the Darling and
lower Bogan on that occasion. Thermometer in tent 109° at noon, wind
W.N.W.
23D DECEMBER.—We crossed the Bogan (flowing eastward) at Mr.
Templar’s station at Ganànaguy, and the overseer most hospitably stood
by the party as it passed with a bucket of milk, of which he gave a drink
to each of the men. Bultje put us on the right road to the next nearest
water-holes (Mr. Gilmore’s station), and having rendered me the service
he promised, I gave him the tomahawk, pipe, and two figs of tobacco
promised him, and also took a sketch of his singularly Socratic face. This
native got a bad name from various stockmen, as having been implicated
in the murder of Mr. Cunningham. Nothing could be more unfounded;
and it must indeed require in a man so situated the wisdom of a Socrates
to maintain his footing, or indeed his life, between the ignorant stockmen
or shepherds on one hand, and the savage tribes on the other. These latter
savages naturally regard those who are half civilised, in the same light as
we should look on deserters to the enemy, and are extremely hostile to
them, while perhaps even his very usefulness to our party had most
unjustly connected this native’s name with the murder of one of our
number. His laconic manner and want of language would not admit of
any clear explanation of how much he had done to serve our race—and
the difficulties he had to encounter with his own; while the circumstance
of his having been met with at an interval of ten years in the same valley
in a domesticated state, if it did not establish any claim to the soil, at
least proved his strong attachment to it, and a settled disposition. Much
tact must be necessary on his part to avoid those savages coming by
stealth to carry off his gins; and to escape the wrath of white men, when
aroused by the aggressions of wild tribes to get up a sort of foray to save
or recover their own. How Bultje has survived through all this, without
having nine lives like a cat, still to gather honey in his own valley,
“surpasseth me to know.”
We encamped at two large water-holes of the Bogan near Mr.
Gilmore’s station, and the overseer sent to the men two buckets of milk.
At the station a well had been made to the depth of eighty feet, but a
flood had come, and risen so high as to wash in the sides and so fill up
the well. The workmen had passed through yellow clay chiefly, and the
clay was wet and soft when the further sinking was interrupted.
Thermometer in my tent 109°, wind W. N. W.
24TH DECEMBER. A lurid haze hung among the trees as the earliest
sunbeams shot down amongst them. The party were ready to move off
early, but the progress was slow from various impediments. A hot wind
blew like a blast furnace. A bullock dropt down dead at the yoke. We
encamped on the Currandong, or Back Creek, near a small plain, after
travelling about ten miles. Thermometer in tent, 103.° Hot wind from the
west.
25TH DECEMBER. Halted to rest the cattle. The wind blew this day more
from the northward, and was cooler. Thermometer in tent, 107°.
26TH DECEMBER.—Proceeded to Graddle, a cattle station belonging to
Mr. Coss, 2½ miles. Thermometer, 109°.
27TH DECEMBER.—The bullock-drivers having allowed twenty-two of
the bullocks to stray, it was impossible to proceed.
At early morning the sky was overcast, the weather calm, a slight wind
from the west carried off these clouds, and at about eleven a very hot
wind set in. The thermometer in my tent stood at 117°, and when
exposed to the wind rose rapidly to 129°, when I feared the thermometer
would break as it only reached to 132°.
28TH DECEMBER.—All the cattle having been recovered, we set off
early, accompanied by a stockman from Graddle, Mr. Coss’s station. The
day was excessively warm, a hot wind blowing from the west. We finally
encamped on the Bogan, at a very muddy water-hole, after travelling
eleven miles. Thermometer in tent, 115°. At half past five, the sky
became overcast, and the hot wind increased to a violent gust, and
suddenly fell. I found that tartaric acid would precipitate the mud,
leaving a jug of the water tolerably clear, but then the acid remained.
Towards evening the sky was overcast, and a few drops of rain fell. The
night was uncommonly hot. At ten the thermometer stood at 102°, and at
day-break at 90°.
29TH DECEMBER.—The remaining water was so muddy that the cattle
would no longer drink it. The sky was overcast, with the wind from
south. Finding a cart road near our camp, I lost no time in conducting the
lighter portion of our equipment to Mr. Kerr’s station at Derribong. In the
hollows I saw, for the first time on this journey, the Polygonum junceum,
reminding me of the river Darling, and on the plains a Solanum in
flower, of which I had only seen the apple formerly. At length, greener
grass indicated that the late rains had fallen more heavily there, and at
about twelve miles I reached the station situated on a rather clear and
elevated part of the right bank of the Bogan. Here the stock of water had
been augmented by a small dam, and a channel cut from a hollow part of
the clay surface conducted any rain water into the principal pool, where
the water was very good. We had now arrived at the lowest station on the
Bogan. The line of demarcation between the squatter and the savage had
been once much lower down, at Mudà, and even at Nyingan (see infra),
but the incursions of the blacks had rendered these lower stations
untenable, without more support than the Colonial government was able
to afford. There, at least, the squatter is not only not the real discoverer
of the country, but not even the occupier of what had been discovered.
The map will illustrate how it happens that the colonists cannot keep
their ground here from the marauding disposition of the savage tribes.
[* See map of Eastern Australia—infra.] The Darling is peopled more
permanently by these natives, than perhaps any other part of Australia:
affording as it does a more certain supply of food. It is only in
seasons of very high flood that this food, the fish, cannot be got
at, and that they are obliged to resort to the higher country at such
seasons, between the Darling, the Lachlan, and the Bogan. It also
happens that the cattle of the squatter are most accessible from the soft
state of the ground; the stockmen cannot even ride to protect them. The
tribes from the Lachlan and Macquarie meet on these higher lands, and
when tribes assemble they are generally ready for any mischief. The
Bogan is particularly within their reach, and when wet seasons do occur
the cattle of squatters must be very much at the mercy of the savages.
The tribes from the Darling are extremely hostile, even to the more
peaceably disposed hilltribes near the colony, and several stations have
already been abandoned in consequence of the outrages of the aborigines
from the Darling and Lachlan. Nothing is so likely to increase these evils
as the precarious or temporary occupation of such a country. The supply
of water must continue uncertain so long as there is no inducement from
actual possession to form dams, and by means of art to secure the full
benefit of the natural supply. Hence it is that half a million of acres,
covered with the finest grass, have been abandoned, and even savages
smile at the want of generalship by which they have been allowed to
burn the white man’s dairy station and stockyards on the banks of the
Bogan. The establishment of a police station near the junction of the
Bogan with the Darling, or the formation of an inland township about
Fort Bourke, had been sufficient to have secured the stations along the
Bogan and Macquarie, and to have protected the Bogan natives as well
as our own countrymen from frequent robbery, murder, and insult. Such
are the results where squatting has been permitted to supersede settling.
With possession, deficiency of water in dry seasons had been remedied,
and no such debateable land had remained on the borders of a British
colony.
The part of the Bogan where least water can be found, has always been
that between our present camp and Mudà, a very large lagoon about 50
miles lower down. I found by the barometer that there is a fall of 206 feet
in that distance of 50 miles; whereas the fall in the bed of the Bogan is
only 50 feet between Mudà and New Year’s Range, in a distance of
upwards of 100 miles. The general course of the Bogan changes at Mudà
from N.W. to north, the former being nearly in the direction of the
general declination of the country, the latter rather across it, of which the
overflowings of the parallel river Macquarie into Duck Creek, and other
channels to the westward, seemed to afford sufficient proofs. Where the
declination is least, the water is most likely to remain in ponds in the
channel of the river after floods, the water of which can neither flow with
so much velocity, nor bear down any of the obstructions by which ponds
are formed. Mr. Dixon found the velocity of the Bogan at this part,
during a flood in 1833, to be four miles in an hour; which is about double
the average rate of the larger rivers of Australia.
I had an order from Mr. Kerr, the proprietor of this station of
Derribong, to his superintendant, for such fat cattle as I might require to
take with me as live stock. Finding that the sheep answered very well,
having lost none, and that they rather improved in travelling, whereas the
working oxen had been much jaded and impoverished by the long
journey, heavy loads, and warm weather; I determined to take as many
young bullocks as might suffice to relieve and assist the others, and
break them in as we proceeded.
30TH DECEMBER.—The wind changed to S.E., and brought a cool
morning. Thermometer, 68°. This day we selected from the herds of Mr.
Kerr 32 young bullocks, and they were immediately yoked up in the
stockyard.
Received letters from Sydney, by Corporal Graham.
31ST DECEMBER, 1845.—Thermometer at 5 a.m., 62°: at noon, 109°.
Wind S.E. At noon a whirlwind passed over the camp, fortunately
avoiding the tents in its course; but it carried a heavy tarpaulin into the
air, also some of the men’s hats, and broke a half-hour sand-glass, much
wanted for the men on watch at night. The sky overcast from the west in
the evening.
1ST JANUARY, 1846.—A strong wind from N.E. blew during the day,
and was very high at 11 a.m. The party were chiefly employed breaking
in the young bullocks. At noon, nimbus, and some rain, tantalised us with
the hope of a change; but the sky drew up into clouds of cumulus by the
evening. The vegetation of the Bogan now recalled former labours: the
Atriplex semibaccata of Brown was a common straggling plant.
2D JANUARY.—The young cattle still occasioned delay. The morning
was cloudy and promised rain; but a N.W. wind broke through the
clouds, which resolved themselves into cirrostratus, and we had heat
again. Besides the Salsola australis, we found a Halgania with lilac
flowers, probably distinct from the species hitherto described, which are
natives of the south-west coast.
3D JANUARY.—This morning the young cattle were yoked up with the
old; and, after considerable delay, the party proceeded to some ponds in
the Bogan about five miles lower down. We were now nearly opposite to
the scene of Mr. Cunningham’s disasters: I had recognised, amongst the
first hills I saw when on the Goobang Creek, the hill which I had named
Mount Juson, at his request, after the maiden name of his mother. The
little pyramid of bushes was no longer there, but the name of
Cunningham was so identified with the botanical history of almost all the
shrubs in the very peculiar scenery of that part of the country, that no
other monument seemed necessary. Other recollections recalled
Cunningham to my mind; his barbarous murder, and the uncertainty
which still hung over the actual circumstances attending it. The shrubs
told indeed of Cunningham; of both brothers, both now dead; but neither
the shrubs named by the one, nor the gloomy CASUARINOE trees that had
witnessed the bloody deed, could tell more. There the Acacia pendula,
first discovered and described by Allan, could only
“Like a weeping mourner stooping stand,
For ever silent, and for ever sad.”
4TH JANUARY.—The early cooler part of the morning was taken up with
the young cattle. It was now but too obvious that this means of
conveyance was likely to retard the journey to an extent that no
pecuniary saving would compensate, as compared with light carts and
horses. I proceeded forward in search of a deserted stockyard, called
Tabbaratong, where some water was said still to remain. We found some
mud and water only; although some that was excellent was found about
two miles lower down the Bogan, late in the evening.
We had crossed the neutral ground between the savage and the
squatter. The advanced posts of an army are not better kept, and
humiliating proofs that the white man had given way, were visible in the
remains of dairies burnt down, stockyards in ruins, untrodden roads. We
hoped to find within the territory of the native, ponds of clear water,
unsoiled by cattle, and a surface on which we might track our own stray
animals, without their being confused by the traces of others.
5TH JANUARY.—Three of the young cattle having escaped during the
night, retarded us in the morning until 8 o’clock, at which hour they were
brought into the camp, having been tracked by Yuranigh, a most useful
native who had come with us from Buree. I proceeded with the light
carts, guided by a very young native boy, not more than ten years old,
who had come with the party from Kerr’s station, and who, being a native
of the lower Bogan, could tell us where water was likely to be found. Our
route was rather circuitous, chiefly to avoid a thick scrub of Callitris and
other trees, which, having been recently burnt, presented spikes so
thickly set together, that any way round them seemed preferable to going
through. We reached plains, and came upon an old track of the squatters.
The grass in parts was green and rich. I could see no traces of my former
route, but we arrived at length at an open spot which Dicky, the young
native, said was “Cadduldury.” Leaving Dr. Stephenson with the people
driving the light carts there, I proceeded towards the bed of the Bogan,
which was near, to see what water was there, and following the channel
downwards, I met with none. Still I rode on, accompanied by Piper (also
on horseback), and the dryness of the bed had forbidden further search,
but that I remembered the large ponds we had formerly seen at Bugabadà
and Mudà, which could not be far distant. But it was only after threading
the windings of the Bogan, in a ride of at least twelve miles, that we
arrived at the most eastern of the Bugabadà ponds. The water was
however excellent, purer indeed than any we had seen for many days,
and we hastened back to the party at Cadduldury, which place we only
arrived at as darkness came on, so that Piper had nearly lost his way. The
drays with Mr. Kennedy had not come up, and I sent William Baldock
and Yuranigh back in haste to inform him that I was encamped without
water, and that I wished him, if still en route, immediately to unyoke the
cattle, encamp on a grassy spot, and have them watched in their yokes
during the night, and to come forward at earliest dawn to the water-holes
I had found near Bugabadà. We passed a miserable night without water
at Cadduldury.
6TH JANUARY.—William Baldock returned at daybreak, bringing a
message from Mr. Kennedy, saying he should do as I had requested. I
went forward with the light party, and reached the water-holes by 8 a.m..
The morning happened to be extremely hot, which, under the want of
water and food the preceding evening, made Drysdale very ill, and John
Douglas and Isaac Reid were scarcely able to walk when we arrived at
the first water-hole. But how the jaded bullocks were to draw the heavy
loads thus far in the extreme heat, was a subject of anxious thought to
me. William Baldock again returned to Mr. Kennedy with two barrels of
water on a horse, a horn full of tea, etc. On his way he met six of the
drays, the drivers of which were almost frantic and unable to do their
work from thirst. He brought me back intelligence that Mr. Kennedy still
remained at his encampment, with the two remaining drays, whereof the
drivers (Mortimer and Bond) had allowed their teams, with bows, yokes,
and chains, to escape, although each driver had been expressly ordered to
watch his own team during the night. This was a most serious misfortune
to the whole party. The rest of the drays could not be brought as far as
my camp, but I ordered the cattle to be released and driven forward to the
water, which they reached by the evening, sufficient guards being left
with the drays. The shepherd with the sheep could not get so far as the
water, and the poor fellow had almost lost his senses, when Mr.
Stephenson, who had hastened back with several bottles, relieved his
thirst, and, as the man said, “saved his life.”
Our position might indeed have been critical, had the natives been
hostile, or as numerous as I had formerly seen them at that very part of
the Bogan. Separated into three parties, and exhausted with thirst and
heat, the men and the drays might have been easily assailed. No natives,
however, molested us; and I subsequently found that the tribe, with
which I was on very friendly terms there formerly, were still amicably
disposed towards us.
7TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, M’Avoy brought in the spare
bullocks, having been sent forward by Mr. Kennedy to travel on during
the night. The shoemaker also brought in one of the lost teams and part
of the other. I sent back, by Baldock, this morning, water for the men in
charge of the drays, and some tea and bread for Mr. Kennedy. He would
also have gone in search of the four bullocks still missing, but Mr.
Kennedy sent him again to me to procure something to eat. The drays
carrying the provisions had not come up, and my party too was short.
The day surpassed in heat any I had ever seen: the thermometer at noon
in the shade stood at 109°, a gentle hot wind blowing. The camp of Mr.
Kennedy was distant at least 16 miles from mine near Bugabadà.
The six drays came in about 4 p.m.; the sheep not until long after
dark. Bread, gelatine, and ten gallons of water were sent back to Mr.
Kennedy, and a memorandum from me apprising him of my arrangement
for drawing forward the two drays, which he had taken such good care
of, and which was as follows: Two teams to leave my camp on the
evening of next day, to be attached on their arrival to the two drays with
which they were to come forward, travelling by moonlight during the rest
of the night, until they should be met by two other fresh teams, destined
to meet them early next morning. Also I informed Mr. Kennedy that it
was not my intention to send after the four stray bullocks until the drays
came in, and the party could be again united. Thermometer again 109° in
the shade all day.
The Calotis cuneifolia was conspicuous amongst the grass. This was
the common BURR, so detrimental to the Australian wool. Small as are the
capitula of this flower, its seeds or achenia are armed with awns having
reflexed hooks scarcely visible to the naked eye; it is these that are found
so troublesome among the wool.
8TH JANUARY.—The messenger returned from Mr. Kennedy saying he
had found him and the men with him, in a state of great distress from
want of water, having given great part of what had formerly been sent to
a young dying bullock, in hopes thereby to save its life. He also stated
that a tribe of natives were on their track about three miles behind.
Baldock had seen several bullocks dead on the way.
In the evening the two first teams were sent off as arranged. This day
had also been very sultry, especially towards evening.
9TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, the two relieving teams were
despatched as arranged, and at noon Mr. Kennedy and the whole entered
the camp. We had been very fortunate, under such trying circumstances,
to suffer so little loss, and I determined never to move the party again,
until I could ascertain where the water was at which it should encamp. I
had been previously assured by the young native that water was still to
be found at Cadduldury, and the disappointment had nearly proved fatal
to the whole party.
On the banks of the Bogan, the Atriplex hagnoides formed a round
white-looking bush.
I rode forward to Mudà, accompanied by Dr. Stephenson and by Piper,
and had an interview with some of the heads of the old tribe, who
remembered my former visit, and very civilly accompanied me to show
me my old track and marked trees, which I found passed a little to the
northward of my present encampment. The chief, my old friend, had
been killed in a fight with the natives of the Macquarie, not long before.
Two old grey-haired men sitting silent in a gunya behind, were pointed
out to me as his brothers, one of whom so very much resembled him, that
I had at first imagined he was the man himself. These sat doubled up on
their hams opposite to each other, under the withered bushes, naked, and
grey, and melancholy—sad and hopeless types of their fading race!
The chief who formerly guided us so kindly had fallen in a hopeless
struggle for the existence of his tribe with the natives of the river
Macquarie, allied with the border police, on one side; and the wild
natives of the Darling on the other. All I could learn about the rest of the
tribe was, that the men were almost all dead, and that their wives were
chiefly servants at stock stations along the Macquarie.
The natives of Mudà assured me there was no water nearer than
Nyingan, a large pond which I knew was 22 1/3 miles distant, in a direct
line lower down the Bogan. The ponds of Mudà, their great store of
water, and known to white men as the largest on the Bogan, were
alarmingly low, and it became evident that our progress under such a
scarcity of water would be attended with difficulty. These natives gave
us also a friendly hint that “gentlemen” should be careful of the spears of
the natives of Nyingan, as many natives of Nyingan had been shot lately
by white men from Wellington Valley.
Among the woods we observed the white-flowered Teucrium racemosum,
the Justicia media, a small herbaceous plant with deep pink
flowers; also a Stenochilus and Fusanus (the Quandang), although not in
fruit; a new species of Stipa, remarkable for its fine silky ears and coarse
rough herbage.[*] This place produced also a fine new species of Chloris in
the way of C. truncata, but with upright ears, and hard three-ribbed pales,[**]
and we here observed, for the first time, a fine new Eremophila with
white flowers, forming a tree fifteen feet high.[***] The beautiful
Damasonium ovalifolium, with white flowers red in the centre, still
existed in the water.
[* S. scabra (Lindl. MS.), aristis nudis, paleis pubescentibus basi villosis,
glumis setaceo-acuminatis glabris, foliis scabropilosis involutis culmis
brevioribus, geniculis pubescentibus, ligulâ oblongâ subciliatâ.]
[** C. sclerantha (Lindl. MS.), culmo stricto, foliis planis glabris tactu
scabris, spicis 4—7-strictis, spiculis bifloris, flore utroque breviaristato
cartilagineo truncato 3-nervi glabro supremo sterili vacuo.]
[*** E. mitchelli (Benth. MS.), glabra viscidula, foliis alternis linearibus
planis, corolla alba extus glabra fauce amplo laciniis 4 superioribus
subaequalibus infima majore retusa, staminibus inclusis.]
In the evening it was discovered that no one had seen the shepherd and
the sheep since the morning, and Piper and Yuranigh went in search. It
was night ere they returned with the intelligence that they had found his
track ten miles off to the S. W. when darkness prevented them from
following it further.
I ascertained, by observations of the stars Aldebaran and Orionis, that
out present camp near Bugabadà was in latitude 31° 56′, and thus very
near the place where Mr. Dixon’s journey down the Bogan in 1833 had
terminated. Thermometer at noon, 90°; at 9 p.m., 70°; with wet bulb,
63°.
10TH JANUARY.—Early this morning Mr. Kennedy and Piper went to
the S. W. in search of the shepherd and sheep, while at the same time I
sent William Baldock and Yaranigh back along our track in search of the
stray bullocks. Meanwhile I conducted the party along my former track
to Mudà, where we met Mr. Kennedy and Piper with the shepherd and
sheep, already arrived there. The shepherd stated that the fatigue of
having been on watch the previous night had overcome him; that he fell
asleep, and that the sheep went astray; that he followed and found them,
but lost himself. He had met one or two natives who offered him honey,
etc. which he declined.
We encamped beside the old stock-yard and the ruins of a dairy, only
visible in the remaining excavation. But a paddock was still in such a
state of preservation, that in one day we completed the enclosure. We
had passed near Bugabadà similar remains of a cattle station. This
position of Mudà was a fine place for such an establishment; a high bank
nearly clear of timber, overlooking a noble reach of great capacity, and
surrounded by an open forest country, covered with luxuriant grass. The
last crop stood up yellow, like a neglected field of oats, in the way of a
young crop shooting up amongst it.
11TH JANUARY, 1846.—Sunday. Prayers were read to the men, and the
cattle and party rested. The day was cool and cloudy.
12TH JANUARY.—Still I halted at Mudà for the lost bullocks. To-day I
noticed the Kochia brevifolia, a little salt-bush, with greenish yellow
fruit, edged with pink.
13TH JANUARY.—Baldock and Yuranigh arrived early in the morning
(by moonlight) with five of the stray bullocks. Two others (young ones)
could not be driven along, and one old bullock was still astray at Mr.
Kerr’s station (to which they had returned) and could not even then be
found. We had now in all 106 bullocks, and, considering the great
scarcity of water, heat, and consequent drought, I was most thankful that
our loss had been so slight.
I proceeded to reconnoitre the country in a straight line towards
Nyingan, which bore 353°—and having found a tolerably open country
for about six miles, I returned and took the party on so far, and
encamped, sending back all the cattle and horses to the water at Mudà.
Enough had been carried forward for the men who were to remain at the
camp. To ensure the early return of the cattle, I had repaired, as already
stated, the paddock at Mudà, in which during this night, they could be
secured, having also sufficient grass,—likewise the horses. In my ride I
found a new grass of the genus Chloris[*], something like Chl. truncata in
habit, some starved specimens of Trichinium lanatum; amongst the
grasses I also found the Aristida calycina of Brown, the curious
Neurachne mitchelliana Nees, discovered originally by me in 1836, and
also a new Pappophorum with the aspect of our European Anthoxanthum.[**] A smart
shower fell during the evening.
[* C. acicularis (Lindl. MS.); culmo stricto, foliis involutis glabris tactu
scabris, spicis 8—9 subacutis, spiculis bifloris, flore utroque setaceo
aristato, supremo sterili angustissimo, paleis dorso scabris.]
[** P. flavescens (Lindl. MS.); aristis 9 rigidis pallidis plumosis, spicâ
compositâ densissimâ oblongâ, paleis lanatis, glumis ovatis pilosis, foliis
vaginisque pubescentibus tactu scabris, geniculis villosis.]
14TH JANUARY.—The cattle arrived early from Mudà, and were
immediately yoked to the drays. I proceeded with the light carts, still on
the same bearing, until arriving near Dar, where I had formerly been
encamped, I turned to the left to ascertain if there really was no water
there. I found two excellent ponds, and encamped beside them after a
journey of about ten miles. The drays arrived early and I subsequently
found I had encamped near my old ground of 9th May, 1835, when I was
guided by the friendly chief of the Bogan tribe to the best water holes his
country afforded. By the route I had selected from my former surveys, I
had cut off the great bend described by the Bogan in changing from a
north-westerly to a northerly course, and the track now left by our wheels
will probably continue to be used as a road, when the banks of the Bogan
may be again occupied by the colonists. At Darwere still most substantial
stock-yards, and, as usual, the deep dug foundations of a dairy that had
been burnt down.
15TH JANUARY.—Eight bullocks were missing, and although the day
was fine, not too hot, I could not think of moving until these cattle were
found. Accordingly, at earliest dawn, I despatched William Baldock and
the native to look for them. In the course of the day six were found by
Baldock in one direction, and the remaining two, afterwards, in another.
An inconspicuous blue-flowered Erigeron grew here, also the
Jasminum lineare, with its sweet-scented white flowers—and, near the
water, I saw the Alternanthera nodiflora.
16TH JANUARY.—At a good early hour the party moved from Dar,
crossing the Bogan and falling into my former track and line of marked
trees. We lost these, however, on crossing the Bogan at Murgabà, and
made a slight détour to the eastward before we found Nyingan, where we
encamped, and were joined by the drays by twelve o’clock. During this
day’s journey Piper and Yuranigh discovered fresh traces of horsemen
with those of the feet of a native guide, come from the East to my old
track, and returning, apparently, as our natives thought, looking for traces
of our party.
At Nyingan we found many recent huts and other indications of the
natives, but saw none. Large stock-yards and a paddock remained, but a
house and garden fences had been burnt down. The great ponds were
sunken very low and covered with aquatic weeds. As soon as the camp
had been established with the usual attention to defence, I set out to look
for the next water, and after riding twelve miles nearly in the direction of
my former route, I reached the dry channel of the Bogan, and tracing it
thence upwards, I sought in every hollow at all its turnings for water, but
in vain, and I reached the camp only at dusk, without having seen, during
the day, any other ponds than those of Nyingan.
17TH JANUARY.—Early this morning, I sent Mr. Kennedy with the
native Yuranigh, also on horseback, to run back my track of yesterday to
the Bogan where I had commenced its examination upwards, and from
that point to examine the channel downwards to the nearest water,
provided this did not take Mr. Kennedy too far to admit of his return by
sunset. Two old women came to the ponds of Nyingan for water, by
whom Piper was told that the nearest permanent water was “niminé,”
where white men had attempted to form a cattle-station, and been
prevented by natives from the Darling, many of whom had since been
shot by the white men. They said the place was far beyond Canbelego,
the next stage of my former journey, and where these women also said
little or no water remained.
Mr. Kennedy returned at eleven a.m., having found water at
Canbelego. Yuranigh brought with him a large green specimen of the
fruit of the Capparis mitchellii, which he called an apple, being new to
him, but which Dicky, the younger native from the Lower Bogan, knew,
and said was called “moguile;” he also said that it was eaten by the
natives.
18TH JANUARY.—The party moved to Canbelego where one or two
small ponds remained, but on the plains adjacent there was better grass
than we had hitherto found near those places where, for the sake of
water, we had been obliged to encamp. I sent Mr. Kennedy again
forward looking for water, but he returned sooner than I expected, and
after following the river down twelve miles, without finding any. I was
now within the same distance of Duck Creek, in which Mr. Larmer had
found abundance of water when I sent him to survey it upwards during
my last return journey up the Bogan. It also seemed, from the direction in
which Piper pointed, that the old gins referred to Duck Creek, as
containing water; and as the course of that creek, so far as shown on
maps, led even more directly to the Darling than did the Bogan, I was
willing in such a season of extreme drought, to avail myself of its waters.
My eye had been much injured by straining at stars while at the camp
near Walwadyer, and I was obliged to send Mr. Kennedy on one of my
own horses, followed by Graham, to examine the water in Duck Creek. I
instructed him to proceed on a bearing of 35° E. of North, until he should
reach the creek, and if he found water in it to return direct to the camp,
but that if water was not found on first making the creek, then he was to
follow Duck Creek up to its junction with an eastern branch, surveyed
also by Mr. Larmer, and to return thence to the camp on a bearing of
240°. I also sent Corporal Macavoy with Yuranigh down the Bogan, to
ascertain if the channel contained any pond between our camp and the
part previously examined by Mr. Kennedy.
This officer returned from Duck Creek after an absence of twelve
hours, and reported that he had found no water in Duck Creek after
examining its bed twelve miles; but that he had found a fine lagoon on
the plains near the head of the eastern branch, but around which there
was no grass, all having been recently burnt.
20TH JANUARY.—Macavoy returned at seven a.m., saying he had been
twenty-four miles down the Bogan without finding any water. About the
same time Sergeant Niblett, in charge of the bullocks, came to inform me
that these animals were looking very ill, and could not drink the mud
remaining in the pond. At the same time intelligence was brought me that
four of the horses had broken their tether ropes during the night, and that
William Baldock had been absent in search of them on foot, from an
early hour in the morning. I immediately sent back the whole of the
bullocks to Nyingan, with a dray containing the empty harness casks,
also the horses, and a cart carrying all our other empty casks; and the
whole of the cattle and horses returned in the evening with all the casks
filled.
21ST JANUARY.—Having again despatched the bullocks back to
Nyingan, I conducted the light carts forward along my old track (of
1835), having on two of these carts two of the half-boats, and in the carts
under them all the water-kegs that had been filled. My object was to use
the iron boat as a tank, at which we might water the bullocks at one stage
forward; that by so gaining that point and proceeding onwards towards
the water I hoped to find next day, we might encamp at least at such a
convenient distance from it, as would admit of the cattle being driven
forward to return next day and draw the drays to it. This I considered
possible, even if it might be found necessary to go as far for water as the
fine reach described in my journal as the place of my encampment on the
14th May, 1835, beyond Mount Hopeless, and which I concluded from
the gin’s description, must have been what she called Nimine, or the
disputed station of Lee. I encamped this party on a plain about twelve
miles from Canbelego, where I had left Mr. Kennedy, with instructions
to bring the drays on with the spare cattle and horses early next morning.
I had sent thence Corporal Macavoy and Yuranigh to follow the track of
Baldock and the horses; but it was obvious that we could remain no
longer at Canbelego. As soon as we could set up one of the half-boats,
the contents of the water-kegs were emptied into it, and the cart was
immediately sent back with the empty kegs to Canbelego, where fresh
horses had been left, to continue with the same cart and empty kegs to
Nyingan during the night, so as to arrive in time to admit of the
dray—already there with the harness casks—bringing an additional supply
back in the kegs, when the bullocks returned next day.
It was now necessary that I should ascertain as soon as possible the
state of the ponds lower down the Bogan, and thereupon determine at
once, whether to follow that dry channel further in such a season, or to
cross to the pond in Duck Creek, and await more favourable weather. I
accordingly set out at 3 p.m., from where the water had been placed in
the half-boat, accompanied by Dr. Stephenson, and followed by Corporal
Graham and Dicky the native boy. By the advice of the latter, I rode from
the camp in the direction of 30° E. of N., and, crossing the Bogan, we
reached at about 3½ miles beyond it, a channel like it, which I supposed
was Duck Creek; and in it, just where we made it, there was a small pond
of water. Having refreshed our horses, we followed this channel
downwards, without meeting with more water. To my surprise, I found
the general direction was westward, until it joined the bogan. We next
followed the course of the Bogan as long as daylight allowed us to do so,
without discovering any indication that water had recently lodged in any
of the hollows, and we finally tied up our horses and lay down to sleep,
in hopes that next day might enable us to be more successful.
22D JANUARY.—Having proceeded some miles along the western
bends of the Bogan, hastily—being desirous to see that day the great
pond beyond Mount Hopeless—I observed that the clay was very
shining and compact in a hollow sloping into an angle of the river-bed,
that the grass was green as from recent rain, and that there was more
chirping of birds; I was tempted once more by these indications, to look
for water in the Bogan’s almost hopeless channel, and there we found a
pond, at sight of which poor Dicky shouted for joy; then drank, and fell
asleep almost in the water. It was small, but being sufficient for our
immediate wants, we thankfully refreshed our horses and ourselves, and
proceeded on our eventful journey. Almost immediately after leaving this
pond I discovered my old track, which we continued to follow across
those large plains, whence I had formerly discovered Mount Hopeless.
These plains I soon again recognized from the old tracks of my draywheels,
distinctly visible in many places after a lapse of nearly eleven
years. Arriving at length near the debateable land of Lee’s old station, we
resumed our examination of the Bogan. There we perceived old cattle
tracks; the ovens in which the natives had roasted whole bullocks, and
about their old encampments many heaps of bones; but in none of the
deep beds of former ponds or lagoons could we discover any water. The
grass was nevertheless excellent and abundant; and its waste, added to
the distress the want of water occasioned us, made us doubly lament the
absence of civilised inhabitants, by whose industry that rich pasture and
fine soil could have been turned to good account. We saw no natives; nor
were even kangaroos or emus to be seen, as formerly, any longer
inhabitants of these parts. I turned at length, reluctantly, convinced that it
would have been unsafe to venture with cattle and drays into these
regions before rain fell. In returning, we at first found it difficult to find
our old track, by which alone we could hope that night to reach the small
pond of the morning; but Dr. Stephenson very fortunately found it, and
we had also the good fortune, for so we considered it, to arrive at the
pond before sunset. There we tied up our horses and lay down, glad
indeed to have even that water before our eyes. Dicky, the native boy,
had repeatedly thrown himself from his horse during the afternoon, quite
ill from thirst.
23D JANUARY.—After our horses had drank, we left no water in the
pond; but they had fed on good grass, and we were well refreshed,
although with water only, for our ride back to the camp. Setting off from
an old marked tree of mine near the Bogan, on a bearing of 160°, I
several times during our ride fell in with the old track, and finally
reached the camp after a rapid ride of four hours. I found the whole party
had arrived the previous evening with the water, as arranged; but that Mr.
Kennedy was absent, having set off that morning in search of water to
the N. E. with Corporal Macavoy, on two government horses, leaving
word that he should return by twelve o’clock. He did not return at that
hour, however, and at two I moved the party across the Bogan, and
proceeded along open plains towards the ponds at Duck Creek, with the
intention of there refreshing the cattle and horses, and awaiting more
favourable weather. I previously watered out of the half-boat, 106
bullocks, and gave a quart to each of the horses. On the way, the heat
was so intense that our three best and strongest kangaroo dogs died, and
it was not until 10 p.m. that the drays reached the ponds where I had
proposed to encamp. About an hour and a half before, Mr. Kennedy also
came in, having galloped the two horses 66 miles, and hurt both their
backs, Macavoy being a heavy man. At 9 p.m., therm. 80°, wet bulb,
68°.
24TH JANUARY.—This morning I awoke completely blind, from
ophthalmia, and was obliged to have poultices laid on my eyes; several
of the men were also affected in the same manner. The exciting cause of
this malady in an organ presenting a moist surface was, obviously, the
warm air wholly devoid of moisture, and likely to produce the same
effect until the weather changed. At 9 p.m., therm. 84°, with wet bulb,
68°.
Chapter II.
SEND TO NYINGAN FOR LEECHES.—BETTER PONDS FOUND TO THE NORTHEAST.—MOVE
TO THE PONDS OF CANNONBÀ AND SET UP OUR BIVOUAC.—HOT WIND.—HEAT GREATER
THAN MY TABLE FOR EXPANSION OF MERCURY WAS CALCULATED FOR.—PIPER’S
INTENTION TO QUIT THE PARTY.—HIS SENT TO BATHURST.—WEATHER
CHANGES.—RAIN.—MR. KENNEDY RETURNS FROM THE MACQUARIE.—SALT MADE FROM
THE SALT PLANT.—RECONNOITRE “DUCK CREEK.”—THE PARTY QUITS
CANNONBÀ—CROSSES PLAINS TO MARRA CREEK—AND THENCE TO THE RIVER
MACQUARIE.—OPHTHALMIA STILL TROUBLESOME.—APPROACH OF A FLOOD
ANNOUNCED.—ITS ARRIVAL IN CLEAR MOONLIGHT.—MR. KINGHORNE GUIDES THE
PARTY ALONG THE REEDY BANKS.—NO WATER FOUND IN “DUCK CREEK.”—DIFFICULTY
OF WATERING THE CATTLE FROM SOFTNESS OF THE BANKS OF PONDS AMONGST
THE REEDS.—”YULLIYALLY,” A NATIVE, GUIDES THE PARTY.—NEW PLANTS
DISCOVERED.—DESCRIPTION OF OUR NATIVE GUIDE.—CONDITION OF HIS
COUNTRYMEN.—HOW AFFECTED BY THE INTRUSION OF THE WHITE RACE.—AT
LENGTH EMERGE FROM THE REEDS.—WATER SCARCE.—NECESSITY FOR PRESERVING
ABORIGINAL NAMES OF RIVERS.—DELAYED BY STRAY BULLOCKS SEVERAL DAYS.—AT
LENGTH ARRIVE AT THE JUNCTION OF THE RIVER WITH THE DARLING.—CROSS THE
MACQUARIE NEAR ITS JUNCTION—AND FORD THE DARLING AT WYÀBRY.
25TH JANUARY.—Dr. Stephenson having recommended the application
of leeches, and having observed them in the ponds at Nyingan, I sent
William Baldock and Yuranigh there in search of some, and they brought
back enough. Fourteen were applied to my eyes the same afternoon. The
ground here was quite naked; it was, in fact, the blue clay of the Darling,
with the same sterile looking plants; and no time was to be lost in
seeking some ponds where there might be also good grass for the cattle.
Therm. at sunrise, 97°; at noon, 100°; at 9 p.m. 90°; with wet bulb, 71°.
26TH JANUARY.—I sent Corporal Graham with Piper, in a N. E.
direction to where we had observed the light of burning woods reflected
from a cloudy sky last evening; considering that a sure indication that
water was near, as natives are seldom found where there is none. He
returned early with the welcome tidings that he had found abundance of
water in a creek about five miles off, and excellent grass upon its banks.
My eyes were so far recovered that I could observe the altitude of a
star, thus ascertaining the latitude of this camp to be 31° 20′ 20″ S.
Therm. at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 112°; at 9 p.m. 84°; with wet bulb, 70°.
27TH JANUARY.—The whole party moved to the ponds called
“Cannonbà” by the natives. There we found greater abundance of water
and better grass than we had seen near water during the whole journey,
and I determined to halt for at least two weeks, as part of the time I had
previously intended to devote to the repose and refreshment of the cattle,
when we should have reached the Darling. The cattle and their drivers
had been much harassed, and both needed and deserved rest. The horses
had got out of condition, and I considered that when we arrived at the
Darling their services would be more required. I was also to try the
experiment here, whether I might prosecute the journey without danger
of losing my eyesight; to have abandoned the undertaking at that point,
had been almost as painful to me as the other alternative. There were no
hostile natives here, the fire having been set up by some solitary gins;
rain was daily to be expected, at least cooler weather would certainly
come in a short time; the wheels of the drays had been long represented
to me as needing a thorough repair, from the effect of the heat on the
wheels;—and, upon the whole, I considered it very fortunate that we
could encamp under such circumstances on so favourable a spot. We
placed our tents amongst shady bushes—set up the blacksmith’s forge,
and soon all hands were at work in their various avocations, whilst the
cattle and horses enjoyed the fresh grass, leisure to eat it, and abundance
of water.
Amongst the bushes here, a Hakea, with simple filiform mucronulate
leaves without flower, occurred, loaded with oblong hard galls
resembling dry plums. Also the Senecio cunninghami (D.C.), found by
Allan Cunningham on the shores of Lake George. Mr. Stephenson
discovered here a very pretty new Trichinium, with heads of hoary pink
flowers. [* T. semilanatum (Lindl. MS.); ramosa, pubescens, ramulis,
angulatis, foliis linearibus acutis noveillis villosis, capitulis paucifloris
hemisphericis, rachi densè bracteis uninerviis acutis scpalisque angustis
plumosis parcè lanatis.]
I learnt from the natives that this creek also joined the Bogan,
consequently that the real Duck Creek must either be still to the N. E. of
us, or be a branch out of this. At all events, the creek surveyed by Larmer
is thus proved to have been a discovery of his, and a most useful one it
has thus proved to us on this emergency. That chain of ponds (whence
we had just come) was called Bellaringa; this “Cannonbà;” and to what I
suppose must be Duck Creek, water to which the natives point
northward, they give the name of “Marra.” Therm. at sunrise, 78°; at
noon, 115°; at 4 p.m. 96°; at 9, 88°; with wet bulb, 73°.
28TH JANUARY.—Several kettles, a good spade, a Roman balance with
large chain complete, barrels, and other articles, were found at the
bottom of one of the ponds; and old tracks of cattle were numerous about
the banks. Thus it was clear that this favourable spot for a cattle station
had not been unheeded by the white man. It was vaguely asserted by
some old gins seen by Piper, that three men had been killed here when
the place was abandoned. We were about twelve or fourteen miles to the
W.N.W. of Mount Harris; and certainly the general bed of this watercourse
was broader than that of the Bogan, and moreover contained
much granitic sand, all but identifying its sources with those of the
Macquarie. This day was very hot; a thunder cloud passed over us, and a
shower fell about 3 p.m. Thermometer at sunrise, 78°; at noon, 115°; at 4
p.m. 108°; at 9, 84°; with wet bulb, 63°.
29TH JANUARY.—A more than usually hot wind raised the thermometer
to 115° in the shade; but distant thunder was soon heard, and the horizon
became clouded. The day was very sultry, and although no rain fell near
us, it was evident that other parts to the north-east were receiving a heavy
shower. Thermometer at sunset, 102°.
30TH JANUARY.—An easterly wind brought a refreshing air from the
quarter where the thunder-cloud had exhausted itself last evening. This
day the doctor found the tree mentioned as bearing a nondescript fruit in
my former journal, Vol. I. page 82., but this tree bore neither flower nor
fruit. Thermometer at sunrise, 80°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 108°; at 9,
100 ½°; with wet bulb, 79°.
31ST JANUARY.—The weather still very sultry. I commenced a series of
observations with a syphon barometer (made by Bunten of Paris). The
table for expansion of mercury and mean dilatation of glass, sent me by
my friend Captain P. P. King, came but to 88° of Fahrenheit, whereas at
4 p.m., the centigrade thermometer stood at 44½°, which is equal to
112° of Fahrenheit.
This day I was apprised of Piper’s intention to leave the party, taking
with him the two younger and more useful natives. He had recently made
some very unreasonable demands. It was now obvious from various
sayings and doings thus brought to my recollection, that he had never
any serious intention of accompanying this expedition throughout its
progress. The services of other more intelligent natives might easily have
been obtained, having been proffered by many in the settled districts, but
Piper from having been with me before, was preferred as a matter of
course. He had not improved in speech or manners during the long
interval of ten years that had elapsed since our former acquaintance,
although during that time he had visited Adelaide, Sydney, Moreton Bay,
the river Hunter, etc., etc. From the day on which he had joined the party
on this last occasion, he had been allowed a horse, saddle, doublebarrelled
gun, clothing, and the same rations as the other men, blankets,
place in a tent with the men, etc. Unlike most other natives, he was a
very bad shot, and very awkward about a horse; it was impossible to
obtain any clear intelligence from his countrymen through him as
interpreter; he went very unwillingly about doing anything. He had
drawn his rations and those of the two young natives separately from the
men’s mess the week before this, on the plea that they did not obtain their
fair share; he was thus premeditately preparing for his clandestine
departure, foreseeing that on the Saturday, when rations were issued, he
could thus obtain a week’s provisions in advance, without suspicion. He
also had it in his power, like a true savage, to take the lion’s share from
the other two, in thus drawing rations apart from the men’s mess. He had
heard of the gins who had made the conflagration having retired towards
the cattle-stations on the Macquarie. Here, then, while other men were
actively at their work,—blacksmiths, carpenters, bullock-drivers,
—this man, who was as well fed and clothed as they, carried on a horse
to boot, and doing no work, was the only dissatisfied person. Me, whom
he called his “old master,” he would heartlessly leave, without a native
guide, just at the time when such guides were most required. The only
difficulty I felt on this occasion was how to secure the services of the two
others, and yet dismiss him. He had just received a week’s ration in
advance, and he was baking the whole of the flour into bread. I sent to
have him instantly seized, and brought with the dough and the other
native, Yuranigh, before Mr. Kennedy and myself, as magistrates. He
denied the intention to decamp. The other declared he had proposed to
him to leave the party and go in search of gins, and that he could not
understand him; that he was afraid to accompany Piper in a country so
far from his own home (Buree). On this I ordered Piper to be sent to
Bathurst, and the rations he was about to carry off, to be given to the
other two, and that he should be kept apart from them during the night.
Thermometer at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 111°; at 4 p.m., 112°; at 9,
101°;—with wet bulb, 78°.
1ST FEBRUARY.—This morning Piper was sent off with Corporal
Graham. Mr. Kennedy rode on also in order to find out the nearest police
station, and make arrangements, if possible, there, for forwarding Piper
to Bathurst, his own district, which would put it out of his power to
molest the party by endeavouring to induce the other natives to leave it.
On them this measure appeared to have a salutary effect, Yuranigh
calmly observing that Piper had only himself to blame for what had
befallen him, and that he had acted like a fool. Mr. Kennedy undertook
also to obtain, if he could, some more kangaroo dogs to replace those
which had died from excessive heat. By that loss our party was left
almost without dogs; and dogs were useful not only to kill kangaroos and
emus, but to afford protection from, or to give notice of, nightly attacks
by the natives, in which attacks those on that part of the Darling we were
approaching, had been rather too successful against various armed parties
of whites. Thermometer at sunrise, 88°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 106°; at
9 p.m., 88°;—with wet bulb, 76°.
2ND FEBRUARY.—The setting sun descended on a blue stratus cloud
which appeared along the edge of all other parts of the horizon, and
eagerly watching any indication of a change, I drew even from this a
presage of rain. Thermometer at sunrise, 88°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m.,
106; at 9, 88°;—with wet bulb, 72°.
3RD FEBRUARY.—High winds whistled among the trees this morning,
and dark clouds of stratus appeared in the sky. A substantial shower fell
about 9 a.m., and the horizon was gradually shut in by clouds of
nimbus. The high wind had blown steadily from north both yesterday and
this morning, and in the same quarter a thunder cloud seemed busy. But
when the rain began to fall, the wind shifted to the S.W., from which
quarter the rain seemed to come. With it came a very peculiar smell,
which I had noticed near Mount Arapiles in 1836, about the time of the
commencement of the rainy weather there; and nothing could have been
more welcome to us now, than the prospect of rain, and the decided
change in the temperature from 115° to 73°. This was almost the first day
during a month in which the air had not been warmer than our blood;
often had it been greater than fever heat, so that 73° felt to us as cool as
50° would have been to a resident of Sydney. Much rain did not fall at
our camp, but it seemed that rain was falling about the sources of the
Bogan and other places at which a supply of water was indispensable to
enable us to proceed. At sunset, glimpses of a clear sky appeared about
the horizon, and during the night the moon and stars came forth, and
destroyed all hopes of more rain. We were thankful, however, for the
relief afforded by what had fallen, which had lowered the temperature
about 40 degrees, and enabled us to enjoy a night of refreshing rest.
Thermometer at sunrise, 85°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 68°;
—with wet bulb, 67°.
4TH FEBRUARY.—The morning dawned in a most serene sky, with
refreshing breezes from the south, and the thermometer at 61°. This day
we had completed the repair of the wheels of half the drays. Many of the
tire-rings had been cut, rewelded, and again fixed and bolted on the
wheels; the wood of these having contracted so much in the intense heat,
as to have rendered these repairs indispensable. The same repairs were
required by the wheels of the remaining drays and those of the light carts,
and the smith and wheelwright continued their work with activity and
zeal. Meanwhile the cattle were daily regaining strength and vigour for
another effort. Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 89°; at 4 p.m., 89°;
at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
5TH FEBRUARY.—This morning the mercurial column stood higher than
I had yet observed it here, and clouds of cirrus lay in long streaks across
the sky, ranging from east to west, but these were most abundant towards
the northern horizon. The day was comparatively cool and pleasant, the
thermometer never having risen above 96°. By 6 p.m., the barometer had
fallen nearly four millimetres, and even upon this apparently trivial
circumstance, I could build some hope of rain; such was my anxiety for a
change of weather at that time, when the earth was so parched as not
only to preclude our travelling, but almost to deprive us of sight.
Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 73°; with
wet bulb, 64°.
6TH FEBRUARY.—Dark stratus-shaped clouds wholly covered the sky,
and shut out the sun, to my unspeakable delight. A most decided change
seemed to have taken place; still the barometer remained as low as on the
previous evening. A slight breeze from south-east changed to north, and
at about 7 a.m. the rain began to fall. Clouds of nimbus closed on the
woody horizon, and we had a day of rain. In the evening the barometer
had fallen still lower, and it was probable that the rain might continue
through the night. Range of thermometer from 74° to 72°.
7TH FEBRUARY.—Some heavy showers fell during the night, and the
mercurial column stood exactly at the same point as on the last evening.
About 10 a.m. a very heavy shower fell, after which the sun broke
through, and the mass of vapour separated into vast clouds of nimbus.
Much rain seemed to be still falling in the east, where the Macquarie,
Bogan, and other rivers had their sources. At noon, the barometer had
risen one millimetre. The rain had penetrated the clay soil of the plains
about five inches.
Mr. Kennedy returned in the afternoon, having duly provided for
Piper’s conveyance by the mounted police to Bathurst, and brought back
a good bull-dog, and also some useful information respecting the various
water-courses, and the river Macquarie, which he had gathered from the
natives about the stations along the banks of that river. Thermometer at
sunrise, 74°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 90°; at 9, 80°;—with wet bulb,
75°.
8TH FEBRUARY.—The moisture recently imbibed by the earth and air
made us much more sensible of the high temperature in which we had
been living, although it had been reduced by the late rains. The night air,
especially, breathed no refreshing coolness as heretofore during the dry
heat. The drier earth below seemed to be steaming the wet soil above it
(as Brown, our cook, justly observed). Thermometer at sunrise, 80°; at
noon, 96°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 80°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
9TH FEBRUARY.—The leisure we enjoyed at this camp, enabled us to
bestow more attention on the vegetable and animal productions of these
remarkable plains, than had been given during my former journey. It
appeared that the saltwort plants, which were numerous, were not only
efficacious in keeping the cattle that fed on them in the best possible
condition; but as wholly preventing cattle and sheep from licking clay, a
vicious habit to which they are so prone, that grassy runs in the higher
country nearer Sydney are sometimes abandoned only on account of the
“licking holes” they contain. It is chiefly to take off that taste for licking
the saline clay, that rock-salt is in such request for sheep, lumps of it
being laid in their pens for this purpose. At all events, it is certain that by
this licking of clay both sheep and cattle are much injured in health and
condition, losing their appetite for grass, and finally passing clay only, as
may be seen near such places. In the salt plants on these plains, nature
has amply provided for this taste of these large herbivora for salt. Our
sheep nibbled at the mesembryanthemum, and the cattle ate greedily of
various bushes whereof the leaf was sensibly salt to the taste. The colour
of the leaves of such bushes is usually a very light bluish green, and there
are many species. That with the largest leaves, called salt-bush by
stockmen, and by Dr. Brown Rhagodia parabolica, was very useful as a
vegetable after extracting the salt sufficiently from it. This we
accidentally discovered from some experiments made by Mr.
Stephenson, for the purpose of ascertaining the proportion of salt
contained in the leaves. The leaves contained as much as a twentieth part
of salt, nearly two ounces having been obtained from two pounds of the
leaves.[*] We also found that after twice boiling the leaves a few minutes
in water to extract the salt, and then an hour in a third water, the leaves
formed a tender and palatable vegetable, somewhat resembling spinach.
As the superior excellence of these runs for fattening cattle is admitted
on all hands, as compared with others more abundant in grass on the
eastern side of the great range, would it not be advisable for the colonists
to cultivate this salt-supplying bush, and thereby to produce a vegetable
substitute for the rock salt, which is not only expensive, but only a very
imperfect remedy for the clay-licking propensities of sheep and cattle on
many runs? Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at
9, 86°;—with wet bulb, 75°.
[* The process of Mr. Stephenson was as follows:—”Two pounds of the
green leaf were boiled in eight quarts of water for half an hour, then
strained and evaporated nearly to dryness. The mass was then submitted
to a red heat for half an hour. The residuum was next digested in one pint
of water, filtered, and again evaporated to six ounces. It was then
exposed to the sun’s rays, which completed the desiccation; crystals of a
cubic shape having previously been formed.”]
10TH FEBRUARY.—This morning the natives caught, in a hollow tree, an
animal apparently of the same genus as the Dipus Mitchellii, and which
seemed to live solely on vegetables. The barometer had fallen three
millimetres last evening, and by noon this day it had declined three more.
A fresh breeze blew from N. N. E., and at 2 p.m. a dark thunder cloud
came from the S. S. W. and passed over the camp. The thunder was very
loud, the lightning close and vivid; the wind for some time high, and rain
heavy. The sky was, however, clear by 4 p.m., except in the N. E. where
the thunder continued. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°.
11TH FEBRUARY.—The real “Duck Creek” was still to the northeastward
of our camp, as Mr. Kennedy had ascertained when on the
Macquarie. I hoped to find in it water sufficient at least to serve the party
halting on it one night, on its way to the Macquarie, by which line alone I
was now convinced water enough might be obtained to supply the party
until it could arrive at the Darling; I therefore rode this day to examine it,
with the elder native. I followed the bearing of N. N. E. from our camp, a
direction in which it was likely to be met with, so as equally to divide the
journey of the drays to the Macquarie, into two days. I crossed plains
covered with luxuriant crops of very rich grass, and at length obtained a
sight of Mount Foster bearing east. I reached Duck Creek (that of Sturt),
or the “Marra” of the natives, ascertained by the bearing of Mount
Foster, the native name of which is Narrab. I examined the bed of the
Marra downwards for about two miles, without seeing therein the least
indication of water, and returned to the camp fully resolved to proceed
next day to the Macquarie, so as to reach it a little way below Mount
Foster, a distance in that direction rather too great for the cattle to travel
over in one day. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m.,
76°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°. From an average of twenty-five
observations of the mercurial column, the height of this station has been
determined to be 566 English feet above the level of the sea.
12TH FEBRUARY.—We broke up our encampment on Cannonbà ponds,
where we had greatly recruited ourselves, both men and cattle, and
crossing the channel of the water-course near our camping ground, we
travelled over open grassy plains towards the river Macquarie. At
thirteen miles we reached the western branch of Duck Creek, or “Marra,”
a name by which it is universally known to natives and stockmen. Of this
we crossed several branches, from which it would appear as if the name
was derived from that of the hand, which is the same, especially as
natives sometimes hold up the hand and extend the fingers, when they
would express that a river has various branches or sources. I went on
with an advanced party towards the Macquarie, and encamped on the
bank of that river at 5 p.m. The thick grass, low forests of yarra trees,
and finally the majestic blue gum trees along the river margin, reminded
me of the northern rivers seen during my journey of 1831. Still even the
bed of this was dry, and I found only two water holes on examining the
channel for two miles. One of these was, however, deep, and we
encamped near it, surrounded by excellent grass in great abundance. The
Macquarie, like other Australian rivers, has a peculiar character, and this
was soon apparent in the reeds and lofty yarra trees growing on reedy
plats, and not, as usual in other rivers, on the edge of water-worn banks.
The channel was here deep and dry. We found this day, in the scrubs by
Marra Creek, the Acacia salicina, whereof the wood has a strong
perfume resembling violets, also a new small-leaved Kochia with
intricate branches.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9,
57°;—with wet bulb, 56°.
[* K. thymifolia (Lindl. MS.); fruticosa, ramosissima, ramulis intricatis
pubescentibus, foliis carnosis obtusis teretibus fructibusque glabris.]
13TH FEBRUARY.—I was again laid up with the maladie du pays—sore
eyes. Mr. Stephenson took a ride for me to the summit of Mount Foster,
and to various cattle stations about its base, with some questions to
which I required answers, about the river and stations on it lower down.
But no one could tell what the western side of the marshes was like, as
no person had passed that way; the country being more open on the
eastern side, where only the stations were situated; Mr. Kinghorne’s at
Gràway, about five miles from our camp, being the lowest down on the
west bank. Mr. Stephenson returned early, having met two of the
mounted police. To my most important question—what water was to be
found lower down in the river—the reply was very satisfactory; namely,
“plenty, and a flood coming down from the Turmountains.” The two
policemen said they had travelled twenty miles with it, on the day
previous, and that it would still take some time to arrive near our camp.
About noon the drays arrived in good order, having been encamped
where there was no water about six miles short of our camp, the whole
distance travelled, from Cannonbà to the Macquarie, having been about
nineteen miles. In the afternoon two of the men taking a walk up the
river, reported on their return, that the flood poured in upon them when
in the river bed, so suddenly, that they narrowly escaped it. Still the bed
of the Macquarie before our camp continued so dry and silent, that I
could scarcely believe the flood coming to be real, and so near to us, who
had been put to so many shifts for want of water. Towards evening, I
stationed a man with a gun a little way up the river, with orders to fire on
the flood’s appearance, that I might have time to run to the part of the
channel nearest to our camp, and witness what I had so much wished to
see, as well from curiosity as urgent need. The shades of evening came,
however, but no flood, and the man on the look-out returned to the camp.
Some hours later, and after the moon had risen, a murmuring sound like
that of a distant waterfall, mingled with occasional cracks as of breaking
timber, drew our attention, and I hastened to the river bank. By very slow
degrees the sound grew louder, and at length, so audible as to draw
various persons besides from the camp to the river-side. Still no flood
appeared, although its approach was indicated by the occasional rending
of trees with a loud noise. Such a phenomenon in a most serene
moonlight night was quite new to us all. At length, the rushing sound of
waters and loud cracking of timber, announced that the flood was in the
next bend. It rushed into our sight, glittering in the moonbeams, a
moving cataract, tossing before it ancient trees, and snapping them
against its banks. It was preceded by a point of meandering water,
picking its way, like a thing of life, through the deepest parts of the dark,
dry, and shady bed, of what thus again became a flowing river. By my
party, situated as we were at that time, beating about the country, and
impeded in our journey, solely by the almost total absence of water
—suffering excessively from thirst and extreme heat,—I am convinced
the scene never can be forgotten. Here came at once abundance, the
product of storms in the far off mountains, that overlooked our homes.
My first impulse was to have welcomed this flood on our knees, for the
scene was sublime in itself, while the subject—an abundance of water
sent to us in a desert—greatly heightened the effect to our eyes. Suffice
it to say, I had witnessed nothing of such interest in all my Australian
travels. Even the heavens presented something new, at least uncommon,
and therefore in harmony with this scene; the variable star ARGUS had
increased to the first magnitude, just above the beautiful constellation of
the southern cross, which slightly inclined over the river, in the only
portion of sky seen through the trees. That very red star, thus rapidly
increasing in magnitude, might, as characteristic of her rivers, be
recognized as the star of Australia, when Europeans cross the Line. The
river gradually filled up the channel nearly bank high, while the living
cataract travelled onward, much slower than I had expected to see it; so
slowly, indeed, that more than an hour after its first arrival, the sweet
music of the head of the flood was distinctly audible from my tent, as the
murmur of waters, and the diapason crash of logs, travelled slowly
through the tortuous windings of the river bed. I was finally lulled to
sleep by that melody of living waters, so grateful to my ear, and
evidently so unwonted in the dry bed of the thirsty Macquarie.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 63°;
—with wet bulb, 57°.
14TH FEBRUARY.—The river had risen to within six feet of the top of
the banks, and poured its turbid waters along in fulness and strength, but
no longer with noise. All night that body of water had been in motion
downwards, and seemed to me enough to deluge the whole country to the
Darling, and correct at least any saltness in its waters, if stagnant; a
probability which had greatly reconciled me to the necessity for changing
the line of my intended route, as the waters above the junction of the
Castlereagh had never been known to become salt. We proceeded, falling
soon into a cart track which led us to Gràway, Mr. Kinghorne’s cattlestation,
and we encamped about five miles beyond it, near a bend of the
river. We were already in the midst of reeds, but these had been so
generally burnt, that we had little difficulty in crossing those parts of the
marshes. The Imperata arundinacea, with its long head of white silky
flowers, was common, and a straggling naked branched species of dock,
on the parts unburnt. Thermometer at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 91°; at 4 P.
M., 82°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 60°. Height above the level of the
sea, 475 feet.
15TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne obligingly accompanied me this day,
and guided us across arms of the marshy ground. I was very glad to have
his assistance, for I saw no line of trees as on other rivers, nor other
objects by which I could pursue its course or keep near its waters; trees
of the aquatic sort and reeds grew together. At one time nothing was
visible to the eastward but a vast sea of reeds extending to the horizon.
Where the long reeds remained unburnt, they presented a most
formidable impediment, especially to men on foot and sheep, and twenty
of these got astray as the party passed through. We encamped on a bank
of rather firm ground, in lat. 30° 53′ 55″ S. The grass was very rich on
some parts of open plains near the marshes, and the best was the
PANICUM LOEVINODE of Dr. Lindley, mentioned in my former journals[*] as
having been found pulled, and laid up in heaps for some purpose we
could not then discover. Mr. Kinghorne now informed me that it was
called by the natives “coolly,” and that the gins gather it in great
quantities, and pound the seeds between stones with water, forming a
kind of paste or bread; thus was clearly explained the object of those
heaps of this grass which we had formerly seen on the banks of the
Darling. There they had formed the native’s harvest field. There also I
observed a brome grass, probably not distinct from the Broods australis
of Brown; it called to mind the squarrose brome grass of Europe.
Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 87°; at 4, 89°; at 9, 73°;—with
wet bulb, 66°.
[* Vol. i. p. 237.]
16TH FEBRUARY.—Mr. Kinghorne set out with a man of our party to
examine Duck Creek, a native boy having told him that water was to be
found in it lower down. I sent back early this morning, our native, with
the store-keeper, some of the men, and the shepherd, to look for the lost
sheep in the reeds, and Yuranigh fortunately found them out, still not
very far from the spot where they had been separated from the rest of the
flock. Our greatest difficulty in these marshes was the watering of the
cattle. We had still the Macquarie at hand—deep, muddy, and stagnant
—not above thirty feet wide, the banks so very soft that men could
scarcely approach the water without sinking to the knees. We could
water the horses with buckets, but not the bullocks. The great labour of
filling one of the half-boats, and giving the cattle water by that means,
was inevitable, and this operation took up three hours of the morning; a
wheel required repair, the box having been broken yesterday. I for these
reasons found it advisable to halt this day, which I did very reluctantly.
At sunset, Mr. Kinghorne returned, having found no water in the
“Marra,” (Duck Creek).
Among the grasses growing among the reeds, we perceived the
Andropogon sericeus and an Erianthus, which appeared to differ from
E. fulvus in having no hair upon the knees. The smooth variety of the
European Lythrum salicaria, raised its crimson spikes of flowers among
the reeds of the Macquarie, as it does in England on the banks of the
Thames. We saw also Morgania floribunda, SENECIO BRACHYLOENUS (D.C.),
a variety with toothed leaves, also a BRACHYCOME resembling B.
heterodonta, only the leaves were entire. A new species of Lotus
appeared among the reeds, very near the narrow-leaved form of L.
australis on the one hand, and the South European narrow-leaved form
of L. corniculatus on the other; the flowers were pink, and smaller than
in L. australis.[*] Also an Ethulia [**], which may, on further examination,
constitute a new genus; it was found by Allan Cunningham on the
Lachlan. Thermometer at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 84°; at 9,
61°;—with wet bulb, 54°.
[* L. LAEVIGATUS (Benth. MS.); subglaber glaucescens, foliolis linearibus v.
lineari-cuneatis vix acutatis, pedunculis folio longioribus 3—6-floris,
calycis subsessilis appresse pubescentis dentibus setaceo-acuminatis tubo
suo paullo longioribus, legumine recto tereti glabro.]
[** ETHULIA CUNNINGHAMI (Hooker MS.); glaberrima, caule dichotomo,
foliis oblongis sessilibus dentato-serratis, capitulis paucis corymbosis
globosis, involucri squamis oblongis imbricatis viridibus, pappo e setis
paucis brevibus.]
17TH FEBRUARY.—The party moved off early, and Mr. Kinghorne
having shown me a few miles more of the best ground between the
scrubs and reeds, went towards a cattle station beyond the Macquarie,
where a belt of open forest separated the reeds and enabled him to pass.
He prevailed on a native whom he met with there to come with him to
me, and to guide me to water until I reached the Bàrwan. This native at
first seemed rather afraid of our numerous party, but our own native,
Yuranigh, endeavoured by every means to make him at ease, and to
induce him to remain with us. He guided us this day by fine open ground
westward of the marshes, to a part of the Macquarie where the banks
were solid enough to admit of the cattle drinking. The name was
Bilgawàngara; I reached the spot early, but at sunset no drays had come
up. At length I was informed that such was the softness of the soil, that
the drays had sank frequently, that two were fast in one place, four in
another, and that two of the bullocks were astray. The marshes were said
to be just then occupied by some angry tribes, of whom Mr. Kinghorne
had warned me to be on my guard. The patience necessary to any
traveller depending on bullocks and bullock drivers, I then thought ought
to exceed that of Job. Our native guide was very shy, and Yuranigh
feared he meant to “bolt.” We depended on him for finding water—on
our own native for finding bullocks; but it would not have done then to
have sent him away. The weather might change, and these marshes
become impassable; indeed, we were as much at the mercy of Providence
in this respect as the Israelites were in the bed of the Red Sea. It
depended on the weather whether we should deserve to be considered
Jews or Egyptians. The teams came in about midnight, after the moon
had risen, by which the drivers were enabled to see my track. Lat. 30° 45′
55″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9,
60°;—with wet bulb, 54°.
18TH FEBRUARY.—Two bullocks were still astray some miles behind,
and the iron axle of one of the drays having got bent, required repair. The
cattle, I was told, were so jaded, as to be unable to make a day’s journey
without more rest, and I was again obliged to halt. One only of the two
lost bullocks was found, and for this one we were indebted to little
Dicky, a native only ten years of age, whom the big fool who had lost
them was at some trouble to coax to go and assist him in the search, as
Yuranigh could not be spared from the more important duty of
entertaining our less civilised guide, and preventing him from making his
escape. It must, indeed, appear strange to these people of the soil, that the
white man who brought such large animals as oxen with them into the
country, should be unable to find them without the assistance of a mere
child of their own race. Dicky had soon found both, but one of them
being young and wild, escaped again amongst the tall reeds.
In the rich soil near the river bed, we saw the yellowish flowers of the
native tobacco, Nicotiana suaveoleus, the Minuria heterophylla (D.C.),
found by Allan Cunningham near the Lachlan, and a Fugosia near F.
digitata of Senegambia. In the scrub we found a fine new silvery Atriplex
with broad rounded leaves and strings of circular toothed fruits.[*]
Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 93°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 67°;
—with wet bulb 59°.
[* A. nummularia (Lindl. MS.); caule suffruticoso glabro ramoso, foliis
alternis ovato-subrotundis integerrimis petiolatis basi cuneatis utrinque
argenteis, floribus monoïcis, spicis longis pendulis, bracteis subrotundis
dentatis basi connatis.]
19TH FEBRUARY.—We set off early, guided by our native friend. He
was a very perfect specimen of the genus homo, and such as never is to
be seen, except in the precincts of savage life, undegraded by any scale
of graduated classes, and the countless bars these present to the free
enjoyment of existence. His motions in walking were more graceful than
can be imagined by any who have only seen those of the draped and shod
animal. The deeply set yet flexible spine; the taper form of the limbs; the
fulness yet perfect elasticity of the glutei muscles. The hollowness of the
back, and symmetrical balance of the upper part of the torso, ornamented
as it was, like a piece of fine carving, with raised scarifications most
tastefully placed; such were some of the characteristics of this perfect
“piece of work.” Compared with it, the civilised animal, when
considered merely in the light of a specimen in natural history, how
inferior! In vain might we look amongst thousands of that class, for such
teeth; such digestive powers; for such organs of sight, hearing, smelling,
tasting, feeling; for such powers of running, climbing, or walking; for
such full enjoyment of the limpid water, and of all that nature provides
for her children of the woods. Such health and exemption from disease;
such intensity of existence, in short, must be far beyond the enjoyments
of civilised men, with all that art can do for them; and the proof of this is
to be found in the failure of all attempts to persuade these free denizens
of uncultivated earth to forsake it for the tilled ground. They prefer the
land unbroken and free from the earliest curse pronounced against the
first banished and first created man. The only kindness we could do for
them, would be to let them and their wide range of territory alone; to act
otherwise and profess good-will is but hypocrisy. We cannot occupy the
land without producing a change, fully as great to the aborigines, as that
which took place on man’s fall and expulsion from Eden. They have
hitherto lived utterly ignorant of the necessity for wearing fig leaves, or
the utility of ploughs; and in this blissful state of ignorance they would,
no doubt, prefer to remain. We bring upon them the punishments due to
original sin, even before they know the shame of nakedness. Such were
the reflections suggested to my mind by the young savage as he tripped
on lightly before me by the side of his two half-civilised brethren of our
party, who, muffled up in clothes, presented a contrast by no means in
favour of our pretensions to improve and benefit their race. Yet our
faithful Yuranigh was all that could be wished. He was assiduously
making to the stranger such explanations of our wants and purposes, as
induced him to conduct us in the direction these required. He led us, thus
admonished, over those parts of the country most favourable for the
passage of wheels. The rosewood acacia was abundant, but many parts
were covered with most luxuriant grass. We encamped on the edge of a
salt-bush plain, where there was a small pond of water left by the last
rains on a clay surface. There was certainly enough for ourselves and
horses, but it appeared that our guide had greatly underrated the capacity
for water, of our hundred bullocks. For these, however, there was superb
grass to the westward, and a little dew fell on it during the night.
Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 104°; at 9, 77°;
—with wet bulb, 65°.
20TH FEBRUARY.—From the necessity for obtaining water as soon as
possible for the bullocks, we travelled over ground which was rather soft,
otherwise our guide would have pursued a course more to the westward,
and over a firmer surface. We, at length, crossed two narrow belts of
reeds not more than twenty feet across, and had the great satisfaction to
learn from him that these were the last of the reeds. A shallow creek
appeared soon thereafter on our right, in which our guide had expected to
find water, but was disappointed; cattle having recently drank up there,
what had been a large pond when he was there formerly. He showed us
the recent prints of numerous cloven feet, and thus we were made to feel,
in common with the aborigines, those privations to which they are
exposed by the white man’s access to their country. On proceeding some
miles further, our guide following down the channel, he at length
appeared at a distance making the motions of stooping to bathe, on which
Yuranigh immediately said “He has found plenty of water;” and there, in
fact, our guide had found two large ponds. They were still in the
attenuated channel of the Macquarie, here called by them Wámmerawá,
the course of which river is continuous throughout the marshes; and
marked by some high reeds greener than the rest, even when the reeds
may have been generally burnt. These reeds are distinctly different from
the “balyan,” growing on the marshy parts of the rivers Lachlan,
Murrumbidgee, and Millewà; the former being a cane or bamboo, the
latter a bulrush, affording, in its root, much nutritious gluten. We found
good grass for the cattle on both sides of the water-course, which was
fringed with a few tall reeds, near which the pretty little Kochia brevifolia
observed at Mudá on the Bogan, again occurred. The native name of the
spot was “Warranb.” The soft earth had again impeded the drays; the
teams of two came in at twilight, an axle of one dray having been
damaged; the six others were brought up in the course of the evening.
Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at 9, 78°;—with wet
bulb, 68°.
21ST FEBRUARY.—The first thing done this morning was to send back
cattle to draw forward the dray with a bent axle, to the camp, that it
might be repaired. This was done so as to enable the party to continue the
journey by 1 p.m. The barometer was going down at a rate which was
alarming enough, considering what our position must have been there in
a flood, or even after a heavy fall of rain. I therefore pressed forward
with the light carts, and guided by the native. He brought us at 5 p.m. to
“Willery,” the place where he had expected to find water; but here again,
he had been anticipated by cattle, which had drunk up all, and trodden
the ponds as dry as a market-place. He gave us no hopes of finding water
that night, nor until we could reach the Bàrwan, then distant, I was quite
sure, at least twenty-four miles, according to the latitude observed (30°
19′ 54″ South). We encamped here, and I sent back directions that the
drays should at once halt, taking their places beside the leading dray, and
that the cattle should be driven back in the morning to be watered at the
last camp (Warranb), and then to return and follow in my track. Mr.
Drysdale, the storekeeper, had also to go back to serve out a week’s
rations to the party with the drays, and he returned to my camp by 2 A.
M., in the moonlight, bringing, on the horse of the former messenger,
rations for my party. Here we found the Keraudrenia integrifolia.
Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 105°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
22D FEBRUARY.—My guide was now desirous that I should cross the
Macquarie, to open plains which he represented to be much more
favourable for wheel carriages; but I endeavoured to explain to him, by
drawing lines in the clay surface, how the various rivers beyond would
cross and impede my journey to the Bàrwan. There were the Castlereagh,
Morissett’s Ponds, and the Nammoy.[* If Arrowsmith’s map had been correct,
which it was not, for the Nammoy joins the Darling separately, at least
fifty miles higher than the junction of the Castlereagh.]
An instance occurred here of the uselessness of new names, and the
necessity for preserving the native names of Rivers. I could refer, in
communicating with our guide, to the Nammoy only, and to the hills
which partly supplied the Castlereagh, whereof the native name was
Wallambangle. I wanted to make them understand the probability that
some flood had come down the channel of the Castlereagh, and that we
might therefore hope to find water below its junction with the Macquarie.
This, with the aid of Yuranigh, our own native, was at length made
intelligible to our Bàrwan guide, and he shaped his course accordingly.
He took us through scrubs, having in the centre those holes where water
usually lodges for some time after rain, where some substratum of clay
happens to be retentive enough to impede the common absorption. But
the water in these holes had been recently drunk, and the mud trampled
into hard clay by the hoofs of cattle. Thus it is, that the aborigines first
become sensible of the approach of the white man. These retired spots,
where nature was wont to supply enough for their own little wants, are
well known to the denizens of the bush. Each locality has a name, and
such places are frequented by helpless females with their children, or by
the most peaceably disposed natives with their families. There they can
exist apart from belligerent tribes, such as assemble on large rivers.
Cattle find these places and come from stations often many miles distant,
attracted by the rich verdure usually growing about them, and by thus
treading the water into mud, or by drinking it up, they literally destroy
the whole country for the aborigines, and thereby also banish from it the
kangaroos, emus, and other animals on which they live. I felt much more
disgusted than the poor natives, while they were thus exploring in vain
every hollow in search of water for our use, that our “cloven foot” should
appear everywhere. The day was extremely hot, which usually happened
to be the case whenever we were obliged to experience the want of
water. The thermometer under a tree stood at 110°. The store-keeper was
taken ill with vertigo. Our bull-dog perished in the heat, and the fate of
the cattle, still a day’s journey behind us, and of the sheep, which had not
drunk for two days, were subjects of much anxiety to me at that time. It
may, therefore, be imagined with what pleasure I at length saw before me
large basins of water in the channel of the Macquarie, when I next
approached the banks, after a journey at a good pace for six hours and a
half. We had made it below the junction of Morissett’s Ponds, and found
that a recent flood had filled its channel with water. The natives dived
into it to cure their headaches, as they said, and seemed to go completely
under water, in order to take a cool drink. We had reached the united
channel of the Macquarie and Morissett’s Ponds, and were at an easy
day’s journey only distant from the junction with the Bàrwan or
“Darling.” The use of the aboriginal name of this river is indispensable
amongst the squatters along its banks, who do not appear to know it to be
the “Darling.” It is most desirable to restore to such rivers their proper
names as early as possible after they have been ascertained, were it only
to enable strangers thereby to avail themselves of the intelligence and
assistance of the natives, in identifying the country by means of the
published maps. The river Castlereagh is known to the natives as the
Barr; Morissett’s Ponds, as the Wàwill; and the lower part of the
Macquarie, as the Wammerawà. The squatting system of occupation
requires still more that the native names of rivers should be known to
commissioners empowered to parcel out unsurveyed regions of vast
extent, whereof the western limits would be, indeed, beyond their reach
or control, but for the line of an angry savage population, which line the
squatter dares not to cross unsupported by an armed mounted police.
Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 110°; at 4 p.m., 107°; at 9, 89°;
—with wet bulb 72°.
23RD FEBRUARY.—The drays did not come up, nor was any intelligence
of them received at our camp until late in the afternoon, when a man I
had sent back in the morning to tell the drivers to halt in good time to
send forward the cattle by daylight along my track to the water, brought
me word that he left them on the way ten miles off about eleven in the
morning. This man (Smith) also brought forward the sheep with him.
They had not drank for two nights, and ran skipping and baaing to the
water, as soon as they saw it. The heat of this day and yesterday was
excessive, a hot wind blowing hard all the time. Among the scrub on the
banks of the Macquarie, a salt plant belonging to the genus Scleroloena
was remarked; it was perhaps not distinct from S. Uniflora. The
Goodenia geniculata overran the ground, with its strawberry-like
runners, and yellow flowers. Latitude, 30° 12′ 56″ S. Thermometer at
sunrise, 75°; at noon, 105°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 73°;—with wet bulb,
62°.
24TH FEBRUARY.—Some of the teams came up, having been out all
night. The drivers brought me word that they had been detached at
twilight to come six miles; the night was very dark; of course they could
not see my track, and as a matter equally of course, the spare bullocks
had strayed from them. Such were the almost daily recurring causes of
delay by the bullock drivers on this journey. Here, within a day’s journey
(thirteen miles) of the Bàrwan, I was compelled to halt thus several days,
and really the prospect of performing so long a journey with such drivers
seemed almost hopeless. Thermometer at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 80°; at 4
p.m., 85°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
25TH FEBRUARY.—In the evening, the carpenter brought in ten of the
stray bullocks; four were still wanting, and I dispatched Mortimer, a
bullock driver, and the carpenter to show him where he had last left the
track of the animals still astray; both were mounted. Thermometer at
sunrise, 53°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 79°;—with wet bulb,
62°.
26TH FEBRUARY.—Mortimer came in early, saying he had found only
one of the bullocks, that the others had gone back to the last wateringplace
twenty-two miles distant. His companion did not arrive during the
day; he said he had left him bringing on the animal they had fallen in
with. I blamed him for leaving him, and ordered him to find him
forthwith on foot. I could not afford to lose horses. Here, it seemed, we
were doomed to remain. I endeavoured to make the most of the time by
carrying on the mapping of our survey, in order to make good our
longitude at crossing the Bàrwan. Thermometer at sunrise, 60°; at noon,
94°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 62.°
27TH FEBRUARY.—When the teams were about to be put to the drays
this morning, I was informed that five bullocks were astray. This delayed
the party until 10 a.m., and then we left one lame bullock still missing. I
reduced the men’s rations by one pound per week, and declared that a
proportional reduction should be regularly made to correspond with such
unlooked-for delays in the journey. We proceeded over firmer ground,
having the river almost always in sight, until, after travelling about six
miles, our guide showed me the river, much increased in width, and said
they called that the “Bàrwan.” As it was still a mere chain of ponds,
though these were large, I was sure this was not the main channel; he
also said this joined the main channel a good way lower down. I was
convinced that it was only the Castlereagh that had thus augmented the
channel of the Macquarie, which I found afterwards to be the case, the
junction taking place two miles higher. I willingly encamped on it,
however, to afford more time for the lost man, and the man sent after
him, to rejoin the party.
I this day gave “Yulliyàlly,” our guide, the promised tomahawk, a pipe,
tobacco; and, in addition, a shirt; also a few lines to Mr. Kinghorne,
certifying that this native had done what he had engaged to do.
Thermometer at sunrise, 62°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 70°;
—with wet bulb, 57°.
28TH FEBRUARY.—The wheelwright and Mortimer came into the camp
at 6 a.m., bringing back the horse of the former, and one of the lost
bullocks. We set out early, and after travelling about six miles I came
upon a cart-track, which I followed to the westward until overtaken by a
stockman, who informed me that the Wammerawà, on which I had been
encamped, joined the Bàrwan, then on my right, within two miles of the
spot on which we stood; that he belonged to the cattle station of Mr.
Parnell, Jun., which was distant from my last camp about five miles, and
on the main river; also that the track I was following led to Mohanna,
Mr. Lawson’s station, seventy-five miles lower down the Bàrwan. I
turned with him towards the junction of the Macquarie and Bàrwan, and
encamped thereby, right glad to reach at length, the river beyond which
our exploratory tour was to commence. The river looked well, with a
good current of muddy water in it, of considerable width, and really like
a river. I understood from my guide to this point, that there was a good
ford across the river at his station; also that Commissioner Mitchell had
been down the river a short time back, making a map to show all the
cattle stations on both banks. We had neither seen nor heard anything of
Mr. Wright, the commissioner of the Macquarie district through which
we had just passed, except that he “might visit the district when the hot
weather was over.” Here we found a new species of CALOTIS.[*]
Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 101°; at 4 p.m., 100°; at 9,
with wet bulb, 62°.
[* Calotis scapigera (Hook. MSS.); stolonifera glaberrima, foliis omnibus
radicalibus lineari-spathulatis, scapo nudo monocephalo, achenii aristis
robustis subulatis retrorsum pilosis apice rectis vel uncinatis.—A very
distinct species. Habit of Brachystephium scapigerum D. C.: but that
ought to have no aristae to the achenium: here the awns are very stout in
proportion to the size of the capitulum.]
1ST MARCH.—When, fifteen years before, I visited this river at a higher
point where it was called the Karaula [*], no trace of hoofs of horses or
bullocks had been previously imprinted on the clayey banks. Now, we
found it to be the last resource of numerous herds in a dry and very hot
season, and so thickly studded were the banks of this river with cattle
stations, that we felt comparatively at home. The ordinary precautionary
arrangements of my camp against surprise by savage natives seemed
quite unnecessary, and, to stockmen, almost ridiculous. We had at length
arrived at the lowest drain of that vast basin of clay absorbing many
rivers, so that they lose themselves as in the ocean. Here the final outlet
or channel of the waters of the Macquarie, was but a muddy ditch one
might step across, which the magnificent flood we had seen in the same
river above the marshes was not at all likely to reach. That flood had
gone to fill thousands of lagoons, without which supply, those vast
regions had been unfit for animal existence. Here we discover another
instance of that wonderful wisdom which becomes more and more
apparent to man, when he either looks as far as he can into space, or
attentively examines the arrangement of any matter more accessible to
him. The very slight inclination of the surface of these extensive plains
seems finely adapted to the extremely dry and warm climate over this
part of the earth. If the interior slope of the land from the eastern
coastranges were as great as that in other countries supplying rivers of
sustained current, it is obvious that no water would remain in such
inclined channels here; but the slope is so gentle that the waters spread
into a net-work of reservoirs, that serve to irrigate vast plains, and fill
lagoons with those floods that, when confined in any one continuous
channel, would at once run off into the ocean.
[* We then understood the natives very imperfectly and might have been
wrong about the name, which is the more likely, as caràwy, which the
name resembles, means any deep water-hole.]
In a wet season, the country through which we had traced out a route
with our wheels had been impassable. The direction I should have
preferred, and in which I had endeavoured to proceed, was along the
known limits of this basin, and formed a curved line, or an arc, to which
the route necessity had obliged us to follow was the chord; thus we had
not lost time; but had, in fact, shortened the distance to be travelled over
very considerably. A permanent route had, however, seemed to me more
desirable to any country we might discover, than one liable to be
interrupted by flooded rivers and soft impassable ground. The track of
our drays, along the western side of the Macquarie marshes opened a
new and direct route from Sydney to the banks of the river Darling, by
way of Bathurst; and afforded access to a vast extent of excellent
pasturage on the Macquarie, along the western margin of the marshes,
which land would, no doubt, be soon taken up by squatters. In so dry a
climate, and where water is so frequently scarce, it may, indeed, be found
that the shortest line of route with such advantages would be more
frequented than any longer line, possessing only the remote advantage of
security from interruption by too much water. Thermometer at sunrise,
64°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 81°; with wet bulb, 61°.
2ND MARCH—MONDAY. I took a ride to examine the ford at Wyàbry,
(Mr. Parnell, Jun.’s station,) which I found practicable for our drays,
although, for their descent and ascent, it was necessary to cut better
approaches on each side. The Macquarie, although the channel was so
attenuated and ditch-like, was likely to prove also an obstacle without
some work of the same kind. Accordingly, on my return to the camp, I
sent some men to the last-mentioned work.
I learnt from natives whom I met at Mr. Parnell’s station, that the rivers
Bolloon, Culgoa, and Biree were then flowing, some abundant rains
having fallen about their sources. Also, from the stockman, that the
Narran was thirty-five miles distant, but that a native could be found to
guide me to water only ten miles off. Water was also to be obtained at a
distance of only seven miles beyond the Bàrwan there at the “Morella
Ridges,” to which the natives were in the habit of resorting at certain
seasons, by a path of their own, to gather a fruit of which they were very
fond, named by them “Moguile,” and which I had previously ascertained
to be that formerly discovered by me, and named by Dr. Lindley
Capparis Mitchellii.[*] We found back from this camp the Rutidosis
helychrysoides of De Candolle. Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon,
101°; at 4 p.m.; 100°; at 9, 78°; and with wet bulb, 62°.
[* See “Three Expeditions,” etc., vol. i. page 315.]
3D MARCH.—Early this morning a party of men were sent to cut better
approaches to the ford across the Bàrwan at Mr. Parnell’s station.
Ascertained the longitude of the junction of the rivers Macquarie and
Darling at our present camp to be 147° 33′ 45″ E., by actual
measurements connected with my former surveys of the colony. Mr.
Kennedy had chained the whole of the route from Bellaringa, and I had
connected his work with latitudes observed at almost every encampment,
and after determining at various points the magnetic variation, which
appeared to be very steady, I made the latitude of this camp 30° 6′ 11″
south. Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 99°; at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9,
72°; and with wet bulb, 65°. The height above the sea level of the bed of
the river here, the average result of eight observations, as calculated by
Capt. King, was 415 feet.
4TH MARCH.—The party moved off towards the ford over the Bàrwan
at Wyàbry, crossing the bed of the Macquarie about half a mile above its
junction with the Bàrwan; there, although the approaches had been well
enough cut, we found the bottom too soft for our heavy vehicles, one of
which dipped its wheel to near the axle. We were obliged to pave the soft
and muddy bed with logs, and to cover these with branches, on which
earth was thrown, ere the rest could be got across. The party arrived
about noon at Wyàbry, and by 2 p.m. the whole was safely encamped on
the right bank of the Bàrwan. I had received this morning a dispatch from
my son, commissioner of this district, in which he gave me a most
favourable account of several rivers he had explored in the direction of
my proposed route. These dispatches came to me at the last camp by the
hands of a native, in forty-four hours after the superintendent of Mr.
Lawson, being then on his way down the river, had promised to send
them to me, from a station forty-five miles off, towards Fort Bourke,
where it had been supposed my party would pass. Lat. of this camp, 30°
5′ 41″ S. On this northern bank of the Darling we looked for novelty in
botany, and found some interesting plants, such as a toothed variety of
Senerio brachyloenus D. C., a kind of groundsel; Morgania floribunda,
loaded with purple blossoms, and a variety of Helichrysum bracteatum,
somewhat different in the leaves from the usual state of the species.
Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at 4 p.m., 98°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb,
61°.
Chapter III.
THE PARTY ADVANCES INTO THE UNKNOWN REGION BEYOND THE DARLING,—GUIDED
BY TWO ABORIGINAL NATIVES.—PLAINS AND LOW HILLS.—ARRIVE AT PONDS
OR SPRINGS CALLED “CARÀWY.”—DELAYED BY THE WEAKNESS OF THE CATTLE.—REACH
THE NARRAN SWAMP SOONER THAN EXPECTED.—BRIDGE MADE TO CROSS SOFT PART
OF SWAMP,—WHILE AWAITING THE ARRIVAL OF TIRED BULLOCKS.—SWAMP VERY
EXTENSIVE TO THE EASTWARD.—NEW PLANTS.—RIDE ACROSS THE SWAMP AND
RECONNOITRE THE RIVER NARRAN THIRTY MILES UPWARDS.—THE SWAMP THE LAST
RECEPTACLE OF THE RIVER.—BRIDGE LAID DOWN BY MOONLIGHT.—THE WHOLE PARTY
CROSSES IT, AND AFTERWARDS FORD THE NARRAN,—CROSSING TO THE LEFT
BANK.—ADVANCE BY VERY SHORT STAGES FROM WEAKNESS OF THE CATTLE.—RICH
GRASS ON THE NARRAN.—ELEVATED STONY GROUND TO THE WESTWARD.—AGAIN
RECONNOITRE THE RIVER IN ADVANCE WHILE THE CATTLE REST.—PARLEY WITH A
NATIVE.—TWO NATIVES OF THE BALONNE GUIDE ME TO THAT RIVER.—APPROACH
THE ASSEMBLED POPULATION OF ITS BANKS.—INTERVIEW WITH THE
TRIBES.—CORDIAL RECEPTION.—CROSS THE BALONNE,—AND REACH THE
CULG.—CIVILITY OF THE NATIVES.—CROSS THE CULG.—TRAVEL UP ALONG THE
RIGHT BANK OF THE BALONNE.—GRASSY PLAINS ALONG ITS BANKS.—THE OLD DELAY,
CATTLE MISSING.—A NATIVE SCAMP.—SPLENDID REACHES OF THE RIVER.—DÉPÔT
CAMP AT A NATURAL BRIDGE.—RIDE TO THE NORTHWEST.—RECEIVE DISPATCHES FROM
SYDNEY.—RETURN TO THE CAMP AT ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE.
5TH MARCH.—Early this morning the stockman brought over two
natives, brothers, who were to guide us to water ten miles on towards the
Narran, which was said to be thirty-five miles off. In the first two miles
we passed over some soft ground. Further on, hills were visible to the
left, which our native guides called Goodeingora. Fragments of
conglomerate rocks appeared in the soil of the plains, pebbles and grains
of quartz cemented by felspar. These plains appeared to become
undulating ground as we proceeded northward, and the surface became
firmer. At length the country opened into slight undulations, well clothed
with grass, and good for travelling over, the soil being full of the same
hard rock found on the rising grounds nearest to the Darling, in the
lowest parts of that river explored formerly by me. The red earth seemed
to be but the decomposed matrix of that rock, as the water-worn pebbles
of quartz so thickly set therein, here covered the ground in some places
so thickly as to resemble snow. Much Anthistiria and other good grasses
grew on those plains. I was, indeed, most agreeably surprised at the firm
undulating stony surface and open character of the country, where I had
expected to see soft clay, and holes and scrubs. At six miles, other slight
elevations appeared to the N. E. which the natives called Toolowly, a
name well calculated to fix in white men’s memory elevations too low to
be called hills. They were quite high enough, however, along a line of
route for such heavy drays as those following us. There appeared much
novelty in the trees on this side the Darling. The Angophora lanceolata
was every where; Callitris grew about the base of the hills, and some
very singular acacias, a long-leaved grey kind of wattle, the Acacia
stenophylla of Cunningham. On one tree large pods hung in such
profusion as to bend the branches to the ground. From this abundance I
supposed it was not good to be eaten; nevertheless, I found in another
place many of the same pods roasted at some fires of the natives, and
learnt from our guides that they eat the pea. The pod somewhat
resembled that of the Cachou nut of the Brazils,—Mùnumulà is the
native name. The grasses comprised a great variety, and amongst the
plants a beautiful little Brunonia, not more than four inches high, with
smaller flower-heads than those of BR. SERICEA, quite simple or scarcely
at all lobed, and a hairy indusium.[*] The tree, still a nondescript, although
the fruit had been gathered by me in 1831, and then sent to Mr. Brown,
was also here; and I saw one or two trees of a species of Capparis. Mr.
Stephenson found a great variety of new insects also.
[* B. simplex (Lindl. MSS.); pumila, foliis undique scapisque
longitudinaliter sericeis, villis appressis, capitulis subsimplicibus,
bracteis majoribus oblongis, indusio extus piloso.]
Our guides brought us at length to some waterholes, amongst some
verdant grass on a plain, where no stranger would have looked for water;
and here we encamped fifteen good miles from the Barwan. The ponds
were called “Caràwy,” and were vitally important to us, enabling us to
pass on towards the Narran, which was still, as we had been informed,
twenty-five miles off. As we approached these springs, I saw some
natives running off, and I sent one of the guides after them to say we
should do them no harm, and beg them to stop, but he could not overtake
them. The undulations crossed by us this day seemed to extend east and
west in their elongations, and were probably parallel to the general
course of the main channel of drainage. The same felspathic rock seen in
other parts of this great basin, seems the basis of the clay, although the
fragments imbedded are very hard. The earth is reddish, and much
resembles in this respect the matrix of the conglomerate. Near these
springs we found a new Helichrysum.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at
noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 79°;—with wet bulb, 65°.
[* Helichrysum ramosissimum (Hook. MSS.); suffruticosum valde
ramosum arachnoideo-tomentosum, foliis lineari-spathulatis subflaccidis
acutis, capitulis in racemis terminalibus parvis globosis flavis, involucri
squamis lineari-subulatis undulatis fimbriato-ciliatis.]
6TH MARCH.—The drays not having come up, in consequence of the
excessive length of yesterday’s journey, and very hot weather—(16½
miles by latitude alone)—we were obliged to remain inactive here on a
beautiful cool morning. I found near the ponds, several huts made of
fresh branches of trees and the remains of fires, doubtless the deserted
home of the fugitives of yesterday. At these fires I found the roasted pods
of the acacia already mentioned (Mùnumulà). The water was surrounded
by fresh herbage, and such was the simple fare of those aborigines, such
the home whence they fled. As I looked at it in the presence of my sable
guides, I could not but reflect that the white man’s cattle would soon
trample these holes into a quagmire of mud, and destroy the surrounding
verdure and pleasant freshness for ever. I feared that my good-natured
but acute guides thought as much, and I blushed inwardly [*] for our pallid
race.
[* The author of Waverley maintains that one may laugh inwardly—conscience
may, I suppose, make us also blush inwardly sometimes.]
All day we sat still in anxious suspense about the non-arrival of our
drays—the ground having been so good. With a country so interesting
before us, this delay was doubly irksome, and as the cattle could only be
watered by coming forward, why they did not come was the question;
and this was not solved until evening, when a messenger came forward
to ask if they might come, and to inform me that they were nearly
exhausted. The fatal alternative of endeavouring to make them work in
the morning, after passing a night without water, had been adopted, and
as, on the day before, they had been worked until dusk in expectation of
reaching my camp, they could not draw on the morning after; I instantly
directed them to be brought forward; but the consequence of this
derangement was the death of one, and much injury to many others. This
contretemps arose wholly from the guides not having been understood at
the Barwan as to the real distance, and this we had calculated too surely
upon. Latitude 29° 52′ 26″ south. Thermometer at sunrise, 68°; at noon,
96°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 83°;—with wet bulb, 68°.
7TH MARCH, 1846.—The bullocks having been sent back after they had
been watered last evening, the drays came up about 9 a.m. I left them in
Mr. Kennedy’s charge, and proceeded with the light carts followed by all
the bullocks yoked up. They had trodden into mud the little water that
had been left at that camp, and could not live much longer without more.
The guides assured us the Narran was not far off, although we had
understood when at the Barwan that the distance was twenty-five miles
from these springs. We passed over very good ground, and found the
country to improve as we advanced. We were conducted through the
most open parts of scrubs by our guides, who were made to comprehend
clearly how desirable that was for our “wheelbarrows;” and after
travelling about seven miles, they pointed to a line of trees as the
“Narran,” beyond an extensive open country, which had a singular
appearance from being higher than that we were upon. We crossed one or
two slight elevations wholly composed of compact felspar in blocks
—forming ridges resembling an outcrop of strata, whereof the strike
always pointed N. W. and S. E. Various curious new plants and fruits
appeared; amongst others a solanum, the berry of which was a very
pleasant-tasted fruit. The plant was a runner and spread over several
yards from one root. There was also a fruit shaped like an elongated egg;
it appeared to be some Asclepiad, and was called by the natives
“Doobàh.” They ate it, seeds and all, but said it was best roasted. As we
approached the elevated country between us and the distant line of trees,
we perceived that the vast level was covered with Polygonum junceum in
a verdant state. The colour was dark green, such as I had never seen
elsewhere in this “leafless bramble,” as Sturt called it, which looks ever
quite dry and withered along the margins of the Darling. We had good
reason to love and admire its verdure now, when we found amongst it
pure water in great abundance, into which all our native companions
immediately plunged, and rolled about like porpoises. This, they said,
was the “Narran,” but to the vast swampy plain they gave the name of
Keegur, a name quite useless for white men’s memories or maps. They
seemed to say it was wholly an emanation from the Narran, and pointed
to the nearest part of the trees beyond, saying the river Narran was there.
I still endeavoured to proceed, as they wished, towards the nearest trees
beyond, until a winding narrow pond of water, in very soft mud,
precluded all hopes of crossing with our drays, without some sort of
bridge; I therefore immediately counter-marched the party with me, now
far advanced in that sea of dark green polygonum, and conducted it into a
position on open stony ground to the westward of our route, with the
intention to await there the arrival of the drays, and to prepare materials
for a bridge to be laid across the muddy pond, as I had seen a small
clump of pines (Callitris) at no great distance back. My guides did not
encourage a hope I entertained, that this swamp might be turned by the
westward, in which direction the open country extended to the horizon.
The man who travels with bullocks must expect to be impeded by wet
ground, as well as by the scarcity of water, in many situations where
horses could pass without difficulty. I directed the bullocks, that had
been driven forward with me, to be allowed to graze beside the water
until sunset, and then to be taken slowly back by moonlight to Mr.
Kennedy. Five had dropped down on the way, and had not come forward
to the water. Those sent back were also ordered to be allowed to feed all
the next day at Mr. Kennedy’s camp, and only to start with the drays
there next evening, to come on by moonlight, thus avoiding the intense
heat, so oppressive under extreme thirst. The thermometer during the
day, rose to 103° in the shade. Latitude of the camp on Narran swamp,
29° 45′ 51″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m., 97°;
at 9, 69°; ditto with wet bulb, 57°. The height of this camp above the sea,
the average of five registered observations, is 442 feet.
8TH MARCH.—The view northward from our present camp was most
extensive. Far in the northeast a yellow slope presented the unusual
appearance there, of a cultivated country. It was doubtless ripe grass, yet
still the earth there had not even been imprinted with any hoof. Between
that slope and our camp, lay the element, in abundance, which had been
so scarce on the other side of the Darling. To the northward, at no great
distance, was the river, where, as our guides informed us, we should no
longer be ill off for water in pursuing our journey along its banks. I set
the carpenter to cut sleepers and slabbing to enable us to bridge the
muddy creek, for I had examined it early in the morning, and had crossed
it with my horse; although I found several watercourses almost as soft,
beyond. The natives maintained that the water in this extensive swamp
came neither from the east nor west, but from the river directly before us,
which came from the northward. Just behind our camp, to the southward,
was a gentle elevation, almost a hill, consisting of the usual rock, felspar;
and it seemed to me that this stony ground alone impeded the further
progress of the water towards the Barwan. The ridge trended north-west,
as most others did in this extensive basin; and this direction being nearly
parallel to that of the coast ranges further northward, seemed to afford
additional reason for expecting to find anticlinal and synclinal lines, and,
consequently, rivers, much in the same direction. D’Urban’s group,
distant 150 miles lower down the Darling, consisted of a quartzose rock,
exactly similar to this, exhibiting a tendency, like it, to break into
irregular polygons, some of the faces being curved. This rock is most
extensively distributed in the interior of New South Wales. It was not
until the evening of this day that the approach of the drays was
announced, and then prematurely, the teams only having been brought
forward to the water without them. So weak were the unfortunate
animals, that not even by night, nor by doubling the numbers, could they
be made to draw the drays forward, for the short distance of eight miles;
a distance which we had been given to understand was so much greater.
Forward, all was most promising, and it may be imagined how bitterly I
regretted the alteration of my original plan of equipment, which had
reference to horses and light carts alone. A new species of Anthistiria
occurred here, perfectly distinct from the kangaroo grass of the colony,
very like Apluda mutica, and remarkable for the smooth shining
appearance of the thin involucral leaves.[*] The Trichinium
alopecuroideum, in great abundance, was conspicuous, with its long
silky ears of green flowers. On the stony ground occurred a very curious
new woolly KOCHIA [**], also a species of Cyperus; the Trichinium lanatum
in great perfection; a grass resembling the close reed (Calamagrostis of
England), and which proved to be the little-known Triraphis mollis. On
the margin of the morass the Dactyloctenium radulans, spreading over
the interstices, reminded the traveller of the grasses of Egypt; and, in
stony ground near the morass, we observed the Justicia media of Brown.
Thermometer at sunrise, 66°; at noon, 98°; at 4 p.m. 102°; at 9, 81°;
ditto with wet bulb, 74°.
[* A. membranacea (Lindl. MSS); involucris carinatis margine
membranaceis foliis vaginisque glaberrimis, floribus verticillatis
pedicellatis (masculis?), glumis omnibus scabris, aristâ glaberrimâ glumâ
3plo longiore.]
[** K. lanosa (Lindl. MSS); ramis strictis foliisque linearibus acutis
cinereis tomentosis, fructibus lanatis, calycis laciniis elongatis.]
9TH MARCH.—My native guides, tired of the delay, were anxious to
return, and as the assistance they could afford me was likely to be
extremely useful, and the arrival of the drays was most uncertain, I went
forward this morning with one of them, two men, and Youranigh, our
interpreter, all mounted. Amongst the trees, beyond the swamp, fine
reaches of water appeared in a river channel, apparently continuous to
the northward, but which, in the other direction, or towards the swamp,
abruptly terminated like a cul-de-sac. On my asking the natives where it
went to, they pointed to the various narrow water courses and the swamp
as the final depositories of the water. Admirable distribution of the
contents of a river in a country where water is so scarce, and the climate
so hot and dry! We proceeded along the margin of the “Narran,” which
led us nearly due north, until we forded it, at the desire of our guides, on
a good gravelly bottom, the water reaching to our saddle-flaps. Crossing
a slight elevation where the soil was gravelly, and in which grew the
shrubs of the ordinary scrubs with several interesting novelties, we again
came upon an angle of the Narran, and continued along its banks for
about thirty miles, until near sunset, when we tethered our horses, and
lay down for the night. The Narran was full of water every where, and
with this abundance of water there was also plenty of most excellent
grass. The Panicum loevinode of Dr. Lindley seemed to predominate, a
grass whereof the seed (“Cooly”) is made by the natives into a kind of
paste or bread. Dry heaps of this grass, that had been pulled expressly for
the purpose of gathering the seed, lay along our path for many miles. I
counted nine miles along the river, in which we rode through this grass
only, reaching to our saddle-girths, and the same grass seemed to grow
back from the river, at least as far as the eye could reach through a very
open forest. I had never seen such rich natural pasturage in any other part
of New South Wales. Still it was what supplied the bread of the natives;
and these children of the soil were doing every thing in their power to
assist me, whose wheel tracks would probably bring the white man’s
cattle into it. We had followed well-beaten paths of natives during the
whole of this day’s ride, and most anxious were my guides and I to see
them; but they avoided us. Our guide was of that country, and not at all
unwilling or timid; but evidently very desirous to introduce us to the
inhabitants, and procure amongst them other guides to lead us further.
The night was very hot, and flies and mosquitos did their utmost to
prevent us from sleeping. Thermometer at sunrise, 75°; at noon, 99°; at 4
p.m., 105°; at 9, 83°; ditto with wet bulb, 75°.
10TH MARCH.—Anxious for an interview with some of the natives, I
continued the pursuit of the Narran’s course about five miles higher, but
with no better success. I then turned, after obtaining from our guide,
through Youranigh, what information could be gathered thus, as to the
river’s further course, the best bank for the passage of our drays, etc. We
were still, he said, a long way from the “Culgoa.” There was no
perceptible change in the aspect of the “Narran” as far as we had
examined it, except that where we turned, there were flood-marks, and
the dead logs and river wreck, deposited on the upper side of trees and
banks, showing a current and high floods. The last of these, our guide
said, had occurred about five moons before. In riding back to the camp
we kept the castern bank, that the track might be available for our drays.
This ride along a river where we could, when we pleased, either water
our horses, or take a drink ourselves, was quite new and delightful to us,
under a temperature of 105° in the shade. Our guide, aged apparently
about fifty, walked frequently into the river, while in a state of
perspiration; dipped quite under water, or drank a little with his lip on the
level of its surface, and then walked on again. He was at last very tired,
however, and pointed to the large muscles of the Rectus femoris as if they
pained him. We found at the camp, on our return, five of the drays that
had come up, the other three being still behind, and requiring double
teams of exhausted cattle to bring them forward. In the vicinity of our
camp we found the Trichinium alopecuroideum, with heads of flowers
nearly five inches long; an eucalyptus near E. pulverulenta, but having
more slender peduncles; a sort of Iron-bark. We found also a tall
glaucous new HALORAGIS [*], and a curious new shaggy Kochia was
intermingled with the grass.[**] Thermometer at sunrise, 77°; at noon,
102°; at 4, 107°; at 9, 76°;—with wet bulb, 71°.
[* H. glauca (Lindl. MSS.); annua, stricta, glaberrima, glauca, foliis
oppositis lineari-oblongis obtusis petiolatis grossè serratis, racemis apice
aphyllis, fructu globoso tuberculato laevi.]
[** K. villosa (Lindl. MSS.); ramis erectis foliisque linearibus
villosissimis, fructibus glabris.]
11TH MARCH.—All the drays came in early. I gave to the two natives,
the tomahawks, tobacco, and pipes, as promised; also a note to the
stockman on the Barwan, who had provided me with them, saying that
they had been very useful. I this morning examined the country to the
westward of the swamp, and found a narrow place at which we could
pass, and so avoid much soft heavy ground. The ramifications of the
watery Narran penetrated into the hollows of the stony ridge, presenting
there little hollows full of rich verdure and pools of water, a sight so
unwonted amongst rocks characteristic of D’Urban’s arid group. In one
little hollow, to the westward of our camp, it seemed possible for two
men with a pickaxe and shovel to have continued it through, and so to
have opened a new channel for the passage of the waters of the Narran
swamp, into the dry country between it and the Barwan. Thermometer at
sunrise, 55°; at noon, 105°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb,
59°.
12TH MARCH.—I found it necessary to sit still here and refresh the
jaded bullocks; thus days and months passed away, in which with horses
I might have continued the journey. The very extensive country before
us, which appeared to absorb these waters, was quite clear of timber, and
irrigated by little canals winding amongst Polygonum junceum. This
open country appeared to extend north-eastward about eight miles,
thence to turn eastward, as if these waters found some outlet that way to
the Barwan. I regretted that this swamp led too far out of our way, to
admit of our tracing its limits to the eastward.
This day I received letters from Commissioner Mitchell, in which he
strongly recommended to my attention the rivers Biree, Bokhara, and
Narran, as waters emanating from, and leading to, the Balonne, a river
which he said might supply our party with water, in this very dry season,
almost to the tropic. I was able to inform him in reply, that I was already
on the Narran, and that I had already availed myself of his account of the
rivers formerly sent me, on which I must have been obliged to depend,
even if the party had passed by Fort Bourke.
This evening, by moonlight, I conducted a dray, carrying two
platforms, to the place where the narrow channel, feeding the swamp,
could be passed without our meeting beyond any other impediment to the
drays. The sleepers used for this purpose were made of pine (Callitris
pyramidalis), found half a mile back from our camp. They were fourteen
feet long, two feet wide, being composed of cross-pieces, two feet long,
fixed at each end between two sleepers, so that they somewhat resembled
a wooden railway. These, when laid at the proper distance apart to carry
both wheels, were bedded on the soft earth, and the interval between was
filled to a level with them, by layers of polygonum and long grass,
alternate with earth, forming together a mass of sufficient resistance to
support the feet of the draught oxen. The whole formed a compact bridge
or gangway. Thermometer at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 107°;
at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
13TH MARCH.—The party once more moved onward, and the drays
trundled across the swampy arm by means of our bridge, which, even in
the event of an accession of water there, might have proved serviceable
on our return. Three miles beyond it we had to ford the Narran, passing
over a gravelly bottom to the eastern bank, and encamping there. The
drays were slow in arriving at this ford and camp, as the ground was soft
and hollow, but by sunset all had crossed, and our camp established on
the Narran. Thermometer at sunrise, 71°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 100°;
at 9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 65°. The height of this camp above the sea,
according to ten registered observations, is 487 feet.
14TH MARCH.—We now had before us water and grass in abundance,
to a distance as unlimited and indefinite, as our hopes of discovery. I
intended to set out early each morning, and travel only four or five miles,
that the jaded animals, exhausted by want of water and hard work, might
have time to feed and refresh. One old cause of delay, however, again
occurred to impede us,—three bullocks were reported missing. Now it
was nearly full moon, and two men had been on watch all night. It really
seemed that delay and disappointment must attend all who depend on
bullocks and bullock-drivers. The stray cattle were not brought up until 9
a.m., when we proceeded, and encamped on an angle of the Narran,
after travelling about five miles. In the scrubs passed through, we found
the fragrant Jasminum lineare in fruit, the flowers being nearly past; a
bulb which proved to be the Anthericum bulbosum of Brown; a shrub ten
feet high, in fruit, the Canthium oleifolium of Sir William Hooker; a fine
new Chenopodium, with long naked spikes of woolly yellow flowers [*];
and a hoary variety of Acacia leptoclada, or perhaps a distinct species,
having a good deal of the aspect of A. dealbata, but the leaves and glands
nearer those of A. leptoclada, according to Mr. Bentham. Thermometer
at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 102°; at 9, 81°;—with wet
bulb, 75°.
[* C. auricomum (Lindl. MSS.); totum glaucum farinosum, caule stricto,
foliis petiolatis oblongis subhastatis lobisque posticis obtusis supremis
lanceolatis, spicis compositis nudis aphyllis glomeratis multifloris
tomentosis.]
15TH MARCH.—The sand amongst the scrubs was so soft and yielding,
that the draught animals could not draw the drays through it without
great difficulty; indeed, it was only possible by double-backing, as the
drivers termed their practice of alternately assisting one another, a
process to which all had had recourse with one exception. It was not until
1 a.m. of this morning, therefore, that the last dray was brought to the
camp. Another bullock died on the way, and thus I felt, when the field of
discovery lay open before me, that my means of conveyance were
unsuited to the task. Overloading at Boree, unskilful driving, excessive
heat, and want of water, had contributed to render the bullocks
unserviceable, and I already contemplated the organization of a lighter
party and fewer men, with which I might go forward at a better rate,
leaving the heavy articles of equipment and tired cattle in a depôt, on
some good grassy spot. The latitude of this camp was 29° 38′ 21″ south.
Thermometer at sunrise, 73°; at noon, 84°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at 9, 65°;
—with wet bulb, 60°.
16TH MARCH.—I proceeded six miles, and chose a camp beside a bend
of the Narran, full of deep water, and in the midst of most luxuriant
grass. The drays arrived by 11 a.m. in such good order, that I was
induced to try whether, by early starting, good feeding, and short
journeys, the party could not be got forward to the Balonne, where I
could leave the whole in one depôt, to rest and refresh, while I took my
intended ride forward. Latitude, 29° 34′ 11″ S. Thermometer at sunrise,
43°; at noon, 86°; at 4 p.m., 87°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 55°.
17TH MARCH.—I proceeded seven miles, and the drays came forward
as well as they did yesterday, so that I again entertained hopes of the
progress of the united party, which was very desirable, as these plains
were evidently sometimes so saturated with water as to be rendered
wholly impassable for wheel-carriages or even horses. Latitude, 29° 29′
11″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 87°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at 9,
62°;—with wet bulb, 52°.
18TH MARCH.—Again we made out a short journey over rather soft
ground; all the drays coming in, although slowly. I rode to a gently rising
ground, a great novelty, which appeared bearing E. N. E. from our camp,
at a distance of 2½ miles. I found it consisted of gravel of the usual
conglomerate decomposed—of rounded fragments of about a cubic inch
in bulk. The grass was good there, and I perceived that the same gravelly
ridge extended back from the river in a north and south direction.
Graceful groups of trees grew about this stony ground, which looked,
upon the whole, better than the red sandy soil of the scrubs and callitris
forest. This seemed the dividing ridge between the Narran and Barwan.
From this elevation, I saw that the course of the former ran still in a good
direction for us, to a great distance northward. On that stony ground I
found a new Pittosporum five feet high, with long narrow leaves, in the
way of P. roeanum and Angustifolium, but distinct from both in the form
of its fruit.[*] Latitude of camp 29° 25′ 21″. Thermometer at sunrise, 53°;
at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 69°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
[* P. salicinum (Lindl. MS.); foliis lineari-lanceolatis coriaccis
acutissimis aveniis, pedunculis unifloris aggregatis axillaribus, fructibus
subglobosis vix compressis.]
19TH MARCH.—Pursuing the Narran, keeping its eastern or left bank,
our course this day was more to the northward. I encamped after
travelling six miles, not only because the ground was soft and heavy for
the drays, but because I saw that the Narran turned much to the eastward,
and I contemplated the passage across it, intending to look for it again,
by travelling northward. Accordingly, as soon as our ground had been
marked out, I crossed to reconnoitre the country in that direction. I found
a fine, open, grassy country, but no signs of the river at the end of five
miles, nor even until I had ridden as far eastward. There, recrossing it, I
returned to the camp through some fine open forest country. Latitude
observed, 29° 21′ 51″, S. Thermometer at sunrise, 57°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at
9, 71°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
20TH MARCH.—Retracing my homeward tracks of yesterday, we
proceeded in a nearly E. N. E. direction, along much firmer ground than
we had recently traversed. The great eastern bend of the river was found
amongst much excellent grass and amidst much fine timber. A species of
Anthistiria appeared here, which seemed different from the ordinary sort,
although this was no stranger to me, when exploring the waterless plains
westward of the Lachlan, where it looked as if stunted for want of
moisture. Here, however, this variety presented the same knotty head,
where other grasses grew luxuriantly. After getting round the extreme
eastern turn of the Narran we encamped. Near the spot large rocks
appeared in the bed, as if the river was passing through the stock of the
gravelly ridge I had visited on the 18th. The rock consisted of that found
about the basin of the Darling; a quartzose conglomerate with much
felspar, and having pebbles of quartz imbedded. The large fragments of
the conglomerate in the river bed were angular, and not at all rounded at
the edges. Here the poor natives had been very industrious, as was
evident from heaps of the grass Panicum loevinode, and of the same redstalked
coral-like plant, also mentioned as having been observed in
similar heaps, on the banks of the Darling, during my journey of 1835
(vol. i. p. 238). I now ascertained that the seed of the latter is also
collected by the natives and made into a paste. This seed was black and
small, resembling fine gunpowder when shaken out. Nevertheless it was
sweet and pleasant to the taste, possessing a nutty flavour.
The human inhabitants were few, and as invisible as other animals in
these forests—the prints of whose feet were also plain in the soft
smooth surface. As faithless as the snows of the North [*], this soil bore
the impressions of all animals obliged to go to the water, and amongst them
those of the naked feet of men, women, and children, with the prints
likewise of other bipeds, such as emus and kangaroos, and also those of
the native dog. Here still was our own race amongst other animals all
new and strange to Europeans. The prints of the foot of man alone were
familiar to us. But here he was living in common with other animals,
simply on the bounty of nature; artless, and apparently as much afraid of
us, and as shy, as other animals of the forest. It seemed strange, that in a
climate the most resembling that of Milton’s paradise, the circumstances
of man’s existence should be the most degrading. Latitude of our camp,
29° 19′ 26″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 55°; at noon, 100°; at 4 p.m.,
101°; at 9, 70°;—with wet bulb, 65°. The mean elevation above the sea
of our camps thus far on the Narran, seven in number, was 477 feet; the
bed of the river being about 15 feet lower.
[* “And hungry Maukin’s ta’en her way
To kailyards green,
While faithless snaws ilk step betray
Whar she has been.” Burns.]
21ST MARCH.—Proceeded as usual through fine grass, the river coming
favourably round towards the north. At about two miles I found some
traces of horses, and I looked at the river bank for Commissioner
Mitchell’s initials, supposing this might be “Congo,” where he had forded
the Narran. But we had not reached the latitude of Congo according to
his map. Nevertheless we found here such an excellent dry ford, with
gently sloping banks to a stony bottom, that the two circumstances
induced me to cross the Narran with the party. I travelled west-ward,
until meeting with a dense scrub, I turned towards the friendly Narran,
where we encamped in latitude 29° 15′ 31″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise,
56°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 72°; ditto with wet bulb, 66°.
22D MARCH.—Gave the party a day’s rest, prayers being read by the
surgeon, as was usual whenever circumstances admitted of our halting on
Sunday. The bed of the Narran presented in several places the denuded
rock, which seems the basis of all the soil and gravel of the country. At
one place irregular concretions of milk-white quartz, cemented by a
ferruginous basis, was predominant; at another, the rough surface of
compact felspar weathering white presented merely the cavities in which
large rounded pebbles had been imbedded, until the partial
decomposition of the felspar, under the river floods, had exposed them
once more to the action of water. The force of those waters, however,
had not been sufficient to cut a channel through very soft rocks extending
right across their course—a circumstance rather characteristic, perhaps,
of a river like the Narran, watering a nearly level country, and
terminating in a swamp. Thermometer at sunrise, 53°; at noon, 95°; at 4
p.m., 98°; at 9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 66°. Height above the sea, 515
feet, from eight observations.
23RD MARCH.—All hands were bent on an early start this morning, and,
soon after seven, the party moved off. We crossed much grassy land,
almost approaching to the character of scrub as to bushes; but we
pursued a tolerably straight course to the N.W., until we again made the
Narran at 8½ miles. Various new plants attracted my attention this day,
especially a beautiful Loranthus on the rosewood Acacia, and a small
bush bearing a green pod resembling a small capsicum in shape. Among
the sedges by the river we found the Kyllinga monocephala; and, on the
rich black clayed soil near it, a species of bindweed out of flower, with
large sagittate leaves: in the scrubs back from the river, grew a small
bush, about four feet high, which has been considered either a variety of
Brown’s Santalum oblongatum, or a new species distinguished by its
narrow sharp-pointed leaves. The Loranthus lineari. Folius was growing
on the rosewood Acacia, and the branches of Eucalypti were inhabited by
the parasitical orange loranth.[*] Lat., 29°1 0′ 6″ S. Therm. at sunrise,
51°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 99°; at 9, 70°;—wet bulb, 63°.
[* L. aurantiacus (All. Cunn. MS.); ramis elongatis laxis gracilibus, foliis
oppositis longe petiolatis oblongis obtusis lanceolatisve acuminatis
glabris 3-5-nerviis tenui-marginatis, paniculis folio brevioribus ditrichotomis,
floribus erectis, calycibus subcylindraceis superne latioribus
truncatis, petalis linearibus 6, stylo infra apicem geniculato, stigmate
dilatato truncato.—W. J. H.]
24TH MARCH.—We set off still earlier this morning. I hoped to reach
the Bokhara, on the West, a river shown on the map sent me by the
Commissioner of the district, but after travelling about seven miles to the
northward, I saw rising ground before me, which induced me to turn
towards our own friendly river the Narran; but it proved to be very far
from us, while in my search for it, to my surprise, I found it necessary to
descend several considerable declivities, covered with waterworn
pebbles. At length a slight opening in the dense scrubs through which we
had forced our way, afforded a view towards the south-east of the low
range we were upon, which trended very continuously to the north-west,
covered thickly with the “Malga” tree of the natives; to the traveller the
most formidable of scrubs. After several other descents, we reached the
Narran, but only at half-past three in the afternoon, when we had
travelled nearly twenty miles. How the teams were to accomplish this, it
was painful to consider. I sent back a messenger to desire that the cattle
should be detached and brought forward to the water; content to lose one
day, if that indeed would suffice to recover the jaded animals. Casuarinae
now grew amongst the river trees, and reminded me of the banks of the
Karaula in 1831. We had also noticed another novelty in the woods we
passed through this day; a small clump of trees of iron-bark with a
different kind of leaf from that of the tree known by that name in the
colony. On the higher stony land, a bush was common, and proved to be
a broad-leaved variety of EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII, if not a distinct species.
We there met with a new species of the rare and little-known genus,
GEIJERA; forming a strong-scented shrub, about ten feet high, and having
long, narrow, drooping leaves. Its fruit had a weak, peppery taste.[*] The
rare ENCHYLOENA TOMENTOSA formed a shrub a foot high, loaded with
yellow berries: all the specimens were digynous, in which it differed
from the description of Brown. The CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was observed
amongst the climbing shrubs still in fruit; and a beautiful new LORANTH,
with red flowers tipped with green, was parasitical on trees.[**] On the
bank of the Narran we found the AMARANTHUS UNDULATUS of Brown.
[* G. PARVIFLORA (Lindl. MS.); ramis erectis, foliis longis linearibus
pendulis in petiolum sensim angustatis 4 unc. longis.]
[** LORANTHUS LINEARIFOLIUS (Hook. MS.); foliis lineari-filiformibus acutis
carnosis glabris teretibus, pedunculis axillaribus brevibus bifloris,
calycibus cylindraceis truncatis contractis, petalis 6 linearibus supra
basin coalitis.]
The cattle arrived in the dark, and were watered in the muddy-banked
Narran, by the light of burning boughs; then set to feed. Lat. 29° 6′ 33″
S.; therm. at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 74°; ditto with wet bulb,
62°.
25TH MARCH.—The cattle had now to return to bring forward the drays.
Meanwhile I took a ride up the river, in order to ensure a moderate
journey for these exhausted animals. Proceeding along the right bank, I
found gravelly slopes almost closing upon the river. The direction of its
course for four miles, was nearly southward. Then I saw gravelly ridges
on the left, and a line of wood before me, while the river evidently came
from the East round the margin of an extensive plain. I continued
northward; found a rosewood scrub: then saw the Malga tree; passed
through scrubs thereof; found myself on stony ridges, whence
descending in a N. E. direction, again passed through rosewood scrubs,
and only reached the river after riding 2½ miles in that direction. I saw
a continuous ridge, bare and distant, beyond what I considered the river
bed, and a similar ridge to the westward. I crossed a native camp where
the newly deserted fires still smoked. We saw one man at a distance, who
did not mind us much; I could not have obtained any information from
him, and therefore did not seek a parley. Crossing the Narran there, by a
beaten track, beside a native fishing fence, I returned to the camp, on the
bearing of S. S. W., and found a grassy plain the whole way back, until
within sight of the tents, and a good rocky ford for the passage of the
party next day. On the stony ridge I found a remarkable shrub, a species
of Sida (ABUTILON), allied to S. GRAVEOLENS, Roxb., but distinct. The teams
brought the drays in, about 5 p.m.; one animal of all being missing.
Therm. at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 89°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at 9, 60°;—with
wet bulb, 53°.
26TH MARCH.—Early this morning, William Baldock was sent back in
search of the stray bullock, while the party crossed the Narran, and
proceeded along my horse’s track of yesterday. Baldock over took the
party, having found the bullock on the river, four miles below our late
encampment. The natives seen yesterday had disappeared, having
previously set fire to the grass. We proceeded two miles beyond their
fires, and encamped on the river bank in lat. 29° 1′ 57″ S.
A small path along the river margin; marks on trees, where hollow
portions of bark had been taken off; some ancient, some recent, huts of
withered boughs and dry grass; freshwater muscle shells, beside the
ashes of small fires; and, in some places, a small heap of pulled grass
(PANICUM LOEVINODE), or of the coral plant; such were the slight but
constant indications of the existence of man on the Narran. Such was the
only home of our fellow-beings in these parts, and from it they retired on
our approach. Ducks, which were rather numerous, and emus (coming to
drink), probably constituted their chief food, as nets to ensnare both these
kinds of birds, were found about their huts. Youranigh brought me one of
their chisels, a small bit of iron fastened to a stick with gum, and tied
with a piece of striped shirting. I directed him to place it carefully where
he had found it. Thermometer at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m.,
95°; at 9, 69°;—with wet bulb, 60°. The mean height above the sea of
the camps of 23d, 24th, and 26th March, was 461 feet.
27TH MARCH.—Pursuing, as well as we could, the course of the Narran,
which came more from the northward, we again encamped on its banks
after a journey of seven miles, without recognising any indication of the
vicinity of the larger stream, which, according to our latitude, we ought
by this to have reached. The current here had evidently been more
decided, and dry trunks and other FLUVIATILE DEBRIS lay more in masses
against whatever had lain in the water’s way. Excellent grass clothed the
plains over which we had passed during the two last days, and grew
abundantly also about the banks of the river; but, in general, a belt of the
POLYGONUM JUNCEUM, about 400 or 500 yards wide, grew between the
immediate margin and the grassy plains. This shrub was found an
infallible guide to the vicinity of the river, when, as sometimes happened,
other lines of trees, resembling those on its banks, had led me to a
distance from it. The day was cool and rather cloudy, a great novelty to
us; for every day had been clear and unclouded, since long before we
crossed the Barwan. Abundance of the stones of the quandang fruit
(FUSANUS ACUMINATUS) lay at an old fire of the natives, and showed that
we were not far from the northern limit of the great clay basin, as the
quandang bush grows only upon the lowest slopes of hilly land. Lat. 28°
55′ 13″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 89; at 9,
70°;—with wet bulb, 61°.
28TH MARCH.—At 2 a.m., loud thunder was heard in the south-west,
where a dark cloud arose and passed round to the northward; a few drops
of rain fell. The morning was otherwise clear, with a cooling breeze from
S. W. Thermometer at sunrise, 56°. We proceeded, travelling chiefly
amongst very luxuriant grass. The river now disappeared as far to the
westward of my northerly course on this left bank, as it had left me when
on the other bank by unexpected turns to the eastward. I came upon its
banks after travelling about eight miles. At the spot where I wished to
place the camp I perceived a native, and with Youranigh’s assistance,
managed to prevent him from running away. He spoke only
“Jerwoolleroy,” a dialect which my native did not understand at all well.
He told us, however, that this was still the Narran, and pointed N. W. to
the Balonne. Upon the whole we gathered from him that neither that
river nor the Bokhara was far from us. I endeavoured to convince him,
by Youranigh’s assurances, and our own civility to him, that we meant no
harm to any natives, and were only passing through the country. He did
not seem afraid, although he had never, until then, seen white men. We
encamped near him. The river channel was very narrow, and contained
but little water here-abouts. I understood from the native (through
Youranigh) that the river here spread into various channels, and that
“BARRO” was the name of a river beyond the Culg, which falls into it
from the northward; “TOORINGORRA,” the lagoon on which we encamped
after meeting natives on the 31st March. Near this camp we found a
PHYLLANTHUS, scarcely different from P. SIMPLEX; a SESBANIA near
S. ACULEATA, but with smaller flowers; and the CHENOPODIUM AURICOMUM,
formed a white-leaved shrub, three or four feet high. Thermometer at
sunrise, 56°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb,
56°.
29TH MARCH.—After prayers (the day being Sunday) I sent Mr.
Kennedy forward to explore the course of the river, in order to ensure a
more direct line for to-morrow’s route. Mr. Kennedy was accompanied
by one of the men armed, and also by Youranigh, all being mounted. He
returned in about four hours, having found the river coming from the
northward, and he also reported favourably of the ground. Thermometer
at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 51°;—with wet bulb, 47°.
30TH MARCH.—The night had been cool and pleasant, Thermometer at
sunrise only 42°. The cattle were yoked up early, and we travelled on
over fine grassy plains, and with open gravelly ridges on our right. At
length, about the sixth mile, these ridges closed on the river, where there
was one hill almost clear of trees or bushes. I ascended it, but could only
see plains to the westward, and a dense line of river-trees running north.
We at length encamped on what appeared to be still the Narran, after a
journey of about eight miles.
We this day passed a small group of trees of the yellow gum, a species
of eucalyptus growing only on the poor sandy soil near Botany Bay, and
other parts of the sea-coast near Sydney. Thermometer at sunrise, 42°; at
4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°. Mean height of the camps
of the 27th, 28th, and 30th, above the level of the sea, 509 feet.
31ST MARCH.—The various lines of trees were now so much dispersed
across the country, that to follow the line of the Narran, it was necessary
to see its ponds and channel as frequently as possible. The course, if not
of the river, at least of its ana-branches; and there were besides those,
branches of another kind, namely, true branches coming from the main
channel, as branches leave the stem of a tree, never to unite with it again.
Some of those of this description, so closely resembled in every respect
the Narran, that the difference was only to be distinguished by observing
the marks of flood on trees, and ascertaining the direction of the current.
We had crossed several such, and were rather in a “fix” with some
lagoons, when I perceived several native children in one of them. I
wished here to intercept some natives who might tell us where was the
ford of “Congo,” where white men had crossed the Balonne, or where
was the river Balonne. The children fled, but two manly voices were
heard immediately, and two natives came confidently up to Youranigh
and then to me. The eldest seemed about fifty-five years of age; the other
was a lad of about twenty. They spoke of “Congo,” and the Balonne
(BALONGO) as quite at hand, and undertook to conduct us to both. It was
quite evident from their pronunciation, that “Baloon” was not the proper
native name, but Bal, the termination they gave it of “GO,” being an
article they very often use, Bal-go being equivalent to THE Balonne; as in
speaking of the Barwan, they say “Barwàngo.” I had nearly completed
the usual short journey when we fell in with these natives, but I was
unwilling to lose the advantage of their assistance, and so travelled on
under their guidance, full five miles further, before I fixed on a spot for
the camp. This was by a splendid piece of water, named by them
Tooningora, nearly on a level with the adjacent plains, and covered with
ducks. We had passed other fine sheets of water guided by our native
friends, and over a rich grassy country remarkably level and free from
scrub. It was evidently changed by the vicinity of the larger river. I
continued to follow our new friends beyond where I had directed the
party to encamp, in expectation of seeing the marked tree at Congo, and
the river Balonne. After going forward thus about four miles, we saw
five gins running off at a great distance across some open plains,
apparently near the river. The eldest of our guides ran after them, and I
requested him to assure them that the white men would do no harm, and
to tell them not to run away. At length he overtook them. Two appeared
to carry unseemly loads across their backs, dangling under large
opossum-skin cloaks, and it was evident that these were mummied
bodies. I had heard of such a custom, but had not before seen it. I had
then but a distant view of these females, as they resumed their flight, and
continued it until they reached woods bounding the plain on the
westward. The line of Yarra trees of the great Balonne river ran parallel
to our march westward, and there also, according to my guides, was
“Congo,” the ford marked out by my son, and which spot I most
anxiously desired to see and identify by his initials. Still my guides led
westward towards the woods, and as we approached them, the shout or
scream of little Dicky, a native child of the Bogan, follower of my camp,
first drew my attention to a black phalanx within the forest, of natives
presenting a front like a battalion. Youranigh my interpreter halted and
remonstrated: our elder guide ran forward, and on his reaching that body,
the sound of gruff voices that arose from it strongly reminded me of
Milton’s description of Satan’s army:
“Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote.”
Youranigh would not advance another step, although much pressed by
the other native remaining with us to do so, but declared that “those
fellows were murry coola,” (very angry). We therefore retraced our
footsteps to the camp, without having seen either the Balongo or Congo.
Our guide soon overtook us, accompanied by fourteen of the strange
natives, who, all curiosity, passed the night at our camp, and they
brought with them a lad named “Jemmy,” who spoke a little English, and
had visited many of our cattle-stations. He was very intelligible to
Youranigh, who but very imperfectly understood the language of the rest.
They seemed upon the whole a frank and inoffensive race. Their food
consisted of the fish of the river, ducks, and the small indigenous melon,
CUCUMIS PUBESCENS, which grew in such abundance, that the whole
country seemed strewed with the fruit, then ripe, and of which the natives
eat great quantities, and were very fond. It is about the size of a plum
only, and in the journal of my first interior journey (in 1831), is
mentioned as a cucumber we were afraid to eat. (Vol. I. p. 88.) Latitude
of camp, 28° 38′ 47″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 42°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at
9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
1ST APRIL.—The whole party moved off about the usual hour, 7 a.m.,
still under the guidance of our new acquaintance, towards the Balonne.
On our way the natives were very careful to point out how muddy
hollows could best be avoided by our drays. I saw seated at a distance, in
due form, the tribe to which they belonged; and having directed the party
to halt, went up to them. They were seated in three groups; old men on
the right, painted red; old women in the centre, painted white; and other
women and children on the left. The few strong men who appeared,
formed a circle around me, and told me their names as they came up to
me. I desired Youranigh to tell them that we were passing that way
across the Balonne to a very far-off country, and did not wish to disturb
them, etc. When all was said that could be said, and I was about to
return, one of the chiefs, “Yarree,” said “good night,” words which he
must have learnt at some cattle station. Although it was only morning, I
returned the compliment with all possible gravity, and took my leave.
Soon after, we arrived on the bank of the Balonne, as fine a looking river
as I have seen in the colony, excepting only the Murray. There was a
slight current, and the waters lay in broad reaches, under banks less
elevated above the bed than those of the Darling. In breadth the channel
surpassed that of the last named river in any part, I believe, of its course.
We encamped near a shallow place, which the natives at first said was
“Congo,” but where we found no marks on the trees. The curiosity of the
natives having been gratified, they disappeared; but I must mention that,
having missed the elder of the two men who had guided us here since the
first evening, I learnt, on inquiring what had become of him, that he had
gone back to his little boys, whom he had left at the water-holes where
he first met us, six miles back, and for whom he had apparently gathered
his little net of melons. Nothing could have been finer than this man’s
conduct. He had at once come on with us to guide us where we wanted to
go; took great pains to make us known to his own tribe, and, I believe, to
other assembled tribes at some risk to himself; and then, without
claiming my promised gifts, he had returned to his little family, left at
such a distance, only that he might do that which was civil, to us
strangers. Yet we call these men savages! I fear such disinterested acts of
civility on the part of the civilised portion of mankind are rather rare. He
had rendered to us, at all events, a very great service; for the danger of
sudden collision with the natives was at an end, after our introduction by
him to the tribes. In the afternoon, Slater, one of the bullock-drivers,
found a good fording-place; and I sent a few men to cut the banks, and
fill up a soft part of the river bed with logs, branches, and earth, for the
better passage of the drays; a work they completed before night. I rode
about five miles beyond the river to the north-west, and met, first with a
very broad lagoon full of water, nearly on a level with the plains, and
apparently permanent; secondly, I found beyond this, a river or chain of
ponds somewhat like the Narran. This I ascertained was called the
Càwan by the natives, and that it meandered very much. The country was
rather fine. These waters were bordered by well-grown trees, and the
plains were covered with good grass. Lat. of our camp, on the Balonne,
28° 25′ 38″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 79°;
at 9, 60;—with wet bulb, 54°. Height of the bed of the Balonne above
the level of the sea, 494 feet; an average of three observations.
2D APRIL.—All the drays and the party crossed the river this morning
in good order, and without any accident or much delay, by the little
bridge we had made in its bed. While they were crossing, the place
seemed to me so favorable for a ford that it might still be possible to find
some of the marked trees said to be at “Congo.” I again questioned the
natives on this point, and one youth undertook to point out some marks
made by white men. Mr. Kennedy ran with him on foot up the left bank
of the river, and was shown two trees marked, the one with “J. Towns,”
the other with “Bagot, 1845.” Being thus convinced that this ford was
really at or near the place called “Congo,” where Commissioner Mitchell
had crossed, and found the Culgoa, at a distance of only seven miles
north-west, I determined to go forward, in the same direction, to that
river, taking my track of yesterday, which enabled me to avoid the broad
lagoon.
On arriving at the “Cawan” we saw two natives fishing in a pond with
hoop nets, and Yuranigh went to ask them about the “Culgoa.” He
returned accompanied by a tall athletic man; the other was this man’s gin,
who had been fishing with him. There he had left her to take care of his
nets, and, without once looking at me or the party, proceeded to conduct
us to the Culgoa. I never saw a Spanish or Portuguese guide go with a
detachment half so willingly. Yuranigh and he scarcely understood a
word of what each other said, and yet the former had the address to
overcome the usual difficulties to intercourse between strange natives,
and their shyness to white men, and to induce this native thus to become
our guide. He took us to the Culgoa, which we made at about seven miles
from the Balonne, and I was so much pleased with the willing service
and true civility of this native, that I presented him with an iron
tomahawk, and I heard him twice ask Yuranigh if it really was meant for
him to keep. He then hastened back to his gin, whom he had left five
miles off. This river presented as deep a section as, but a narrower bed
than, the one we had just left. It had all the characteristics, however, of a
principal river, and really looked more important than the Barwan,
except that its waters were not then fluent. Gigantic blue gum trees
overhang the banks, and the Mimosa grew near the bed of the current. I
should say that these and much sand were the chief characteristics of the
Culgoa. There were no recent marks of natives’ fires, and I was informed
that they did not much frequent that part of the river. The grass along the
banks was very luxuriant. Latitude 28° 31′ 19″ south. Thermometer at
sunrise, 39°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 50°;—with wet bulb,
46°. The height of this camp above the level of the sea, being forty feet
above the bed of the river, 543 feet; from the mean of four observations.
3RD APRIL.—The section of this river being forty feet deep, and the
banks in general steep, the work necessary to render it passable to our
heavy drays could not be accomplished yesterday afternoon. This day,
however, our camp was established on the right bank of the Culgoa.
Thermometer at sunrise, 35°; at noon, 80°.; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 49°; and
with wet bulb, 46°.
4TH APRIL.—We were now to proceed along the right bank of the
Culgoa upwards to the United Balonne, and thence to continue ascending
along the right bank of that river also, as far as the direction was
favourable to our progress northward. This remained to be ascertained in
exploring that river upwards. In gaining the right bank of the Culgoa, we
had crossed the vast basin of clay extending from the Bogan on the
south, to this river on the north, and westward to New Year’s Range and
Fort Bourke. That country was liable to be rendered quite impassable,
had the rains set in. But even in such seasons we could still travel over
the dry, firm ground bounding this basin of clay on the northward, as the
left bank of the Bogan was also passable, however rainy the season,
indeed more conveniently then than during a dry one. Rain, if it had
fallen at this time, had greatly facilitated our exploration of the northern
interior; but these rivers we had reached would supply us with water for
some degrees to the northward, as I had been informed by the
Commissioner of the district, and in our progress so far, I hoped we
should arrive at a better watered country.
Taking a northerly course, we traversed fine grassy land, on which
grew luxuriantly the ACACIA PENDULA and other shrubs, that reminded us
of the banks of the Bogan, to which country we found here the exact
counterpart, only that this was better watered. The course of the Culgoa
was more easterly than I had calculated on, for, after going six miles
northward, I had to travel at least as many eastward before I again found
the river. We encamped on the acute north-western angle of an anabranch
biting into the firm soil, and it was evident that we had reached
the Balonne Major, or that part above the separation of the Culgoa from
the Minor Balonne, both of which we had already crossed, and which ran
thus, as from our camp the lines of trees along each of the minor
channels were distinctly visible.
The character of these rivers had been described to me by
Commissioner Mitchell, the discoverer thereof. It was late before the
drays came in, and Mr. Kennedy was led into the camp quite blind,
having been suddenly attacked with purulent ophthalmia, when engaged
in the survey of our route, about four miles from the camp. The heat had
somewhat abated, but still this complaint, which we had attributed to it,
had lately affected many of the party suddenly, as in the case of Mr.
Kennedy. Latitude, 28° 27′ 11″ S. Thermometer at sunrise, 33°; at noon,
83°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9, 53°; with wet bulb, 47°.
5TH APRIL.—The party halted, and I took a ride to explore the course of
the river, proceeding first northward. In that direction I came upon an
angle of the Balonne, at about three miles from the camp. Beyond, after
passing through much ACACIA PENDULA, I crossed a small plain, bounded
by a Casuarina scrub. Partly to ascertain its extent and character, and
partly in the hope of falling in with the river beyond, I entered it. I found
this scrub full of holes, that obliged me to pursue a very tortuous course,
impeded as I was too by the rugged stems and branches. I got through it,
only after contending with these impediments for three miles. The
country beyond it looked not at all like that back from the river, and I
turned to the N.E., pursuing that course some miles; then eastward two
miles, and next two miles to the S.E., still without finding any river; but,
on the contrary, scrub in every direction. The sun was declining, and I
turned at last to the S.W., and in that direction reached an extensive open
forest, beyond which I saw at length the river line of trees. I continued to
ride S.S.W., and finally south, until I saw our cattle grazing, and the
tents, without having regained first, as I wished, my outward track. On
the bank of the Balonne we found an apparently new species of
ANDROPOGON with loose thin panicles of purplish flowers, and in the scrub
I passed through, in my ride, I found a CASUARINA, indeterminable in the
absence of flowers or fruit. It produces a gall as large as a hazel nut.
Thermometer at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 90°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 57°;
—with wet bulb, 53°.
6TH APRIL.—Mr. Kennedy’s eyes being still very bad, I could not
proceed, as the survey of our route was very important, in order to keep
our account of longitude correctly. The necks of the cattle were much
galled, and I therefore the more willingly halted another day. It was not
without some impatience, however, that I did so, as we were approaching
a point whence I could set out with horses to the north-west, and leave
the cattle to refresh in a depôt on this fine river, which afforded an
excellent base for our exploratory operations, in the wholly unknown
regions immediately beyond it. This line of exploration I had anxiously
wished to pursue in 1831, when obliged to return from the Karaula or
Upper Barwan; and whatever had since been ascertained about that part
of the interior, confirmed me the more in my first opinion as to the
eligibility of that direction. It had occurred to me, on crossing the
Culgoa, that by marking deeply on a tree, at each camp, a number of
reference, our survey might be more practically useful and available to
the colonists, as connecting so many particular localities therewith. I
therefore marked that No. I. in Roman numerals; this II., and I shall add
in this journal, at the end of the narrative of each day’s proceedings,
whatever number or mark may be made to distinguish the place of
encampment described.
In the scrub near this, we observed an Acacia, apparently new, a broadleaved,
white-looking wattle. There was also a branching Composite,
which Sir W. Hooker has determined to be a very distinct and undoubted
species of FLAVERIA of which all the other species are natives of the New
World.[*] The CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was also found here growing on
EXOCARPUS APHYLLA of Brown; it was found by Allan Cunningham and
Frazer on Liverpool Plains, also, at Swan River. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 44°; at noon, 95°; at 4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb,
57°. Height above the sea, 497 feet.
[* FLAVERIA AUSTRALASICA (Hook. MSS.) foliis lineari-lanceolatis
integerrimis basi dilatatis, capitulis densissime globoso-fasciculatis,
fasciculis subinvolucratis, bracteis exterioribus praecipue fasciculos
superantibus omnibus late amplexantibus.]
7TH APRIL.—When all were preparing to set off early this morning, I
was informed that two bullocks were missing, and a third fast in the mud
on the river bank. The two stray animals were soon found; but it was
impossible to bring on the other in the mud, for he was blown, from
having drunk too much water, after over-eating himself with grass. Our
journey was continued round one angle of the river in my horse’s track.
Afterwards turning to the N. E., we crossed two miles of open forest
land, where the grass was good, and having the river in sight. At length,
even on an easterly course we could not keep it longer in view, but got
involved in a scrub on soft red sand. Emerging from this on a course of
E. S. E., we again got upon open ground, and soon saw the majestic trees
of the river in a line circling round to the northward. Coming upon it at
an angle where scrubs of rosewood and ACACIA PENDULA crowned the
slopes, we encamped on a beautiful spot. The river was magnificent,
presenting a body of water of such breadth, as I had only seen in one
other river of Australia, and the banks were grassy to the water’s edge.
This day, “Jemmy,” a young native whom we had seen on the Minor
Balonne, came to our camp with another youth, and the voices of a tribe
were heard in the woods. As Jemmy had not kept his word formerly,
having left us suddenly, and was evidently a scamp, I peremptorily
ordered him away. I had heard of his having brought gins to my camp at
night on the former occasion, and he was very likely to be the cause of
mischief, and could not, or at least, would not, render us any service. We
desired no further intercourse, at that time, with the natives, as those with
us did not understand their language. The misfortunes of Mr. Finch arose
through that sort of intercourse with his men, and had arrested my
journey fifteen years ago, when I had advanced to within forty miles of
this camp, intent on those discoveries I hoped at length to make even
now. I had good reason, therefore, to keep the natives at a distance here,
at a time, too, when the bodies of six white men were said to be still
uninterred in this neighbourhood. A species of CYPERUS with panicled
globular heads of flowers was found here in the sloping bank.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 97°; at 4 p.m. 97°; at 9, 69°;
—with wet bulb 57°. Height above the sea 634 feet. Latitude 28° 23′ 59″
S. (Camp III.)
8TH APRIL.—We continued our journey nearly northward, keeping the
river woods in sight, as much as the country permitted. An arm or anabranch,
at first containing much water, and coming from the north, was
on our right for some miles. In following it, our natives found the tracks
of three horses, one only having had shoes on, and two foals, as if
proceeding first towards our camp, then returning. The branch from the
river became dry and sandy, but still we followed its course. We saw
about a mile to the eastward, beyond this dry channel, a splendid sheet of
water on a level with the general surface, and having extensive tracts of
emerald green vegetation about it. The dry channel obliged me to make a
longer journey than I had intended. At length, on finding the requisite
water in its bed, I encamped. This was near a pond, on whose sandy
margin we saw still the tracks of the three horses that had been there to
drink. The scrubs came close to the river with intervals of grassy plain.
The ACACIA PENDULA, and its concomitant shrubs, the SANTALUM
OBLONGATUM, and others, gave beauty to the scenery, and with abundance
of water about, all hands considered this a very fine country. At sunset,
thunder-clouds gathered in the S. W., and at about 7 p.m. the storm
reached our camp, accompanied by a sudden, very strong gale from the
S. E. The lightning was very vivid, and for half an hour it rained heavily.
By 8 p.m. it was over, and the serene sky admitted of an observation of
Regulus, by which the latitude was found to be 28° 17′ 8″ S. (No. IV.)
Thermometer at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 91°; at 4 p.m. 94°; at 9, 66°;
—with wet bulb 63°.
9TH APRIL.—The branches of the river, and flats of Polygonum,
obliged me to follow a N. W. course. I did so most willingly, as we had
already got further to the eastward than I wished. The arm of the river
spread into a broad swamp, in which two of the drays sank, the drivers
having taken no notice of a tree I had laid across the track, to show where
the carts had been backed out. I made them unload the drays and carry
the loads to firm ground. Keeping afterwards along the margin of this
swamp for many miles, I perceived abundance of water in it, and passed
the burning fires of natives, where their water kids and net gear hung on
trees about. At length, upon turning to the eastward, I came upon the
main river, where it formed a noble reach, fully 120 yards wide, and
sweeping round majestically from N. E. to S. E. We here encamped, after
a long journey. The banks were grassy to the water’s edge. We saw large
fishes in it; ducks swam on it, and, at some distance, a pair of black
swans. This surpassed even the reach at camp III., and I must add, that
such an enormous body of permanent water could be seen nowhere else
in New South Wales save in the river Murray during its floods. The
Anthistiria grew abundantly where we encamped, which was in latitude,
28° 13′ 34″ S. and marked V. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon, 94°;
at 4 p.m., 97°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
10TH APRIL.—Pursuing a N. W. course, we crossed small grassy plains,
fringed with rosewood and other acacias; but, in order to keep near the
river, I was soon obliged to turn more towards the east, as Callitris scrubs
were before me. In avoiding these, I again came upon the more open and
firm ground adjacent to the river, and saw its course in the line of large
Yarra trees, which always point out its banks with their white and
gnarled arms. I may here state that the scrubs generally consist of a soft
red sandy soil; the land near the river, of clay, which last is by far the
best of the two soils for crossing with wheel carriages; the soft red sand
being almost as formidable an impediment in some situations as mud. At
length, in travelling N. eastward, we came upon a spacious lagoon,
extending westward, and covered with ducks. Perceiving, by drift marks,
that it came from the West, I kept along its margin, following it as it
trended round to N. E., where we arrived at the main channel, about that
part whence the waters of the lagoon emanate during high floods. That
lagoon presented an excellent place for a cattle-station. Water could
never fail, as the main stream was at hand, if even the lagoon dried up,
which seemed not at all likely. PSORALEA ERIANTHA was abundant in the
bed of the river, along with INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA, and CROTALARIA
MITCHELLII.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 99°; at 4 p.m., 97° at
9, 66°;—with wet bulb, 58°.
[* C. MITCHELLII (Benth. MS.) erecta, ramulis flavescenti-tomentosis,
stipulis parvis subulatis, foliis ovali-ellipticis obtusis retusisve basi
angustatis supra glabris subtus calycibusque subsericeo-pubescentitomentosis,
bracteolis in pedicello brevissimo minutis setaceis, legumine
sessili glabro. Allied to C. RETUSA and SERICEA, but flowers much smaller,
in short dense spikes. It agrees in most respects with the short character
of C. NOVOE HOLLANDIOE, etc., but the leaf is not articulated on the footstalk,
and the stipules exist.]
11TH APRIL.—Proceeding due north we had the river close on our right
hand, when two miles on. After making a slight detour to avoid a gully
falling into it, we continued the same course over open forest land, and,
at length, saw an immense sheet of water before us, with islands in it.
This was also a lagoon supplied by floods in the Balonne. It was covered
with ducks, pelicans, etc. I called it Lake Parachute, no natives being
near to give me their name for it. I must here add that the true aboriginal
name is not Baloon, however, but Balonne, and this I the more readily
adopt to avoid the introduction of a name so inappropriate amongst
rivers. I was obliged to turn this lagoon, by moving some way about to
my right, for it sent forth a deep arm to the S. W. which lay across my
intended route. Continuing to travel northward, we arrived upon the
banks of a lagoon, where they resembled those of the main channel,
having trees of the same kind and fully as large. The breadth was very
uniform, and as great as that of the river, so that it seemed this had once
been the bed of the Balonne. We crossed it at a dry part of the swamp,
the waters extending and increasing in it to the eastward. In the opposite
direction it was equally uniform and continuous, but apparently dry. On
crossing this old channel, I turned sharply to the N. E., aware that it is
usually at acute angles in a river’s course that such overflowings break
out. I found it necessary in the present case to turn eastward, and even to
the southward of east before I could find the river again. At length we
came upon the channel divided amongst ridges of sand, where the waters
took a sharp turn and broke thus into separate currents. I was now very
desirous to select a camp where the cattle might remain to rest and
refresh while I proceeded with a small party to the N. W. This place did
not please me, having been too scrubby, the water not well tasted, and
the grass dry, therefore liable to be set on fire by the natives, or by
accident. A bulbous species of CYPERUS grew on the bank of the Balonne,
and in the river we found the common European reed, ARUNDO
PHRAGMITES: a Loranthus allied to L. LINEARIFOLIUS, but with broader
leaves, grew on some of the trees, and we saw a fine new species of
ADRIANIA.[*] (No. VII.) Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 102°; at 4 P.
M., 104°; at 9, 69°; with wet bulb, 62°. Average height above the sea, of
camps V. VI. and VII., 559 feet.
[* A. HETEROPHYLLA (Hooker MSS.) foliis ovato-acuminatis grosse sinuatoserratis
integris cordatisve trifidis, utrinque bracteisque glaberrimis.]
12TH APRIL.—I accordingly put the party in motion at an early hour,
and soon came upon the river, where it formed a noble reach of water
and came from the westward, a new direction, which, with the sand that
had for some days appeared in shallow parts of its bed, raised my hopes
that this river might be found to come from the north-west, a direction it
maintained for five miles. The breadth was uniform, and the vast body of
water was a most cheering sight. The banks were 120 yards apart, the
course in general very straight, contributing much to the perspective of
the scenery upon it. At one turn, denuded rocks appeared in its bed,
consisting of ironstone in a whitish cement or matrix, which might have
been decomposed felspar. I at length arrived at a natural bridge of the
same sort of rock, affording easy and permanent access to the opposite
bank, and at once selected the spot for a dépôt camp, which we
established on a fine position commanding long vistas both up and down
the river. It was, in fact, a tête-de-pont overlooking the rocky passage
which connected the grass on both sides. This was No. VIII., and in
latitude 28° 1′ 37”. Thermometer, at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 104°; at 4 P.
M., 101°; at 9, 74°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
13TH APRIL.—Here I could leave the jaded cattle to refresh, while, with
a small party on horse-back, I could ascertain the farther course of the
river, and explore the country to the north-west where centred all my
hopes of discovery. I set on foot various preparations, such as the
stuffing of saddles, shoeing of horses, drying of mutton, and, first of all
in importance, though last likely to be accomplished, the making a pair
of new wheels for a cart to carry water. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at
noon, 100°; at 4 p.m., 101°; at 9, 67°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
15TH APRIL.—This day I sent Mr. Kennedy to examine the country in
the direction of 331½°, my intended route, and he returned about 10 P.
M., having seen what he considered indications of the river on his right
when about twelve miles from the camp, and plains to the left. Upon the
whole, I resolved, from what he said of the scrubs he had met with, to
travel north-west, that direction being perpendicular to the general course
of this river, and therefore the most likely to lead the soonest to higher
ground. Thermometer, at sunrise, 68°; at noon, 104°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at
9, 72°;—with wet bulb, 67°.
16TH APRIL.—In order better to contend with the difficulty of wanting
water, and be better prepared for it, I formed my party rather of infantry
than cavalry, taking only two horses, drawing a cart loaded chiefly with
water, and six trusty men, almost all old soldiers. We were thus prepared
to pass several nights without requiring other water than that we carried
with us. I hoped thus to be enabled to penetrate the scrubs, and reach,
and perhaps cross, the higher land bounding this great basin. Our first
day’s progress, being rather experimental, did not extend above ten miles.
I had been obliged to send back the shaft horse, and exchange him for a
better, as our load of water was heavy. The day was very sultry.
Thermometer 105° Fahrenheit, in the shade. We had passed over ground
more open than I expected, but by no means clear of scrubs.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 64°; at 4 p.m., 105°; at 9, 71°;—with wet
bulb, 67°.
17TH APRIL.—The messenger returned early with two horses, one being
my own second charger, which I put as leader to the cart. We then got
forward on foot as fast as the men could walk, or rather as fast as they
could clear a way for the cart. We passed through much scrub, but none
was of the very worst sort. The natives’ marks on trees were numerous,
and the ground seemed at first to fall westward as to some water-course;
and, after travelling about five miles, there appeared a similar indication
of water to the eastward of our route. At one place even the white-barked
gum trees appeared; but, although they had the character of river trees,
we found they grew on an elevated piece of clay soil. After completing
about ten miles, I halted for two hours to rest the horses, where there was
a patch of good grass, and we gave them some water from our stock. The
mercurial column afforded no indication that we were at all higher than
our camp overlooking the river, and it seemed, therefore, not improbable
that we might meet with some other channel or branch of that prolific
river. After resting two hours we continued, passing through woods
partly of open forest trees, and partly composed of scrub. Towards the
end of our day’s journey, we crossed land covered with good grass, and
having only large trees on it, so thinly strewed as to be of the character of
the most open kind of forest land. Saw thereon some very large
kangaroos, and throughout the day we had found their tracks numerous.
We finally set up our bivouac a little before sunset, on a grassy spot
surrounded by scrub. In this scrub I found the CLEOME FLAVA of Banks,
and the strong-smelling AMBRINA CARINATA. A very remarkable whiteness
appeared on the leaves of the EUCALYPTUS POPULIFOLIUS, which, on very
close examination, appeared to be the work of an insect.[*] On the plains
the SALSOLA AUSTRALIS formed a round bush, which, when loose from its
very slight root, was liable to be blown about. Thermometer at sunrise,
71°; at 9 P. M, 68°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
[* The following letter from Mr. Westwood to Dr. Lindley relates to
specimens of this brought to England:—
“I am sorry that the state of the specimens from Sir Thomas Mitchell
(or rather, I should say, the time when they were gathered) does
not allow me to say much about the insect by which they are formed.
It is an extremely beautiful production, quite unlike any thing I
have yet seen, and is, I have no doubt, the scale of a coccus. It
is of a very peculiar form, resembling a very delicate, broad, and
flattened valve of a bi-valve shell, such as the genus Iridina, the
part where the hinge is being a little produced and raised, and forming
the cover of the coccus which secretes the beautiful material just
in the same unexplained way as the scale insects form the slender
attenuated scales beneath which they are born. I could not discover any
insect beneath the specimens of Sir Thomas Mitchell’s production in a
state sufficient to determine what it really is, as I only found one or two
exceedingly minute atoms of shrivelled up insects. It is extremely brittle,
and looks more like dried, white, frothed sugar than any thing else.”]
18TH APRIL.—A pigeon had flown last evening over our camp in a N.
N. E. direction, and as the ground sloped that way, and the men believed
that water was there, I rode this morning in that direction, leaving the
other horses to feed in the meantime. At two miles from our bivouac I
found some hollows in a scrub where the surface consisted of clay, and
which evidently at some seasons contained water, although they were
then dry. Polygonum grew around them, and I doubt not that after a fall
of rain water would remain there some time. On riding two miles
beyond, in the same direction, I found open forest land only. The country
was well covered with good grass, very open, yet finely wooded. We
again proceeded north-west over some fine forest land. The soil was,
however, only soft red sand, and made it very heavy work for our horses
drawing the watercart.
On passing through a Casuarina scrub, we entered upon a different
kind of country as to wood and grass, the soil being much the same, or
still more loose and sandy. The surface bore a sterile heathy appearance,
and the trees consisted chiefly of a stunted box, growing but thinly.
Instead of grass, black, half-burnt roots of a wiry plant appeared, which I
afterwards found in flower (SEE INFRÀ), and one small, shrubby, brown
bush, very much resembling heath; apparently a Chenopod with heathlike
leaves, and globular hairy heads of flowers. The roots of the firstmentioned
plant presented much obstruction to our cart-wheels in
passing over the soft sand. As I stood awaiting the cart’s arrival, some
birds drew my attention, as I perceived I had attracted theirs. They
descended to the lowest branches of the tree in whose shade I stood, and
seemed to regard my horse with curiosity. On my imitating their chirp
one fluttered down, and attempted to alight on my horse’s ears. On my
whistling to them, one whistled some beautifully varied notes, as soft as
those of an octave flute, although their common chirp was harsh and
dissonant. The male and female seemed to have very different plumage,
especially about the head; that on the one having the varying tint of the
Rifle bird, the head of the other more resembling in colour, that of the
DACELO GIGANTEUS. They were about the size of a thrush, and seemed the
sole residents of that particular spot, and I had not seen them elsewhere.
The carts came slowly forward, the horses being much distressed. I
continued to ride some miles ahead, and passed through a scrub in a clay
hollow, to which succeeded another open forest country with more of the
soft red sand. The people with the cart could not overtake me, and I
returned. Meeting them at a rather bad place, I determined to encamp at
some patches of grassy ground somewhat out of our line, in latitude, 27°
43′ S. It is remarkable that, according to the barometer, we had not
ascended higher than our depôt camp on the river, at a distance of nearly
forty miles from it. I had just quitted my horse’s back, and had resolved
to return, when two horsemen were seen approaching along our track.
They were two of our party come from the depôt to bring me a despatch,
which had been forwarded by Commissioner Wright, communicating the
news of Dr. Leichardt’s return from Port Essington, and enclosing the
Gazette with his own account of his journey. Thus it became known to us
that we could no longer hope to be the first to reach the shores of the
Indian Ocean by land. Thermometer, at sunrise, 62°; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9,
71°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
19TH APRIL,—I left the men with the cart, to follow while I rode
forward along its track, and sat down to peruse the newspapers sent me,
until the cart overtook me in the evening, the horses being quite
exhausted by the heat and the heavy sand. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°;
at noon, 86°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
20TH APRIL.—The men who brought the despatches yesterday having
been ordered to bring fresh horses this day from the depôt, I sent our
tired animals on thither at once, as we could give them but a limited
quantity of water. I rode forward also to the camp, and met the fresh
horses about half-way. I immediately ordered the repair of the wheels of
another light cart, determined to lose no time in exploring a passage
towards the head of Carpentaria. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon,
95; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 63°;—with wet bulb, 58°.
21ST APRIL.—The cart came in about 9 a.m. The morning was
cloudy, for the first time this month, and a slight shower fell. Had three
or four days’ rain fallen at that time, it would have enabled me to have
explored by much less circuitous routes, than along the bank of this great
river, the country to the north-west. In this case, the tour from which I
had just returned might have been continued, as I wished and intended,
had it been possible to find water, to the mountains or higher ground,
whatever it might be that formed the limits to this basin on that side.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 65°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 60°;
—with wet bulb, 53°.
22D APRIL.—The clouds continued to lower, and a great change in the
temperature accompanied this visible change in the sky, but the mercurial
column remained uncommonly steady. Arrangements for a concentrated
party engrossed my attention so fully this day, with the insertion also of
our late work on the general map, that even the newspapers from the
colony lay unread. Mr. Kennedy took a ride across the river in a S. S. E.
direction, and found a fine grazing country with open forest, as far as he
went, which was about twelve miles. On the banks of the Balonne,
during my absence, they had found, besides a small bearded CYPERUS, a
new creeping PSORALEA [*], and a new species of Acacia, which Mr.
Bentham has named A. VARIANS.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 41°; at noon,
76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 61°;—with wet bulb, 56°. Mean elevation of
this camp above the level of the sea, being 50 feet above the river, 623
feet.
[* P. ERIANTHA (Benth. MS.) prostrata, canescenti-pubescens, foliis
pinnatim trifoliolatis, foliolis ovatis oblongisve dentatis, pedunculis
elongatis multifloris, floribus inferioribus remotis superioribus
approximatis, calycibus pube molli albida dense tomentosis, legumine
molliter villoso.]
[* A. VARIANS (Benth. MS.) glabra, pallida v. glauca, ramulis subangulatis,
phyllodiis oblongo-lanceolatis v. inferioribus late obovatis summisve
linearibus, omnibus basi longe angustatis apice obtusis v. oblique
mucronatis subimmarginatis vix obscure glanduliferis uninervibus
tenuiter reticulato-penniveniis, capitulis sub 20-floris solitariis
subracemosis v. in racemos foliatos dispositis, calycibus truncatis,
legumine glabro crasso sublignoso. Very near A. SALICINA, and possibly a
mere variety; but the phyllodia are generally considerably broader, and
the inflorescence different.]
Chapter IV.
ADVANCE WITH A LIGHT PARTY—LEAVING THE REMAINDER WITH THE BULLOCKS
AND DRAYS TO REST THREE WEEKS AT ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE.—DISCOVER A RIVER
JOINING THE BALONNE FROM THE NORTH-WEST.—CROSS IT, AND STILL TRACE
THE BALONNE UPWARDS.—FINE RIVER SCENERY.—VAST PLAINS EXTENDING TO
THE EASTERN HORIZON DISCOVERED FROM A TREE.—TRIBUTARY FROM THE
NORTH-WEST—AND RICH PLAINS.—TRACE THIS SMALL RIVER UPWARDS.—EXCELLENT
COUNTRY FOR GRAZING PURPOSES.—MOUNTAINS, SEEN AT LENGTH, TO THE
NORTHWARD.—NATIVES AT OUR CAMP.—ASCEND MOUNT FIRST VIEW.—MOUNT
INVITING.—ASCEND MOUNT RED CAP.—RIDE TO THE BORDERS OF FITZROY
DOWNS, AND ASCEND MOUNT ABUNDANCE.—THE BOTTLE TREE.—ASCEND MOUNT
BINDÀNGO.—DISCOVERY OF THE RIVER “AMBY.”—DANGEROUS FOLLOWERS OF
A CAMP.—RECONNOISSANCE TO THE NORTH-WEST.—ASCEND A TRAPITIC RANGE.—A
GAP OR GOOD OPENING THROUGH IT FOUND FOR THE CARTS.—SMALL RIVER
DISCOVERED BEYOND, CONTAINING ONE POND OF WATER.—THE CHANNEL DISAPPEARS
ON OPEN FLATS.—DISCOVER THE RIVER MARAN.—SELECT A POSITION FOR A
DEPÔT.—RIDE OF RECONNOISSANCE TO THE NORTHWARD.—RIDE INTO THE WESTERN
INTERIOR.—ASCEND MOUNT LONSDALE.—EXTENSIVE VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT.—WATER
NOT VERY PLENTIFUL.—RETURN TO THE CAMP.—ASCEND A HIGH POINT TO THE
EASTWARD.—VIEW THENCE OF THE SUMMITS OF A RANGE TO THE NORTHWARD.—CAMP
VISITED BY HOSTILE NATIVES DURING MY ABSENCE.—ARRIVAL OF MR. KENNEDY
WITH THE MAIN BODY OF THE PARTY.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE HOSTILITY OF THE
CHIEF AND TRIBE AT “TAGANDO.”—VARIOUS PREPARATIONS MADE FOR AGAIN
ADVANCING WITH A LIGHT PARTY.—DEPÔT CAMP ESTABLISHED ON THE MARAN.
23RD APRIL.—Our little party started at noon. I took with me eight
men, two native boys, twelve horses, besides my own two, and three
light carts with provisions for ten weeks—determined, if possible, to
penetrate northward, into the interior country, and ascertain where the
division of the waters was likely to be found. I intended, with this view,
to trace upwards the course of the Balonne, until I found mountains to
the north-westward of it; then, to endeavour to turn them by the west,
and thus acquire some knowledge on that most interesting point, the
watershed towards the Gulf. I left instructions with Mr. Kennedy to
follow my track with the drays and main body of the party, and to set out
on Monday, the 4th of May, when the cattle would have had three weeks’
rest.
The first few miles of this day’s journey were along a clayey flat or
hollow, which enabled me to avoid scrubby and sandy ground on each
side. I believed its direction (N. E.), to be about parallel to the river.
Leaving it at length to make the river, I met with rather a thick scrub; but
came upon the river where the banks were very rocky and picturesque.
Its course seemed to be from N. E.; but, following another flat of firm
clay, I got again into scrub so thick that I turned eastward towards the
river, and travelled along its bank until I encamped in lat. 27° 56′ 12″ S.
There was but little water in the bed of the river there; but long islands of
sand, water-worn banks, with sloping grassy bergs behind. The bed, in
most places, consisted of rock, the same ferruginous conglomerate, or
clay ironstone, seen in the same river lower down. Grass was excellent
and abundant on the bergs and near the river, but thick scrub crowned
these bergs on our side. It was too late to admit of my examining the
other. On our way through the scrub this day, we saw the ENOCARPUS
SPARTEA of Brown, a leaf-like wing-branched shrub; and the beautiful
parasite, LORANTHUS AURANTIACUS, occupied the branches of Eucalyptus.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°; at 9 p.m., 47°;—with wet bulb, 41°.
[* The dates on the map show my camps; the Roman numerals those
afterwards taken up by Mr. Kennedy, in following my track with the
main body.]
24TH APRIL.—Set off early, travelling along the bank. The direction
was N. N. W. and N. W. For the first few miles, the scenery was wild
and very fine. Masses of rock, lofty trees, shining sands and patches of
water, in wild confusion, afforded evidence of the powerful current that
sometimes moved there and overwhelmed all. At this time, the outlines
were wild, the tints sublimely beautiful. Mighty trees of Casuarinae, still
inclined as they had been made to bend before the waters, contrasted
finely with erect Mimosae, with prostrate masses of driftwood, and with
perpendicular rocks. Then the hues of the Anthistiria grass, of a redbrown,
contrasted most harmoniously with the light green bushes, grey
driftwood, blue water, and verdure by its margin; all these again
—grass, verdure, driftwood, and water—were so opposed to the dark
hues of the Casuarinae, Mimosae, and rifted rocks, that a Ruysdael, or a
Gains-borough, might there have found an inexhaustible stock of
subjects for their pencil. It was, indeed, one continuous Ruysdael.
“That artist lov’d the sternly savage air,
And scarce a human image plac’d he there.”
May the object of our journey be successful, thought I then; and we
may also hope that these beauties of nature may no longer “waste their
sweetness in the desert air;” and that more of her graces may thus be
brought within the reach of art. Noble reaches next extended in fine
perspective before us; each for several miles, presenting open grassy
margins along which we could travel on firm ground unimpeded by
scrub. At length I perceived before me a junction of rivers, and could see
along each of them nearly a mile. I had no alternative but to follow up
that nearest to me, and found upon its bank many recent encampments of
natives; at one of which the fires were still burning. The country was
grassy, and so open, as almost to deserve the colonial name of “plain.”
This channel took me a long way northward, and to the N. N. E.; but
finally turned west, and at last south. Its bed was full of sand; and at
length we found it quite dry, so that, when I would have encamped, I
could find no water. Yet it bore all the character of a large river; marks of
high floods, Mimosae, sand, and river driftwood, like the other. It might,
and probably did, finally come out of the main channel; but this seemed
too remote a contingency for our wants then, and I crossed it, to look for
the other. In riding eastward, I found a wide plain bounded by trees that
looked like those along the river. No time could be spared for further
reconnoissance: I took the party across, and made for the nearest part.
My course was first N. E., then East, finally South, in following the
various slopes; and it was only after travelling fifteen miles beyond the
point where I met with this river, that I reached the bank of the other, at a
spot distant only FOUR miles from where I had quitted it. This was only
accomplished at forty minutes after 4 p.m., when we had travelled
twenty-six miles. As our circuitous route was likely, if followed by Mr.
Kennedy with the heavy drays, to cause delay and inconvenience, I
resolved to halt next day, and write to him on the subject, explaining how
he could most readily fall into my track by crossing the other channel,
quitting first the other track, at a spot to be marked by Graham, who took
the letter. Nevertheless, it had been imperative on me to follow it up as I
had done; because, whether as a separate tributary or an ana-branch only,
the right bank was likely to suit us best, provided only that water could
have been found in its bed. Near the new river, the INDIGOFERA HIRSUTA of
Linnaeus, with its spikes of reflexed hairy pods, was common; and also
the MOSCHOSMA POLYSTACHYUM. Lat. 27° 47′ 57” S. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 38°; at 9 p.m., 59°;—with wet bulb, 56°.
25TH APRIL.—
“The dawn is overcast, the morning lowers,
And heavily in clouds brings on the day.”
A grateful change in the weather promised rain; but suggested to me a
contingency for which I had not provided in my letter to Mr. Kennedy,
and Graham was gone. A flood coming down, might fill the channel of
the other, and prevent Mr. Kennedy’s party from crossing to fall into my
track; or, if that should finally prove only an ana-branch, shut me up in
an island. On this point I again, therefore, wrote to Mr. Kennedy, and
buried my letter at the spot marked by Graham, and according to marks
on trees, as I had previously arranged with him. I then instructed him to
examine the dry channel far enough upwards (halting his party for the
day) to ascertain whether it was a separate river, or an ana-branch; and,
in the latter case, to keep along its banks, and so avoid the possible
difficulty of crossing it during rainy weather. Thermometer, at sunrise,
65°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 63°. Mean
height above the sea, 586 feet.
26TH APRIL.—Sunday. Corporal Graham returned from the depôt camp
at 1 p.m. The sky continued cloudy, and the barometer low. High wind
from the west arose about 3 p.m. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon,
78°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9, 56°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
27TH APRIL.—The party set off early. We found that a river from the
north joined the channel we were about to follow up in its course from
the east. The northern river contained water in abundance; and I
determined to follow it up so long as the course was favourable, and
water remained in it. The general course was much the same as that of
the first (about 39 E. of N.). The bed and ponds increased; and after
following it up about eleven miles, I encamped the party, and rode
northward to ascertain if it was likely to change its course. In ten
minutes, I came upon a splendid reach, extending north-west as far as I
could see it. Lat. of our camp, 27° 42′ 42″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise,
37°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 72°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 55°.
28TH APRIL.—Masses of a ferruginous rock extended across the river
bed like a dyke, in a N. W. and S. E. direction; and as the river here
broke through these rocks, changing, at a sharp angle, its course to the S.
W., it seemed probable that the general course from above might be
parallel to these rocks. Continuing along the bank, we found the reaches
large, full of water; the country clear of scrub and covered with luxuriant
grass. One singular flat sweeping round to the W. S. W. was covered
with the rich grass PANICUM LOEVINODE. The tropical PEROTIS RARA, a
delicate grass, producing long purple tufts of reflexed bristles, was also
here observed. The general direction of the river was towards the N. W.,
and whenever it took any turn towards the east, I continued to travel
northward, and thus, on three occasions, came upon its bank again,
cutting off detours I must otherwise have described in following its
course. We encamped on a beautiful spot, the sight of which would have
rejoiced the heart of a stockholder. A fresh westerly breeze blew during
the day, and we were as free from the annoyance of heat, as if we had
been in England during the same month. Latitude 27° 32′ 37″ S. The
direction of the river’s course was uncommonly straight, and its long
sweeping reaches, full of water, seemed capable of being rendered
available for the purpose of forming water communications. The surface
of the adjacent country presented a thin deposit of sand, near the river,
attesting the great height to which its waters sometimes rise; and minor
features of ground near, showed, in their water-worn sections, that they
had been wholly deposited by the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at
4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 48°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
29TH APRIL.—The tendency of the soft earth of the banks to break into
gullies, branching back into impervious scrubs, was such as to prevent
me from either seeing much of the river during this day’s journey, or
pursuing a straight course. At one place I could only follow the grassy
margin of the river, by passing between its channel and the berg, all
seared as it was with water-worn gullies, and crowned with scrub; but I
was soon locked up under these where a bad hole impeded our progress
along the river, and I was obliged to back the carts out, the best way I
could. While travelling along the margin I perceived a slight current in a
gravelly part of the bed. I had previously observed a whitish tinge like
that of a fresh in the river water, this day and yesterday, doubtless the
product of the late rain, and probably from these clay gullies. After a
circuitous journey, we came out on a clear grassy brow over-looking
much open country. There I still met with heads of gullies, but could
easily avoid them, and after traversing a fine grassy plain, we encamped
as near the river as the gullies would allow, in latitude 27° 28′ 27″. One
of the party, John Douglas, from the top of a tree, discovered vast plains
in the N. E. extending to the horizon, a river line pursuing a northerly
course, and in the N. W. a mass of cloud hung over what he supposed to
be mountains. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 47°;
with wet bulb, 44°.
30TH APRIL.—Obliged to keep at some distance from the river, I came
upon open forest land, where gentle undulations took the place of the
rugged gullies. Thus we travelled over a beautiful country, due north,
with sufficient indications of the river on our right, in the slopes that all
fell to that side. There were ponds in some hollows, and we made the
river itself at various parts of our route. At length, where it bit on a high
scrubby bank, I again proceeded northward and came upon a large
lagoon, sweeping round to S. W. and S. S. W., further than we could see.
It had on its surface numerous ducks, and a large encampment of native
huts appeared at one end. We encamped by this lagoon, in latitude 27°
20′ S. Again vast plains and downs to the N. E. were seen by Dicky, our
youngest native, from a tree. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at 4 p.m.,
65°; at 9, 43°.
1ST MAY.—On leaving the lagoon, passing between its head and the
river, we were soon enveloped in a thick scrub of Casuarinae, on ground
broken into gullies falling to the river. I tried to pass by the lower margin
of this, but gullies in the way obliged me to ascend and seek a passage
elsewhere. Forcing our way, therefore, through the scrub and out of it,
we found outside of it, in an open forest, the box and Angophora, and
could go forward without impediment, first to the N. W., afterwards
northward, and N. E. At length the woods opened into fine grassy plains,
bounded on the east by trees belonging to the river berg. There I saw still
the trees we had so gladly got away from, the Casuarina; also the
cheering white arms of the Yarra, or blue gum. The prospect before us
improved greatly; fine plains presented a clear way to the northward,
with the river apparently coming thence, and even round from the N. W.
From a tree, Yuranigh descried hills in the N. E. and the plains extending
before us. I also perceived, from the wide plain, a distant low rise to the
N. W. We crossed two hollows on these grassy plains, each containing
deep ponds, and descended towards what seemed a branch of the river;
we encamped near it, in latitude 27° 15′ 4″ S. As we approached this
spot, natives were seen first looking at us, and then running off
—Yuranigh said he recognized one of them as a countryman of his own.
I endeavoured to make him cooey to them, or call them, but they made
off, setting fire to the grass. Any information from natives of these parts
might have been very useful to us then, and I hoped they would at length
come to us. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, p.m.,
48°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
2D MAY.—There was a decided difference between the river we were
now upon, as well as the country along its banks, and the large river by
which we had travelled so far. This was undoubtedly but a small
tributary, as its direction seen this day showed, being from the westward,
while its waters, meandering in various narrow channels amongst plains,
reminded us of some of the finest parts of the south. Which was the
principal channel, and which to cross, which to travel by, was rather
difficult to determine. The country was very fine. These water courses
lay between finely rounded grassy slopes, with a few trees about the
water’s edge, marking their various courses at a distance. A considerable
breadth of open grassy plain, intervened between this river and the
woods back from it. At length, sloping stony bergs came near the river’s
bed, but there the smooth naked water-worn clay was the best ground we
could have for wheels, and we thus hugged each bend of the river,
passing close to the channel. I hoped thus to find plains on the next
change of the river’s course. And so it turned out for some way, but the
receding bergs guided me, even when only seen at a considerable
distance, in shaping my course. Keeping my eye on their yellow slopes, I
travelled far along a grassy flat which brought me to a lake containing
water like chrystal, and fringed with white lotus flowers. Its western
shore consisted of shelving rock. An immense number of ducks floated
on its eastern extremity. From this lake, following a grassy flat to the N.
W., we at length reached the river, or rather its bed, seared into numerous
channels. The lake, and long flat connected with it, appeared to me more
like the vestiges of a former channel, than as the mere outlet of surplus
waters; nor did it seem that the water is now supplied from the floods of
the river. I followed this a few miles further, and then encamped just
beyond, where much gravel appeared in the banks. While the men were
erecting the tents, I rode some miles to the westward, and found an open
iron-bark forest covering it, with much luxuriant grass. This was rather
peculiar, as compared with any other part passed through. It was also
undulating; and, from a tree ascended by Yuranigh, it was ascertained we
were approaching mountains, as he saw one which bore 77°, also a hill to
the eastward, in which latter direction (or rather in that of 333°), he saw
also an open country. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at 4 p.m., 62°; at 9
P. M 57°; mean height above the sea, 694 feet.
3RD MAY.—Natives were heard near our camp during the night, and
we perceived the smoke of their fires, in the bushes, behind in the
morning. Yuranigh went up to them, accompanied by one of the party
bearing a green branch, and he prevailed on three of their tribe to come to
our tents. One stood amongst the carts and tents, apparently quite
absorbed in observation. Intense curiosity in these men had evidently
overcome all their fears of such strangers. They were entirely naked, and
without any kind of ornament or weapon, offensive or defensive. With
steady fixed looks, eyes wide open, and serious intelligent countenances,
what passed in their minds was not disguised, as is usual with savages.
On the contrary, there was a manly openness of countenance, and a look
of good sense about them, which would have gained my full confidence,
could we but have understood each other. They asked for nothing, nor
did they show any covetousness, although surrounded by articles, the
smallest of which might have been of use to them. There must be an
original vein of mind in these aboriginal men of the land. O that
philosophy or philanthropy could but find it out and work it! Yuranigh
plied them with all my questions, but to little purpose; for although he
could understand their language, he complained that they did not answer
him in it, but repeated, like parrots, whatever he said to them. In the same
manner, they followed me with a very exact repetition of English words.
He, however, gathered from them that the lake was called “Turànimga,”
this river “Cogoon,” a hill to the eastward “Toolumbà,” etc. They had
never before seen white men, and behaved as properly as it was possible
for men in their situation to do. At length we set out on our journey, and
in mounting my horse, which seemed very much to astonish them, I
made signs that we were going to the mountains.
Travelling by the river bank was easy, over grassy forest land. The
deep ponds were tolerably well filled, but the quantity of water was
small, in comparison with that in the Balonne; which the natives seemed
to say we had left to the right, and that this was “one of its brothers.”
Malga scrub crowned the bergs of the river, where they bounded one of
these forest flats forming its margin, and the mere sight of that
impervious sort of scrub was sufficient to banish all thoughts of making
straighter cuts to the north-west. Our course, with the river, was,
however, now rather to the west of north-west; and that this was but a
tributary to the Balonne, was evident. That river line, as traced by us,
pursued a tolerably straight direction between the parallels of 29° and
27°, coming round from nearly north-east to about north. For these last
three days we had travelled with this minor channel, to the westward of
north-west; in which direction I had, therefore, good reason to expect
that we should soon find mountains.
As soon as we arrived at an eligible spot for the camp, I proceeded,
with Yuranigh, towards a height presenting a rocky face, which I saw
through the trees, and seemed distant about two miles. From that crest, I
perceived woody ridges on all sides, but all apparently sloping from the
south-west; and a misty valley beyond the nearest of them in the northeast,
like the line of the Balonne. But the most interesting sight to me
then, was that of blue pics at a great distance to the north-west, the object
of all my dreams of discovery for years. No white man had before seen
these. There we might hope to find the DIVISA AQUARUM, still
undiscovered; the pass to Carpentaria, still unexplored: I called this hill
Mount First View, and descended, delighted with what I had seen from
its rocky crest. The sides were covered with Malga scrub. The rock was
felspathic, apparently allied to those already seen in the Balonne. Lat.
27° 2′ 57″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9 p.m.,
45°;—with wet bulb, 43°.
4TH MAY.—An Australian morning is always charming,—amid these
scenes of primaeval nature it seemed exquisitely so. The BARITA? or
GYMNORHINA, the organ-magpie, was here represented by a much smaller
bird, whose notes, resembling the softest breathings of a flute, were the
only sounds that met the ear. What the stillness of even adds to such
sounds in other climes, is felt more intensely in the stillness of morning
in this. “The rapture of repose that’s there” gratifies every sense; the
perfume of the shrubs, of those even that have recently been burnt, and
the tints and tones of the landscape, accord with the soft sounds. The
light red tints of the ANTHISTIRIA, the brilliant green of the MIMOSA, the
white stems of the EUCALYPTUS, and the deep grey shadows of early
morning, still slumbering about the woods, are blended and contrasted in
the most pleasing harmony. The forms in the soft landscape are equally
fine, from the wild fantastic tufting of the Eucalyptus, and its delicate
willow-like ever-drooping leaf, to the prostrate trunks of ancient trees,
the mighty ruins of the vegetable world. Instead of autumnal tints, there
is a perpetual blending of the richest hues of autumn with the most
brilliant verdure of spring; while the sun’s welcome rays in a winter
morning, and the cool breath of the woods in a summer morning, are
equally grateful concomitants of such scenes. These attach even the
savage to his woods, and might well reclaim the man of crime from
thoughts likely to disturb the harmony of human existence.
Following up the little river with more confidence now, since I had
seen whence it came, I proceeded more directly north-west. Thus I found
myself on a small creek, or chain of ponds, from the west and southwest,
so that I crossed it and made for some open ground, between ridges
clothed with dense Malga scrub. We thus crossed a low ridge, and
descended towards a fine open country, on which pigeons were
numerous, and traces of natives. It was also sloping to the northward, and
I had no doubt that we had passed into a valley which I had observed
yesterday from Mount First View, and had supposed it contained a larger
river. In the open ground, I found a small rocky knoll which I named
Mount Minute. From its summit, I recognised Mount First-Sight, bearing
128° 30′. We next passed through some scrub, and came to a hollow full
of Acacia pendula. Following this down we arrived at a chain of ponds,
and these led to an open grassy valley, in which we found our old friend,
the river, still pursuing, steadily, a north-west course. Travelling along
the bank, for a mile or two, we found that these now consisted of fine
open forest flats; and at length encamped on the margin, after a journey
of about twelve miles. Near our camp, I saw natives on the opposite
bank, first standing in mute astonishment, then running away. I held up a
green bough, but they seemed very wild; and, although occasionally seen
during the afternoon, none of them would approach us. We found on the
banks of this river, a purple-flowered CALANDRINIA, previously unknown.[*]
Lat. 26° 57′ 39″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9,
37°;—with wet bulb, 34°.
[* C. BALONENSIS (Lindl. MS.); foliis angustis obovato-lanceolatis alternis
oppositisque, racemis secundis multifloris caulibus multo longioribus,
floribus (conspicuis) polyandris.]
5TH MAY.—The three last nights had been cold, each, in succession,
colder than the former. This morning the thermometer stood at 19° E.,
yet the water was not frozen, nor did our natives, sleeping in the open air,
seem to feel it. Hence, it was obvious that, in a dry atmosphere, extreme
cold can be more easily borne than in one that is moist. So, also, in the
opposite extreme of heat and drought, we had been so accustomed to a
higher temperature than 100° F., that any degree under that felt
refreshing. Our journey this day by the side of the little river was still
very straight towards the N. W. We met with rocks at the westerly bends;
from which side it was also joined by a small tributary, with ponds and
hollows containing marks of flood, and beds of the POLYGONUM ACRE.
Still, however, the main channel could be distinguished from these, and
the open forest flats along its banks became more and more extensive
and open as we ascended this channel,—leading so directly where we
wished to go.
Hills were occasionally seen back from it, chiefly covered with scrub,
but some were grassy and seemed fit for sheep. Others were clothed with
callitris, and there the woods were open enough to be travelled through. I
rode to the summit of one and recognized two of the points seen from
Mount First Sight. At one sharp turn of the river rugged rocks had to be
removed to make a way for the carts, but this was soon done. Beyond,
there was a noble reach of water in a rocky bed, traversed by a dyke of
felspathic rock, which exhibited a tendency to break into irregular
polygons, some of the faces of which were curved; its strike was E. and
W. We encamped on open forest land in lat. 26° 54′ 16″ S. It was only
during the last two days that I could perceive in the barometer, any
indication that we were rising to any higher level above the sea than that
of the great basin, in which we had journeyed so long, and the difference
was still but trifling, as indicated by not more than six or seven
millimetres of the Syphon barometer; our actual height above the sea
being 737 feet. Thermometer, at sunrise, 19°; at 4 p.m., 67°.
6TH MAY.—The banks of the Cogoon became more open, and the
slopes less abrupt as we advanced. They frequently consisted of a
mixture of sand, at a height of twenty feet above its bed; where it
occupied a section of considerable width, as much, perhaps, as 100 yards
between bank and bank. On these rounded off banks or bergs of forest
land, Youranigh drew my attention to large, old, waterworn, trunks of
trees, which he showed me had been deposited there by floods. As they
were of a growth and size quite disproportioned to other trees there, I
was convinced that they were the debris of floods; and, consequently,
that a vast body of water sometimes came down this channel. This native
was taciturn and observant of such natural circumstances, to a degree that
made his opinion of value in doubtful cases. Such, for instance, as which
of two channels, that might come both in our way, might be the main
one; thus my last resource, when almost “in a fix,” was to “tomar el
parecer,” as they say in Spain, of this aboriginal, and he was seldom
wrong. At length, the cheering expanse of an open country appeared
before us, and a finely shaped hill, half-covered only, with bushes. On
reaching an elevated clear part, I saw extensive downs before me. The
river turned amongst woods to the eastward, and I continued on our route
to the north, sure of meeting with it again, as some fine forest ridges
hemmed in the valley to the eastward. Besides the hill already mentioned
(which I named Mount Inviting), there was a curious red cone some
miles to the westward, crowned with a bit of rock, on which I longed to
plant my theodolite. After crossing the plain, we entered an open scrub of
Acacia pendula which gradually changed to an open forest, within which
I met with a chain of ponds, and encamped in lat. 26° 46′ S. I
immediately set out, with a man carrying my theodolite, for Mount Red
Cap, distant from our camp about six miles. This little red cone had a
very singular appearance, as we approached it from the east. A dark
tinted scrub of flat-topped trees enveloped its base, on the outside of
which the light and graceful Acacia pendula also grew on the grassy
plain. I found the red rock to be the common one of the country, in a
state of decomposition. It was hollowed out by some burrowing animal,
whose tracks had opened ways through the thick thorny scrub, enabling
us to lead our horses to near the top. From the apex, I obtained an
extensive view of the country then before us, in many parts clear of wood
to the verge of the horizon, and finely studded with isolated hills of
picturesque form, and patches of wood. Looking backward, or in the
direction whence we had come, our valley appeared hemmed in by more
continuous ridges; and, towards the extremity of them, I could just
recognise Mount First View, this being one of the distant cones I had
seen from it. I took as many angles as the descending sun permitted, and
then retraced our horses’ tracks to the camp. Thermometer, at sunrise,
20°; at 9 p.m., 47°. Height above the sea, 747 feet.
7TH MAY.—Pursuing a N. W. course, we crossed a fine tract of open
forest, then a plain, beyond which we entered a scrub of Acacia pendula,
in which pigeons and quail were very numerous. Turning northward,
now anxious again to see the river, on approaching this open country, we
found what we considered the highest branch of it, in a chain of ponds
skirting the wood bounding the plains. Halting the party, I continued my
ride a mile and a half further northward, to the summit of a clear ridge.
From thence I saw an open country to the northward, with some little
wood. On my right, or to the eastward, a double topped hill sate in the
centre of this fine open country, and from the abundance of good
pasturage around it, I named it Mount Abundance. We continued still to
follow the now attenuated channel upwards, and found it to come from
the west, and even south-west, leaving the extreme corner of the open
downs, and leading us into a scrub. There, it formed two branches, in
neither of which could we find any water, and had consequently to return
to the last of its ponds, situated exactly at the close of the open country
towards the S. W. There, we encamped in latitude 26° 42′ 27″ S.,
thankful that we had been enabled by its means to advance thus far, and
to discover so fine a tract of country as that watered by it. Thermometer,
at sunrise, 48°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 30°.
8TH MAY.—This morning Fahrenheit’s thermometer stood at 21° in my
tent, a degree of cold I should never have expected to have seen indicated
from my own sensations, or from the state of the pond, which was not
frozen, neither was there any hoar frost. The sun rose in splendour;
pigeons cooed, and birds were as merry as usual in the woods. The
business of the day was most exciting; I was to ride over the fine open
country to the westward of Mount Abundance, and there look still for a
higher branch of the river, or A river; confident that so fine a region could
not be deficient in water, but more confident from what I had seen of the
range to which we had approached so near. Riding to the N. N. E. in
about two hours we came upon the identical river we had so long
followed up. It was accompanied, as usual, by the Acacia pendula; had
its rounded bergs; reedy water holes; and an open strip along the left
bank. Crossing it I rode over towards an elevated part of the open downs,
in hopes to obtain a sight of what the country was beyond, but I found
that to be impossible, as it seemed boundless. So, turning, I ascended an
elevated north-eastern extremity of Mount Abundance, and from it
beheld the finest country I had ever seen in a primaeval state. A
champaign region, spotted with wood, stretching as far as human vision,
or even the telescope, could reach. It was intersected by river lines from
the north, distinguishable by columns of smoke. A noble mountain mass
arose in the midst of that fine country, and was so elongated in a S. W.
and N. E. direction, as to deserve the name of a range.
A three-topped hill appeared far to the north of the above, and to the S.
E. of the first described, another mass, also isolated, overlooking that
variegated land of wood and plain. To the S. E. of all these, the peaks of
a very distant range were just visible. I determined to name the whole
country Fitzroy Downs, and to identify it, I gave the name of the Grafton
Range to the fine mass in the midst of it. In hopes of obtaining an
elevated view over the country to the westward, I endeavoured to ascend
the northern summit of Mount Abundance, but although the surface to
near the top was tolerably smooth, and the bush open, I was met there by
rugged rocks, and a scrub of thorny bushes so formidable as to tear
leathern overalls, and even my nose. After various attempts, I found I
was working round a rocky hollow, somewhat resembling a crater,
although the rock did not appear to be volcanic. The trees and bushes
there were different from others in the immediate vicinity, and, to me,
seemed chiefly new. It is, indeed, rather a curious circumstance, but by
no means uncommon, that the vegetation on such isolated summits in
Australia, is peculiar and different from that of the country around them.
Trees of a very droll form chiefly drew my attention here. The trunk
bulged out in the middle like a barrel, to nearly twice the diameter at the
ground, or of that at the first springing of the branches above. These were
small in proportion to their great girth, and the whole tree looked very
odd. These trees were all so alike in general form that I was convinced
this was their character, and not a LUSUS NATUROE. [A still more remarkable
specimen of this tree was found by Mr. Kennedy in the apex of a basaltic
peak, in the kind of gap of the range through which we passed on the
15th of May, and of which he made the accompanying drawing.]
These trees grew here only in that almost inaccessible, crater-like
hollow, which had impeded me in my attempt to reach the summit.[*]
Leaving the horses, however, I scrambled through the briars and up the
rocks to the summit, but found it, after all this trouble, too thickly
covered with scrub to afford me the desired view to the westward, even
after I had ascended a tree on the edge of the broad and level plateau, so
thickly covered with bushes. On returning and descending eastward
towards the open country, I found a much more practicable way down
than that by which I had ascended. Returning to the valley of the
Cogoon, I passed between the two summits, and found a good open
passage to the westward between the brigalow. Thermometer, at sunrise,
20°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 30°. Height above the sea 1043
feet.
[* This remarkable plant constitutes a new and very curious genus of
Sterculiads. It agrees with STERCULIA in the position of the radicle with
respect to the hilum, but it is, otherwise, a BRACHYCHITON, with which it
more especially corresponds in the singular condition of the seeds. These
are placed, six together, in the interior of long-stalked, ovate, mucronate,
smooth, deep brown follicles, of a tough papery texture, and lined with a
thin fur of stellate hairs. The seeds themselves are also closely covered
with starry hairs, which are so entangled that they hold the seeds together
firmly; these hairs, however, are absent from the upper half of the seed,
whose thin brittle vascular primine is shining, smooth, and marked with a
brown nipple, the remains of the foramen. Within the primine lies the
bony crustaceous secundine, which is quite loose, and seems as if it were
independent of the primine. Eventually the end of the thin brittle primine
breaks like an eggshell and the secundine falls out. The seeds
themselves, remaining attached to each other and to the follicle, resemble
six deep cells, or may be rather compared to half a dozen brown
eggshells, placed on the broad end, from which the young have escaped
through the point.
Sir Thomas Mitchell has named the genus after Sir
Henry T. De la Beche, as president of a Society which has greatly
encouraged him in his Australian researches; and in honour of a science
which has occasionally thrown some light on his dark and difficult path.
It may be scientifically described as follows:—
DELABECHEA.
CHAR. GEN. CALYX 5-fidus, valvatus. ANTHEROE congestae. STYLI. …
STIGMATA. … FOLLICULI coriaceo-papyracei, 6-spermi, longè stipitati, intus
stellato-pubescentes. SEMINA albuminosa, albumine bipartibili
cotyledonibus foliaceis parum adhaerente, pube stellari basi vestita, inter
se et fundo folliculi cohaerentia; PRIMINÂ laxâ, tenui, fragili, apice
foramine incrassato notatâ, SECUNDINÂ crustaceâ, demum liberâ chalazâ
magnâ circulari notatâ. EMBRYONIS radicula hilo contraria.
DELABECHEA RUPESTRIS.
ARBOR grandis, trunco in dolii speciem tumescente. LIGNUM
album, laxum, mucilagine repletum, vasis porosis (bothrenchymate)
maximis faciem internam cujusque zonae occupantibus, radiis
medullaribus tenuibus equidistantibus. FOLIA lineari-oblonga, acuminata,
integerrima, in petiolum filiformem ipsis duplbreviorem insidentia,
subtus pallida et quasi vernice quâdam cinereâ obducta. INFLORESCENTIA
axillaris, trichotoma, tomentosa, foliis brevior. CALYX valvatus, utrinque
tomentosus.
The wood of the tree has a remarkably loose texture: it is
soft, and brittle, owing to the presence of an enormous quantity of very
large tubes of pitted tissue, some of which measure a line and half
across; they form the whole inner face of each woody zone. When
boiling water is poured over shavings of this wood a clear jelly,
resembling tragacanth, is formed and becomes a thick viscid mass;
iodine stains it brown, but not a trace of starch is indicated in it. No
doubt the nutritious quality of the tree is owing to the mucilage, which is
apparently of the same nature as that of the nearly allied Tragacanth tree
of Sierra Leone (STERCULIA TRAGACANTHA).
It is not a little remarkable that
the barrel-like form of the trunk should be almost exactly paralleled by
another Sterculiad, the CHORISIA VENTRICOSA of Nees, called by the
Brazilian Portuguese PAO BARRIGUDO. It seems, however, that a tendency
to a short lumpish mode of growth is common among the order, as is
indicated by the Baobab of Senegal, which is almost as broad as it is
long, and the great buttress trees, or Silk-Cottons of tropical America.
—J. L.]
9TH MAY.—The thermometer stood at 19° in my tent this morning, yet
no ice appeared on the adjacent pool; for this reason, we named that
branch of the river Frosty Creek. In order to leave a more direct track for
Mr. Kennedy to follow with the drays, I made the carts return about two
miles to the spot where we first made these ponds. There I had a trench
cut across the track to the camp we had quitted, and also buried a letter
for Mr. Kennedy, in which I instructed him to avoid that detour which
might have otherwise led him into scrubs. We then prolonged our track
from the south, northward across the open downs. I travelled in the
direction of the meridian, and most of our route, this morning, marked a
due north line. We came, at length, upon a watercourse which I took for
our river, as the banks were finely rounded, the ponds full of water, and
the woods quite open. The scenery was parklike and most inviting. The
watercourse, soon, however, dwindled into a mere chain of ponds, and
these at last were found to contain no water, when we had completed our
day’s journey. Open downs surrounded us, and fortunately I could still
distinguish my rocky position of yesterday, where I had noted that the
general direction of the river channel we had now again left, bore N. W.
We were still much to the southward of the line so observed,
apprehending, as I did think then, that some tempting plains might take
us too far along some western tributary. Riding in search of water, I
perceived a column of smoke to the northward; and, taking the party in
that direction, we found, in the first valley we fell in with, a chain of
ponds, and in one of these water enough for our use, whereupon I gladly
encamped. This day we discovered a new EUCALYPTUS which casts its bark
in small angular pieces.[*] Latitude, 26° 33′ 34″ S. Thermometer, at 4 P.
M., 74°; at sunset, 63°. Height above the sea, 1299 feet.
[* E. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); foliis alternis glaucis lineari-lanceolatis
breviter tenuiter petiolatis subfalcatis utrinque acuminatis reticulatovenosis,
nervis lateralibus marginem prope, racemis paucifloris
axillaribus, calyce turbinato in pedicellum brevem attenuato.]
10TH MAY.—Continued nearly northwards, over fine open forest land.
The sprinkling of mountains of peculiar forms here and there, and the
open country, which showed a bluey distance, were new features in the
scenery, and most pleasing to us, so long accustomed to travel through a
level woody country. The visible possibility of overlooking the country
from any eminence, is refreshing at all times, but to an explorer it is
every thing; besides he is not half so much in danger of wanting water,
when in the neighbourhood of mountains: with these sentiments I went
forward this morning, even although rather despairing of seeing more of
our friendly river. We crossed two chains of dry ponds, apparently some
of its highest sources. Still I travelled steadily towards a fine mountain
before us, over open downs, but with scrubs on either side. Reaching a
dry bushy hill S. E. of the mountains, about the time we should have
encamped, I perceived that the country sloped most to the eastern side of
it, which was rather out of my course; for the sake of finding water more
readily I got into a water-course falling that way, and followed it down.
This, opening soon into grassy flats, enabled us to avoid the scrubs. The
welcome white-trunked Eucalyptus next over-hung the holes of the
water-course, and the valleys spread into beautiful open plains,
gracefully fringed with Acacia pendula. Still, the ponds were dry. I
crossed a bare grassy eminence, and, where several channels met, I saw
luxuriant white trunks; heard and saw many cockatoos of the same
colour (PSITTACUS GALERITUS); and found there an abundant pond of water,
beside which we encamped. On some of the Eucalyptus trees grew a
beautiful Loranthus, which was new to us; it proved to be one formerly
discovered by the indefatigable Allan Cunningham, but only now
described by Sir William Hooker.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 28°; at 4 P.
M., 76°; at 9, 38°;—with wet bulb, 34°.
[* L. NUTANS (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.) totus incano-glaucescens, foliis
oblongis ellipticis sublanceolatis obtusis coriaceis obscure trinerviis
tenui-rubro-marginatis basi in petiolum mediocrem attenuatis, pedunculis
axillaribus longitudine petiolorum racemosis compositis, floribus ternis
nutantibus, calycibus globoso-campanulatis ore contracto, petalis
linearibus.—Two varieties, a narrow-leaved and a broad-leaved, were
subsequently discovered; that now described was the narrow-leaved form.]
11TH MAY.—I ascended the mountain accompanied by two men with
axes, and one carrying my theodolite. The summit was covered with
thick scrub interlaced with vines, but my horse could push his way
almost any where. I fortunately found a rock near the summit, and, on
throwing down a few of the trees about it, obtained an extensive view
over the country to the northward. Open downs surrounded the mountain.
Beyond these, valleys, also clear of trees, or thinly wooded, fell on one
side to the S. E., on another side, other valleys fell to the N. W., leaving a
rather elevated tract between; which appeared to connect this mountain
with a range just dimly visible, bearing nearly north. The valley
descending towards the N. W., seemed to me to be the head of a river
likely to pass through a remarkable gap in a flat range, beyond which the
view did not extend. To the westward a woody, and rather level country
appeared, from which I thought I saw ridges, with plains or downs
between them, descending towards the N. W. river.
Anxious to discover the division of the waters, I carefully levelled my
theodolite and swept the northern horizon, but found, to my surprise, that
the country to the westward was lower than the hill on which I stood, and
that the ridge northward with the gap in it, was lower still, the only
greater elevation visible being the lofty mass bearing about due north.
Could this be all the obstruction I was prepared to open a pass through?
Could the hidden mystery of the division between the northern and
southern waters be here? Far in the east, a river line was evident from
columns of smoke, as well as from the termination of various lateral
ranges, between my position and the great mountain to the northward.
That was, probably, still the Balonne falling southward. Here I had found
an interior river that would, at all events, lead north-west, and this I
resolved to follow. On this mountain there grew, in several spots, the
remarkable trees I had first seen on Mount Abundance; some of them
much resembling bottles, but tapering near the root. On descending and
returning to the camp, which was about five miles from the hill, I found
eight natives, who had come frankly forward to the party during my
absence. I was very glad to see them, and gave to an old man, a
tomahawk to express my sentiments, and welcome the strangers, for little
could be understood by our native, of their speech, or by them, of his.
We did, however, make out from them, that the hill I had just returned
from, was “Bindango;” its lesser brother to the westward of it, Bindyègo;
and the ponds or creek beside which we were then encamped,
“Tagàndo;” all very good sonorous names, which I was glad to adopt at
once in my notes and map. These natives were coloured with iron-ochre,
and had a few feathers of the white cockatoo, in the black hair of their
foreheads and beards. These simple decorations gave them a splendid
holiday appearance, as savages. The trio who had visited us some days
before, were all thoughtful observation; these were merry as larks, and
their white teeth, constantly visible, shone whiter than even the
cockatoo’s feathers on their brows and chins. Contrasted with our
woollen-jacketted, straw-hatted, great-coated race, full of work and care,
it seemed as if nature was pleased to join in the laugh, at the expense of
the sons of art. Sun never shone upon a merrier group of mortals than
these children of nature appeared to be. One amongst them was a fine
powerful fellow, whose voice sounded so strongly, that it seemed as if
his very whisper might be heard half a mile off. The old man remained
by our fire all night; the others who, as I understood, were all his sons,
had departed about 11 p.m., having left their gins in the vicinity.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 22°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 59°; at 9, 35°.
12TH MAY.—I took a ride in the direction where I hoped to find a river
flowing towards the interior, according to my observations at Mount
Bindango. I rode over an open plain, or open forest country, soon found
the dells marked by water-courses, and, at length, the channel of a river,
with the Yarra trees. Following this new channel downwards a short
way, I found the beds of the ponds moist, and seven emus, running from
one a-head of me, first indicated the situation of a large pond; from
which three wood-ducks also waddled away as I approached it. This
water was only fifteen miles from where I had left the party encamped, to
which I hastened back with the tidings of a discovery that was likely to
expedite so much our momentous journey. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°;
at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 59°; at 9, 52°;—with wet bulb, 51°. Height
above the sea, 1168 feet.
13TH MAY.—I buried a letter here for Mr. Kennedy. This day the party
crossed the dividing ground, which I found to be elevated only 1563 feet
above the sea, and consisting, as already stated, of fine open grassy
downs, sprinkled with Acacia pendula and other shrubs. One or two
knolls projected, however, and resembled islands in a sea of grass. I rode
to one and found it consisted wholly of trap-rock in nodules. This was
the first trap I had seen during the journey beyond the Barwan, and from
their aspect I thought that other minor features of the mountains
Bindango and Bindyègo, which I had not leisure to examine then, also
consisted of this rock. The little knoll I did visit, was about one hundred
yards in diameter at its base on the plains, and was covered with trees
wholly different from those in the adjacent forest, namely, CALLITRIS
PYRAMIDALIS, EUCALYPTUS (Iron-bark species), etc. We next descended to a
separate system of drainage, apparently falling to the north-west. Instead
of following rivers upwards, as we had hitherto been doing, and finding
them grow less, or taking a tributary for a main channel, we were now to
follow one downwards, with the prospect of finding it to increase as we
proceeded. The relief from the constant apprehension of not falling in
with water was great, as each day’s journey was likely to show additional
tributaries to our new found river, and, of course, to augment the supply.
The old native at Tagàndo, had pointed much to the north-west,
frequently repeating the word “MARAN;” whether that was, or what was,
the name of this river, remained to be ascertained. A sweet breeze from
the N. W. met us as we descended the slopes, and thus it was that white
men first passed in that direction, “AL NACIMIENTO DE LA ESPECERIA.”
Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 43°.
Height of camp above the sea, 1226 feet.
14TH MAY.—The left bank of the river being rather steep and broken, I
crossed it, determined to pursue a N. W. course, so long as I found the
country open, thinking I might easily fall in with the river about the time
I wished to encamp, believing its course would be towards the gap. We
passed through some scrub, but chiefly over good forest land. When we
had travelled on about ten miles, I saw hills nearly clear of wood before
me, and halted the party while I went forward to look at the country in
that direction. I soon overlooked a deep dell, full of the richest grass, and
wooded like a park. The fall of the enclosing ranges showed me,
however, that our river might be further to the westward than I had
thought at all likely. On returning to the party, I found they had been
called to by natives in our rear, one of whom was formally seated in
advance, prepared for a ceremonious interview; and I accordingly went
forward to him with the green bough, and accompanied by Yuranigh. We
found him in a profuse perspiration about the chest, (from terror, which
was not, however, obvious in his manner,) and that he had nothing at all
to say to us after all; indeed his language was wholly unintelligible to my
native, who, moreover, apprised me that he was the big bully from the
tribe at our former encampment, then distant some twenty-five miles. He
handled my hat, asked for my watch, my compass, and was about to
examine my pockets, when Yuranigh desired him to desist, in a tone that
convinced him we were not quite at his mercy. I thought he said that the
river was called the “Amby,” and something about the “Culgoa!” It then,
for the first time, occurred to me, from a gesture of this man’s arm, that
this might be only a tributary to the Culgoa after all. We bade him adieu
as civilly as we could, but he hung upon our rear for a mile or two, and I
perceived that he had brought with him his whole tribe after us. Nothing
more unfortunate can befall an explorer, than to be followed by a wild
tribe like this, as I had experienced in former journies. The gift of the
tomahawk had done all this mischief, and how it would end, was a
thought which caused me some anxiety. The tall savage had set his heart
upon our goods and chattels, and it was not in human nature for him to
desist from his aggressive purpose, if we could not, in some way,
contrive to cheek the pursuit. I knew instinctively, by the first sound of a
loud whisper of his at “Tagando” at night, near our tents, that there was
no music in this man’s soul. We soon arrived at a ridge of ferruginous
sandstone, whereof the strike tended S. S. W. and the dip was to the
eastward. A gradual ascent brought us to the verge of a low ridge, which
was steep towards the N. W., and a rocky knoll (of red sand-stone)
afforded me a view of the gap I had seen from Bindango, and hills about
it. I perceived, with great disappointment, that the structure of the
country was not according to my anticipations. The river course seemed
marked out by plains far to the south-west, and all the valleys and
watercourses fell FROM the gap in that direction, and not TO the gap. Still
the country about that opening looked very inviting. Picturesque hills,
clothed with grass and open forest, especially on their summits, and dells
between them, yellow or red with rich ripe grass, indicated a spot of the
finest description; and through the gap lay my destined line of route, to
the north-west, river or no river. Just then, however, we wanted water,
but on following a little channel about a mile downwards, we found in it
a spacious pond, and encamped. I rode three miles further down this
channel, which there turned SOUTHWARD, so that I despaired of my newly
discovered river Amby being of any further utility now; but I was almost
convinced that it would have brought me into this very country, had I
come round by Fort Bourke. Latitude 26° 17′ 8″ S. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 35°; at 4 p.m., 80°; at 7 p.m., 71°; at 9, 48°. Height above the
sea, 1150 feet.
15TH MAY.—My servant Brown drew my attention, early this morning,
to natives occasionally peeping at us from a hill overlooking our camp.
Some time after, I perceived a figure resembling a large black quadruped,
with head erect like a lion, prowling about, amongst the long grass beside
my after breakfast tree. Taking my glass, I recognized the identical big
savage of yesterday.
Hamlet might here have exclaimed—
“What a piece of work is man!
… ….. how infinite in faculties!
In form and action how like a quadruped!
In apprehension, how like a devil!”
There the fate of Mr. Darke[*] doubtless awaited me; and this was to be
the result of my spontaneous gift of a tomahawk to the old man! This
savage had evidently been watching us all night, and his party were
concealed behind the hill. Our only remaining little dog, Procyon, had
been very restless during the night, when these people were, probably,
drinking at the pond near us. My rifle (fortunately I now think) was in
the case, but I fired a carbine so that the fellow should hear the bullet
whistle near him into the long grass; and at the same time shouted,
expressive of my disgust at his conduct, making the men join in a loud
JEERING cheer as he galloped off, still on all-fours, towards his camp. My
horse was standing saddled for a ride of reconnoissance in a different
direction, and, as it was not desirable that these people should know
either where I went, or even that I was absent, I took this opportunity of
frightening them away from our rear, and covering my ride the other
way. With this intention, I immediately mounted, rode first to the tree,
with my rifle in hand, and, accompanied by one of the men and
Yuranigh, both mounted, I next examined their camp behind the hill,
whence I found that a great number had just retired, leaving even their
opossums still roasting on the fire;—they having, in a very brief
interval, by rapid strides, retired to a considerable distance, where I heard
their shouts in the woods, calling their gins together for a precipitate
retreat—aware that we were now justly offended. I then set out, passing
behind some hills on the opposite side of our camp, and proceeded with
the business of the day, through woods in an opposite direction. I found a
low flat-topped range, extending nearly W. N. W., and consisting of
black ferruginous sandstone. It was broad and of peculiar structure, so
that it might well have been considered a dividing feature. Parallel to it
on the south, a line of pointed hills of trap or basalt, extended so as to
give birth, in the valley intervening, to the watercourse by which we
were encamped. On one of these Mr. Kennedy afterwards found the
Bottle tree, represented at page 154. I at length reached the gap in this
range, and in it discovered a most favourable and curious opening to the
country westward. Passing, then, into that region, I eagerly sought a
watercourse, soon found one, and followed it down to Yarra trees and
dry ponds; its first direction having been, as usually remarked in the
commencement of various other channels, to the N. W. Following this
downwards, I found the valley to improve, and two retreating emus drew
our attention to a particular spot, where we found water, at length, in a
pond. But the course of this little river had come round to S. W., and the
ridges enclosing its tributaries from the eastward, being apparently in the
same direction, I was still rather at a loss, but determined to bring
forward my little party to this pond, and then to reconnoitre the country
beyond. The XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA was just coming into flower, and the
country seemed to contain much good grass. Thermometer, at sunrise,
38°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 43°.
[* This gentleman was killed by natives when obeying the calls of nature
behind a tree.]
16TH MAY.—We pursued a tolerably straight and level route with the
carts, from the camp to the Pass. The trap hills appearing successively on
the right hand, rendered the scenery more than ordinarily picturesque,
while the probable future utility of this pass, gave them still more
importance in my estimation. We found a more direct route than along
the creek, to my pond of yesterday, where we encamped, thankful to find
water at such a convenient distance, during such a dry season. Lat. 26°
15′ 24″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 49°. Height
above the sea, of the Pass, 1458 feet;—of this camp, 1256 feet.
17TH MAY.—Another reconnoissance seemed indispensable, before I
could move the carts. Taking the direction of an opening in the sandstone
ranges before us, I found that our little creek turned (as I hoped it would),
to the W. and N. W., having on all sides broken ranges enveloping
valleys of good open forest land. Some of the tops of these ranges were
clear of timber, and bore a heavy crop of grass. I ascended one, and
found it was capped with trap rock in amygdaloidal nodules. This height
afforded me an extensive view northward, where the country appeared to
be chiefly flat and thinly wooded. A low range of hills broke the horizon,
and presented some favourable points, and I thought I could trace the
course of our little river, through an extensive intervening woody flat. I
descended from the hill, and followed the little river down, but could find
no more water in its ponds. There were the Yarra trees, and fine grassy
flats on its banks; and I came to a fine looking piece of rising ground, on
the right bank, where the grass was on fire. We sought the inhabitants of
the woods, but could discover none. I now found our creek turning
towards the south, and that its channel disappeared in a spacious open
flat. While thus perplexed, and under an apprehension that our further
progress northward in such a season would be found impossible, I
perceived a dense line of trees, skirting a grassy flat, and rode towards it,
observing, that any where else I should have said we were approaching a
large river. I next perceived steep sloping earthy banks; then, below
these, a deep section of rock, and at length, dark green reeds, and the
blue surface of extensive reaches of water. I had left my party at a pond
that could not have lasted long,—here I saw at once secure, a firm
footing thus far into the interior. Whence the river came, or whither it
went, was of less importance; thus far we had water. The river was fully
as large as the Darling, and I very soon saw that its course was from N.
to S.; but in that case, we could, by following it upwards, penetrate far on
our way into the interior, and at its sources probably fall in with other
streams, flowing where we wished to go. I followed the course
downwards about two miles, and passed through native camps just
deserted, the water vessels and other gear of the natives having been left
suspended on trees near their fires. I found that the river turned sharp
under the rocky extremities of sandstone spurs from the S., and that its
final course was an enigma not to be solved without much more research.
I returned to my camp, glad that I could take the party forward to a
permanent supply of water. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 78°;
at 4 p.m. 75°; at 9, 49°.
18TH MAY.—Leaving a buried letter for Mr. Kennedy we proceeded to
trace, with our cart-wheels, the best route I could find for the heavy drays
coming forward with him. The soil was sandy, but in other respects the
country was good: consisting chiefly of open forest, and being well
covered with grass. Another gap enabled me to pass very directly on to
the newly-discovered river, and it seemed that this, and the other gap
behind it, were almost the only openings in the ranges from which we
had descended. Both led in the direction of our route, and the pond we
had just left was ascertained to be the only one in the little channel. I
sought a good position for a depôt camp on the newly-discovered river,
and found one extremely favourable, on a curve concave to the N. W.,
overlooking, from a high bank, a dry ford, on a smooth rocky bed; and
having also access to a reach of water, where the bottom was hard and
firm. We approached this position with our carts, in the midst of smoke
and flame; the natives having availed themselves of a hot wind to burn as
much as they could of the old grass, and a prickly weed which, being
removed, would admit the growth of a green crop, on which the
kangaroos come to feed, and are then more easily got at. Latitude of this
camp, 26° 12′ 47″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at 4 p.m., 78°; at 9,
57°.
19TH MAY.—I could now venture to halt a day without any
apprehensions about leaving sufficient water for the party who were
following us; and I had recently obtained many angles I wished to put
together, in order to learn the character of the country, which required
much study. That I should have overlooked an extensive country, without
perceiving any indication of a large river flowing through it, almost at
my feet, seemed a singular circumstance, and I was still as little aware of
its ultimate course. I found on laying down my work on paper, that the
chief elevations ran, in a continuous line, nearly due north from Mount
Red Cap, Bindango, and Bindyègo, to the high ranges nearer the coast.
That the nascent stream on the western side of Bindango (the Amby),
and flowing first N. W., turned towards the S. W. within a range of
basaltic rock, which was a branch from the main stem between Bindango
and the northern range. Thus, upon the whole, this seemed but one side,
and that the south-eastern, of the basin of the river we had discovered.
Where was the other? The marks of flood were not high. The waters
were full of fish, but they would not take the bait. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 65°.
20TH MAY.—The sky was wholly overcast, and drizzling rain afforded
us some grounds for hoping that the great impediment to our exploration
during this dry season, was at an end. The temperature underwent a
sudden change, and this day was the coldest as yet experienced during
the journey; the thermometer at noon being only 48°. F. Yuranigh
contrived to catch three fishes, of a kind wholly different from those of
the rivers in the south; leaving it doubtful, again, whether this river could
belong to the system of the Barwan. Thermometer, at sunrise, 53°; at
noon, 48°; at 4 p.m., 45°; at 9, 45°.
21ST MAY.—The morning being clear, frosty, and serene, induced me
to ride towards an elevated point, about thirteen miles to the north-west,
in hopes of obtaining a view of more distant mountains. Crossing the
river near our camp I met with no obstruction, but found open forests,
and a good grassy country throughout; the soil being, however, rather too
loose and sandy, for the easy passage of wheel carriages. I crossed three
channels of water-courses all dry, but evidently receptacles of water in
ordinary seasons. They now contained a most luxuriant crop of oat-grass
(Anthistiria). The hill was rocky and open on the summit, the chief trees
being very remarkable; especially a species of FICUS, of a unique kind,
but not in fruit, closely resembling the English ash; but growing wholly
on rock. Bottle trees (DELABECHEA) grew also in a romantic nook, such as
they seem to delight in, in the neighbourhood of minor shrubs, equally
strange. The rock consisted of a sandstone with vegetable impressions,
such as I had never seen on the sandstone of the ranges. From this
summit, the crests of very distant ranges appeared to the northward; the
highest bearing nearly north, by compass, and apparently distant 70 or 80
miles. The course of the river, or at least of a river, judging by a line of
smoke, came from the north-westward, between that mountain, and
others to the westward of it. More to the right, or eastward, the horizon
presented flat-topped ranges; increasing in elevation as they receded
from that side of the country whence we had come. That sort of level
horizon seemed always to bound our view to the southward, the little gap
was the only relieving blue break in the whole of that side. The eye
ranged over a vast extent of country, however, at its base, extending
eastward, where open plains or downs shone bright in the remote
distance; in which direction, much smoke arose from fires of the natives.
I returned from the hill but little wiser than I went, except that I had
observed the strata dipping southward, and that we might, therefore, still
look for their synclinal line to the northward; and beyond that, for the
heads of other rivers. These hills, overlooking the valley of the river,
resembled rocky bergs, at a distance of ten or twelve miles west of it.
They, however, partly formed a small range, and belonged to an
extensive tract of sandstone country; which, on the south, was broken
into gullies, falling towards the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at
noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 30°.
22D MAY.—This morning, the thermometer in my tent stood at 20°;
and in the open air, at 12°. The river was frozen, and the grass was white
with hoar-frost. The soil appearing so sandy in the country before us, I
resolved to form a depôt with our drays and heavy equipment here, and
to await their arrival before I proceeded further with the carts. The spot
was eligible in every respect; and in awaiting the arrival of Mr. Kennedy
with the drays, I could have time to investigate more extensively the
character of the surrounding country. I was, indeed, rather apprehensive
that the drays could not reach without difficulty even this point; and I
was resolved, on their arrival, to make some arrangement for continuing
the journey, without dragging them any further through the heavy sand.
It was most irksome, during the finest of weather, thus to be obliged to
remain comparatively inactive, in the middle of such a journey, when
horses and light carts might have enabled me to have pursued it to a
conclusion, without such delays. Thermometer, at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m.,
55°; at 9, 27°.
23D MAY.—The river seemed to cut its way through rocky ranges, and
to receive many tributaries; had, in some places, bergs, and margins of
ancient gravel and sedimentary strata; in others, rocky escarps of great
height, presented sections of rocks through which it passed. Its further
course downwards, seemed accessible for some way from this camp;
and, in awaiting the arrival of the drays, I resolved to explore it. With
this view, I this day proceeded westward to head the gullies falling to it
from the other bank, from the sandstone country already mentioned. I
ascended by an extremity of the hill, to the rocky crest without difficulty,
or much deviation from my intended course. On reaching the western
side of the rough scrubby table of the range, I found the descent gradual,
through an open forest: traversed two flats, having in them the Yarra
gums, but no water-course, the surface very sandy. Here grew the ACACIA
CONFERTA, a small shrub just coming into flower; the XANTHORRHOEA
MIMOSA (with rough bark), yellow gum, black-butted gum, iron-bark,
and stringy bark. The woods astonished my native companion Yuranigh;
who remarked that they were trees belonging to the sea coast at Sydney.
But deep rocky ravines prevented me from exploring the country, in the
direction in which I should have expected to find the river. At length, we
approached a valley, in which was a deep channel with rocky banks; but
quite dry, and very sandy. It ran to the southward; in which direction I
turned with it, to follow it to its junction with the main river; but it
pursued a very tortuous course, and our time did not admit of my going
far enough that day, and I returned to the camp, resolved to extend this
interesting search on a greater scale subsequently. I had seen, from the
furthest point I reached, that the same table land to the southward,
extended west; and it therefore appeared to me probable that the river
would be found at its base. In the evening we heard, at a short distance
from our camp, the songs of females or children; as if the overflowing of
their animal spirits. I had seen their smoke in a part of the range I passed
this day, to which I feared they had fled on our approach, hearing our
guns, and in terror of strangers. I was, therefore, glad to find that they
had no longer any dread of us, and had returned to THEIR home, the river
bank. These people had no clothing,—the mercury stood at 19° and 20°
F.; the means of subsistence open to them, had been scarcely enough to
have kept white men alive, even with the aid of their guns. Yet, under
such circumstances, and with such strange visitors so close to them, these
human beings were so contented and happy, that the overflowings of
their hearts were poured forth in song! Such is human nature in a wild
state. Their happiness was not such as we could envy; on the contrary, I
was so solicitous that we should not disturb it, that, much as I wished to
learn the original name of this interior river, and something about its
course, I forbade any of the party from taking any notice of these, its
original inhabitants. Our last intercourse with the natives, had also taught
me to bear ever in mind aesop’s fable of the camel. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 12°; at noon, 52°; at 4 p.m., 56°; at 9, 32°.
24TH MAY.—I proceeded, with two men bearing axes, to a hill about
two miles S. W. of our camp, one of the extremities of the range already
mentioned, (which I call River Head Range). We passed, at no great
distance from our camp, those natives whose song we had heard last
evening, but without taking any notice of them, except by slightly
waving my hand. One tall female stooped amongst the long grass, and
several others, male and female, endeavoured to hide themselves in a
similar manner, as they beheld, probably for the first time, a white man
on horseback, followed by others bearing a saw and axes. On the
summit, grew the Malga tree; which is an acacia of such very hard wood,
that I was obliged to be content to cut off the top branches only of a tree
on the summit I had endeavoured to cut down, and to erect a sort of
platform on the remainder, whence I took my angles. Up the river, there
appeared some open plains, and a level horizon, in the direction of its
apparent course. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m.,
67°; and at 9, 30°.
25TH MAY.—Protracting the observed angles I endeavoured to fix, if
possible, some prominent points, whereby I might obtain some
knowledge of the structure of the surrounding country. The result of my
work was a conviction that the course of the river was parallel to the
projecting extremities of the low range beyond it (River Head Range),
and that its basin had extensive ramifications, back amongst the
sandstone cliffs on this side. But the course downwards still remained a
question, which diminished in its importance, as I discovered the upper
course to come from where it was my wish to go. I resolved,
nevertheless, while thus awaiting the arrival of the drays, to extend my
ride of the 23RD MAY, and ascertain whether it could turn westward under
the southern cliffs, the only direction in which it was likely to be
available to us, downwards, at this time. Thermometer, at sunrise, 17°; at
noon, 70°; at 4 p.m. 68°; and at 9, 38°.
26TH MAY.—Taking with me two men and Yuranigh, mounted, I
retraced my former track to the westward, and on proceeding beyond the
dry river bed, where I had previously been, I entered amongst sandstone
gullies, where one grassy flat extended nearly in the direction I wished to
pursue; and this brought me to a sort of table-land, covered with an open
forest of iron-bark (with the common leaf). The rock consisted here of
the same felspathic sort characterising most of the hills of the Barwan
basin; the soil sterile, bearing, in lieu of the ordinary grass, the stiff, hard
leaved, glutinous TRIODIA PUNGENS. But this was better than scrub, and,
further on, I perceived through a forest on the western slopes, the blue
distance and yellow plains of an open country. As plains usually
accompany rivers, I believed I was approaching the river I was in search
of. We crossed a deep watercourse falling to the S.E.b.S., and entered on
a noble flat of firm rich soil, whereon grew luxuriantly, the ACACIA
PENDULA (not previously seen by us in that region), and the two best kinds
of grass, ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE. Then we came to a good
pond of water, with recent footmarks of natives, and, at about a mile
beyond, we reached the open downs. They extended eastward as far as
we could see between the range on the S., under which I had expected to
find the river, and the rocky country over which we had come.
Westward, the downs were bounded by several very picturesque isolated
conical hills,—the southern sandy ranges on the S., still continuing
westward like a limit to all this interior open country. Yet through that
barrier the river had found a course, and instead of its overlooking the
river, I found that the ground rose towards it, and I hastened four or five
miles further westward, in hopes still to see it beyond the open downs,
but I saw nothing like it. Kangaroos showed their heads occasionally
amid the long grass: the air was all astir with pigeons, and traces of
native inhabitants were numerous. As the sun was then near setting, we
hastened back to the pond, and lay down beside it for the night, which
happened to be a mild one. Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at noon, 72°; at
4 p.m., 71°; at 9, 44°.
27TH MAY.—We rode nearly westward towards a conical hill, which I
had seen on the evening before, and named Mount Lonsdale. This peak
appeared to me then to promise an extensive view to the W. and S.W.,
and in that expectation I was not disappointed. I also fortunately
recognised two of my fixed points, at distances of thirty-two and fortytwo
miles respectively, besides an elevated extremity of the continuous
range on the S., which I had previously intersected, and here determined
to be only five miles off, bearing about S.E.b.S. I could now see not only
westward, but to the southward of S.W., for nearly twenty miles over a
long flat, containing indeed, a line of ACACIA PENDULA scrub, such as
accompanies lines of water drainage, but no river. All the country in
sight more to the northward seemed to fall that way, or southward, and
although it seemed possible that a cross line of valley and blue mist at the
far extremity of the flat might be the river, it was much more probable,
from the general slope of the country, that it was only another tributary
coming from the north.[*] Such was Yuranigh’s opinion too, who alone
stood on that peak with me, and who there reminded me of the fate of the
rivers Macquarie and Narran, and maintained that rivers were not to be
found every where. “Where then is our river, Mr. Yuranigh?” “Bel me
know,” was the reply. I could soon have found this out, however, had it
been an object for our journey northward. It was enough to know then
that it did not turn into that interior country, which was open, and looked
much lower, and how much further the fine valley extended beyond the
twenty miles, an adjacent woody hill prevented me from seeing. The land
around me was fair to look on; nothing could be finer than the forms of
the hills—half clear of wood, the disposition of open grassy downs and
vales—or the beauty of the woods. Water was not wanting, at least
there seemed to be enough for the present inhabitants, and to an admirer
of nature there was all that could be desired. Deeply impressed with its
sublime and solitary beauty, I sketched the scene, and descended from
that hill, resolved to follow the river upwards, as more favourable, in that
direction, to the chief object of my mission. I named the hill overlooking
that lonely dale, Mount Lonsdale, in honour of my valuable geological
friend. We reached the dépot camp in the evening, and found all well,
only that a very tall and powerful native had been reconnoitring our
position during the day, from various trees commanding a view of it;
probably only from curiosity. These visits, however, always happened to
be made, as it would appear, when some portion of the party was absent,
as on this occasion. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 79°; at 4
p.m., 68°; at 9, 59°; with wet bulb, 50°.
[* Probably the Nive. See infra.]
28TH AND 29TH MAY.—My ride westward had enabled me to intersect
more points to the northward; but this was certainly the most intricate
country I had ever either to survey or explore; for neither by laying down
points on a map, nor by overlooking it from high summits, could I gain a
satisfactory knowledge of its structure. Upon the whole, however, I was
convinced that the downward course of the river, above our depôt camp,
was in a favourable direction for the continuation of our journey. The
arrival of the drays and the rest of the party was now an important
desideratum; for I had resolved to establish them in a dephere, and
continue the journey with a smaller party and the horses; the sandy soil
beyond the river, appearing almost impassable for the absurdly heavy
drays, with which the party had been equipped. They had now had nearly
time sufficient to come thus far, making due allowance for sand and
other obstructions. In the mean while I determined to extend my
reconnoissance northward from a commanding height, distant fourteen
miles, and bearing 27½° E. of N. from my camp. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 47°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 79°: at 9, 65°.
30TH MAY.—I proceeded, accordingly, to the hill, over a tract of
excellent open forest land, which extended to its base. The summit
consisted of trap-rock in nodules, and, towards the highest point, was
much broken. On the most elevated part of the summit, grew one of
those remarkable trees, first seen by me on Mount Abundance. I had
since seen them in various solitary singular situations; two on the Hogs’-
back crest of Bindango; two or three near the summit of various other
heights. The girth of this was thirty feet at its greatest circumference, and
only sixteen at the ground. There was only one companion of the same
kind, a very young one, beside this; which in locality, form, and quality,
seems to be as remarkable a tree, amongst trees in general, as the
kangaroo is remarkable amongst other animals. Of its quality, much, I
am sure, remains to be said, when it becomes better known; the wood
being so light, moist, and full of gum, that a man, having a knife or
tomahawk, might live by the side of one without other food or water; as
if nature in pity for the most distressed of mortals, hiding in solitary
places, had planted even there this tree of Abundance. The wood must
contain a great portion of mucilage, for, on chewing it, it seems to
contain as much nutritious matter, as fibre. The pods contain a great
number of seeds which are eaten by the natives, and also by many birds;
and, from the circumstance of my having found one pod half-eaten by a
bird on a rock, the very apex of a lofty summit, the solitary locality of
this tree may, perhaps, be considered at least partly owing to its seeds
being the favourite food of some birds inhabiting such places, each seed
probably requiring to be picked out of the thick shell, in order that it may
grow.[*] The view the hill afforded me was most gratifying and
satisfactory. I saw again Mounts Bindango, Bindyego and Abundance, to
the southward; the cone I had lately visited in the west, (Mount
Lonsdale): the course of the river downwards, marked by open plains in
the S. W.; and, an extensive rather level country lay to the northward,
beyond which, at great distances, the summits of lofty mountains were
just visible. Through the wide champagne country intervening, the river’s
course seemed marked by a line of smoke; a hot wind was then blowing,
and the natives are in the habit of burning off the old grass on such
occasions. The river seemed to come from the mountains, nearly from
the N.N.W.; so that the prospect of finding water in that direction, or
towards these mountains, was all I could desire. Here I intersected
various lofty distant summits seen on the 21st instant, and could thus
connect the whole trigonometrically with back angles to Bindango,
Mount Abundance, etc. In the eastward, a range of tabular masses, some
almost clear of wood, extended apparently to the coast ranges; and
seemed to be also connected with those stretching towards Bindango,
and separating the basin of the upper Balonne from this interior country.
A hill similar to that on which I stood, but of less height, lay on the
interior side of it, having a remarkable conic summit clear of bushes. The
valley at the base of these two hills contained a fine crop of ANTHISTIRIA;
and there was also a chain of ponds, where natives had been encamped
not long before, but in which no water then remained.
[* A new genus, since named Delabechea.]
On returning to the camp in the evening, I learnt that soon after I left it
in the morning, two natives came boldly up, painted white, bearing, each,
several spears and four or five bommerengs. They were followed by two
females bearing loads of spears. The men were got immediately under
arms, forming a line before the tents, and Corporal Graham beckoned to
the natives to halt. They pointed after me, and by very plain gestures
motioned to the party to follow me, or to begone. Finding the men before
the tents made the same signs to them, and stood firm, the principal
speaker edged off towards a man at a distance, in charge of the horses.
Graham got between, so as to cover the man and the horses, when they
advanced more boldly upon him, quivering their poised spears at him, at
a distance of only ten or twelve paces. At length the foremost man turned
round, and by slapping his posteriors, gave him to understand by that
vulgar gesture, his most contemptuous defiance: this induced the old
soldier to discharge his carbine over the head of the savage, who first
sprung some feet into the air, and then ran off with all the others. Soon
after, the same native was seen creeping up the steep bank, so as to
approach the camp under the cover of some large trees, the rest
following, and he was again met by our party. He then seemed to recite
with great volubility a description of the surrounding territory, as he
continually pointed in the course of his harangue to various localities,
and in this description he was prompted by the female behind, who also,
by rapid utterance and motions of the arm, seemed to recite a territorial
description. Finding, however, that his speech made no impression on the
white strangers, and that they still beckoned them to depart; he stuck a
spear into the ground, and, by gestures, seemed to propose that, on the
one side, the ground should be occupied by the strangers, and on the
other side, by them. Graham apparently assenting to this, they seemed
more satisfied and departed. There were two deep reaches; one above,
the other below, our camp. The upper one was deepest, largest, and more
remote from our party, and most within reach of the natives. I gave strict
orders that no man should go there; nor that the cattle should be allowed
to feed there; that it should, in fact, be left wholly to the natives; that no
ducks should be shot, that no men should fish there. Nothing could be
more reasonable than the proposal of this native, nor more courageous
than his appearance before our more numerous party, with his spears and
open defiance; and I was determined to take every precaution to avoid a
collision with his small tribe, and prevent, during our probably long
residence here, our people from doing them any harm. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 22°; at noon, 60°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 31°.
1ST JUNE.—The sound of a distant shot about noon, which proceeded
from the Doctor firing at a bird, gave us the first notice of the approach
of the other party. Soon after, Mr. Kennedy came in, measuring the line;
and, subsequently, the drays, and the whole of the men in good health.
The cattle had got refreshed without delaying me, and I could now again
proceed with a good supply of stores, leaving them again in depôt here.
Mr. Kennedy had examined the river, about which I had written to him,
for twelve miles up, and found that it was a separate river, coming from
the N.W., and that in all its bed no water could be found. The tribe of
Tagando had been troublesome to him, as I feared they would, after their
attempt upon us. The following account of their visit to Mr. Kennedy is
from his own notes:—”At 1 p.m., an old native, accompanied by five
younger men, approached the camp, each carrying a green bough, and
when within forty yards, they sat down in a line, the old man (probably
their chief) taking up his position about four yards in advance of the rest.
Sir Thomas Mitchell having mentioned, in a communication I received
here, that the natives had been friendly to him, I was anxious to preserve
that good feeling, but at the same time to keep them at a distance,
according to my instructions. I therefore went up to them with a green
bough, and endeavoured by signs to make them leave:—finding that of
no avail, I presented the chief with an old hat, and gave to each a piece of
bread. After they had eaten it, I raised the old man with my right hand,
and taking another in my left, I led them away in the direction whence
they had come, broke off a green branch, gave a portion to each, and bid
them farewell. As the others still remained in statu quo, I went through
the same ceremony with them until they were all on their path
homewards. Having heard nothing more of them for some time, I
flattered myself that I had succeeded in giving them a friendly hint that
we did not wish them beside us; but I soon discovered my mistake, for at
4 p.m. a large number of natives, accompanied by two or three gins and
children, came boldly up and encamped within a few yards of the tents,
and two hundred more were reported to me by Mortimer as being at a
short distance in their rear. I gave strict orders that no man should go
near them, and I mustered the party myself at 8 p.m. Shortly afterwards,
three or four natives came down to our fires, and on the men saying that
they would not be made to leave, I put my hand upon their shoulders, and
shewed them their own camp. One tall young native in particular,
wearing an opossum cloak, exhibited a strong inclination to resist. I
continued to watch their movements until half-past eleven, p.m. up to
which time they were talking very earnestly, continually repeating the
words “white fellow.” I had not retired to my tent five minutes when I
heard Baldock (one of the two men on watch) several times desire the
natives to go back, who, as it appeared, would insist on coming forward
to our fires. Serjeant Niblet then called me, saying he thought “all was
not right,” that the natives refused to keep away, and that he had seen the
fire sticks of others approaching from several directions. On turning out,
I found them making a line of fires within twenty-five yards or less of
our tents, and the grass on fire, the old man urging them on in their
mischievous work. I called to them in the language of some of the
aborigines, to go away quickly, using the words “Yau-a-ca-burri!” but
seeing that they still drew nearer with their fires, to the imminent danger
of the camp, I desired the men, who by this time had got ready with their
arms, to charge them with a shout, but not to fire until they received
orders. We succeeded in making them run; when, to add to their alarm,
one or two shots were fired in the air. In their haste, they left the old hat I
had given them, an iron tomahawk, and a few other implements, behind
them, all of which I caused to be left untouched, in order to show them
that we had only objected to their intrusion. All being quiet, and the
cattle brought close to the camp, I added a third man to the morning
watch, and no more was heard of the natives.” This was a specimen of
the treacherous nature of their mode of warfare, and very characteristic
of the aborigines, but by no means so creditable to them, as the conduct
of our neighbours at this camp, where the arrival of the other party was
likely to convince them still more, that they could not induce us to quit
that position, until we thought proper to do so. I had instructed Mr.
Kennedy to continue the numbering of the camps; but as the drays could
not keep pace with mine, only some of my camps have been so
numbered, the others marked being those where his party had passed the
night. This depôt camp was, thus, No. XXIX, and the numbers of such
others of mine as have been marked between this and VIII., shall be
added to this journal, and the whole marked on the map. A new species
of CALLITRIS appeared among the trees, the ACACIA STENOPHYLLA, and the
large leaved variety of ACACIA DECORA, further removed than usual from
the common form, and approaching, in some respects, to A. RUBIDA.
Among the bushes was the beautiful little A. CONFERTA, remarkable for its
little heath-like leaves, and among the grasses was remarked an
abundance of a new annual SPOROBOLUS with extremely minute flowers.[*]
Thermometer, at sunrise, 18°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 30°.
[* S. PALLIDUS (Lindl. MS.) foliis planis glabris ligulâ nulla nisi squamulâ
quâdam, paniculâ effusâ ramis brevibus alternis verticillatisque
scabriusculis, paleis truncatis alterâ 3-nervi alterâ binervi.]
2D JUNE.—Two half-boats were mounted on frames, and fixed over
two of the light carts, and other preparations made for the prosecution of
the journey with a small party. My plan was to reduce each man’s ration
of flower from 7lbs. to 4lbs. per week: to allow a larger quantity of
mutton: some gelatine and barley, dried potatoes, etc. With my party, I
now proposed to take forward a portion of the sheep, as not requiring
carriage, and Mr. Stephenson, a man to assist him, and the shepherd,
formed the only addition to the number with which I had advanced to
this point. Mr. Kennedy had brought me a dispatch from Commissioner
Mitchell, accompanied by some newspapers, in which I read such
passages as the following:—”Australia Felix and the discoveries of Sir
Thomas Mitchell now dwindle into comparative insignificance.” “We
understand the intrepid Dr. Leichardt is about to start another expedition
to the Gulf, keeping to the westward of the coast ranges,” etc., etc. Not
very encouraging to us, certainly; but we work for the future.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 30°.
3D JUNE.—This day one of the party caught several fishes in the river,
which appeared to be of the same species as the Eelfish, or Plotosus
tandanus described in the journal of my first journey (Vol. i. p. 95). It is
therein stated to be an Asiatic form of fish, on the authority of Mr. Wm.
M’Leay, but in other respects this was identical with one in the Barwan.
The course downwards of the new river, which we even now believed to
be called the Maran, from what we had gathered from the natives, was
thus almost proved to be towards the southern rivers. I instructed Mr.
Kennedy to employ the party in digging, and fencing in, and daily
watering, a garden; also, to make a stockyard wherein to lodge the cattle
at night, as this would leave more men disposable for the immediate
protection, if necessary, of the camp and stores. I also gave him very
particular instructions as to the natives, that no intercourse should be
allowed between them and the men; that he should, nevertheless, use
them very civilly, and endeavour to obtain some information, if possible,
respecting the final course of the Maran, etc. Thermometer, at sunrise,
16°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 34°.
Chapter V.
CROSS THE MARANOA WITH A LIGHT PARTY.—SEND BACK FOR ONE DRAY AND THE
FRESHEST TEAM.—JUNCTION OF A RIVER FROM N.N.W.—FOLLOW UP THE MINOR
BRANCH.—A DAY’S RAIN, AND RECONNAISSANCE TO THE N.W.—HOSTILE
TRIBE.—HOW DISPERSED.—CROSS POSSESSION CREEK.—ARRIVE AT A SMALL RIVER
FROM THE WEST.—CROSS IT, AND REACH ANOTHER.—AGAIN RIDE TO THE
N.W.—DETERMINE TO FOLLOW THE FIRST RIVER DOWN-WARDS.—AGAIN ARRIVE
ON THE MARANOA.—CROSS THE SECOND RIVER FROM THE WEST.—ASCEND A SMALL
ROCKY HILL.—MOUNT OWEN AGAIN RECOGNIZED.—TRAVEL IN THAT DIRECTION.—THROUGH
SCRUBS, AND OVER SANDY GROUND.—AGAIN WANT WATER.—TURN TO THE
MARANOA.—FIND ITS CHANNEL DRY.—ASCEND MOUNT OWEN.—RIDE OF RECONNAISSANCE.
—DISTANT MOUNTAINS.—ADVANCE WITH THE PARTY.—ASCEND MOUNT P. P. KING.—THE
RIVER WARREGO DISCOVERED.—IT TURNS TO THE S.W.,—THE PARTY CROSSES IT.
—MOUNT FARADAY.—THE PYRAMIDS.—RIVER SALVATOR.—THE SALVATOR JOINS THE
NOGOA.—COURSE OF THE NOGOA, N.E.—CROSS IT AND CUT THROUGH TEN MILES OF
SCRUB, IN A N.W. DIRECTION.—THE RIVER CLAUDE DISCOVERED.—FINE OPEN
DOWNS.—BALMY CREEK, AND VERY DIFFICULT COUNTRY.—TOWER ALMOND.—MOUNT
MUDGE.—LINE OF RIVER SEEN TO THE NORTHWARD.
4TH JUNE.—EVERY preparation having been made, I bade Mr.
Kennedy adieu, for at least four months, and crossed the Maranwith my
party and light carts. It was not without very much regret that I thus left
this zealous assistant, and so large a portion of my men, behind, in
departing on a hazardous enter prise, as this was likely to be, where the
population might be numerous. Anxiety for the safety of the party left,
predominated with me, for whatever might be the danger of passing and
repassing through these barbarous regions, that of a party stationary for a
length of time in one place, seemed greater, as they were more likely to
be assailed by assembled numbers, and more exposed to their cunning
and treachery. I gave to Mr. Kennedy the best advice I could, and we
parted in the hope of a happy meeting, at the period of my return—a
hope, I must confess, I could not indulge in then, with any degree of
pleasure, looking forward to the many difficulties we were prepared to
encounter, and considering the state of my own health.
The sandy bed of the river was difficult to cross with the carts, and
delayed us an hour. A different adjustment of the loads was necessary;
therefore I was obliged to turn out of my intended route for this day, and
go into a bight of the river for water, in making a much shorter journey.
This was only of six miles from the depôt camp. Amongst the waterworn
pebbles in the bed of the river, we found various portions of coal and the
rocky sections in parts of the banks resembled its concomitant strata.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at 9 p.m., 40°.
5TH JUNE.—The ground was sandy, and several gullies descending to
the river occasioned difficulties which tried the mettle of our horses, and
convinced me that we now carried too much weight for them. I
accordingly sent back Edward Taylor and another man with a note to Mr.
Kennedy, and with directions to pick out ten good bullocks, and bring
forward one of the drays as soon as possible. We met with various dry
channels of tributaries so deep and rocky, that they seemed, at first sight,
like the main river. I wished to reach the bank of this, at a favourable
point to encamp at, and await the arrival of the expected dray. But there
gullies rendered the access difficult. Sand and callitris covered the
intermediate ground, and augmented the impediments the horses had to
contend with. After crossing three rather important channels, I turned to
the N. E., and fortunately came upon the river, where the ground was
very open, and the acclivities gentle. The bed of the river was full of
water, forming a long reach covered with a red weed, the course from
north to south, straight. Height above the sea, 1190 feet. This we marked
XXXI., last camp being XXX. Thermometer, at sunrise, 24°; at 4 p.m.,
70°; at 9, 43°.
6TH JUNE.—Taylor arrived early with a fine team and strong dray,
confident in being able to keep up with the carts, and lightly loaded, of
course, that he might cross heavy sand, or deep gullies. I employed the
time usefully, in adapting Mr. Kennedy’s measurements to my map. I had
now measured bases, besides those of latitude for my trigonometrical
work, and I should not have regretted even a day longer in camp, to have
had more time to protract angles, but time was too precious, as my men
were voluntarily on very reduced rations. The DODONOEA HIRTELLA of
Miquel was the only novelty found here. Latitude 26° 6′ 25″ S.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 50°.
7TH JUNE.—We set off at a better pace this morning, and kept it up, as
we found the ground firmer, and less broken. Several hollows with
water-courses in them, lay in our way, but presented no serious
impediment. At length, I saw some of the heads of River-Head Range,
and a long ridge appeared before us. On ascending it obliquely,
following up the smooth clay floor of a water-course, I found myself
gradually entangled in a bad scrub of brigalow and rosewood. After
cutting our way through it, for a mile and a half, I sought on the other
side for any hollow leading off water, and found one which brought us
into an open forest flat with a fine chain of ponds. The Acacia pendula
appeared on its skirts; and, at length, abundance of water, also, in the
ponds. The grass was so luxuriant near one of these, that I encamped
beside it, without seeking the river, to which these ponds seemed
adjacent. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70°
(XXXII.). Height above the sea, 1309 feet.
8TH JUNE.—The country beyond this camp in a northerly direction was
very fine. The Acacia pendula, open forests, and gently undulating
country intersected by chains of ponds then dry, were its characteristics.
At length, we reached the river bank, and could travel along it to the
west. Just there, I perceived the junction of a river (perhaps the main
channel) from the N. N. W. It seemed full of water, whereas that which I
was obliged to follow, being the most westerly, was nearly dry, although
its banks were boldly broken, and precipitous. Its course came round
even from S. W., and deep ravines and water-courses coming into it,
obliged me to travel to the southward of that bearing in order to avoid
them. We thus, at length, came into a fine open grassy country, tolerably
level, and could resume a north-west course. In that direction, we crossed
a water-course from the S. W., and came to another in a deeper valley,
where we saw natives, who did not run away. There was a water-hole
nearest to our side, and one from which a native was ascending when I
approached. I directed the men (having encamped here) to keep the cattle
from that water-hole, if possible, anxious to avoid giving any offence on
this delicate point to the natives of these forests. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 36°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 70°. (XXXIII.)
9TH JUNE.—The sky being overcast, and rain likely to fall, I
considered that the bullocks’ necks might be galled by the yokes in wet
weather; and, being in some doubt about finding water in the direction in
which I wished now to travel, I set out with two men on horseback to
explore the country to the N. W., leaving the party to enjoy a day’s rest.
Little rain fell, and the ride was very pleasant. A perfume like that of
hay, but much more fragrant, arose from the moistened vegetation, and I
found a beautiful country of open forest with ACACIA PENDULA in graceful
clumps. A few miles on, we were suddenly hailed from behind a few
bushes, by about twenty-five natives, painted red. We halted and
endeavoured to talk to them, but not a word was intelligible to Yuranigh,
who was with me. In vain he inquired about rivers, or water, in his
language, and in vain they bawled to us in theirs: so, after this
unintelligible parley at some distance, (for they would not come close
up,) we rode on. We came at length on a sandy country with much
Callitris, but the whole surface was undulating, and we crossed several
chains of deep ponds, all falling to our right, or eastward; some
containing water. At length, I perceived on the right, a deeper valley, and
found in it a little river with a rocky bed, and coming from the N. N. W.
At two miles further, along my N. W. course, I found it crossed it,
coming from W. S. W., and here I turned, well pleased to find an
abundant supply of water, and a good country in the best direction for
our interior journey. The river ran chiefly on rock, and the water was
plentiful. Having returned to the camp, in the evening, after sunset we
were called to by a numerous tribe of natives, assembled on the opposite
steep bank of the chain of ponds, over which we had encamped. By the
particular cooey, I recognised the same party we had seen in the
morning. Their language was now loud and angry, and war was evidently
their purpose; from experience I judged it best to nip the evil in the bud,
and ordered five men under arms, who were first formed in line before
the tents, and with whom, at the bugle’s sound, I advanced steadily up the
opposite bank, as our only reply to all their loud jeering noise. They set
up a furious yell on our approach, and advanced to the brow of the cliff,
as if prepared to defend it; but as we silently ascended, they fell off, and,
by the time we gained the height, they had retired to a considerable
distance, still shouting vociferously. Two, however, were seen drawing
round our left flank, in a little gully, followed by a female carrying
spears. I discharged my rifle over their heads, upon which they hastened
to their fellows. On firing another shot over the dark noisy mass before
us, they became suddenly quite silent, probably persuaded that we were
really in earnest. We marched through their camp, made a feint, by
descending into a gully, of coming upon them unawares, and continued
there, until silence and darkness secured our peaceful occupation of the
ground. Thus I prevented a night of alarms and noise, which might have
been kept up until morning, and until they had worked themselves into
that sort of frenzy, without which I do not think they have courage to
fight Europeans; and having once got their steam up, they were sure to
have followed us, and gathered a savage population in our rear. Lat., 25°
54′ 17″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at 4 p.m., 70; at 9, 50°.
(XXXIII.)
10TH JUNE.—We advanced at an early hour, crossing Possession
Creek, for so we called it (and which proved rather an impediment, until
we filled a hollow with logs), and followed my horse’s tracks of
yesterday. Thus we reached the little river in good time, notwithstanding
much heavy sand in the way of our carts, and encamped at the furthest
point I had previously visited. Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at 4 p.m.,
75°; at 9, 39°. Height above the sea, 1240 feet. (XXXIV.)
11TH JUNE.—Keeping along the bank of the rocky river, we were
obliged to turn southward, and even S.S.E., such was the direction
whence the river came. I therefore encamped the party, after a journey of
only 3½ miles, and proceeded to explore again, towards the N. W. I
thus came upon the rocky river where the rock formed a bridge affording
an easy means of crossing it, and this I valued more, as being the only
passable place I had seen in it, so deep and rocky was the bed elsewhere.
The strata at this bridge dipped N. N. E., a circumstance which induced
me to travel westward instead of N. W., in hopes to cross thereby sooner,
a synclinal line, and so arrive at the sources of some northern river. We
passed through some scrub, and attained, by gradual ascent, considerable
elevation. The country in general consisted of open forest, and contained
grass in great abundance. At nine miles, I came upon a chain of ponds
falling northward, and in which were two good ponds of water,
whereupon I returned to the camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at 9
p.m., 38°. Height above the sea, 1287 feet. (XXXV.)
12TH JUNE.—The rock about the river here was deeply impressed with
ripple marks, and also dipped N.N.E. or northward. It consisted of a
yellow sandstone in thin strata, covered in some parts with beds of waterworn
pebbles. These consisted chiefly of quartz, felspar, and a silicious
petrifaction of woody appearance. We proceeded along my horse track of
yesterday. In crossing what seemed a principal ridge on which grew
brigalow scrub (through which we had, in parts, to cut a way), we came
upon a fine specimen of the Bottle Tree (DELABECHEA); near it grew the
GEIJERA PARVIFLORA, which did not attain a greater height than 10 feet. I
found by the syphon barometer that our height above the sea was here
1579 feet. By the same gauge I found that two other ridges further on
were still higher (1587 feet). In the afternoon, the sky became overcast
with dark, round, heavy clouds, and in the evening, slight showers fell.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 20°; at noon, 74°; at 4p.m., 73°; at 9, 60°. The
wind and clouds came from the west.
13TH JUNE.—The line of ponds we were upon might turn to the
northward; nevertheless I was unwilling to follow them down, and again
lose westing, until I had made another attempt to penetrate to the N. W.
The morning was rainy, and, as in such weather travelling was likely to
gall the necks of the bullocks, I halted the party, and took a ride in that
direction. I encountered much soft sand and scrubs of brigalow,
rosewood, and Callitris. Scrubs of the latter were most dense and
continuous. I fell in with a goodly little river at five miles; its course
there was from S. W. to N. E. Beyond it, I found the country still more
sandy, although intersected by one or two water-courses falling to the
northward. The furthest one, at fifteen miles from our camp, had in it
ponds containing no water. It seemed near the source, and that we had
almost reached the crest of some dividing feature. A thunder-storm then
burst over us, and the time of day did not admit of going further. I
therefore returned, convinced that I could not in that direction make
much progress.* Thermometer, at sunrise, 49°; at noon, 57°; at 4 p.m.,
54°; at 9, 48°.
[* This was unfortunate: it will be seen by the map, that ten miles further
would have taken me to the river Warregin a direct line to the head of the
river Victoria, avoiding the mountains.]
14TH JUNE.—A drizzling rain continued, and the barometer indicated a
change; hence I hoped the rain would last until the water-holes were
filled. The day being Sunday, I gave the party another day of rest, and
took that opportunity of laying down on my map, the recently discovered
rivers and water-courses. It was only after I had done so, that I began to
think the water-course we were encamped upon, was worth following
down. The evening was clear, and I ascertained the latitude to be 25° 47′
28″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 52°; at noon, 55°; at 4 p.m., 57°; at 9,
38° (XXXVI.). Height above the sea, 1528 feet.
15TH JUNE.—In following down this chain of ponds, we found its
channel became a well-formed river, with abundance of water in it, a few
miles below our camp. The course thus far was northward; and I saw in
one part of it rocks dipping to the westward. I was in expectation that it
would have continued northward, when it suddenly turned towards the
S.S.W. I thereupon crossed it, and resumed my N.W. course. My path
was thus again crossed by our river flowing northward: we had then
travelled 12½ miles, and I encamped on its banks. The whole of the
day’s journey, with little exception, had been over heavy sand, and, but
for the rain that had fallen, it must have greatly distressed the horses and
oxen. As it was, they got over it wondrous well. In a pond of this river,
Mr. Stephenson caught a great number of the harlequin fish, a
circumstance almost proving that this was a tributary to the Maran. We
found this day a new narrow-leaved TRISTANIA[*], thirty feet high, with
bark thick, soft, and fibrous. A smooth narrow-leaved variety of ACACIA
HOLOSERICEA was loaded with spikes of crooked sickle-shaped pods.
Among the herbage was observed the TEUCRIUM ARGUTUM of Brown; and
the XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA grew in the light dry sand. Novelty in the
plants, animals, and fishes, was now to be expected; the weather was
cool and pleasant, and our travelling equipment tolerably efficient.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at 4 p.m., 58°; at 9 p.m., 46° (XXXVII.).
Height above the sea, 1827 feet.
[* T. ANGUSTIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis angusto-linearibus mucronatoacuminatis
supra glabris subtùs subsericeis marginibus arcte revolutis,
paniculis terminalibus folio brevioribus calycibusque incano-tomentosis.
These specimens were in fruit. It is very distinct from every other
species.]
16TH JUNE.—Proceeding nearly north-west, we met with the little river
I had discovered a few miles beyond my camp of the 13th and 14th
instant. The distance of this point from the camp we had left this morning
was about 2½ miles. We crossed it, and turned to the westward, and
even south-west, to avoid it. Over its extreme south-western bend there
was a little rocky hill, which I ascended, and thence saw a mountain I
had intersected from the high station east of the depôt. It now bore 12°
west of north, and I directed my course towards it, as well as the country
would permit. We crossed several sandy ranges on which the callitris
was, as usual, the chief tree, as it was also on the soft heavy sand
between them. Occasionally, the lowest parts where water would take its
course, consisted of firm clay, and we took advantage of such flats, when
their direction was favourable. I was at length under the necessity of
encamping on one of these, where there was no water, nor any to be
found in it after I had followed it down four miles. In my search for
water, I found a curious new PHEBALIUM.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°;
at 9 p.m., 54°. Height above the sea, 1646 feet.
[* P. GLANDULOSUM (Hook. MS.); foliis angusto-lineari-cuneatis retusis
canaliculatis marginibus revolutis subtus ramulisque argenteo-lepidotis
superne (praecipue) grosse glandulosis nudis, corymbis terminalibus
parvis sessilibus fusco-lepidotis, calycibus subtruncatis, petalis ovatis
concavis. Allied to P. SQUAMULOSUM and P. ELOEAGNOIDES, but very
distinct, especially in the presence of the large semipellucid
hemispherical glands, seen more or less in various parts of the plant, but
very conspicuous on the upper side of the leaves.]
17TH JUNE.—Pursuing a course in the direction of the mountain
already mentioned, I met with much heavy sand on which grew thick
forests of callitris, frequently quite impervious to our carts except at open
places amongst which we had to wind, as they permitted. The ground
was undulating, and there was clay in the hollows, but the direction of
these ran across my intended route, falling all to the east-ward. We at
length attained what seemed the highest of these ridges, and on the
summit I ascertained its elevation to be 1833 feet above the sea. Beyond
it, we came to a flat of firmer surface, consisting of clay, and, as we
greatly wanted water, I followed it down to the north-east. I found it soon
hemmed in by sandstone rocks; but we travelled still on a broad grassy
flat which fell into one still broader, through which ran a continuous but
dry channel coming from the north-west. After following this downwards
about a mile, we crossed towards an opening between the sandstone
cliffs beyond it; this opening terminated under shelving rocks. Ascending
at another place, with my horse, I found a table-land above, and an open
forest country. I succeeded in getting the carts and dray up at a rocky
point, and travelled thence E.S.E., anxious now to find the Maran,
convinced by a deep ravine on our right, that it could not be far off. We
descended by a gently inclined part of the sandstone to a dry watercourse
lined with brigalow, and which soon guided us to the river. Here,
however, the bed was dry and full of sand, of spacious and uniform
breadth, and with grassy sloping banks. The course was towards S.W.,
and I followed it upwards, in hopes soon to meet with a pond. No water,
however, was to be seen, when a rocky precipitous bank before us, and
the sun setting in the west, obliged me to encamp the party. I hastened up
the dry channel, followed by all the horses and the bullocks. We found
some rain water on a level piece of rock, about two miles from the camp,
which was scarcely enough for the horses, and afforded a few gallons for
our kegs; nor could I find more, although I continued my search upwards
until dusk; the bullocks had therefore to pass a second night without
drinking. The bed and banks of this river were of very uniform extent
throughout; averaging, in width about 100 feet; in height of banks from
30 to 50 feet. The course was straight, and it seemed as if a few dams
might have sufficed to render it navigable, or at least to have retained a
vast supply of water; for although the bed was sandy, the bottom was
rocky, and the banks consisted of stiff clay. These being covered with
rich grass, and consisting of good soil, water alone was wanting to make
the whole both valuable and useful. Yet this was not so scarce amongst
the gullies and tributaries, nor in the channel itself, lower down. I found,
growing in the bed, the ALPHITONIA EXCELSA of Reissek, collected by Allan
Cunningham and Frazer along the Brisbane and upper part of Hunter’s
River; also a remarkable kind of Brome grass I had never seen on the
Darling. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at 9 p.m., 61°.
18TH JUNE.—Drizzling rain had fallen during the night, which greatly
refreshed the grass for the cattle. Early this morning, I sent Corporal
Graham and another man, up the river, in search of water; and the
bullock-driver with his cattle down the river, with orders to go on until
he fell in with some. Others of the party were directed to search amongst
the rocky crevices nearer to our camp. I set out with Yuranigh for the
summit of the mountain already mentioned, which, according to my
survey, lay about seven miles off to the N.W. My ride to it was
unimpeded by gullies; and, on ascending it, I obtained a most extensive
view, embracing lofty ranges to the eastward and south-east. A line of
volcanic cones (of which this was one) extended from these ranges in the
direction of about N.E.b.N. But, besides these elevated summits, little
could be seen of the adjacent country: nothing of the sandstone gullies,
by which the party was then shut in. I could only imagine one bluey tint
in a long line of ravines, to be over the bed of the Maran, which seemed
thus to pass through the line of cones, and to come from high ranges
about the 25th parallel. The country to the northward was still hidden
from my sight by a portion of the old crater which was higher than that I
had ascended. The western interior was visible to a great distance
bounded by low ranges; some of which seemed to have precipitous sides,
like cliffs, towards the west. Lines of open plains, and columns of smoke,
indicated a good country, and inhabitants. I recognised, from this station,
that eastward of the depôt camp, to which, from the peculiar interest then
attaching to that distant spot, I now named Mount Kennedy after the
officer in charge of the party there. I could now intersect many of the
summits observed therefrom; thus adding extensively to the general map,
and checking my longitude, by back angles into the interior. I was now at
a loss for names to the principal summits of the country. No more could
be gathered from the natives, and I resolved to name the features, for
which names were now requisite, after such individuals of our own race
as had been most distinguished or zealous in the advancement of science,
and the pursuit of human knowledge; men sufficiently well-known in the
world to preclude all necessity for further explanation why their names
were applied to a part of the world’s geography, than that it was to do
honour to Australia, as well as to them. I called this hill Mount Owen; a
bald-forest hill to the N.E. of it, Mount Clift; a lofty truncated cone, to
the eastward of these, the centre of a group, and one of my zero points,
Mount Ogilby; a broad-topped hill far in the north-west, where I wished
to continue my route, Mount Faraday; a high table land intervening,
Hope’s Table Land; the loftiest part of the coast ranges, visible on all
sides, Buckland’s Table Land, etc. etc. The part of Mount Owen on
which I stood, consisted of basalt, which had crystallised cubically so as
to form a tottering pile on the summit, not unlike the ruins of a castle,
“nodding to its fall,” and almost overhanging their base. Curious bushes
grew amongst these rocks, unlike those in the lower country; amongst
them, a climber, resembling a worm, which wholly enveloped a tree. On
returning to the camp, I learnt that the bullock-driver had found a
spacious basin in a rocky part of the bed, some miles down the river;
having thereat watered his cattle and returned; also, that Corporal
Graham had met with a pond ten miles higher up the river than our camp:
thus it was evident that many miles intervened between these two ponds
in the river. The other men left at the camp had fortunately found in the
crevice of a rock beyond the river-channel, enough of water for the
horses and themselves. But, had this river-channel contained much more
water, I could not have followed it in its upward course, and so go to the
north-east, instead of the north-west; neither had this been possible from
the precipitous rocks overhanging it at almost every turning. I had found,
in Mount Owen, a nucleus, which was a key to these sandstone gullies
radiating about it, and I had also perceived from it that towards Mount
Faraday, the north-western interior was tolerably clear of mountainous
obstructions; three small or very distant cones, seemed the principal
features beyond it. I wished much to have explored a route for our carts
in that direction; but it was necessary that I should first establish the
party near water. I accordingly determined to conduct it along the range
towards Mount Owen next day, as far as might be necessary, in order to
turn off to the right, and encamp, overlooking some rocky gully within a
convenient distance of Mount Owen; and, again to explore these recesses
for water, or send for it to Corporal Graham’s pond in the main channel.
Mr. Stephenson gathered near this camp two beautiful and delicate ferns,
the ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM, and ADIANTUM ASSIMILE, the Australian
maiden’s hair. The ACACIA IXIOPHYLLA, and ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII, on the
rocky cliffs; occurred with an Exocarpus, probably a variety of E.
SPARTEA, and a new Eucalyptus.[*] Thermometer at sunrise, 56°; at noon,
69°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 55°. Height above the sea, 1578 feet; and above
river bed 40 feet.
[* E. POPULIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis rhombeo-triangularibus obtusissimis
longius petiolatis coriaceis minute punctatis (punctis pallidis) reticulatovenosis.
This species is remarkable in the size and shape of its petiolated
leaves. The branches bear turbinated woody excrescences (galls), each
with two or more, generally three, sharp angles, and as many unequal
projecting wings, altogether exactly resembling the fruit of some
BEGONIÀ.]
19TH JUNE.—Another dewy night had providentially refreshed the
grass for our thirsty animals. We ascended, at a very favourable point,
the sandstone table-land, and travelled for some miles along my horse’s
track towards Mount Owen, turning round the heads of gullies which
broke abruptly in steep rocks both to our right and left. Then, turning to
the right, where a branch of the high land projected eastward towards the
river, we encamped on its extreme eastern point, overlooking a grassy
valley, hemmed in by precipitous cliffs, yet easily accessible to our
horses and cattle, from the point on which we had encamped. I had
already found a deep hole in a rock on the right, containing water
sufficient for the men and horses for several days, and, on riding down
the valley while they pitched the tents, I found a large pond only a mile
from the camp. The valley contained many still larger, but all, save this
one, were dry. Grass grew there in great abundance, and of excellent
quality. Pigeons were numerous of that species (GEOPHAPS SCRIPTA)
which is so great a luxury; the most delicate food, perhaps, of all the
feathered race. The highest of the sandy tableland crossed this day
appeared (by Captain King’s subsequent calculations) to be 1863 feet.
That of the camp over the cliffs, 1840 feet above the sea, the height of
these cliffs above the bed of the river being thus about 300 feet.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 50°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 61°.
20TH JUNE.—I set out (with two men and Yuranigh) to explore the
country beyond Mount Owen. From its base I observed some open forest
land, and a less broken country, in a direction much further to the
westward than the course I had previously selected, which was N.N.W. I
now proceeded W.N.W. towards that open forest land. We found the
country open for some miles, then, entering a flat or valley, I descended
gradually between sandstone rocks, to a valley in which a chain of deep
ponds led to the north-west. On following this down, I found it turned
more and more to the westward, and at length to the south-west,
whereupon I quitted its bed and cliffy banks, and, following up a ravine
from the other side, again endeavoured to pursue my intended course.
We crossed, at the head of the ravine, a sandstone range, and descended
by another valley which led first northward, but terminated in joining a
spacious grassy flat with dry ponds in it. I endeavoured to trace this
downwards for several miles in a rainy evening, and found at last, to my
disappointment, that this also turned to the S.W. This flat was broad and
hemmed in by low rocky points of ground, of very uniform shape. Many
marks of natives appeared on the trees, and, in good seasons, it must be
one of their favourite spots. I left it, however, when darkness and heavy
rain obliged me to look for shelter in a gloomy forest to the westward.
By the time we arrived at this, we could see no grassy spot for our
horses, nor any sort of cover for ourselves. Douglas found, at length, a
fallen tree, and under this, covered with a few boughs, we lay down on
the wet earth for the night, being ourselves as wet, yet wanting withal,
water for ourselves and horses. Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at noon,
69°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 57°.
21ST JUNE.—The rain had abated to my great disappointment, for we
should have been amply compensated for wet jackets, by the sight of
well filled ponds of water, the want of which was the great impediment
to this journey. The sky was still overcast, and the wet bushes were
unavoidable. On I travelled north-west, until we approached some fine
open forest hills, the bare tops of which, just visible from the foot of
Mount Owen, had first drawn me in that direction. One tempting peak
induced me to approach it, and to think of an ascent. In a rugged little
water-course in its bosom, we found water enough for our horses, the
product of last night’s rain. The view from the summit, made up for the
deviation from my route. A group of the most picturesque hills
imaginable lay to the northward, and were connected with this, the whole
being branches from the Table Land of Hope. Some appeared of a deep
blue colour, where their clothing was evergreen bush. Others were partly
of a golden hue, from the rich ripe grass upon them. The sun broke
through the heavy clouds and poured rays over them, which perfected the
beauty of the landscape. I recognised, from this apex, my station on
Mount Owen, and several hills I had intersected from it. Amongst others,
the three remarkable cones to the westward of Mount Faraday,
apparently a continuation of the line of summits I have already
mentioned. This hill consisted of amygdaloidal trap in nodules, the
crevices being filled with crystals of sulphate of lime, and there were
many round balls of ironstone, like marbles or round shot, strewed about.
A red ferruginous crust projected from the highest part, and, on this
summit, the magnetic needle was greatly affected by local attraction, and
quite useless. Fortunately, I had also my pocket sextant, and with it took
some valuable angles. On descending, I heartily enjoyed a breakfast, and
named the hill which gave us the water, Mount Aquarius. Returning
towards Mount Owen, by a more direct route, I arrived at the head of a
gully which led tolerably direct until we found our track, in the creek I
had run down on the preceding day. But night was approaching, and we
had water enough in a rocky hollow, and also a cavern before which a
large fire gave such warmth, that, in passing the night there in my cloak,
I was quite insensible to a frost without, which, at the camp, at 4 p.m.,
had lowered the mercury in Fahrenheit’s thermometer to 22°, or 10°
below the freezing point.
22D JUNE.—Our provisions being out, I hastened back to the camp,
determined to explore in a more northerly direction, according to my
original intention. Water was only to be found in so dry a season, in the
neighbourhood of mountains, or in rocky gullies likely to retain a passing
shower. In our way back, I ascended the north-western shoulder of
Mount Owen, and was much more inclined to take a northerly route,
from the appearance of the mountains on that side. The view from that
summit to the northward, was very grand; I saw more plainly the line of
the Maranfrom its upper sources. Two mighty masses of table-land
seemed the highest of all. One I had already seen and named Buckland’s
Table Land. I could here distinguish the apex of Mount Aquarius, and fix
it in my map. I perceived a hollow part of the range immediately to the
northward, and a sort of hiatus amongst the peaks in the broken country
beyond, through which I hoped to find a way. I hastened to the camp to
prepare for a “raid” of a whole week, if necessary, in that direction.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 27°; at noon, 52°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 59°.
23D JUNE.—Returning early by the foot of Mount Owen, I travelled
nearly northward through a fine open forest, in which we saw a large
kangaroo entirely black. Rocky gullies next came in my way, and, in
avoiding those on the left, others falling to the right, or to the Maran,
showed me that this was a dividing feature. I knew it was continuous to
Mount Clift from my former observations, and therefore followed it by
keeping between the heads of gullies breaking to each side, until I found
one favourable for a descent to the left. Below, we found a broad, grassy,
valley, extending about W.N.W., and in it, deep ponds, which sometimes
evidently held much water, although they were then dry. This soon,
however, turned to the south-west, evidently to join the channel I had
before explored. Quitting it, therefore, much disappointed, I ascended
sandstone cliffs and pushed through scrubs, determined to proceed
directly north-ward, until I met with valleys falling north-west. We thus
passed just under the most easterly part of Hope’s Table Land, and came,
about sunset, to a hollow containing ponds, in two of which we found
water. Here we gladly bivouacked for the night. ZAMIAS grew here, and
were numerous higher up the valley. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at
noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 50°; at 9, 40°.
24TH JUNE.—The hoar-frost had stiffened the grass, and the water was
frozen so that the horses cared not to drink. I proceeded N. N. W., in
which direction a beautiful cone rose to a great height, and sharp apex.
Stony hills of trap appearing also in that line, I turned northward, and,
after crossing a level tract of high ground, much like a dividing feature,
(especially as seen from Mount Owen,) I entered a valley descending to
the northwest. It fell rapidly, contained large water holes, and in two of
these, at length, an abundant supply of water. The course, throughout all
its windings, was towards the north-west, and this I, at the time, thought,
might be a northern water. I therefore returned, anxious to bring the party
thus far, at all events, and resolved to follow this little river down. We
arrived, on our way back, in the evening of the same day, in the valley I
had quitted in the morning, having followed down a water-course from
the end of Hope’s Table Land, under which I had passed, in search of a
good way for the carts. Although we had seen promising ponds of water
in this little channel, we could find none in the lower part, having in the
expectation of finding some, rode on until darkness prevented me from
going further. We were thus obliged to pass the night (a very cold one)
without water, and almost without fuel. I missed the comfortable cavern
where I had slept a few nights before, especially when I arose here in the
night to mend the fire, and found we had no more wood at hand. I learnt
afterwards that at the camp, the thermometer at 4 p.m. had been as low
as 17° of Fahrenheit.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at noon, 51°; at 4 P.
M. 49°; at 9, 29°.
[* This was 15° degrees below the freezing point, and shows how much
more easily cold may be endured in a dry atmosphere than where there is
moisture, as instanced in the following extract from a despatch of
Captain James C. Ross (in command of the Antarctic Expedition), dated
7th April, 1841, and published in the Tasmanian Journal.
“With a temperature of 20° below the freezing point, we found the ice to form
so rapidly on the surface, that any further examination of the barrier in so
extremely severe a period of the season being impracticable, we stood
away to the westward, for the purpose of making another attempt to
approach the magnetic pole, and reached its latitude (76° S.) on the 15th
February.”]
25TH JUNE.—Continuing our ride as soon as day-light permitted, ten
minutes brought us to a pond containing plenty of water under a shelving
rock, and here we alighted to breakfast, which was pleasant enough, but
not so gratifying as the position of this pond, which would enable me to
bring the carts through these valleys, to this convenient intermediate
stage in the way to the Northern river. The next question was, whether
the route to the eastward, descending into these valleys near Mount Clift,
or that by my first route, when I discovered this rocky country, should be
preferred; and I returned towards our camp this morning by the eastern
gullies, in hopes to find an easy descent nearer to Mount Clift than at the
point where I before came down. But I found them much more
acclivitous and rocky. We at length, with difficulty, got our horses up a
rocky point, on which grew a thick scrub of “blackwood,” as Yuranigh
called it, an acacia having many tough stems growing thickly together
from one root, and obstructing the passage, and covering the ground with
its half-fallen and fallen timber. Our passage along the range thence
towards Mount Owen, having been too much to the eastward, brought us
upon the bend of a gully falling to the Maran; a wild and impracticable
looking dell as ever was seen. On regaining our track near Mount Owen,
and returning along it to the camp, I found that another pond had been
discovered in the valley, by Felix Maguire, who on two occasions, had
dreamt of water, risen, and walked directly to where he found it!
However that might have been, this man had a happy knack in finding
water. In the neighbourhood of this camp some interesting plants were
collected; viz. NOTHOCHLOENA DISTANS, GRAMMITIS RUTOEFOLIA, CHEILANTHES
TENUIFOLIA, ADIANTUM HISPIDULUM and ASSIMILE, all ferns, together with
HOVEA LANCEOLATA, the weedy SPHOERANTHUS HIRTUS, GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA,
a low shrub, occupying the ravines. Besides these we observed a small
species of SIDA in the sandy soil of forests, the DOODIA CAUDATA Br., a
verdant fern, and the SOLANUM FURFURACEUM with lilac flowers, and small
red berries. A shrub loaded with succulent drupes, seated in reddish cups,
appeared to be a new species of VITEX, but its genus was uncertain, there
being no flowers. What is here called GREVILLEA FLORIBUNDA may have
been an allied species, for the leaves were more downy, almost
tomentose above. In addition to this a new species of the common genus
DODONOEA, frequently met with afterwards, was now producing its
flowers.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 12°; at noon, 50°; at 4 p.m. 51°;
at 9, 22°.
[* D. MOLLIS (Lindl. MS.); molliter pubescens, ramulis subteretibus, foliis
obovatis acutis truncatis rotundatis retusis tridentatisque, capsulis
tetragonis trigonisque pubescentibus apteris.]
26TH JUNE. The party moved forward, at length, with the certainty of
finding water for at least three days’ journey, and of a hopeful water-
course being before us. Passing by the foot of Mount Owen, I observed
the barometer which gave an elevation of 2083 feet: the summit might be
700 feet higher. My plan of route was, to enter the little river that turned
to the south-west (as I had found it did, on the 20th,) and to travel along
its valley upwards, until I reached the pond near which I had bivouacked
on the 25th. This we accomplished most successfully before sunset,
encamping beside the large pond already mentioned, near which were
two others. The earth by the margin was so soft that neither the horses
nor bullocks could approach the water; they could only be watered out of
buckets; but the water was excellent, and water of any quality, in
abundance too, was to us rather uncommon good fortune, and quite
cheering, even when surrounded by soft mud. Thermometer, at sunrise,
14°; at noon, 48°; at 4 p.m. 47°; at 9, 37°.
27TH JUNE. We had next to trace up a grassy valley which seemed to
come directly from the vicinity of that in which I had found water and
bivouacked on the 24th. It formed an excellent line, and we found it
possible to keep this fine firm level surface, until we had approached to
within two miles of that spot. Leaving a little hill of trap to the left, and
some brigalow scrub on the right, we reached the old ground and
encamped. The small ponds had evaporated, but, in the frosty night, the
cattle were not likely to require water, as they had been watered on the
way, about 3 p.m., at a rocky well in the valley. We had now traced
with our wheels, a good way through a country much broken and shut up
by sandstone gullies; but which contained also many rich valleys, and
extensive hilly tracts of trap rock, on which the grass was very luxuriant,
apparently available for either sheep or cattle. Immediately to the
westward of this camp (marked XXXVIII.) an extensive valley was
bounded by the fine trap range of Hope’s Table Land; which range was
open along the summit, and contained springs, in various ravines along
its sides. In these ravines, we first saw the arborescent Zamia, and
various remarkable shrubs; the MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMII of Swan River,
forming a shrub six feet high, with white fragrant flowers. Thermometer,
at sunrise, 20°; at 9 p.m., 29°. Height above the sea, 2064 feet.
28TH JUNE.—Severe frost whenever the sky was clear, seemed the
ordinary weather of that country, at that season; showing, as the
barometer also indicated, that we were at a great height above the sea. I
sent the party forward, guided by Yuranigh, along my former track, to
the ponds in the newly discovered channel, falling north-west; and I
proceeded myself, accompanied by Mr. Stephenson, to the summit of the
fine cone already mentioned. From this, I beheld a splendid and
extensive view of the mountains further northward. Most of the summits
I had previously intersected, and many others, very remarkable, just
appeared over an intermediate woody range, through which I was at a
loss to discover where our supposed northern river would pass. Far in the
north-west, I could just distinguish the tops of curiously broken hills
arising from a much lower country; and therein I hoped to find, whatever
might be the final course of our river, a passage to the north-west, and
water. The most important feature in that scene seemed to me to be a
grey misty tint, as if it marked a valley descending from the highest
eastern mountains, towards the curiously broken summits in the northwest.
Bare crests of similar hills, appeared to arise throughout the whole
extent of that valley. Under those lofty mountains, at such elevation, in
such a clime, with these romantic hills, that valley must be a paradise if
watered well, as I hope it is. So flowed the “spring” of hope at least, as it
was fed by the scene then before me. The cone we had ascended
consisted of trap rock, much resembling that of Mount Aquarius; but, at
its base, and on its sides, I found in large masses, the very compact
felspathic rock which characterises the valley of the Darling. This has
been considered a very fine-grained sandstone; but it is evidently an
altered rock. Here, in contact with trap, it possessed the same tendency to
break into irregular polygons, some of the faces of which were curved;
and I observed one mass which had been so tossed up, that its lower side
lay uppermost, inclined at an angle of about 60°. That this is a hypogene
rock, sometimes in contact with granite as well as with trap, is evident at
Oxley’s Table Land, and other places. I was glad to find it here, as
affording a prospect of meeting with better soil than the loose sand we
had seen so much of. We here found the grey, prickly SOLANUM
ELLIPTICUM. I named this cone Mount P. P. King; and, I have since
ascertained, by that officer’s register and calculations, the height of this
summit above the sea, to be 2646 feet; and the height of this camp, 2159
feet. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 55°; at 9, 25°. (XXXIX)
29TH JUNE.—Crossing a small tributary which was full of water
(coming from Hope’s Table Land), we continued to travel along the left
bank of the newly found river. Rocky precipices overhanging it, obliged
me to make some détours, and to pass through some scrubs; but still we
regained the banks of the river, although our progress was not
considerable. Its general course was still north-west, to the spot selected
for my second camp on its banks. The channel was now broad; the banks
high, rounded, and grassy; in some places, rocky. Water in the channel
was rarely to be seen, but at the junction of tributaries, where recent
temporary showers seemed to have fallen. By careful observation, I
ascertained the variation of the needle to be 8° 4′ E. here. Thermometer,
at sunrise, 25°; at 4 p.m., 68°; at 9, 53°. Height above the sea, 1914 feet.
(XL.)
30TH JUNE.—The course of the river was now found to turn to the
southward of west; and, even in that direction, rugged cliffs covered with
scrub greatly impeded our progress. I endeavoured to conduct the carts
along the bed of the river, soft and sandy as it was; but we did not
proceed far in it, before rocks, fallen trees, and driftwood, obliged us to
abandon that course as speedily as we could. Then, ascending a
projecting eminence, we plunged into the scrubs; but, even in a southwest
direction, we came upon the river. Pursuing its course along the
bank, southward, I arrived near the base of a fine open forest hill; and,
directing the party to encamp, I hastened to its summit. I there obtained a
view of most of the mountains of the eastern range formerly observed,
and enough of the fixed points, to enable me to determine the position of
this. In the south-west, a line of open forest, and a vast column of smoke
seemed too plainly to mark the further course of our river; but, towards
the north-west, I saw much to reconcile me to this disappointment.
Summits of broken and uncommon aspect, beyond an intervening woody
range, there indicated a much lower and different kind of country, as if
that was, indeed, the basin of a system of northern waters; the woody
intervening range appearing to be the division between them. As our last
explored river again turned southward, it seemed reasonable to expect,
beyond that very continuous range, rivers pursuing a different course.
This range was plainly traceable from the high mountains more to the
eastward, and was continuous westward to three remarkable conical hills,
beyond which, the view did not extend. On the same range, a fine tableshaped
mountain appeared nearly north. This I had already intersected
from other stations, and named Mount Faraday. The hill on which I stood
consisted of trap-rock, and seemed to be almost the western extremity of
Hope’s Table Land. A copious spring was afterwards found by Mr.
Stephenson, in a valley to the eastward of this summit. That ravine was
extensive; and in it grew various remarkable trees. The bottle-tree
(Delabechea) grew more gregariously than we had ever seen it, in the
stony banks of the channel of the torrent from the hills. One thorny tree
or shrub (first seen at the base of Mount P. P. King) again appeared here;
it was, generally, in a withered state; had a leaf somewhat like the human
hand, and a pod containing two peas of a bright scarlet colour, about the
shape and size of a French bean. This, sometimes grew to a tree as much
as a foot in diameter; and the natives, who, like Nature herself, may be
said to do nothing in vain, had cut one down, and carried off the whole of
the trunk. The wood was of a leaden colour. This proved to be a new
species of ERYTHRINA, or coral tree.[*] By our last day’s journey, we had lost
two miles of northing, and had thus recrossed the 25th parallel of south
latitude. I therefore determined to cross our friendly little river, and look
for another beyond the range to the northward. Thermometer, at sunrise,
44°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, 1732
feet. (XLI.)
[* E. VESPERTILIO (Benth. MS.); glaberrima, caule fruticoso aculeato,
foliorum petiolo elongato, foliolis trilobis lobo medio recto acutiusculo
lateralibus multo majoribus falcato-divaricatis obtusissimis.—Although
no flowers were seen, the genus of this shrub is well indicated by the pod
and the general habit. The leaflets are often above four inches broad and
not two inches long, not unlike the form of a bat with its wings extended.]
1ST JULY.—With that view, I rode towards Mount Faraday, anxious to
look into the valley beyond it. After a two hours’ ride, I passed under its
western summit, and still pressed forward, in hopes of seeing at length
into the valleys beyond. I thus entered a very thick scrub, so impervious
that I was obliged to turn westward, until I came upon sandstone gullies
into one of which I descended. Following this downwards, I found it fell
to the westward, and in a hollow part of its rocky bed I came to some
clear water. But this was inaccessible, even to my horse, nor could I take
him further down that wildly broken gully; therefore we backed out, and
ascended as we could. Then riding southward in search of one more
accessible, I at length, descended into a grassy valley, which ran northwest,
and gave promise of something still better. I could not follow it
then without provisions, having none with me, and I therefore hastened
back to the camp, resolved to take with me men and provisions sufficient
to enable me to explore this further. In the scrub I passed through on my
way back, I found various very remarkable shrubs new and strange to
me. One grew on a large stalk, from which leaves radiated without other
or any branches. These leaves, hanging gracefully around the stem, gave
to this shrub the resemblance of the plume of a staff-officer. The outer
side of each leaf was dark and shining, the inner white and woolly.
Rarely these tall stems separated into two. Other branches there were
none. Some very beautiful new acacias also grew there. One, in
particular, with leaves exactly similar to those of the silver-leaved ironbark,
was very remarkable, a broad rough-leaved FICUS, with opposite
leaves not unlike those of the New Holland Upas. The white-flowered
lead-wort (PLUMBAGO ZEYLANICA) and the TRIODIA PUNGENS were abundant
among the grasses. A downy Dodonaea, with triangular leaves, was
producing its small flowers[*], and a scrubby bush with hard narrow
leaves and globular fruit the size of a rifle-ball, proved to be a new
CAPPARIS.[**] Thermometer, at daybreak, 35°; at 9 p.m., 38°.
[* D. TRIANGULARIS (Lindl. MS.); molliter pubescens, foliis
obtriangularibus tridentatis, pedunculis masculis axillaribus subsolitariis.]
[** C. LORANTHIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.) ramosa, inermis, ramulis tomentosis,
foliis lineari-oblongis obtusis coriaceis glabris sesqui-pollicaribus
aveniis, pedunculis solitariis axillaribus tomentosis foliis brevioribus,
stipite duplo longiore, fructu sphaerico tuberculato glabro.]
2D JULY.—Returning with two men and Yuranigh to the valley where I
had been yesterday, I followed it downwards, and soon found that it
widened very much, and contained large dry ponds, with the traces of a
deep current of water at some seasons. At length, the rocky precipices
seemed to recede, and formed occasionally bold headlands of most
picturesque outline. Two, that towered above the woods before us,
resembled pyramids, and I saw an open country beyond them, from
which other summits of extraordinary form seemed to emerge. Yet we
had found no moisture in the ponds, and lamented that a country, in
every other respect so fine, should be without water. Further on, I
perceived reeds in the hollow of the valley, and Yuranigh said there must
be a spring, upon which he walked in amongst them, but still found the
earth dry. The reeds at length covered an extensive flat, and looked, at
the lower part of the flat, so green, that I sent Corporal Graham to
examine that point. He emerged from the reeds with a face that, at a
distance, made Douglas, my other man, say, “He has found water.” He
had found A RUNNING STREAM, to which he had been guided by its own
music, and taking a tin pot, he brought me some of it. The water was
clear and sparkling, tasting strongly of sulphur, and Yuranigh said that
this was the head of a river that NEVER DRIED UP. In this land of
picturesque beauty and pastoral abundance, within eighty miles of the
tropics, we had discovered the first running stream seen on this journey. I
returned, determined to bring the party thus far, and with the intention of
passing that night where we had found water in a rock about six miles
back, that we might sooner reach the camp next day. At that spot we had
also the benefit of a cavern, before which, a good fire being made, we
defied the frost of a very cold night, the thermometer having been
registered at the camp, at 3 a.m., as low as 7°. In the scrubs we had
passed through in the morning, a variety of the ACACIA PODALYRIIFOLIA,
with grey velvety leaves, was scarcely in flower; and I observed a
beautiful new species of STENOCHILUS with large tubular flowers.[*] The
ACACIA FALCATA appeared also on the sandstone ground above the gullies,
and a broad-leaved form of the EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII. The moon shone
brightly, and the rock being full of silver mica, the splendour of the scene
imparted to my eye and mind then a degree of gratification far beyond
any associations of the richest furniture of a palace. We found it
impossible to get our horses to the water; but we hit upon an expedient
which answered even better than a bucket,—my Mackintosh cloak.
[* S. CURVIPES (Benth. MS.) glaber, foliis lanceolatis integerrimis basi in
petiolum angustatis pedicellis recurvis, calycis foliolis latis acuminatis,
corollae glabrae ventricosae laciniis acutis inferiore ultra medium
solutâ.—Flowers large and thick on recurved pedicels 4 to 6 lines long.
Calycine leaves broader than in all the other species.]
3D JULY.—In returning, we looked for a good line of approach, and
found an easy way for the carts to descend into the valley. On arriving at
the camp, I learnt that a large pond had been discovered in a rocky part
of the river, about a mile below our camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 14°;
at noon, 60; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 26°. Height of camp above the sea, 1800
feet. (XLII.)
4TH JULY.—The clouds had gathered, and it rained heavily this
morning. Nevertheless, the party moved off, crossing the river where the
banks had been cut to facilitate the passage. With Yuranigh’s assistance
we hit upon an excellent line of route, availing ourselves of a grassy
valley descending from Mount Faraday, just so far as to avoid the rocky
crooked part, and then crossing and cutting through a piece of scrub
directly to the point of easy ascent, we thus made a good road into the
valley, and arrived in good time, notwithstanding the rain, at the rock of
my bivouac. The night-sky cleared up, and I found our latitude (by
Arcturus) to be 24° 54′ 12″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at 4 p.m.,
49°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, 1437 feet. (XLIII.)
5TH JULY.—Another frosty night succeeded the day of rain, and froze
our tents into boards, not easily to be packed up this morning. We
proceeded along our horses’ track, and the beautiful headland which
appeared quite isolated, and just such as painters place in middle
distance, I named Mount Salvator. We encamped on a slight elevation of
the right bank of the reedy rivulet, near the pyramids. Our prospects had
suddenly brightened, when instead of following chains of dry ponds, we
had before us a running stream, carrying life and nourishment towards
the country we were about to explore. The whole aspect of the country
seemed new to us. The barometer showed we were rapidly descending,
and I expected that our living stream would soon join that greater stream,
the basin of which I thought I could trace in the line of mist seen from
Mount P. P. King on the 28th June. The course of this river, unlike the
others, curved round from N.W. towards north, and having its origin in
mountains equidistant between Cape York and Wilson’s Promontory, it
was reasonable to suppose that we had at length crossed the division
between northern and southern waters. That between eastern and western
waters was still to be discovered, and in a country so intricate, and where
water was so scarce then, the course of rivers afforded the readiest means
of determining where that division was. If the general course of this river
was found to be to the eastward of north, we might safely conclude that
the dividing ground was on the west or to the left of our route; if to the
westward of north, it might be to the eastward, or on the right of our
route, and this seemed the more probable from the line of a river flowing
north-westward, which I had seen the valley of, from Mount P. P. King.
Latitude 24° 50′ 2″. S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4 P.
M., 49°; at 9, 38°. Height above the sea, according to sixteen
observations, 1421 feet. (XLIV.)
6TH JULY.—A number of small bushes of CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA
appeared amongst the rocks; back from the valley, and in the woods
below, we found an acacia, apparently, but distinct from, A. DECORA
(Reichb.) VAR. MACROPHYLLA; it approached A. AMOENA, but the stem was
less angular, and the phyllodia bore but one gland. A large tree with long
hoary leaves, and flat round capsules, proved to be a fine new BURSARIA,
at a later season found in flower. See October 10th.* A Loranthus also
was found here, which Sir William Hooker has since described.[**]
Travelling along the bank of this stream, we found it flowing, and full of
sparkling water to the margin. The reeds had disappeared, and we could
only account for the supply of such a current, in such a country, at such a
season, by the support of many springs. We made sure of water now for
the rest of our journey; and that we might say of the river “Labitur et
labetur in omne volubilis aevum.” The hills overhanging it surpassed any
I had ever seen in picturesque outline. Some resembled gothic cathedrals
in ruins; others forts; other masses were perforated, and being mixed and
contrasted with the flowing outlines of evergreen woods, and having a
fine stream in the foreground, gave a charming appearance to the whole
country. It was a discovery worthy of the toils of a pilgrimage. Those
beautiful recesses of unpeopled earth, could no longer remain unknown.
The better to mark them out on my map, I gave to the valley the name of
Salvator Rosa.[***] The rocks stood out sharply, and sublimely, from the
thick woods, just as John Martin’s fertile imagination would dash them
out in his beautiful sepia landscapes. I never saw anything in nature
come so near these creations of genius and imagination. Where we
encamped, the river was very deep, the banks steep and muddy, so that
the use of a bucket was necessary in watering the cattle. Notwithstanding
every precaution, one animal walked into the river, and could not be got
out without great difficulty. The only fish we caught in this river were
two enormous eels, beautifully spotted. Large shells of the UNIO genus
lay abundantly on the banks, about the old fires of the natives. These
were larger than either those found on the Darling, or those of the Maran;
and although such freshwater mussles seem to have but one shape, a
peculiarity in these was pointed out to me by Yuranigh, who said they
much resembled the impressions left by a black-fellow’s foot, (which is
much broader at the toes than at the heel). We here met with a new
species of BORONIA, resembling B. ANETHIFOLIA, of which many varieties
afterwards occurred. It grows about two feet high, and had solitary pale
purple flowers.[****] A new species of ACACIA with straight, oblong, shining
leaves, also grew here.[*****] In the valley we found ERECHTITES ARGUTA, a weed
resembling European groundsel; on the rocks, a small slender shrub with
white flowers; and in the sandy scrub, the LEUCOPOGON CUSPIDATUS
formed a small shrub. Thermometer, at sunrise, 16°; at noon, 50°; at 4
p.m., 49°; at 9, 38°. (XLV.) Height above the sea, 1270 feet.
[* B. INCANA (Lindl. MS.); arborea, inermis, foliis oblongo-linearibus
supra glabris subtus incanis, paniculâ terminali tomentosâ, floribus
distantibus.]
[** L. SUBFALCATUS (Hook. MS.); ramis dichotomis patentibus, foliis
oppositis linearibus lineari-lanceolatisve obtusis subfalcatis glabris
trinerviis, floribus axillaribus binis arcte pendentibus brevissime
pedicellatis, calycis contracti cylindracei ore dilatato, petalis 6 linearibus
glaberrimis supra medium coalitis.]
[*** “His soul naturally delighted in scenes of savage magnificence and
ruined grandeur; his spirit loved to stray in lonely glens, and gaze on
mouldering castles.”—ALLAN CUNNINGHAM (THE POET).]
[**** B. BIPINNATA (Lindl. MS.) glabra vel pilosa, foliis bipinnatis
pinnatisque, foliolis linearibus subteretibus obtusis, floribus subsolitariis
axillaribus foliis brevioribus 8-andris.]
[***** A. EXCELSA (Benth. MS.) glabra, ramulis subangulatis, phyllodiis
falcato-oblongis obtusiusculis mucronulatisve basi angustatis
subcoriaceis nitidis multinervibus venulosis eglandulosis, pedunculis
solitariis geminisve capitulo dense multifloro brevioribus vel
brevissimis. Very near A. VENULOSA, Cunn.; but smooth, the phyllodia
shining, 2 to 3 inches long, 6-9 lines broad, the flower heads usually
almost sessile.]
7TH JULY.—Continuing along the eastern margin of the reeds, we soon
found that the river expanded into a lake covered with them, and that in
one or two spots there also grew the “Balyan” of the Lachlan, (a bulrush
mentioned in my former journals). We listened, and still heard the
current of water amongst these reeds. From the margin of this lake the
hills, rocks, and woods, on the opposite shore, presented a most
charming morceau of picturesque scenery. Our route was through an
open forest which skirted the reedy margin, over very firm ground, and
in a general direction about north-west. At length we approached the
northern limits of the reedy lake, no river being visible flowing out of it,
as we had reason to expect. We found there, however, only a dry
channel, which bore the marks of a considerable stream at some seasons.
Following this dry channel down, I found its course turned to the
northward, and even to the north-east. When we were disposed to
encamp, I could find no water in the bed, nor were we better off when we
had encamped, until Corporal Graham dug between two rocks therein,
and, fortunately, found a spring. Thus, in one day vanished the pleasing
prospect we had enjoyed in the morning, of a stream flowing in the
direction of our intended route. This might be, I then thought, the
tributary to a larger river, which I still hoped would be found to flow
westward from the coast ranges, and, finally, take the desired north-west
direction. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at 4 p.m., 58°; at 9, 25°.
(XLVI.) Height above the sea, 1191 feet.
8TH JULY.—Entertaining this opinion, I still should have followed this
river down, had I not been impeded by gullies as deep as itself falling
into it, and which obliged me to cross to the left bank. There a thick
brigalow scrub grew to the very margin, and this was seared by rugged
gullies. A deep and continuous channel, entering from the westward,
induced me to turn in that direction so far, that I at length determined to
penetrate at once, if possible, to the north-west, expecting that there I
might intercept our river, if it should turn in that direction, or, if not,
cross some range into a more open country. The whole day was lost,
however, in toiling through a brigalow scrub. Various water-courses
crossed our route, but all descending towards the river we had left. The
scrub was so thick that we could only pass where accidental openings
admitted us, and by this sort of progress, until within an hour of sunset, I
found we had travelled about nine miles, and had gained only half a
minute of latitude. Having penetrated, on foot, and with difficulty, about
two miles ahead of the party, in pursuing the course of a small watercourse,
I found that even this turned south-east, evidently to fall into the
reedy basin we had previously explored; therefore, I determined on an
immediate retreat out of that labyrinth of scrub, back to our friendly
river. It was comparatively easy to return through the opening we had
made by cutting down much of the brush as we advanced, so that by
twilight we reached a good grassy spot about half way to the river, and
near it, found some good ponds of water. A pigeon, flying almost in my
face, first drew my attention to the hollow where we afterwards found
the water. It was in soft mud, however, in which one of the bullocks got
bogged, and could only be taken out by the whole strength of the party
dragging him with ropes. Thermometer, at sunrise, 18°; at 4 p.m., 54°; at
9, 25°. Height above the sea, 1241 feet.
9TH JULY.—The cattle were so much exhausted by drawing through the
scrub, and I had so much to do at my map, that I gave to the cattle and
the party, a day’s rest. Latitude, 24° 34′ 12″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise,
14°; (in my tent, 18°;) at 9 p.m., 48°.
10TH JULY.—Returning, still along our old track, towards a slight
eminence, three miles from our camp, I there set the party to work, to cut
a way across the gully, which had first obliged me to turn westward.
While the men were so employed, I rode about five miles northward, but
met with no opening or water-course admitting of a passage in that
direction. On the contrary, I returned, on intercepting one running S. E.
towards our river. The party had taken all things across when I rejoined
them, and we travelled along the left bank of the gully, chiefly through
open forest land, until we approached the river. Scrub, and muddy
gullies, obliged us to cross the river soon after we reached its banks.
Water appeared more abundant in its bed here, and we encamped on the
border of a small plain, hemmed in by brigalow scrub, in latitude 24° 33′
25″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 58°; at 4 p.m., 62°; at 9,
29°. Height (XLVII.) above the sea, 1192 feet.
11TH JULY.—We travelled along the right bank of the river, through a
fine open forest, until our route, in a N. E. by N. direction, was again
impeded by the river. We had now descended from the upper sources of
this river, at least 1000 feet according to the barometer. We had seen, in a
large pond, a fish called mullet, which abounds in the rivers falling to the
eastern coast, but which I had never seen in those falling westward. It
was also obvious that there was no coast range between us and the coast,
and consequently that a very decided break, at least, occurred in it, about
the latitude of 25° S. This was more apparent to me on crossing the river,
and sending Yuranigh up a tree, about three miles beyond. He could see
no mountains to the northward or north-east, but only the high table land
already seen to the eastward, in which direction he could trace the course
of the river. I hastened back to the party, directed them to encamp, and
proceeded with two men and Yuranigh in a N. W. direction, carrying
provisions for a long ride. We plunged into the sea of Brigalow—
“——And we did buffet it,
With lusty sinews throwing it aside,
And stemming it with JACKETS ALL IN TATTERS.”
After working out our way thus, for about ten miles, our toils were
rewarded with a scene of surpassing beauty, that gradually opened to us.
That long-lost tree, the graceful Acacia pendula, received us in the
foreground, and open plains, blended with waving lines of wood,
extended far into bluey distance, beyond which an azure coronet of
mountains of romantic forms, terminated the charming landscape.
“Far in the west, the long, long vale withdrawn,”
included columns of smoke, marking out the line of a river, which,
with its dark and luxuriant woods, pervaded the whole scene; perhaps the
finest I ever had the good fortune to discover. I beheld it from a perfectly
clear and grassy hill of rich black soil, on which we had emerged,
through a fringe of Acacia pendula. I could not advance beyond that spot,
until I had taken bearings and angles on the peaks and summits before
me. To the north-west, an apparent opening, seen between these masses,
seemed to indicate the bed of another river. On completing my
observations we rode forward across the plain, towards the woody vale,
the sun being then near setting. A solitary emu ran towards us, from a
great distance, apparently encouraged by the mere appearance of
quadrupeds, which, although new to it, seemed to have no terrors for it. I
could not allow the men to fire at it, partly, I believe, from a sense of
shame that we should thereby appear to take unfair advantage, and prove
ourselves more brutal than the quadrupeds, whom nature had indulgently
destined to carry us on their backs. The open down we traversed,
consisted of rich black mould, in which there was fossil wood in great
abundance, presenting silicified fragments so curiously wooden as to be
only distinguishable from wood, by their detached and broken character.
Such fossils are not uncommon in Australia, on plains of rich black earth,
which is a constant concomitant. Their geological history may be simple,
and would probably be very interesting, if philosophy could but find it
out. We found, further on, a channel full of water, with reeds about the
bed of it. There had been a current in it a short time previously, and,
indeed, we had seen the remains of recent rain, in some hollows in the
Brigalow scrub. The river came from the westward, and thus might have
afforded the means of travelling in that direction, had other directions
been found impracticable. We made our fire in a hollow near the water,
not wishing either to alarm or attract the natives; and thus we passed the
night pleasantly enough, with a large fire before us. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 18°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 30°.
12TH JULY.—Returning to the camp, I sought and found, with the
assistance of Yuranigh, a more open way through the scrub for our carts,
than that by which we had penetrated to the good country. I had directed
Mr. Stephenson to examine, during my absence, the western shore of the
reedy lake of Salvator, in order to ascertain whether it had any outlet in
that direction; but he returned without having reached the base of the
remarkable rocky range to the westward; thus leaving it still uncertain,
although the direction of the river since discovered, left little reason for
supposing that any waters from the valley of the Salvator, could escape
to the westward. Thermometer, at sunrise, 11°; in my tent, 15°; at noon,
67° at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 35°. Height above the sea, 1107 feet.
13TH JULY.—After marking this camp XLVIII., we quitted the river
Salvator, and travelled along our track of yesterday, or nearly N. W., but
deviating from this track occasionally, where broken ground or thick
scrub was to be avoided. The highest part of the scrubby land we
crossed, was 1310 feet above the sea. We arrived in good time at the
river, where I had previously slept, and there encamped. On the plains
adjacent, the ACACIA PENDULA grew, as on those near the Bogan; and we
saw also various new and curious grasses, and some very singular shrubs
in the scrub. The banks of the river were steep, and consisted of soft clay.
I employed the party to make a bridge across it, and this was well
completed before sunset. Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 65°; at 4
p.m. 68°; at 9, 40°. Height above the sea, 951 feet. (XLIX.)
14TH JULY.—Crossing the river, (which I called the Claude), we
travelled, first, through an open forest, and then across one of the richest
plains I had ever seen, and on which the ANTHISTIRIA AUSTRALIS, and
PANICUM LOEVINODE, the two best Australian grasses, grew most
abundantly. The soil was black; the surface quite level. There might have
been about a thousand acres in the first plain we crossed, ere we arrived
at another small river, or water-course, which also contained water. We
soon reached the borders of other very extensive plains and open downs,
apparently extending far to the eastward. On our left, there was a scrub
of Acacia pendula. The undulating parts of the clear land, were not so
thickly covered with grass as the plains, not because the soil was bad, but
because it was so loose, rich, and black, that a sward did not so easily
take root and spread upon it, from its great tendency to crack, after
imbibing moisture, on its subsequent evaporation. All this rich land was
thickly strewed with small fragments of fossil wood, in silex, agate, and
chalcedony. Many of the stones, as already observed, most strikingly
resembled decayed wood, and in one place the remains of an entire trunk
lay together like a heap of ruins, the DILAPIDATED remains of a tree! I
obtained even a portion of petrified bark; but specimens of this were rare.
The elevation of the highest part of these downs, was 1512 feet above the
sea.
Crossing an open forest hill, which had hitherto bounded our view to
the westward, I perceived a deep grassy valley on our right, sloping
towards a much lower country, but I still travelled westward, in hopes to
find an open country, beyond a low woody range on which we had at
length arrived. I soon, however, perceived rocky gullies before me, and
having halted the party to examine them, I found they were quite
impassable. Such an unexpected obstacle, on the horizon of the fine open
country, yet UNDER that smooth horizon, was certainly as singular as it
was unexpected, and I returned to descend into the deep grassy valley I
had seen on our right, which seemed open and inviting. We therein also
found some large ponds of water, and encamped. While the men were
pitching the tents I rode down the valley about two miles, and found that
the direction of the water-course was about north-east. Such a direction
was not very favourable for us, and I resolved to look at the country
beyond the limits of this valley to the westward, before we followed it
further. Latitude, 24° 17′ 42″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 19°; at 4 p.m.,
66°; at 9, 49°. (L.) 1279 feet above the sea.
15TH JULY.—Following up a flat which came from the N. W., I
proceeded about five miles amid overhanging precipices, until, at length,
mighty rocks rendered it quite impossible to push my horse further.
Leaving him in a hollow, I ascended a rocky point, which was barely
accessible with Yuranigh’s assistance, and, on reaching an elevated
summit, I saw still worse gullies before us, amongst which I could
perceive no feature affording any cue to their final outlet, nor any
characteristic of the structure of these labyrinths. I looked in vain for the
rugged summits I had seen peeping over the plains when first discovered,
and could not then be convinced (as I found long afterwards, on
completing my map), that they were then under my feet. The highest
parts seemed to extend south-westward. To cross such a region with our
carts, was quite impossible, and I could only return, and, however
reluctantly, follow down the valley in which we had encamped, until it
should afford access to a more open country. The banks of the watercourse
were steep, the bottom was sandy. The course was very tortuous,
alternately closing on rocky precipices, at each side of the valley. Thus
we were obliged to cross at every turning, and the steep banks rendered
each crossing a difficult operation, occasioning so much delay, that after
crossing ten times, evening obliged us to encamp, although our direct
distance from the last camp did not exceed five miles. We had, at each
crossing, cut the banks, filled up hollows with logs, etc. The general
direction, I ascertained to be N.E. Water was found providentially near
the spot, where the approach of night had obliged us to encamp; this
having been the first water we had seen during that day’s laborious
journey. Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°; at 4 p.m., 65°; at 9, 44°.
16TH JULY.—After some examination of the valley before us, I
considered it best, upon the whole, to travel in the bed of the river itself,
and thus avoid the frequent necessity for crossing with so much labour
and delay: the sandy bed was heavy for the wheels, and therefore
distressing to the animals, and one or two rocky masses obliged us to
work out of it, to get round them. The whole day was consumed in
proceeding thus about 5½ miles, and in an easterly direction. The
closing in of the valley lower down, seemed to shut us from further
progress even so, and I encamped, rather at a loss how to proceed. Just
then Mr. Stephenson came to inform me that he had seen, from a rocky
point on the left, an opening to the north-west, and level ground beyond
it. I therefore determined to accompany him next day, and to reconnoitre
the country in that direction. By digging in the bed of the creek, water
was again obtained by Corporal Graham. Some extremely fragrant
shrubs were discovered in these rocky recesses, especially one, which
filled the air with perfume to a great distance around. It seemed to be a
EUCALYPTUS without flowers or fruit, but with a powerful odour of balm,
and formed a bush five feet high, growing on sandstone rocks, having a
narrow leaf, and rather thorny stalk. The lower leaves were also rough.[*]
There was another bush, with leaves of the same shape, and glossy, but
having a perfume equally strong of the lime.[**] We regretted much, that
neither the seed, flower, nor fruit of these interesting shrubs could be
obtained at that season. In that valley, we saw also the DAUCUS
BRACHIATUS, an inconspicuous weed, and MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMII. The
soft leaved ACACIA PODALYRIOEFOLIA began to indicate its flowering season,
and we found a magnificent new crimson CALLISTEMON with its young
flowers and leaves wrapped in wool.[***] A new DODONOEA with wingless,
3-cornered, 3-celled fruit[****]; a new species of AOTUS, with narrow hoary
leaves[*****], and one of the forest trees was a splendid new GEIGERA, with
broad lance-shaped leaves.[******] The PLATYZOMA MICROPHYLLUM, a very
singular and little known fern, with narrow leaves and small orbicular
leaflets, was also there, with the ACACIA FALCATA, ACACIA EXCELSA, and a
shaggy-leaved variety of the AJUGA AUSTRALIS, the Australian bugle. The
BRUNONIA SERICEA, with its scabious-like heads of flowers, was common;
and the blue flowered HARDENBERGIA MONOPHYLLA was observed among
the grass. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at 9 p.m., 41°.
[* E. MELISSIODORA (Lindl. MS.); ramis ferrugineo-tomentosis scabris,
foliis utrinque papillis rubiginosis scabris ovato-oblongis obtusis supra
basim peltatis (floribus fructibusque ignotis).]
[** E. CITRIODORA (Hook. MS.); ramis angulatis fuscis minute tuberculatis,
foliis lato-lanceolatis petiolatis pinnulatis patenti-parallelo-venosis
viridibus (non glaucis). Sir Wm. Hooker has ventured to name this
EUCALYPTUS, though without flower or fruit, from the deliciously fragrant
lemon-like odour, which exists in the dry as well as the recent state of the
plant.]
[*** C. NERVOSUM (Lindl. MS.); ramis pallidis, foliis ovato-lanceolatis
quinque-nerviis mucronatis junioribus tomentosis, rachi calycibusque
lanatis.]
[**** D. TRIGONA (Lindl. MS.); ramulis subpilosis, foliis obovato-lanceolatis
parum pilosis integerrimis vel utrinque unidentatis, capsulis 3-
locularibus trigonis apteris.]
[***** A. MOLLIS (Benth. MS.); undique molliter tomentoso-villosus, ramis
crectis-rigidis, foliis sparsis anguste oblongis margine revolutis, calycis
vix bilabiati dentibus subaequalibus, ovario breviter stipitato
villosissimo.—Near A. PASSERINOÏDES Meisn., but differing in the
narrow and longer leaves, the calyx and ovary.]
[****** G. LATIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); foliis ovato-lanceolatis longe petiolatis subtus
obscure pubescentibus junioribus convolutis.—This appears to differ
from G. SALICIFOLIA in its long-stalked leaves.]
17TH JULY.—Our ride this morning soon led amongst different scenes.
By merely turning to the left we came upon a flat, in which another
water-course, similar to that we had been tracing (Balmy Creek), came
from the west, apparently out of that inaccessible country, across which I
had previously looked in vain for a passage. Several other gullies joined
this water-course, and seared the flat, which consisted of a deep clay
deposit, in almost every direction. After crossing these, we found a fine
broad opening between rocky precipices of most picturesque forms. This
gap I called Stephenson’s Pass; it led into a spacious glen surrounded on
all sides but the N.W. by mountains such as I have described, recalling to
my memory the most imaginative efforts of Mr. Martin’s saepia drawing,
and showing how far the painter’s fancy may anticipate nature. But, at the
gorge of this valley, there stood a sort of watch-tower, as if to guard the
entrance, so like a work of art, that even here, where men and kangaroos
were equally wild and artless, I was obliged to look very attentively, to
be quite convinced that the tower was the work of nature only. A turret
with a pointed roof, of a colour corresponding, first appeared through the
trees, as if it had been built on the summit of a round hill. On a nearer
approach the fine tints of the yellowish grey rocks, and the small pines
climbing the sides of a hill abruptly rising out of a forest of common
trees, presented still a very remarkable object. I named the valley “Glen
Turret,” and this feature “Tower Almond,” after an ancient castle, the
scene of many early associations, and now quite as uninhabited as this.
Passing through Glen Turret, we ascended the nearest summit on the
right, and from it beheld a prospect most cheering, after our toils amid
rocky ravines. On the westward, the rocky range seemed to terminate
abruptly towards the north, in an elevated point, which seemed to
command an extensive view over the unknown W. and N.W. Out of that
region two isolated mountain masses arose from an open country, and
were clothed with open forests to their summits. Further eastward,
masses of mountain in the extreme distance appeared covered, also, with
open forests, and presented finely rounded outlines, not likely to impede
our passage, in any direction. But towards the N.W. our view was not so
extensive; like the uncertain future, it still lay hid. The retrospect was
very extensive, including Mount Faraday in the extreme distance, and
which thus afforded me a valuable back angle for the correction of our
longitude from any errors of detailed survey. The lofty mass of
Buckland’s Table Land still overlooked all from the E., and I could here
again intersect its three principal points. The view back to the Pass was
very fine, for the rocks and wood were so blended on the bold summits,
as to present sublime studies for the artist. Far to the westward, an
interior line of cliffy range resembled a sea beach, presenting a crescent,
concave on that side, apparently the limit to the basin of the Nogoa, and
the dividing range between eastern and western waters. Our Pass seemed
to be the only outlet through the labyrinths behind us. Even the open
plains beyond them were visible in a yellow streak above the precipices.
Far beyond these plains, Mount Faraday was distinctly visible, on the
horizon of the landscape. Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at 9 p.m., 43°.
(LI.) 1234 feet above the sea.
18TH JULY.—By retracing our horses’ footsteps, the carts were soon
brought to the base of the same hill; deep gullies in the clay having
obliged us to pass close under it, and, indeed, to cross two of its elevated
extremities. We found the country beyond, in a N.W. direction, tolerably
open, and we encamped in a valley containing abundance of grass, and
near to our camp, water was found in a chain of ponds descending to the
eastward. A new SUAEDA, with short leaves, and the habit of a dwarf
Tamarisk, was found this day.[*] Latitude, 24° 6′ 47″ S. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 31°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 44°. (LII.)
[* S. TAMARISCINA (Lindl. MS.); fruticosa, ramosissima, foliis brevibus
cylindraceis imbricatis obtusissimis, axillis lanatis, floribus solitariis
sessilibus.]
19TH JULY.—With the intention to lose no opportunity of getting
further to the westward, I travelled on towards the base of the most
northern summit of the range in the west; but I was, at length, so shut up
by gullies and scrubby extremities near its base and all radiating from it,
and becoming very deep, that I took the party aside into a grassy ravine
near, where I directed the men to encamp, and hastened myself to the
summit. From it, the view westward was not so extensive as I expected.
Something like precipitous slopes to some channel or water-course,
apparently falling either S. W. or N. E., formed the most promising
feature; but, although my object was to have travelled in that direction,
the scrub seemed too thick to admit of a passage. Open forest land
appeared to the N. E., and there, the gently undulating features, although
much lower than the range on whose northern extremity I then stood,
seemed nevertheless to form a connection between it and some higher
ranges of open forest land, that appeared between me and the coast.
Through one wide opening in these, about east, I saw some broken hills,
at a very great distance, say seventy or eighty miles. The ridgy-connected
undulations formed the heads of some valleys sloping to the south-east,
whereof the waters would evidently join those of the Balmy Creek, while
others, rising on the north-west side, seemed to belong to a separate
basin, and to form a river falling to the north-west. This river was
indicated only by slopes meeting and interlacing in a valley. To the left
or westward of that supposed river channel, a mighty isolated mountain
mass shut out any view of the further course of the water of the valley
formed between it and these slopes; but, as the very lowest point of the
whole horizon, as indicated by the spirit-level of the theodolite, lay in
that direction, I determined to pursue that bearing, (10° W. of N.)
through the open forest country that intervened. I found that the
mountain commanding this view, was elevated 2247 feet above the sea,
according to the Syphon barometer, and in using this instrument, I could
not forget Colonel Mudge, who had kindly taught me its use; I therefore
named that summit Mount Mudge. In the gravel at the base of the hill,
were water-worn pebbles of trap and basalt. The rock of which the range
itself consisted, seemed to be a calcareous grit, with vegetable
impressions, apparently of GLOSSOPTERIS BROWNII. On descending to the
camp, I was informed that the cattle-watering party came suddenly upon
two natives, one of whom was a placid old man, the other middle-aged.
Corporal Graham did all he could to allay their fears, and convince them
that they were in no danger from such strangers. The elder at length
handed his little bundle to the younger and sat down, on seeing the
Corporal’s green bough; meanwhile the other walked on. When Graham
took the old man’s hand, and shook it, also patting him on the back, and
expressing a friendly disposition only, the poor helpless man of the
woods burst into tears, finding himself incapable of either words or deeds
suitable for a meeting so uncommon. They could not relieve him from
this state of alarm, so readily as by leaving him sitting, and moving on,
which they did. In the scrubs near this camp, Mr. Stephenson discovered
a very remarkable tree, apparently a casuarina, having long drooping
leaves, hanging like long hair from its upper boughs[*]; and in the stony
gullies a DODONAEA allied to D. SALSOLIFOLIA A. CUNN., from Van Diemen’s
Land, but the leaves slenderer, and three or four times longer[**]. Although
we were approaching the tropics, the weather was most cool and
pleasant. A delicious breeze played amongst the woods, and welcomed
us to the Torrid Zone. Until now, during every clear night the air had
been frosty. Latitude, 24° 6′ 50″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at
noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 47°.
[* See page 285.]
[* D. FILIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis sparsis ramis binis ternisve
lineariangustissimis elongatis subrugosis viscosis glabris utrinque
canaliculatis falcatis, fructibus trialatis.]
Chapter VI.
THE PARTY DESCENDS INTO A VALLEY FALLING NORTHWARD.—COMES UPON A CHAIN
OF PONDS.—THE HEAD OF THE RIVER BELYANDO.—FOLLOW IT DOWN, THROUGH MUCH
WATER SCARCE AT FIRST, IN ITS BED.—RANGE OF HILLS VISIBLE TO THE
EASTWARD.—CROSS THE TROPIC OF CAPRICORN.—MOUNT NARRIEN.—OPEN
PLAINS, WEST OF THE RIVER.—WATER MORE PLENTIFUL.—NEW PLANTS DISCOVERED.
—DRY CHANNEL OF A LARGE RIVER JOINS FROM S.W.—CROSS IT AND
PROCEED N.W.—FROM A HEIGHT OBTAIN A VIEW OF THE NORTHERN HORIZON.—MUCH
BRIGALOW SCRUB TRAVERSED.—REACH THE RIVER BY MOONLIGHT.—FOLLOW THE
CHANNEL MORE CLOSELY.—COME UPON LARGE REACHES OF WATER.—ANOTHER DRY
CHANNEL JOINS FROM W.S.W.—RIDE OF RECONNAISSANCE BEYOND IT, TO THE
NORTH-WEST.—CROSS FINE DOWNS.—LIMESTONE IN A THICK SCRUB.—ENTER THICK
BRIGALOW.—NIGHT WITHOUT WATER.—NEXT DAY MEET WITH THE RIVER.—ITS
COURSE BEING EASTWARD OF NORTH, DETERMINE TO RETURN.—NATIVES.—RETRACE
OUR TRACK TO THE PYRAMIDS, IN ORDER TO EXPLORE MORE TO THE
WESTWARD.—PREPARE TO DEPART, WITH TWO MEN AND YURANIGH.—WRITE DESPATCH
TO THE COLONIAL GOVERNMENT.
20TH JULY.—AFTER a little trouble with the gullies and brigalow
scrub, on first setting off, we came upon fine undulating open forest land,
and crossed many a gully and small water-course, all declining towards
the N.E. A very remarkable flat-topped hill appeared on our right,
resembling a wart, on one of these ridges; to the northward it was
precipitous, and seemed to consist of a very red rock. At length, after
crossing a ridge rather broader than the rest, with some brigalow scrub
upon it, and one or two specimens of that tree of solitary places, the
bottle tree, (DELABECHEA) we arrived at valleys and water-courses
descending to the southward of west, into a valley turning to the N.W.
One, at length, on our right, taking the direction in which I was
proceeding, viz., 10° W. of N., I followed it down, and thus entered a
broader valley leading N.W. Following this, on a wide flat of open forest,
we found at length a fine pond of water in it, and encamped beside it,
after a journey of about twelve miles. This valley seemed to continue to
the base of the lofty isolated mountain already mentioned, where a lower
valley crossed it, falling either to the northward or southward. This I left
in pleasing uncertainty until next morning, for I had remarked in that
locality, when I stood on Mount Mudge, a long line of grey mist running
north and south. I named the large mountain beyond that valley, Mount
Beaufort, in honour of my scientific friend at the Admiralty.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at noon, 66°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 62°.
(LIII.)
21ST JULY.—On following downwards the chain of ponds and broad
valley, we came upon the bed of a river, running to the N.N.E. We gladly
turned in that direction, and after it had received various tributaries from
the south, I found it took the course I had foreseen it must from Mount
Mudge. We saw water in the channel, and now again I believed that we
had at length discovered the head of a northwestern river. The soil
consisted of firm clay, and tributaries occasionally impeded our journey.
We got amongst brigalow scrub, and could find no water in looking for
the channel of the river, which we knew must still have been on our left.
Ponds in the scrub could not easily be identified as channels. I met with
no better success on turning to the left, and encamped amongst the
brigalow, where I found some grass. On riding westward I came upon
arid stony ground, on which many of the trees were dead, apparently
from drought, and so near the Tropic such a scene was by no means
encouraging. On turning my horse, he trod on an old heap of fresh watermussles,
at an old fireplace of the natives. This was a cheering proof that
water was not distant, which was further indicated by the flight of two
native companions, from the N.W. We had encamped on a flat of clay,
on which salsolaceous bushes, such as grew on similar plains on the
Bogan, had been growing, but were then all withered from drought. The
very grass seemed parched and useless. I never saw vegetation so
checked by drought. A longer continuance was likely to kill all the trees,
and convert the country into open downs. I determined, before I ventured
further, to send the cattle to a pond four miles back, next morning, and to
examine the country before us. Latitude, 23° 48′ 36″. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 57°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 48°.
22D JULY.—Having sent bullocks, horses, and sheep back to the water,
I went forward on the bearing of 30° W. of N. I soon fell in with the
united channel of the river, and found in it abundant ponds of water, the
direction of the course being as favourable as could be wished. From
these ponds I perceived a clear hill to the westward, which I hastened to
ascend, and from its summit I beheld some fine mountains to the
northward, although an easterly wind and sea air brought a haze over
them, which soon obscured some of my points. But I saw enough to
relieve me of all anxiety at that time about the want of water. A
promising valley from the mountains in the eastward, came due west,
and from it arose the smoke of many natives’ fires. Lines of other rivers,
from other ranges, were partly visible beyond, until the haze obscured
the outlines of mountains still more remote. The bright prospects of this
morning were a pleasing contrast to the temporary difficulties of
yesterday. Such is human life in travelling, and so it was in war at
Salamanca this day thirty-four years back. We encamped after a short
journey on the bank of the river. Latitude, 24° 46′ 46″. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 49°, at noon, 74°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 64°. (LIV.)
23D JULY.—The water in the adjacent pond was trodden into mud, so
that none remained for the horses and bullocks this morning.
Accordingly, on arriving at a pond about two miles on, we gave water to
all, that they might better bear the privation in the afternoon, should we
not fortunately find more. The river had a singular tendency to spread
into little channels within a belt of brigalow scrub. The little holes
formed by these channels were almost all dry, while the withered state of
the grass, and even of the forest trees, showed that rain had long been
due, and we therefore hoped some would fall before our return. When we
had travelled about twelve miles, keeping as close to the river line as the
scrub would permit, and crossing one or two fine rising grounds covered
with a very open forest, and consisting of large gravel, I found a pond,
and encamped near it, on a plain of almost naked clay. Amongst the
water-worn pebbles, of which the rising ground consisted, there were,
besides the ingredients of the Barwan gravel, many of trap and basalt.
Very old and dry grass only, could be had for the cattle. In the pond were
small fishes of a different form from any we had seen, having a large
forked tail, only two or three spikes in the dorsal fin, and a large jet-black
eye within a broad silvery ring. Mr. Stephenson found three crabs,
apparently identical with those about the inlets near Sydney. Latitude,
23° 37′ 51″. S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m. 80;
at 9, 55°. (LV.)
24TH JULY.—The morning was overcast by heavy clouds, and the air
was balmy and mild, reminding us of the spring season near Sydney.
Lightning had been seen to the northward during the night. In following
the little wayward channel downward, we met with much brigalow scrub,
and crossed two apparently important tributaries. In one of them was a
good large pond. We had some trouble with an ana-branch, resembling
the main channel, which we had twice to cross at a distance of two miles.
With the last tributaries, plains and an open forest country became
neighbours to the river; and where we encamped beside it, no scrub was
to be seen, and the water lay in a deep broad reach, nearly half a mile in
length, with ducks upon it. Towards evening, the unwonted sound of
thunder was heard in the west, reminding us, at this season of the year,
that we were near the Tropic. In the same direction, two distant storms
exhausted themselves, and most likely giving birth to young grass where
they fell. During the night, much thunder was heard, and also early next
morning, to the northward. Latitude, 23° 31′ S. Thermometer, at sunrise,
56°; at noon, 75°; at 4, p.m., 82°; at 9, 66°. (LVI.)
25TH JULY.—There was no hill or other geographical feature near our
route, whereby it might have been possible to mark there the limit of
Tropical Australia. We were the first to enter the interior beyond that
line. Three large kangaroos hopping across a small plain, were visible,
just as we entered these regions of the sun. The air was extremely
fragrant; the shrubs and grass being still moist with the thunder-shower.
The course of the river continued favourable, and the country seemed to
improve as we advanced, opening into plains skirted by scrubs of
rosewood, and drooping shrubs whose verdure was most refreshing to
the eye, after just having passed through dry and withered brigalow. At
eight miles a large lagoon appeared on our left, on which we saw many
ducks, and at nine miles we encamped where the grass seemed good,
finding that water was at hand now, in the river bed, wherever we
required it. Latitude, 23° 25′ 26″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 45°; at
noon, 77°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 53°. (LVII.)
26TH JULY.—The river appearing to pursue a W. N.W. course, I set out
in that direction, attracted there, also, by some open plain separated by
scrub from the river. We travelled on, a good many miles, when, instead
of the firm clay, we found, under foot soft, red sand, and trees of the
genus callitris growing in close thickets. I turned to the northward, and
travelled many miles to the eastward of north, without seeing any
indications of the river, whose general course had been previously
straight. Scrubs of almost every description lay in our way. Brigalow,
rosewood, casuarina, a thick light-green scrub of a close-growing bush,
new to us, and some scrubs of the tree as yet undescribed for want of
flowers or fruit, although well known to us as a graceful, and, indeed;
useful bush; of which, as an impediment, we could not much complain;
and useful, as forming excellent whip-shafts. This is the tree of unknown
fruit figured in my former journal. At length, when it was growing late, I
travelled eastward to make sure of the river, and, at length, regained its
banks, where we found in its bed plenty of water. The surface looked
bare, and the grass dry; but this day I discovered green shoots amongst it,
evidently the product of recent rain, and indicating the approach of
spring. On sandstone rocks, we found a plant which Sir William Hooker
terms “a singular Euphorbiaceous (?) plant[*],” destitute of flower and fruit.
Branches very thick, and they, as well as the long petioles and underside
of the leaves clothed with dense white wool. Leaves a span long, cordato
acuminate; the laminae all pointing downwards, glossy green and
glabrous above. Also a new DODONOEA, with very narrow, linear,
pinnated leaves. The only hills visible, from a tree ascended by
Yuranigh, during this day’s journey were those to the eastward, already
seen. None appeared above the horizon in any other direction.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 79°; at 4 p.m., 89°; at 9, 75°.
(LVIII,)
[* D. TENUIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); glaberrima, viscosa, ramulis angulatis, foliis
impari pinnatis: foliolis 3-5-jugis linearibus obtusis subalternis.]
27TH JULY.—The same characteristic, still distinguished our river; a
variety of channels, so concatenated amongst brigalow scrub, much
whereof lay dead, that it was scarcely possible to ascertain whether there
was any main channel. Hitherto, I had not detected one; but this was of
little consequence to us, so long as these ponds contained abundance of
water. This we saw in many parts of our route this day; for I kept as close
as possible to the river’s course, to avoid such detours as that of
yesterday, and being very anxious about the river’s general direction, I
was glad to find it turn somewhat westward of north. After travelling
thus about nine miles, I perceived a blue pic nearly due north, which I
named Mount Narrien; and Yuranigh saw from a tree, that there was a
range in the same direction, but very distant. This seemed likely not only
to send down some additional waters to our river, but also to turn it
westward. Entering, soon after, upon a plain of good grass, I looked for
water; and, on finding some, encamped after a journey of about eleven
miles. Latitude, 23° 9’S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at noon, 83°; at 4
p.m., 90°; at 9, 53°. (LIX.)
28TH JULY.—The brigalow scrub, still a concomitant of our river, so
hemmed in the patch of plain, that I was obliged to move out of it, in a
southerly direction. Even thus, however, the scrub was not to be avoided,
and we were obliged to force a way through, where the still more
formidable impediment of much fallen timber, rendered it almost
impossible that our vehicles could pass. This dead wood seemed peculiar
to that sort of brigalow, and appeared to remain unburnt, chiefly from the
usually naked surface of the ground where brigalow grows. I left the
party, when brought almost to a stand, and sought for a more open part,
by riding northward. This rather singular river seemed to have spread
over a considerable extent of surface, and much of the brigalow, however
fond of water, appeared to have died of too much, on spots which had
been flooded. I traversed a plain, beyond which I found, what seemed
there, the main chain of ponds or channel. There was a fine reach of
water, and beside it, were the still smoking fires, water-vessels, etc., of a
tribe of natives, who had disappeared. On the plain, the remains of
decayed stumps of brigalow showed that there also, this tree had once
grown, and that the openings were caused only by such trees perishing;
as if, according to seasons, the half-dead scrub might either give place to
open downs, or, that the plains might, by long succession of regular
seasons, become again covered with scrub. I returned to the party halted
in the scrub, and conducted it through an opening I had found, to the
plain, and across it, in a N.W. direction; where, after passing through
some open forest, we had again to contend with brigalow. One of the
many dry channels assisted us much in seeking openings, as the bottom
then consisted of smooth, firm, clay. A pond, however, obliged us to quit
it, and seek our way through the wood. We arrived next at slightly
undulating ground, and finally entered an open forest, where I saw the
LORANTHUS SUBFALCATUS of Sir William Hooker. I made Yuranigh climb a
tree, from whence he again saw the pic seen yesterday, (the bearing of
which I ascertained), and also a gap appeared in the range beside it,
through which, as he thought, a river was likely to come down. The
extreme westerly escarp of these hills bore 17° E. of N., so that nothing
was likely to impede the continued course of our friendly river in the
direction we wished. The scrub we met with on the rising ground,
consisted of the verdant bushes in rosewood scrubs, and we next found
brigalow all dead, with a rich crop of grass growing amongst the dead
stems. I had never seen grass, amongst brigalow, when in a healthy state.
On turning northward, we next entered upon an open plain covered with
good grass mixed with verdant polygonum. I selected a corner of this
plain, nearest to the river, for my camp; and, on approaching its bed,
found water as usual, near some old huts of the natives. Latitude, 23° 5′
20″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 88°; at 9,
58°. (XL.)
29TH JULY.—The scrub between our camp and the river, admitted of
easy access from it to open forest ground, over which we travelled in a
N.W. direction for several miles. Belts of scrub, consisting of rosewood
and other acacias intervened, and, in some parts, TRIODIA PUNGENS grew
in the place of grass. But, upon the whole, the country was fine, open,
park-like, and with much anthistiria, and other grasses in which a
greenness was observed quite novel to us, and unexpected in these
tropical regions. Amongst the shrubs, we recognised the CASSIA
HETEROLOBA, a small yellow-flowered shrub; also a glutinous Baccharislike
plant, and a form of Eremophila Mitchellii, intermediate between the
two other varieties. This was a shrub ten feet high. Another new species
of the genus GEIJERA formed a tree twenty feet high, with long slender
weeping branches. It was otherwise much like the GEIJERA PARVIFLORA,
except that its flowers were larger.[*] A dwarf shrub belonging to the genus
STENOCHILUS, but new, was found here[**]; and we met also with a large
spreading tree, from which we could bring away nothing that would
enable botanists to describe it, except as to the texture and nervation of
the leaves, which, Sir William Hooker observes, resemble CAPPARIDEOE;
but the fruit appeared to be sessile, and was too young and too imperfect
to lead to any satisfactory conclusion. The very crows cawed differently
from those near Sydney, or, (as Yuranigh observed) “talked another
language.” This river was not the least unique of our recent discoveries.
It still consisted of a great breadth of concatenated hollows without any
one continuous channel, and this character seemed to be preserved by
various trees growing in the banks. When their large roots became
denuded by the floods, or were washed out, or partially gave way, so that
the tree fell over the stream, they presented impediments, first to the
floating-wreck, and, next, to the water itself: when that collection of
floating wreck became consolidated with muddy deposit, new banks so
formed forced the river into new currents, working out new courses; and
this appeared to give the peculiar character so uniformly observed. It
seems extremely favourable for the retention of water in a country where
it may be scarce; for the many ponds so formed and shaded from the sun,
preserve it much better and longer, than if one continuous unobstructed
channel alone, received and carried off, the water of the surface. I found
the hollows we saw this day drier than usual; but we at length succeeded
in discovering three good ponds. The foliage of the trees, with dry and
naked water-worn roots, presented all the hues of an English autumn,
although none of these were deciduous. This effect I was disposed to
attribute to unseasonable drought, or past heat. The weather we had was
delightful; for, although the thermometer in the shade rose sometimes to
90° about 4 p.m., the heat of the Bogan was still fresh in our
recollection; and the frosts which, not above three weeks before, had
disturbed our sleep, made this degree of heat as welcome as the flowers
in May. Latitude, 22° 55′ 35″ S. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon,
80°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 51°. (LXI.)
[* G. PENDULA (Lindl. MS.); ramis gracilibus pendulis, foliis linearibus in
petiolum sensim angustatis 5 uncias longis cum ramo parallelis.]
[** S. SALICINUS (Benth. MS.); foliis lanceolato-linearibus integerrimis
apice subuncinato ramulisque canescentibus, calycis foliolis brevibus
lanceolatis, corollae puberulae inferne attenuatae laciniis obtusis infimâ
retusâ vix caeteris magis solutâ.—Very near S. PUBIFLORUS, but much
whiter, the flowers smaller with the lobes much more equal, the lower
one much broader.]
30TH JULY.—The scrub of the river being likely to surround us, I
endeavoured to pass it, and cross the river, but on examination I found
the brigalow belt beyond, so serious an obstruction, that I adhered to the
left bank still, and proceeded N. N. W. The woods opened into extensive
plains covered with wild Indigo, as high as a horse’s head, and that was
skirted by a plain covered with rich grass. Beyond these, we entered an
open forest where the anthistiria grew luxuriantly. I saw, from the skirts
of the plain, the mass of mountains partly seen in the east for several
days past, and I was able to intersect various points. We seemed to be
descending to a very low country. A fine large lagoon, covered with
ducks, appeared on our right. The whole country was improved both as
to grass and trees. The MYOPORUM DULCE, a shrub about five feet high,
was perhaps a distinct species intermediate between M. DULCE and M.
DESERTI. It had the habit of the latter, but the leaves nearly of M. DULCE. A
hollow at length indicated the river bed near us. It contained abundance
of transparent water, a continuous channel, rocky bed, and, instead of
brigalow, there grew on its banks a thick crop of strong grass, and much
verdure. A tributary from the west cost us some trouble to cross, and
soon after crossing it, I encamped. The course this day had run well to
the westward. We had crossed the 147° of E. longitude, and I was very
anxious to learn more of the further course of this river. I crossed it, and
hastened to some rising ground, whence I perceived a flat-topped cliffy
range extending from S. W. to the N. of west. It was low; the middle
part, appearing highest, was probably the nearest to our camp. It was
likely to turn our river too far to the northward for our purpose. Latitude,
22° 51′ 55″. Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at
9, 45°. (LXII.)
31ST JULY.—We travelled over a rather different sort of country from
that recently seen upon the river. It was still on our right, and ran in a
deep, well-marked channel. I pursued a N.W. course, although the range
I had seen yesterday lay across it. I thus came upon the bed of a large
river from the south, very near where our little river joined it. This new
river was there fully 100 yards broad, with a sandy bed. I hastened across
it, and proceeded still N.W. In the bed, just above the junction of the two
rivers, I found a large podded pea, the seed both in green pods and dry
pods, was very sweet and edible. The pods were larger than those of
Turkey beans, and contained each ten or eleven peas (Dr. L.?) Beyond
the last found river, we travelled over open forest land, occasionally
passing patches of rosewood scrub on the left. When we might again see
water was rather a desperate thought, for we had witnessed our abundant
little river, wholly absorbed in a deep mass of dry sand, for such was the
bed of the larger. At length we came upon a very spacious dry lagoon.
Following this, as it appeared to be the channel of large floods from the
river, we arrived at a part containing water, and, still continuing along
the hard dry bank, another and another pond appeared, and I finally
encamped near the last, where I saw some good grass. The course and
character of the river below the junction last mentioned, remained to be
ascertained. Parts of the surface in the scrub, which, before the rain, had
been quite bare, now presented a crop of lichen, which bore some
resemblance to the orchilla. It might have been gathered in any quantity.
The ant-hills in this region, presented a different form from any to be
seen in the south, consisting of slender cones of hard clay about the size
and shape of sugar-loaves on an average, many being larger, or as much
as 3½ feet high, others smaller. In some places they were so numerous,
as to be rather inconvenient to ride amongst, especially where the grass
was long. Latitude of this camp, 22° 44′ 45″. Thermometer, at sunrise,
52°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 43°. (LXIII.)
1ST AUGUST.—Supposing that this line of lagoons led to the river, I
followed that direction westward, until it disappeared where we came
upon the water brigalow. Then, turning northward, I travelled many
miles in that direction, through rosewood scrubs, and over ground where
the very coarse hard grass grew on red sand. The callitris and casuarina
appeared amongst the trees. On a spot rather clear of wood, Yuranigh
went to the top of a callitris tree, and saw a lofty mountain somewhat to
the eastward of north, and he thought he could trace the trees marking the
course of the river to the westward of it. Further westward, the low range
already mentioned, was still visible, and he saw that the country between
the two ranges was very “deep,” as he termed it, meaning very low.
Upon the whole, there was reason to believe that the river pursued a
course, somewhat to the westward of north. I turned in that direction, and
forced our way through scrub and brush, until, after cutting through
much fallen brigalow, I entered upon good grassy land, and saw the large
Yarra trees before me. These grew by the river, which here looked very
important, having a bed wider than that of the Barwan, with sloping
grassy banks at least sixty feet high, and Yarra trees growing from the
lower margin. Continuing along its banks, we soon found various large
ponds of water, and in the short course of it we had to trace before we
encamped, the direction was S. W. Many curious plants and trees now
appeared about the banks. A rough-leaved fig tree with well-formed
woolly, globular fruit; an ALTERANTHERA, with very large balls of satiny
white flowers, resembling A. NODIFLORA; the ACACIA FARNESIANA, a prickly
tree; the narrow-leaved smooth variety of ACACIA HOLOSERICEA; and in the
bed of the river, the ACACIA SIMSII (Cunn.) A broad-leaved form of
LORANTHUS NUTANS was parasitical on trees, and the EURYBIA SUBSPICATA of
Sir W. Hooker also grew on the upper bank. A very extraordinary
CAPPARIS was here observed in fruit. Its leaves were as much as eight
inches long, although not more than three quarters of an inch wide, and
their hard leathery texture gave them the appearance of straps. It did not
afterwards occur.[*] The water in the river was excellent. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 23°; at noon, 65°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 44°. Latitude, 22° 38′ 40″.
(LXIV.)
[* C. UMBONATA (Lindl. MSS.); inermis, glaberrima, foliis coriaceis
longissimis loratis obtusis in petiolum sensim angustatis, pedunculis
solitariis (2 poll.) stipite brevioribus, fructu ovoideo umbonato.]
2D AUGUST.—We had approached this fine river over a park-like plain,
but lower down we found the banks lined with scrub. I pursued a N.W.
course in passing through it, and emerged on plains and open forests
alternating with scrubs. The scrubs were remarkable, as always involving
dry hollows where water had lodged. The clay was then hard; but, in all
these hollows, the deep impressions of naked feet of men, women, and
children, remained since the bottom had consisted of mud. These
numerous receptacles for water, when it is sent, attest the wisdom with
which even the clods of the valley have been disposed for the benefit of
the animal world. The day’s journey was long, and chiefly through that
sort of scrub. I was disappointed in my hope of falling in with the river,
by travelling N.W. Yuranigh descried from a tree, the continuation, far to
the westward, of the low range that had been already seen from a former
camp. Its direction had then appeared to be nearly N. and S. The turn the
river had taken westward was, therefore, favourable to my hopes, that it
would continue in that direction. Its general course was found to be
nearly northward. On the other hand, the high ranges in the E. seemed to
terminate abruptly towards the N., so that a very low country appeared to
be to the northward of our position then, stretching from 40° N. of W. to
40° E. of N., a full quarter circle which the course of the river almost
bisected. After travelling twelve miles without seeing any thing of the
river, I reluctantly turned N.E., and then E., and in the last-mentioned
direction, I hit the river where it contained a fine reach of water. In the
dry part of the bed, grew various curious plants in flower, all quite new
to me; a species closely allied to the ACACIA DELIBERATA (Cunn.), and a
very fine silky leaved TRICHODESMA.[*] A new VELLEYA was also found near
this camp.[**] In the scrubs back from the river, the STENOCHILUS CURVIPES
was loaded with its long tubular flowers. A small species of Acacia was
perhaps a variety of A. LEUCADENDRON Cunn.; and we found also a curious
scrubby species of JACKSONIA.[***] Latitude, 22° 30′ 10″ S. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 29°; at noon, 61°; at 4 p.m., 69°; at 9, 40°. (LXV.)
[* T. SERICEUM (Lindl. MSS.); caule erecto sericeo setis nullis, foliis
oppositis lineari-lanceolatis basi angustatis sericeopilosis, pedicellis
pilosis lateralibus longis, calycis lobis lanceolatis pubescentibus basi
pilosis, nucis dorso polito maculato.—Near T. ZEYLANICUM, but quite
distinct.]
[** V. MACROCALYX (De Vriese MSS.); foliis omnibus radicalibus, oblongospathulatis
acutis, integris, membranaceis, remote, minute et obsolete
dentatis, uninerviis, glabris, subdecurrentibus, glabris; scapis radicalibus
elongatis, folia vix exaequantibus; bracteis dichotomiarum vel
trichotomiarum binis ternisve lanceolatis acutis vel lineari-lanceolatis,
floribus 2-3nis; calycibus (involucris) ternis, magnis, membranaceis,
ovatis, ellipticisque, acuminatis, basi cordatis, petiolatisque; antherae
liberae, stigmatis indusium maximum ciliatum, labiis compressis,
cochleariforme.—Folia sunt 6-12 cent. longa, 3 cent. lata, crassinervia;
scapi adscendentes, inferne tenuiores, sursum parum elongati.]
[*** J. RAMOSISSIMA (Benth. MSS.) inermis, ramis angulatis ramosissimis
glabriusculis, floribus subsessilibus, calycis colorati profunde divisi
laciniis duabus supremis diù vel omnino cohaerentibus, legumine
subsessili ovato-acuto ventricoso.]
3D AUGUST.—Our carts had been so much jolted about and shaken, in
crossing the dead timber yesterday, that I resolved to keep along the river
bank this day, if the ground and woods permitted. To a certain distance
from the banks, there was less fallen timber, as the natives had been
accustomed there to make their fires, and roast the mussles of the river,
and other food. The river was found to spread into separate channels, in
which I did not readily recognise it, until I found them again united in a
splendid reach of water under steep banks. The general course was by no
means promising, being somewhat to the E. of N.; it was much to be
apprehended that this river, too, would run to the E. coast, and become
another instance of the utter want of any knowledge of the interior
country, that still may prevail, long after complete surveys have been
made of the lines of coast. Again we came upon wide fields of
polygonum, and tracks of open forest with large lagoons. Then scrubs of
brigalow obliged us to travel in the river bed, as the only open part where
we could pass. That surface consisted of clay iron-stone, denuded by
torrents, and the “DISJECTA MEMBRA,” of a river. Ponds, water-worn banks,
and timber, alive and dead, were there intermixed. Emerging from these
obstructions, as from a feverish dream, we entered upon park-like
scenery and good grass. The latter had been a desideratum during the last
two days. We next came upon a river containing plenty of water, and
coming from the N.W. I expected this would terminate our journey along
the other, and I encamped on discovering it, after a journey of ten miles.
The Australian rivers have all distinguishing characteristics, which they
seem to possess from their sources to their termination. That we had just
quitted, had a great affection, like its upper tributary, for brigalow scrubs,
and spreading into ana-branches. This last discovered river seemed quite
the reverse of all this. Its channel was very uniform; the banks being
covered with open forests and good grass. The bed was sandy, but
contained water in abundance, so that I hoped it would lead us to higher
regions, by following it upwards, to where other waters might fall in the
direction of the Gulf. This river contained the Harlequin fish of the
Maranin great abundance. Yet we had found none of these in the river to
which this was a tributary, but, on the contrary, two other sorts. There
was much novelty in the trees and plants. One tree in particular, growing
in the bed of the river, had the thin white shining bark of the tea-tree
(mimosa), and drooping leaves shaped like those of the eucalyptus; a
HIBISCUS allied to, if not the same, with II. LINDLEYI, but not in flower; a
CASSIA, perhaps C. CORONILLOIDES in ripe fruit, or at least closely allied to
it, occupied the dry sandy ground with MONENTELES REDOLENS, a silveryheaded
weed; and some Cinchonad allied to Coffea, with young fruit, the
size of small olives. Latitude, 22° 23′ 10″. Thermometer, at sunrise, 21°;
at noon, 59°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 37°; with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVI.)
4TH AUGUST.—We had still so much westing to make, in order to hit
the head of the Gulf, that I was disposed to follow up the new river in
any direction that did not take us much to the S. The river, however, was
soon found to come from the S.W. and S., so that I was obliged to cross
it. I then travelled W. through open forest three miles, which brought us
to undulating ground. I then turned to the W.N.W., and proceeded over
ground equally open and favourable for the passage of our carts. At
length, a hard ferruginous conglomerate rock, projected from the surface,
and clumps of thick brigalow grew on some of the summits. On one
piece of rising ground, I found a mass of rocks, a few feet higher than the
rest, and from it I perceived a continuation of the slightly elevated flattopped
range, to the southward and westward. A somewhat higher but
similar sort of range appeared in the east, beyond a very broad and level
woody country, through which it was probable that our first-found river
still pursued a northerly course. Beyond that flat, and further to the
eastward, the same hills already seen were still visible, and others
northward of them, just like them. There was a high summit beyond all
these bearing about E. I could not discover any satisfactory line to follow
in the country thus partially visible, and as the sun was near the horizon,
I only continued, to go forward to a valley wherein I hoped to have found
water, but was disappointed, the soil being too sandy and absorbent.
There we nevertheless encamped, in Lat. 22° 19′ 45″ S. On this day’s
journey, I saw two of the rose-coloured paroqueets of the Barwan, none
of these birds having been seen by any of the party since we crossed the
Culgoa. A fragrant stenochilus, with leaves smelling exactly like mint,
was found this day, and a splendid banksia in flower, also a new
MELALEUCA.[*] Thermometer, at sunrise, 23°; at noon, 58°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at
9, 29°; with wet bulb, 18°.
[* M. TAMARISCINA (Hook. MSS.); ramosissima ramulis gracillimis copiose
excavatis e foliis delapsis, foliis rameis remotis parvis ovatis acuminatis
appressis, ramulinis minutissimis squamaeformibus convexis obtusis
imbricatis immersis, capsulis circa ramos spicatis parvis globosis.—A
very singular MELALEUCA, somewhat allied to M. HUGELII, Endl.: but
extremely different in the very minute squamiform leaves of the copious
slender branchlets, from which they fall and leave the bleached slender
branchlets full of little pits or cavities in which the leaves had been, as it
were, sunk.]
5TH AUGUST.—The last-found river not having answered my
expectations, we had come quite far enough from the one we had
previously followed, which still might have turned N.W., where we
wished it to go; although I confess the prospect was by no means
promising. The doubt was still to be removed, and, after a night passed
without water, the earliest dawn saw us again going forward, in a
direction a little to the eastward of N. It was only after pursuing that line
for seventeen miles, that we again found the river, unchanged in
character, and still running northerly. This was a trying day for our
animals, as they could not be watered until long after it was dark; a
brigalow scrub, full of much fallen timber, having retarded and impeded
the carts so that they could not be got to the water sooner. Nor had this
been possible, even then, but for the fortunate circumstance of our
having the light of a nearly full moon. I had preceded the party by some
miles, accompanied by Yuranigh, the rest following my horse’s tracks,
and I had thus passed through the four miles of scrub, and reached the
river early in the day. On returning, we found the party in the midst of
this scrub, and succeeded in guiding it, even by moonlight, to the pond at
which we had watered our horses during the day. Many dry hollows of
indurated mud appeared, as usual, in the brigalow we had passed
through; and we endeavoured to lead the carts, as much as possible,
through these hollows, in order to avoid the dead logs, many of which we
were obliged to cut, before the carts could pass. Many deep impressions
of natives’ feet appeared in these clay hollows; also the tracks of emus.
Yuranigh showed me several tracks where a native had been following a
kangeroo’s track; and he told me of a certain method adopted by the
natives of killing the kangeroo during wet weather,—which is, to
pursue the track, following it up day after day, until they overtake the
animal, which, on being so incessantly followed, becomes at length so
defenceless, that one native can despatch it with a tomahawk. According
to the barometer, it appeared that this river was not now much higher
above the level of the sea, than the Bogan or the Balonne. Still it spread
into many channels and isolated ponds; the latter being sometimes in
good grassy land, apart from the brigalow. Nothing could be more sterile
than the surface where the brigalow grew; but the first indication of the
river was an open space covered with luxuriant grass, and we had to ride
two miles along this, before Yuranigh and I could find the river, having
been guided to it chiefly by some smoke of the natives. At the first place
we approached, we found two ponds of excellent water, under the
shining boughs of lofty Yarra trees. Latitude, 22° 10′ 15″ S.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 61°; at 9, 36°;
—with wet bulb, 28°. (LXVII.)
6TH AUGUST.—I gave the jaded cattle a day’s rest, and the men thus had
an opportunity to screw up and repair their carts.
7TH AUGUST.—The brigalow scrub obliged me this day to travel along
the river banks, upon which I found it pleasant to go, as they proved open
and grassy. Large lagoons and reaches of water appeared in the scattered
channels. At length, a deep broad reach, brim full of pure water, glittered
before us. Clouds of large ducks arose from it, and larger water-fowl
shrieked over our heads. A deep receding opening appeared to the northeast,
as if our river had been either breaking off in that direction, or met
with some important tributary from that side. I continued to travel northwest,
passing through some fine open forests. The character of the
country seemed changed. The grass was of a different kind, and a
refreshing breeze from the north-east seemed to “smell of water,” as
Yuranigh expressed it. The dense line of Yarra trees appeared still to be
continuous on the right, and the more I travelled westward, the more I
was convinced that we still had the river at hand. We did at length
approach its banks after a journey of ten miles, when we found this was a
river FROM the west appearing fully as deep and important as the one we
had been following, and containing ponds of water. This new tributary
from the west, left no room to hope that the channel we had been
pursuing would turn westward—on the contrary, it became but too
probable that below the junction of this river, the channel would turn
towards the N. E. It could not well be doubted that this went to the
eastern coast; but, to remove all doubt, as Yuranigh was of a different
opinion, I sent Corporal Graham with him up the newly-found river, to
ascertain whether it did not come from the north-west, in which case we
could not expect that the other it joined would go in that direction. Their
report on returning, only rendered it necessary that I should take a ride
forward next morning. They said this river came from the S. W., and at
two miles higher, had a very narrow channel. Lower down, it was found
to join the main channel, which, below the junction, still continued
northward. There, we found a beautiful new Grevillea.[*] The STENOCHILUS
PUBIFLORUS formed a willow-leaved shrub about twelve feet high, and in
the sandy bed of the river was an EUPHORBIA very near E. HYPERICIFOLIA,
but with narrower leaves, and the ovary pubescent not glabrous. The
DODONOEA VESTITA, with its hairy foliage and large shaggy fruits, clothed
the sandstone surface back from the river.[**] Latitude, 22° 2′ 15″ S.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 30°; at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 55°;
—with wet bulb 49°. (LXVIII).
[* G. MITCHELLI (Hook. MSS.); appresso-subsericesa, foliis pinnatifidis
bipinnatifidisque, laciniis angustissime linearibus elongatis marginibus
arcte reflexis subtus concoloribus, racemis elongatis secundis densifloris,
floribus subverticillatis, perianthiis pedicellisque tomentosis, folliculis
oblique ovatis tomentosis sessilibus, stylis glabris.—Allied to G.
CHRYSODENDRON, Br., but the segments of the leaves are narrower, not
golden-coloured beneath: the flowers are entirely secund: a splendid
species.]
[** D. VESTITA (Hook. MSS.); tota densissimè pilosa, foliis pinnatis pinnis
oppositis 4—5-jugis cuneatis apice lunulato-emarginatis vel incisis,
rachi articulatâ articulis obovatis, capsulis profundis tetrapteris
villosissimis.]
8TH AUGUST.—With two men and Yuranigh, I proceeded first,
northward by compass, for some miles, when I emerged from scrub,
upon fine open downs covered with a crop of excellent grass. The soil
was soft and rich, the grass PANICUM LOEVINODE. Small clumps of Acacias
were strewed over these downs, which were very extensive, and from
them I saw several rather high hills to the eastward, terminating abruptly
over a low country to the northward. Supposing that the main channel
would there turn round to the eastward, I proceeded north-west to
examine the country. I soon entered a thick scrub of rosewood and other
Acacias. I remarked the CALLISTEMON NERVOSUM, previously seen (July)
with rich crimson flowers, forming a large tree, in the dry open forest,
with perfectly green spikes; also, on the branches of Eucalypti, a
beautiful orange coloured LORANTH. The soil was rich, yielding, and rather
bare of vegetation. Nodules of variegated limestone, or marble, appeared
on the surface, showing that the improvement in the soil was owing to a
change in the rocks under it. Again emerging on open plains, the country
seemed to fall northward, which induced me to ride again in that
direction, thinking we might meet with some river either coming from
the N. W. or leading there. The open plains terminated upon a hollow full
of trees, growing, as was very evident, on a lower surface. The hollows
resembled those of brigalow scrub, and we soon found this tree in full
possession of them. Dry channels, leading in various directions between
N. W. and E. engaged my attention throughout the afternoon: indeed,
they seemed interminable. At length, we detected some continuity in the
hollows, leading towards the N.N.E. Yarra trees at length appeared in it,
abundance of grass on the banks, and deep dry ponds. Two crows
hovering over one, raised our hopes that it contained water, as we also
perceived a line of green vegetation over the margin. It was deep and full
of water. Here, about 4 p.m., we were thus enabled to water our horses,
and continue our ride independently of finding more water that evening.
We next perceived an open forest hill on our right; but, on examining the
country from it, we saw no immediate indications of the river. On reentering
the brigalow scrub, the continuity of ponds was very indistinct,
and I at length lost it, as it seemed, on its turning off to the eastward, a
direction in which I was unwilling to follow it at that time. I threaded the
mazes of another chain of hollows, which turned in various directions
between N. W. and 20° N. of E., the latter being the general course.
During this unsatisfactory sort of exploration, night overtook us, where
the dry and naked clay presented neither grass nor water. Our horses had
come thirty miles, and it was only after considerable search, in the dark,
that I found a grassy spot for our horses, and where we tied them up, and
lay down to pass the night.
9TH AUGUST.—We saddled them as soon as day broke, and proceeded
again into the scrub; but the hollows took no longer any continuous
channel, and I again travelled N. W., in which direction I entered upon a
plain. Thence I perceived a low flat, and a line of trees beyond it, very
much resembling those of a river, and towards this I hastened, and found
the river we had followed so far, unchanged in character. The scattered
ponds, and nearly northerly course, were legible proofs of its identity.
We watered our horses and took some breakfast, after which, while
engaged laying down our route, one of the men observed some natives
looking at us from a point of the opposite bank. I held up a green bough
to one who stood forward in a rather menacing attitude, and who
instantly replied to my signal of peace by holding up his bommareng. It
was a brief but intelligible interview; no words could have been better
understood on both sides; and I had fortunately determined, before we
saw these natives, to return by tracing the river upwards. Our horses had
been turned loose, the better to allow them to make the most of their time
while we breakfasted. Graham got them together while I was
telegraphing with the natives, some of whom I perceived filling some
vessel with water, with which they retired into the woods. We saddled,
and advanced to examine their track and the spot they had quitted, also
that they might afterwards see our horses’ tracks there, lest our green
bough and subsequent return might have encouraged them to follow us.
Yuranigh was burning the mutton bones we had picked; but I directed
him to throw them about, that the natives might see that we neither eat
their kangaroos nor emus. I found the course of the river very straight,
but rather more than it had been, to the eastward of north. In some parts
of the channel, lay deep reaches of water, fully a mile long; at other
places, shallow hollows quite dry, seemed to be the only channel for the
river’s currents. We avoided brigalow scrubs, and passed the night on a
grassy part of the bank, about ten miles back from the farthest point we
had reached that morning.
10TH AUGUST.—Early in the morning a moist breeze blew from the
north, with low scud not very high above the trees. Higher clouds drove
as rapidly from the westward. The extremely moist air was a great
novelty to us there. About 9 a.m., the sky was wholly overcast; but it
finally cleared up, and the day was cool. We reached the camp about 3
p.m., having hit the river on which it was situated, two miles lower.
There I found, to my surprise, that its channel was very deep and full of
water, being broader than that of the main river. I was, therefore, inclined
to explore its sources by proceeding upwards next day, as the direction of
the northerly stream, did not promise much. The camp had just been
visited by seventeen natives, apparently bent on hostile purposes, all very
strong, several of them upwards of six feet high. Each of them carried
three or four missile clubs. They were headed by an old man, and a
gigantic sort of bully, who would not keep his hands off our carts. They
said, by signs, that the whole country belonged to the old man. They
pointed in the direction in which I had gone, and to where Mr.
Stephenson happened to be at the time, down in the river bed; and then
beckoned to the party that they also should follow or go where I had
gone, or leave that place. They were received very firmly, but civilly and
patiently, by the men, and were requested to sit down at a distance, my
man Brown, being very desirous that I should return before they
departed; thinking the old man might have given me some information
about the river, which he called “Belyando.” But a noisy altercation
seemed to arise between the old chief and the tallest man, about the
clubs, during which the latter again came forward, and beckoned to
others behind, who came close up also. Each carried a club under each
arm, and another in each hand, and from the gestures made to this
advanced party, by the rest of the tribe of young men at a distance, it
appeared that this was intended to be a hostile movement. Brown
accordingly drew out the men in line before the tents, with their arms in
their hands, and forbade the natives to approach the tents. “Nothing
damps the ardour of troops so much,” says General Lloyd, “as an
unexpected obstacle at the moment of attack,” and these strong men
stood still and looked foolish, when they saw the five men in line, with
incomprehensible weapons in their hands. Just then, our three dogs ran at
them, and no charge of cavalry ever succeeded better. They all took to
their heels, greatly laughed at, even by the rest of their tribe; and the only
casualty befell the shepherd’s dog, which biting at the legs of a native
running away, he turned round, and hit the dog so cleverly with his
missile on the rump, that it was dangerously ill for months after; the
native having again, with great dexterity, picked up his club. The whole
of them then disappeared, shouting through the woods to their gins. It
was remarkable that on seeing the horses, they exclaimed “Yerraman,”
the colonial natives’ name for a horse, and that of these animals they
were not at all afraid, whereas they seemed in much dread of the
bullocks. That these natives were fully determined to attack the white
strangers, seems to admit of no doubt, and the result is but another of the
many instances that might be adduced, that an open fight, without
treachery, would be contrary to their habits and disposition. That they did
not, on any occasion, way-lay me or the doctor, when detached from the
body of the party, may perhaps, with equal truth, be set down as a
favourable trait in the character of the aborigines; for whenever they
visited my camp, it was during my absence, when they knew I was
absent, and of course must have known where I was to be found. The old
man had very intelligibly pointed out to Brown the direction in which
this river came, I. E. from the S. W., and I therefore abandoned the
intention of exploring it upwards, and determined to examine how it
joined, and what the character of the river might be, about and below that
junction, in hopes I might still obtain an interview with the natives, and
learn something of the country to the north-west. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 59°; at noon, 82°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb,
59°.
11TH AUGUST.—Crossing this river at a favourable spot near our camp,
we travelled on, eleven miles, and encamped early, on a fine reach of the
main river. Here I had leisure to lay down my late ride on paper, and to
connect it with the map; whereupon I concluded, with much regret, that
this river must be either a tributary to, or identical with, that which M.
Leichardt saw joining the Suttor in latitude 21° 6′ S., and which he
supposed to come from the west. It had supplied me with water across
three degrees of latitude, and had gradually altered its course from N.W.
to about 30° E. of N. In my ride I had traced it to 21° 30′ of latitude
south, and no high land had appeared, as I expected, to the northward, at
all likely to turn its course towards the west. I found the height of its bed,
moreover, to be so little above the sea (not much more than 600 feet),
that I could no longer doubt that the division between eastern and
western waters was still to the westward; and I arrived at the following
conclusions:—
1st. That the river of Carpentaria should have been sought for to the
westward of all the sources of the river Salvator.
2nd. That the deepest indentation as yet discovered of the division of
the waters, was at the sources of that river, and corresponded with the
greatest elevation indicated by the barometer (about 2500 feet); and,
3dly. That there, I. E. under the parallel of 25° S., the highest spinal
range must extend westward, in a line of truncated cones, whereof Mount
Faraday appeared to be one.
I accordingly determined to retrace our wheel-tracks back to the head
of the Salvator, and to explore from thence the country to the north-west,
as far as our stock of provisions and the season would permit. I had
marked my camps by Roman letters cut deep in sound trees, and at this, I
left the number LXIX. cut under the initials of the colony, N.S.W.; this
being the number marked from the Culgoa. We had, at least, laid out a
good carriage road from the colony to a river in M. Leichardt’s route;
which road, as far as we had marked it with our wheels, led through
pastoral regions of much greater extent than all the colonists now
occupied. At this farthest point traced by our wheels within the Tropics,
the plants were still known to botanists, but with some interesting
exceptions. We here found the CASSIA HETEROLOBA in flower; also the burr
plant, CALOTIS CUNEIFOLIA of Brown; the PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM of A.
Cunningham, a shrub with yellow flowers and narrow willowy leaves;
and the beautiful laurel-leaved GEIGERA LATIFOLIA was still conspicuous
among the forest trees. But here also we found a very fine new species of
STENOCHILUS[*], a new pine-leaved DODONOEA, allied to the D. PINIFOLIA of
Swan River[**], and a most singular hard-leaved shrub, with spiny foliage
resembling five pointed stars, proved to be a new species of LABICHEA.[***]
Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 35°;
—with wet bulb, 30°.
[* S. PUBIFLORUS (Benth. MS.) foliis lanceolato-linearibus elongatis
integerrimis apice subuncinato novellis ramulisque tomentellis mox
glabratis, calycis foliolis lanceolatis, corollae pubescentis inferne
attenuatae laciniis oblatis infima breviter soluta.—This agrees pretty
well with Brown’s short diagnosis of S. LONGIFOLIUS, as well as with
Cunningham’s specimens so named; but those have no corolla, which
Brown also had not seen, and his is a south coast plant. (Another new
species with leaves like this, but very different flowers, was gathered by
Sir T. Mitchell in his former expedition.)]
[** D. ACEROSA (Lindl. MS.); foliis tenuibus acerosis subfalcatis
glandulosis, corymbis axillaribus paucifloris folio brevioribus, capsulis
tetrapteris alis apice rotundatis.]
[*** L. DIGITATA (Benth. MS.) ramulis tomentellis, foliis subsessili bus,
foliolis 3-5-digitatis lineari-oblongis spinoso-mucronatis coriaceis
reticulatis terminali caeteris vix majore, antheris parum inaequalibus
conformibus.]
12TH AUGUST.—I reluctantly ordered my men, (who believed
themselves on the high-way to Carpentaria,) to turn the horses’ heads
homewards, merely saying that we were obliged to explore from a higher
point. The track already marked out by our party advancing, was so
much easier for the draught animals, as requiring less driving, that they
arrived at an early hour again at the river they formerly crossed, and
travelled with ease three and a half miles further back to a lagoon, on the
banks of which the grass was good, and where we therefore now
encamped. The track of the large feet of the natives showed they had
followed us this morning, from our camp of yesterday; and a fragment of
burning wood they had dropped, showed that they had this day met us in
the scrub as we returned, and had gone out of our way. Even to the
lagoon, their track along our route was also plainly visible. I was now,
apparently to them, at their request, leaving the country; and we should
soon see if their purpose in visiting our camp was an honest one, and
whether their reasonable and fair demand, was really all they
contemplated on that occasion. Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon,
70°; at 4 p.m., 71°; at 9, 65°.
13TH AUGUST.—We continued back, along the old track, to beyond
Camp LXVII. I then took the direction of the camp two stages back, in
order to avoid the great detour formerly pursued; the camp without
water, and the thick brigalow. All these we successfully avoided, passing
over fine open forest land, and encountering no brigalow. We found the
river on our left when we required it, and encamped on a plain near the
water, and distant only a few miles from the camp two journies back
from LXVII. I was guided by the bearing of 10° E. of N. We found much
of the grass on fire, and heard the natives’ voices although we saw none.
We crossed some patches of dry swamp where the clods had been very
extensively turned up by the natives, but for what purpose Yuranigh
could not form any conjecture. These clods were so very large and hard
that we were obliged to throw them aside, and clear a way for the carts to
pass. The whole resembled ground broken up by the hoe, the naked
surface having been previously so cracked by drought as to render this
upturning possible without a hoe. There might be about two acres in the
patch we crossed, and we perceived at a distance, other portions of the
ground in a similar state. The river had, where we made it, a deep wellmarked
channel, with abundance of clear water in it, and firm accessible
banks. It was still, however, enveloped in a narrow belt of brigalow. The
shepherd having most imprudently taken the sheep to water when it was
near sunset, lost his way in the scrub, and could not be found all night.
Some thought he had fallen into the hands of the aborigines who were
closely watching us; and it was obvious that had they got possession of
our sheep, they could have annoyed us very seriously, or indeed,
destroyed the whole party. The night was very dark, the sky having been
overcast. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 61°; at 4 p.m., 60; at 9,
60.
14TH AUGUST.—Drizzling rain this morning with an easterly wind, and
high barometer, reminded me of the coast rains of Sydney. At dawn, I
sent Yuranigh with one of the men, both being mounted, in search of the
shepherd, and they returned with him and the sheep about 8 a.m. He
had been found in full march to the eastward, where he never could have
fallen in with the party. His track, circling in all directions, had soon
been come upon by Yuranigh in the scrub. We then proceeded, and still
found a way clear of brigalow, which, once or twice during the day,
seemed almost to surround us. At about seven miles from where we had
encamped, we crossed the first discovered tributary from the S. W., and
at a mile further on, we fell in with our old track, travelled two miles
more along it, and then encamped beside a fine reach of the river. The
drizzling rain continued, and I hoped the ponds at the higher range,
towards which we were returning, might be replenished by still heavier
rain. An unpleasant smell prevailed every where this day, resembling that
from a kitchen sewer or sink. Whether it arose from the earth, or from
decayed vegetable matter upon it, I could not form any opinion; but it
was certainly very different from the fragrance produced by a shower in
other parts of New South Wales, even when it falls only on sunburnt
grass. It was equally new and unaccountable to Yuranigh. Two proteads,
probably GREVILLEAS, were found here.[*]
[* The one with singularly thick, firm, and rigid leaves, a foot long, linear
attenuated at each extremity, pubescenti-sericeous, striated: the other
with white acerose leaves pinnated in two pairs. Both were large forest
trees, neither in flower nor in fruit.]
15TH AUGUST.—We continued to return along the old track until we
arrived at Camp LXV., taking the direction of the river’s general course,
(7° E. of S.). I travelled along its banks several miles, endeavouring to
cut off a detour we had previously described. The river, however, obliged
me to go so far to the westward, that I met with my former track, about
midway between the two camps. We soon left that track, crossing a strip
of brigalow and a rich grassy plain; beyond which, I found the river, and
encamped about 3 p.m., when the rain again came on, the morning
having been, until then, fair, although the sky was cloudy and overcast.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 57°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 60°;
—with wet bulb, 58°.
16TH AUGUST.—The sky still clouded, seemed to promise rain in the
country to which we were returning. We came to the channel of the main
river, after proceeding about three miles in the direction of a turn in our
route beyond next camp. The channel here was broad, and occasionally
filled with a good body of water. The bed was sandy, and in it grew a
tree with thin loose white bark, resembling that of the mimosa or tea-tree
of the colony; some of these trees were of large dimensions. There also
grew, in the sandy bed of this river, a new white-flowered MELALEUCA,
resembling M. ERICIFOLIA, but with long mucronate leaves[*]; and, in the
scrubby bank the STENOCHILUS BIGNONIOEFLORUS formed a willow-like shrub
fifteen feet high. We again came came upon our track where I intended
to hit it, although we had been retarded by brigalow scrub. We thus left
Camp LXIV. on the left, and finally again pitched our tents at that of
LXIII. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 65; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9,
63°;—with wet bulb, 57°.
[* M. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); folsaepius oppositis linearibus planis
utrinque acutissimis, spicâ terminali laxiusculâ rachi pilosâ, calyce
glabro dentibus herbaceis, phalangibus polyandris ungue petalis breviore.]
17TH AUGUST.—The ground was covered in many parts with a lichen,
the product of the late rain, and which had no root in, nor attachment to,
the soil, but could be collected in handfuls, and lay quite loose in heaps,
or rather in a thick layer. I could not comprehend the origin of this
singular vegetable production, which might then have been gathered in
any quantity. The day was cool, cloudy, and pleasant. Fine round clouds
driving still from the eastward, with a high barometer (for this of Bunten
stood seven millimetres higher, than it did when we had been formerly
encamped on the same ground). On recrossing the great river from S. W.,
we found more of the pea with large pods, it seemed to grow only on the
dry sand of the river bed. This was a most interesting river, and I could
have wished much to have explored it upwards, had the state of my
horses and provisions permitted. On its banks we had discovered various
rare trees and plants seen by us nowhere else; and the pea just mentioned,
which had, as Mr. Stephenson thought, valuable qualities as a laxative
medicine. The bed of the river was broad and sandy; the banks were
quite clear of brigalow or other scrubs, level, open, and in most parts
covered with luxuriant anthistiria and wild indigo. We arrived in good
time, the way being good, at Camp LXII., and there again established
ourselves for the night. It was an excellent spot for the purpose, having
plenty of water in rocky ponds, and abundance of grass, half green. The
wind lulled, and heavy clouds of stratus appeared in the east, towards
evening. Some stars were afterwards visible, and about 9 p.m., a wind
from the S.E. suddenly arose, but no rain fell. Thermometer, at sunrise,
55°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 74°; at 9, 68°;—with wet bulb, 62°.
18TH AUGUST.—The mercurial column was lower this morning, and the
sky was overcast. No wind could be felt from any quarter. We moved
off, at our usual hour, 7 a.m. About nine, the western portion of the sky
seemed loaded with rain; the wind suddenly arose from S. W., and a
heavy rain began to fall steadily, to my great joy. The soil consisted of
clay, which clogged the wheels, nevertheless, we arrived, without much
delay, at a large lagoon, not much more than a mile short of Camp LXI.,
and there, of necessity, encamped. The rain continued without
intermission until the evening, turning the surface around our tents into
mud, almost knee deep. Still I rejoiced in the prospect the rain afforded,
of water in the remaining part of our journey; the grand object of which
was still to be accomplished, namely, the discovery of an interior river,
flowing towards the Gulf of Carpentaria. Thermometer, at sunrise, 51°;
at noon, 54°; at 4 p.m., 53°.
19TH AUGUST.—The soft clay was still impassable, but the sun shone
brightly in the morning, and was likely soon to put a crust upon the earth.
The wind continued, however, in the same quarter, the S. W., and I had
thus a little leisure to mature my plan of farther exploration in that
interesting country, to the westward of the vale of Salvator Rosa. I had
ascertained that the whole of that fine country so named, and all the
gullies falling towards it, were on the seaward side of the dividing range,
if range there was. That, southward of the high ground under the parallel
of 24° or 25°, the fall of waters and of the whole country was towards the
south; whereas, northward of that parallel, the fall was so decidedly in
the very opposite direction, or northward, that the river we had just
explored extended across three degrees of latitude, descending from a
mean elevation of at least 2000 feet, to one of only 600 feet above the
sea. No river of any importance came from the westward; those we had
seen, coming from S. W. What then could be supposed, but that the
water-shed on that side was not far distant? Nor was it less reasonable to
expect to find beyond it, the heads of a river or rivers leading to the Gulf
of Carpentaria. In that nook, where it seemed that the spinal range
extended westward in the elongated direction of this great island, and
there probably separated from whatever high land extended northward
and formed a limit to the basin of the Belyando, was therefore, to be
sought the solution of this important geographical question; one result of
which would probably be, the discovery of a river falling towards the
north-west, to enter the Gulf of Carpentaria. The exploration of the
country to which we were returning was, therefore, of the most
momentous interest; and although our cattle were tired, and our time and
provisions almost exhausted (the sun being likely to approach the tropic
line before we could return to it), I was determined to carry the
exploration so far, with whatever means could be spared from the party,
even had it been necessary to have travelled on foot, or to have lived, like
a native, on opossums, in order to investigate that point. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 45°; at noon, 63°; at 4 p.m., 63°; at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb,
44°.
20TH AUGUST.—Heavy clouds promised more rain, but a crust had been
formed on the surface which enabled us to proceed. The day cleared up,
and we encamped within two miles of Camp LX.; much of the ground
passed over having been sandy and dry. We now found water in every
hollow, a great blessing brought by the rain, and affording some prospect
of relief from one great difficulty for some time to come. At 10 minutes
past 10 p.m. a very extraordinary meteor alarmed the camp, and awoke
every man in it. First, a rushing wind from the west shook the tents; next,
a blaze of light from the same quarter drew attention to a whirling mass,
or revolving ball of red light, passing to the southward. A low booming
sound, accompanied it, until it seemed to reach the horizon, after which a
sound like the report of a cannon was heard, and the concussion was such
that some tin pots, standing reversed on a cart-wheel, fell to the ground,
and the boat on the dray vibrated for some minutes. The sky was very
clear. Fahrenheit’s thermometer 46°.
21ST AUGUST.—Following our former route, the track led us through
hollows, formerly clear of the fallen brigalow, but now rendered
impassable by water, a new impediment. I was, however, most thankful
for the glorious abundance of that element, the want of which had
hitherto confined my route, and retarded the exploration of the country.
We cheerfully sought round-about ways to avoid these new ponds. Our
journey was accomplished very satisfactorily, having made two cuts to
avoid the former camp (LX.), which formed an angle in the route, and
much bad brigalow near Camp LIX., where we again encamped, for the
sake of a piece of good grassy plain near it. The weather was most
pleasant, temperate, and Englishlike, though we were still within the
tropics. A sweet breeze blew from the S. W., and the degree of
temperature was between 50° and 60° of Fahrenheit, the most agreeable,
I believe, of any, to the human frame. There was abundance of water, and
young grass was daily growing higher; many trees were also beginning
to blossom. We were retiring, nevertheless, RE INFECTÂ, from these tropical
regions, and I was impatient to arrive at the great range once more, to
resume my explorations. At this camp, we found a plant, which was a
wild carrot, tasting exactly like parsley. The men did not like to eat it,
from the effects they had recently experienced from eating the large pea
already mentioned—violent vomiting and purging; but I had no doubt
whatever, that this carrot would have been found a good vegetable. The
GEIJERA PARVIFLORA again attracted attention, by the strong pungent odour
of its long narrow leaves; and we here observed the EREMOPHILA
MITCHELLII, in the form of a shrub, from ten to twelve feet high. Its wood
was remarkable from a perfume like roses.
22D AUGUST.—The morning was beautiful, our way plainly marked
and sufficiently open, although it led wholly through a scrub for twelve
miles. Flowers, the product of the late rain, were beginning to deck the
earth, and water lodged in every hollow. We arrived early at Camp
LVIII., and encamped 300 yards beyond it, to be nearer to a plain of
good grass. Thermometer, at sunrise, 25°; at noon, 69°; at 4 p.m., 72°; at
9, 43°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
23D AUGUST.—The route back to the next camp went too far to the
westward; and I therefore endeavoured to make a direct cut back to it.
We thus encountered much scrub, and twice crossed the river. A bank, or
berg, of water-worn pebbles, appeared on the west side of the river; and,
to the eastward, a hill was visible amongst the trees. The river channel
was full of water, and seemed to have been even running, with the late
rain. The whole journey was through scrub; but this was chiefly of
rosewood, which is not nearly so formidable an impediment as brigalow.
We encamped on the river bank before we got so far as Camp LVII., at a
spot where there was grass, the ground generally about that camp being
very bare, although a fresh spring was observable, which would soon
alter the case. At this camp I found, on a very low bush with a small leaf,
splendid specimens of the fruit of a CAPPARIS, in a dry state, containing
seeds. A crop of young fruit appeared also on the same bushes. This must
be a very different species from the C. MITCHELII; the bush seldom
exceeding the height and size of a gooseberry bush, although the fruit
was larger than that of the tree CAPPARIS, and of a more uniform size and
spherical shape. It seemed to grow only within the tropic. Thermometer,
at sunrise, 28°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb,
41°.
24TH AUGUST.—The fine grassy plain had afforded better food for our
horses and cattle, than they had seen for some time. Keeping along its
eastern side, I continued to travel until I fell in with our former track; and
in passing Camp LVII., I caused the letter T to be cut above the letters
N.S.W., to distinguish it as our first camp within the line of Capricorn. I
left the intertropical regions with feelings of regret; the weather had
favoured our undertaking, and water had become abundant. The three
last mornings had been frosty; the thermometer having stood on these
mornings at 25°, 28°, and 29°, respectively. Many interesting trees and
shrubs were just putting forth buds, of which we might never be able to
gather the flower for the botanist. We travelled from Camp LVII., along
our old track, to Camp LVI., in latitude 23° 31′ 36″ S.; and there again
set up our tents, having been exactly one month in the interior of tropical
Australia. A pigeon this day arose from her nest in the grass near our
route, and Yuranigh found in it two full fledged young ones. These being
of that sort of pigeon preferable to all others for the table, GEOPHAPS
SCRIPTA, we took this pair in hopes it might be possible to bring them up,
and, perhaps, to obtain from them a domestic brood. This bird seemed to
have the shortest beak of all the pigeon tribe, and flew more clumsily
than others. It had three streaks of white about the head, assimilating it to
the poultry class; and in building on the ground, it afforded another
indication of its resemblance to our domestic birds. The flesh is very
white, firm, yet tender. It is, perhaps, the most delicate of all birds.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 29°; at noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 46°;
—with wet bulb, 42°.
25TH AUGUST.—The former route to this camp having been very
crooked from following the course of the river amongst brigalow scrub, I
set out on the bearing of the next camp, and reached it by travelling in a
straight line, without much impediment, having found tolerably open
ground. The blue summits of mountains appearing again above the trees,
were welcome to our eyes; and Mounts Beaufort and Mudge reminded
me of the Persian proverb, “The conversation of a friend brighteneth the
eyes.” We encamped a mile on, from Camp LV., for the sake of better
grass than we had left formerly at that camp. The hills adjacent consisted
of gravel; and amongst the large water-worn pebbles, of which it
consisted, I found basalt and trachite, neither of which rocks had been
detected by me amongst the gravel of the basin of the Darling.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 77°; at 9, 52°;
—with wet bulb, 47°.
26TH AUGUST.—After cutting off an angle in the old track, and so
shortening the way about a mile, we pursued it back to Camp LIV.;
which spot we again occupied for the night. The horses were leg-weary;
but I could spare no time for rest, otherwise than by making the daily
journies short, until we could return to the foot of the dividing ranges.
One of the young pigeons was found nearly dead this morning; but
Yuranigh, by chafing and warming it by the fire, soon recovered it. The
thermometer had been as low as 38°; but the birds had been kept in a box
well covered with wool, and also by canvas. On the hill, southward of
this camp, I found one tree, of the remarkable kind mentioned, as having
been first seen by Mr. Stephenson, near Mount Mudge. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 37°; at noon, 80°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb,
40°.
27TH AUGUST.—On reaching a difficult place for the passage of carts
along the rocky margin of the river, we took a new direction, more to the
right, crossing the clear hill, from which, on the 23d July, I had a view of
the mountains to the eastward. Then descending, we came upon plains of
firm clay, whereon grew some trees of ACACIA PENDULA. The rock in the
hills seemed calcarious, and on a detached slab of ferruginous sandstone,
I saw a more perfect specimen of ripple marks than I had ever seen
elsewhere, except on the sea-beach.
I had now an opportunity of observing, in the hills forming a low range
on my right, or to the westward, that their stratification dipped toward the
east, at an angle of about 25° with the horizon; on which side those
slopes did not exceed that angle, whereas on the westward, they
presented abrupt, precipitous sides, each terminating in two steep sides,
forming an angle at the highest point. We encamped on a fine plain on
the east side of that range, but westward of the river (beyond which lay
our former route), and we found water in a lagoon a quarter of a mile
eastward of our camp; also, in a mountain rivulet two miles south of the
camp, coming from near Mount Beaufort, and some, very clear, was
found in a rocky gully immediately westward of our camp. Still, the bed
of the main channel was dry, and we had been obliged to seek for the
water before it was found in these several directions. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 41°; at noon, 79; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 48°;—with wet bulb 39°.
28TH AUGUST.—The cattle were well refreshed by the grass on the
plain: a fresh growth was now apparent in it. We continued to travel due
southward over the plain, and through a brigalow scrub beyond it, until
we crossed, for the last time, the little river that had led us so far astray.
Just beyond it, we joined our old track, at about five miles short of Camp
LIII., to which we proceeded, and where we again encamped, although
the pond we formerly found there had dried up. We afterwards found a
good supply, at a lagoon about half a mile lower down; from which a
little dog of mine (called Procyon), had come out wet, and so made it
known to us. Thermometer, at sunrise, 40°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 76°;
at 9, 49°;—with wet bulb, 41°.
29TH AUGUST.—Continuing along the old track, we this day quitted the
basin of the Belyando, and ascended those grassy slopes, and that range,
which I had formerly taken to be the water-shed of the coast rivers. We
thus crossed to the basin of another eastern river, the Nog; and, in
quitting that of the Belyando, I have to observe, that like most other
Australian rivers, it maintained a peculiar character throughout its course,
with great uniformity, even after it received tributaries apparently larger
than itself. All these lapsed into the same concatenated line of ponds; at
one place, spreading amidst brigalow scrub, at another, forming one
well-defined deep channel. For the formation of ponds, and the retention
of water, in so dry a climate, we see here something between the
ordinary character of rivers, and artificial works which man must
construct, when population may spread into these regions. The fallen
timber of the brigalow decays very slowly, and is not liable to be burnt,
like most other dead wood in open forests, because no grass grows
amongst the brigalow, as in open forests. The accumulations of dead logs
become clogged with river rack and the deposit of floods; to which
floods these heaps present obstructions, forcing the waters into new
channels, and, in their progress, scooping out new ponds, and completing
the embankment of dead logs; which thus form natural dams and
reservoirs to hold, under the shade of the brigalow trees, more water for a
longer time than any single river channel could retain, however sluggish
its course. Thus it was, that during a season of unusual drought, we had
found abundance in this river’s course, across nearly 3½ degrees of
latitude. The fallen brigalow presents awkward obstructions to wheel
carriages; and, as the river spreads into broad plains, and is very
favourable to the growth of brigalow, the difficulty of travelling along
this river is greatest, where its waters are most scattered. Experience has
taught us, in such cases, to endeavour to follow the river channel as
closely as possible (the general course being very straight); and thus,
open grassy spots and small plains are frequently met with, beyond
which nothing could be distinguished, and from which it is safest to go
forward in the known general course of the chain of ponds. We again
encamped under Mount Mudge, where I perceived that a projecting
portion of white rock on the summit, had fallen since I had stood upon it;
and that the avalanche of rock had strewed the woody side of the
mountain with white fragments down to the very base. In the sheltered
ravine below, a curious new CASSIA formed a shrub six feet high.[*]
Thermometer, at sunrise, 39°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 82°; at 9, 56°;
—with wet bulb, 50°.
[* C. ZYGOPHYLLA (Benth. MS.) glabra vel pube tenuissimâ subcanescens,
foliolis unijugis linearibus planis crassis, glandula inter foliola parva
depressa, racemis petiolo brevioribus 2-4-floris.—Near C. NEMOPHILA
Cunn.; but there appear never to be more than one pair of leaflets, the
plant is smoother, the leaflets longer, and the glands different.]
30TH AUGUST.—The old track guided the party, while I preceded it to
sketch one or two landscapes. A fine breeze blew from the northward,
and goodly clouds seemed to promise rain. I completed my drawings
before the arrival of the carts; and on their coming up I conducted them
to a spot where we encamped, on the left bank of the creek, or opposite
to camp LI., being resolved to seek a better and more direct way to the
plains, than that down the bed of Balmy Creek, which we formerly found
so difficult. As soon as I had chosen a spot for the tents, I took a ride,
accompanied by Mr. Stephenson and Yuranigh, to explore the ravines
eastward of that of Balmy Creek, and which led in a more direct line
towards the plains of the Claude. We found the precipices in this
direction much lower. After riding a few miles, we could ride up one of
the points, and following the ridge we had ascended (which was thickly
covered with brigalow), we at length got to an open forest, and once
more saw the open plains before us. In returning, I selected, with
Yuranigh’s able assistance, a smaller valley, by which I hoped to succeed
in conducting the carts next day, so as to avoid the ascent of the brigalow
range. The barometer at this camp had fallen ten millimetres lower than
the point at which the mercury stood formerly at the adjacent camp
(marked LI.). By the side of the water-course, we found the ACACIA
DORATOXYLON and also the ACACIA CONFERTA. The valley was gay with the
ultramarine blue flowers of a new species of HOVEA[*]; and on rich soil we
saw also the PODOLEPIS ACUMINATA? D. C. A shrub with long curved
leaves and singular zigzag stems, was ascertained to be the ACACIA
MACRADENIA, a very striking new species; and on Balmy Creek we found
also a new BOSSIOEA, with deep red flowers.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise,
59°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 81°; at 9, 62°; with wet bulb, 54°.
[* H. LEIOARPA (Benth. MS.) fruticosa, foliis anguste oblongis
sublanceolatisve integerrimis subtus reticulatis pubescentibus, venis
primariis obliquis, pedicellis in pedunculo brevissimo axillari subgeminis
calyce longioribus, calyce adpresse tomentoso, legumine glaberrimo.
—Not unlike some forms of H. LANCEOLATA, but readily distinguished,
besides the shorter leaves, by the smooth fruit and the veins of the leaves,
which diverge from the midrib at a very acute instead of a right angle.]
[** B. CARINALIS (Benth. MS.) ramulis teretibus puberulis foliosis, foliis
subsessilibus subcordato-ovatis acutiusculis puberulis, pedicello calyce
paullo breviore, corollae alis vexillo longioribus carinâ multo
brevioribus.—The same remarkable proportion of the petals may be
seen in an unpublished species gathered by Fraser on the Brisbane river.]
31ST AUGUST.—Some heavy showers fell during the night, and in the
morning the sky was wholly overcast. We crossed various formidable
gullies, and travelled some way down the bed of Balmy Creek, then
ascending by the valley through which I yesterday penetrated in my ride,
we travelled southward in a tolerably direct line through the valley up to
its highest heads, from one of which we contrived to draw up carts and
drays along three traverses, formed by nature on the face of a rocky
slope. Above this, we found a plateau of flowering shrubs, chiefly new
and strange, so that Mr. Stephenson was soon loaded like a market
gardener. He had found in the hollow of the little gulley by which we
ascended a variety of ACACIA DECORA with leaves shorter that usual; the
CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA, a very curious new species; and the BERTYA OLEOEFOLIA,
a shrub three feet high, with green flowers. On the top of the plateau
grew a singular dwarf shrub, loaded with yellow flowers, and covered by
strong sharp leaves resembling the curved blade of a penknife. It has
been ascertained by Mr. Bentham to be an Acacia, referable to his ACACIA
TRIPTERA. A little upright bush, with glandular leaves smelling strongly of
thyme, proved to be a new PROSTANTHERA.[*] The beautiful ACACIA DECORA
appeared as a shrub four feet high; the DODONOEA NOBILIS was just
forming its fruit; the DODONOEA VESTITA was also there; the white flowered
MYOPORUM CUNNINGHAMI with its viscid branches, formed a bush about
four feet high: PITTOSPORUM LANCEOLATUM was a shrub about three feet
high, with yellow flowers; and here we met in abundance with the
beautiful TECOMA OXLEYI, a kind of Bignonia, loaded with yellowishwhite
flowers.
[* P. ODORATISSIMA (Benth. MS.) viscoso-puberula foliis linearibus
sublanceolatisve obtusissimis paucidentatis integrisve crassis ad axillas
fasciculatis, floribus paucis axillaribus subsessilibus, calycis labiis
integris inferiore minore, antherarum calcare longiore loculum
superante.—Near P. ASPALATHOIDES: leaves two or three lines long,
remarkably thick. Calyx strongly ribbed. The specimens found were past
flower, having only a few fragments remaining of the corolla and
stamens. The whole plant appears very viscid and retains when dry a
very strong smell of thyme.]
There ended all our troubles with the sandstone gullies, for we soon
entered open forests, and crossed a grassy valley gently sloping to the
eastward, in whose bosom we found a fine deep rocky pond. Beyond that
valley we arrived at open downs of the richest soil, and of an extent not
to be embraced by the eye at any one point of view. The finest sorts of
grass were fast springing up, and curious herbs were beginning to shoot
from the rich alluvium in the vallies. We encamped on these downs,
about ten miles from our former camp by the Claude, XLIX.
1ST SEPTEMBER.—The morning clear and frosty; Thermometer 25°. All
prospects of rain had vanished “into thin air.” The scene now around us
was as different as could well be imagined, from that which surrounded
us at the same hour yesterday. As we proceeded, we crossed a hill quite
clear of trees, which commanded a view over an extent of similar
country, large enough for a county. The broken summits, just appearing
above the placid horizon of undulating downs, had formerly looked like a
range to us, and were certainly highly ornamental to the scenery; but no
stranger could have supposed these features to have been only the
highest parts of such a broken sandstone country as that from which we
had just emerged. The plains, or rather, I should say, downs, for they
were nowhere level but everywhere gently undulating, were first seen in
white streaks high above us, when we first perceived them through the
scrubs. These downs consisted of the richest sort of black mould, on
which grew luxuriantly, ANTHISTIRIA and PANICUM LOEVINODE. But the
surface in general was loose, resembling that of a field after it had lain
long in fallow. Herbs in great variety were just emerging from the
recently watered earth, and the splendid morning did ample justice to the
vernal scene. The charm of a beginning seemed to pervade all nature, and
the songs of many birds sounded like the orchestral music before the
commencement of any theatrical performance. Such a morning, in such a
place, was quite incompatible with the brow of care. Here was an almost
boundless extent of the richest surface in a latitude corresponding to that
of China, yet still uncultivated and unoccupied by man. A great reserve,
provided by nature for the extension of his race, where economy, art, and
industry might suffice to people it with a peaceful, happy, and contented
population.
These plains are much higher than the sandstone ravines, and the soil
contains not only pebbles, but angular fragments of the knots and fibres
of wood in a silicified state, and much encrusted with chalcedony. The
component parts of the sandstone in the gullies resemble those of a sea
beach. These fragments of fossil wood in rich soils of plains or downs
above formations of sandstone, are found in various parts of Australia,
and I have seen fossil wood from similar plains in Tasmania. The fossil
wood of such plains has no appearance of having been exposed to fire.
The ACACIA PENDULA grows on the skirts of them, and indicates a
salsolaceous soil. These circumstances are obvious to everybody, but no
geologist has yet explained to us the causes of such changes as may have
produced that rich black mould, on which trees, now silicified, formerly
grew; or these wide plains and downs of rich earth, above a red
sandstone formation. One has called the interior of Australia a “dry seabottom;”
but this phrase admits of no easy application to such cases as
these. Fragments of a ferruginous conglomerate of water-worn pebbles,
apparently identical with those in the basin of the Darling, in some places
accompany these angular fragments of fossil wood. We found this day a
new ERIOSTEMON allied to E. BREVIFOLIUM, with small knobby fleshy
leaves[*]; also a fine new shrubby EURYBIA.[**] Scattered plants of BOSSIOEA
RHOMBIFOLIA also appeared in the adjacent gullies; and LORANTHUS
SUBFALCATUS (Hook), was parasitical on trees. We encamped on the
margin of the rich plain N. of Camp XLIX, and about a mile distant from
it, our draught oxen being very weak and leg-weary. Thermometer, at
sunrise, 25°; at noon, 67°; at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 44°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
[* E. RHOMBEUM (Lindl. MS.); ramulis pubescentibus, foliis carnosis
obtuse rhombeis revolutis subtus glabris, pedicellis terminalibus unifloris
tomentosis foliis brevioribus, staminibus pilosis.]
[* E. SUBSPICATA (Hook. MS.); foliis linearibus obtusis supra glabris
subtus ramisque albo-tomentosis, corymbis terminalibus spiciformibus,
involucri squamis lineari-oblongis albis apice viridipunctatis.]
2D SEPTEMBER.—We recrossed the perfectly level plain formerly
mentioned. We found, on reaching the Claude, that our bridge, then
made, had been much damaged by a flood. The little river was still
running, and it was cheering to learn thus, that rain had fallen at its
sources, beyond which, I had still much to do. We lost no time in
repairing our bridge, so that all things were got across safely. We
ascended the undulating downs along our old track, and where many
curious specimens of trees in flint, lay mixed with the rich black mould. I
observed that no entire sections of trunks were cylindrical, all appearing
to have been compressed so as to present a diameter of two to one.
Yuranigh brought me one specimen which he said was “pine;” (Callitris),
which so far confirmed what has hitherto been observed of the
coniferous character of Australian fossil woods; but, from the appearance
of other specimens, I am not at all convinced that these fossils are all of
that description. I left these beautiful regions with feelings of regret, that
the direct route to the gulf, could not be carried through them. I was
rather at a loss for names of reference to these parts. I had given the
name of Claude to the river; and it occurred to me, that the scenery of the
Mantuan bard, which this painter has so finely illustrated with pastoral
subjects, deserved a congenial name; and that this country might,
therefore, be distinguished by that of the Mantuan Downs and Plains.
About half-way through our former stage, I found water in ponds which
had been formerly dry; and there we encamped, our animals being almost
exhausted. It is one redeeming quality of brigalow scrub, that water is to
be found within its recesses, at times when all other channels or sources
are dry; the soil in which it grows being stiff, retentive, and usually bare
of vegetation. Thermometer at sunrise, 28°; at noon, 73°; at 4 p.m., 78°;
at 9, 47°;—with wet bulb, 42°.
3D SEPTEMBER.—Another morning worthy of “Eden in her earliest
hour.” The thermometer 31° at day-break, with a little dew. The notes of
the magpie or GYMNORHINA, resounded through the shady brigalow, and
the rich browns and reddish greens of that prolific bush contrasted with
its dense grey shades, were very beautiful. We found the Nogoa much in
the same state as when we left it. No flood had come down the channel
of that river. The tracks of the feet of many natives were visible along the
old route, and bushes had been burnt all along the line; but it is
remarkable that in no case had they injured or defaced the letters and
numerals marked on trees at the various camps, nor disturbed our
temporary bridges. We cut our way through a scrub of brigalow, thus
passing camps XLVIII., XLVII., and XLVI., encamping at a short
distance from the latter of these places. Thermometer, at sunrise, 31°; at
noon, 74°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 52°; with wet bulb, 40°.
4TH SEPTEMBER.—The surrounding grass, and also the reeds in the
lake, had been very extensively burnt along our former tracks, and a
green crop was springing to the great gratification and refreshment of our
cattle. Formerly this splendid valley appeared to be uninhabited, but this
day, proofs were not wanting that it was too charming a spot of earth to
be left so. In proceeding over an open part of the plains bordering the
river, we perceived a line of about twelve or fourteen natives before they
had observed us. Through my glass, I saw they were painted red about
the face, and that there were females amongst them. They halted on
seeing us, but some soon began to run, while two very courageously and
judiciously took up a position on each side of a reedy swamp, evidently
with the intention of covering the retreat of the rest. The men who ran
had taken on their backs the heavy loads of the gins, and it was rather
curious to see long-bearded figures stooping under such loads. Such an
instance of civility, I had never before witnessed in the Australian natives
towards their females; for these men appeared to carry also some of the
uncouth-shaped loads like mummies. The two acting as a rear guard
behaved as if they thought we had not the faculty of sight as well as
themselves, and evidently believed that by standing perfectly still, and
stooping slowly to a level with the dry grass, when we passed nearest to
them, they could deceive us into the idea that they were stumps of burnt
trees. After we had passed, they were seen to enter the brigalow, and
make ahead of us; by which movement I learnt that part of the tribe was
still before us. Some time afterwards, we overtook that portion when
crossing an open interval of the woods; they made for the scrub on
seeing us. Meanwhile columns of smoke ascended in various directions
before us, and two natives beyond the river, were seen to set up a great
blaze there. To the westward of the beautifully broken rocky woody
range beyond Lake Salvator, a dense smoke also arose, and continued
until evening; thus adding much sublimity to the effect of a gorgeous
sunset, which poured its beams through the smoke between the rocky
pinnacles, as I sat drawing the scene at my camp by the lake, two miles
northward of XLV. Thermometer, at sunrise, 26°; at noon, 67°; at 4
p.m., 65°; at 9, 39°;—with wet bulb, 32°.
5TH SEPTEMBER.—The cooler air reminded us that we had returned to a
more elevated region than that on the Belyando. This morning heavy
clouds of cumulostratus promised more rain, and gave a cool day for the
last effort of the jaded animals, which the driver doubted could not be
driven much farther. I cut off all the roundabouts and steep pulls, where
this could be done, by laying logs across such gullies as we were obliged
to cross. We thus saw more of the river and its romantic scenery, which
well deserved the name of a painter. No natives, nor columns of smoke,
were seen this day; and I concluded that they concentrated the tribe
yesterday, and had departed this morning. We finally took up a very snug
position near the pyramids, in the very gorge of the mountain valley by
which we had approached this country; camp XLVI. being within sight,
and the swamp with the spring, at the foot of this hill on which we now
encamped, as a camp of occupation during my intended absence, on an
excursion with horses only, to the north-west. The genial influence of
spring had already induced many plants to show their colours, which had
formerly been passed by us unnoticed. In the sandy soil, grew the
purple-flowered CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS; THE ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII; the
pink-flowered CRYPTANDRA PROPINQUA; and a species of CALYTRIX; these two
forming small shrubs, the latter from four to six feet high. A very
handsome new BORONIA, with large white and red downy flowers, here
first appeared in the open forest.[*] The rocks were partly covered with a
small white-flowered shrub, which proved to be a new species of
LEPTOSPERMUM allied to L. PUBESCENS, but perfectly distinct.[**] At the foot
of them, was found the AOTUS MOLLIS, a little hoary bush, with yellow
black flowers; a santalaceous plant like CHORETRUM, forming a tree fifteen
or twenty feet high: the CALLITRIS GLAUCA or CUPRESSUS GLAUCA of ALL.
CUNN. (in Hook. Herb.). A small tree, about twenty-five feet high, proved
to be a new species of Acacia, or possibly a variety of A. CUNNINGHAMII,
but handsomer, with larger phyllodia, longer spikes of flowers, and
everywhere clothed with a soft velvety pubescence.[***] Thermometer, at
sunrise, 33°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 40°;—with wet bulb,
31°.
[* B. ERIANTHA (Lindl. MS.); foliis pinnatis cum impari 1-3-jugis, foliolis
glaberrimis linearibus retusis emarginatisque laevibus, pedunculis
solitariis unifloris axillaribus foliis brevioribus, sepalis triangularibus
glabris, petalis tomentosis, staminibus 8.]
[** L. SERICATUM (Lindl. MS.); foliis obovatis linearibus planis obtusis
aveniis impunctatis utrinque sericeis, calycibus tomentosis dentibus
acutis persistentibus.]
[*** A. LONGISPICATA (Benth. MS.) pube brevi mollissima vestita, ramulis
elevato-angulatis, phyllodiis amplis falcatis utrinque angustatis
subcoriaceis tenuiter striato-multinervibus nervis 3-5 validioribus, spicis
elongato-cylindricis densis, calyce dentato corolla 2-3-plo breviore,
ovario villoso.]
Chapter VII.
PREPARATIONS FOR A RIDE TO THE NORTH-WEST.—DESPATCH LEFT WITH THE PARTY
STATING WHAT HAD BEEN DONE.—ASCEND EAST SHOULDER OF MOUNT PLUTO.—PASSAGE
TO THE WESTWARD.—NAME OF THE WARREGASCERTAINED.—THE RIVER NIVE.—ITS
COURSE TURNS SOUTHWARD.—CROSS A LOW RANGE.—PLAINS OF THE VICTORIA
DISCOVERED.—EXTENSIVE DOWNS TRAVERSED.—RIVER SPREADS INTO VARIOUS
CHANNELS.—TRIBUTARIES JOIN IT FROM THE N. E. OR RIGHT BANK.—THE RIVER
ALICE.—NATIVE CAMP.—A TRIBE SURPRISED WHILE BATHING.—LOWEST POINT OF
THE RIVER REACHED.—RETURN BY THE LEFT BANK.—TRIBUTARIES FROM THE
SOUTH.—GOWEN RANGE.—ENTER OUTWARD TRACK.—PROVISIONS EXHAUSTED.—ASCEND
WEST SHOULDER OF MOUNT PLUTO.—RETURN TO THE CAMP AT THE PYRAMIDS.—NEW
PLANTS COLLECTED THERE DURING MY ABSENCE.
6TH AND 7TH SEPTEMBER.—It being necessary to rest and refresh the
horses for a few days before setting out with the freshest of them, all
being leg-weary, I determined to halt here four clear days; and during
these two, I completed my maps, and took a few rough sketches of
scenery within a few miles of the camp. The whole of the grass had been
assiduously burnt by the natives, and a young crop was coming up. This
rendered the spot more eligible for our camp, both because the young
grass was highly relished by the cattle, and because no dry grass
remained to be set fire to, which, in the case of any hostility on the part
of the natives, is usually the first thing they do. Thermometer, at sunrise,
33°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 64°; at 9, 40°;—with wet bulb, 31°.
8TH AND 9TH SEPTEMBER.—I employed my time these two days in
writing a despatch to the governor of New South Wales, giving a detailed
account of my proceedings and discoveries down to the present time; that
in the event of any misfortune befalling me or the very small party now
to accompany me, this despatch should be forthcoming, as I intended to
leave it at this depôt camp. On the 8th, heavy clouds gathered over us,
and a fine heavy shower fell, a circumstance most auspicious for our
intended ride; but it was of brief duration; and, although the sky
continued overcast even until the evening of the 9th, no rain fell, in
sufficient quantity to fill the water-courses. It was, however, enough to
produce dew for some mornings to come. Thermometer, at sunrise of the
8th, 53°; at noon, 55°; at 4 p.m., 57°; at 9, 50°;—with wet bulb, 46°;
and at sunrise of the 9th, 39°; at noon, 77°; at 4 p.m., 70°; at 9, 52°;
—with wet bulb, 45°.
10TH SEPTEMBER.—I set out on a fine clear morning, with two men and
Yuranigh mounted, and leading two pack-horses carrying my sextant,
false horizon, and a month’s provisions. Returning, still up the valley,
along our old track to Camp XLIII., I there struck off to the S.W.,
following up a similar valley, which came down from that side. This
valley led very straight towards Mount Pluto, the nearest of the three
volcanic cones, which I had already intersected from various points. The
other two I had named Mount Hutton and Mount Playfair. These three
hills formed an obtuse-angled triangle, whereof the longest side was to
the north-west, and, therefore, I expected that there the elevated land
might be found to form an angle somewhat corresponding with the
directions of the two shorter sides; in which case, it was probable that, to
the westward of such an angle in the range, I might find what had been
so long the object of these researches, viz., a river flowing to the Gulf of
Carpentaria. We reached Mount Pluto, at the distance given by my
former observations as far as could be ascertained by the mode of
measurement I employed then; which was by counting my horse’s paces.
On ascending the mountain on foot, I found a deep chasm still between
me and the western summit, which was not only the highest, but the only
part clear of bushes. A thick and very thorny scrub had already so
impeded my ascent, that the best portion of the afternoon was gone,
before I could return to the horses; and I resolved, therefore, to continue
my ride, and to defer the ascent and observation of angles from the
summit, until my return from the unknown western country, which we
were about to explore; the search for water that night being an object of
too much importance to be longer deferred. We, accordingly, passed on
by the southward and westward of the mountain, following a watercourse,
which led first N. W., then north, and next E. of N.; to where it at
length joined one from the west, up which I turned, and continued the
search for water until darkness obliged us to halt. During that search for
water, my horse fell with me into a deep hole, so concealed and covered
with long grass, that we both wholly disappeared from those following;
and yet, strange to say, without either of us being in the least hurt. We
encamped where there was, at least, good grass; but—no water.
11TH SEPTEMBER.—Within 400 yards of the spot where we had slept,
we found a small pond. The water was of that rich brown tint so well
known to those with whom water is most precious, and to whom, after
long custom, clear water seems, like some wines, to want body. Here we
had breakfast, and we took also a bagful of water[*] with us. This timely
supply relieved me from the necessity for following up the windings of
some water-course; and I could proceed in a straight direction, westward.
We passed, at first, through rather thick scrub, until, at length, I
perceived a sharp pic before me, which I ascended. It consisted of trap
rock, as did also the range to which it belonged, being rather a lateral
feature thereof. Mount Hutton, Mount Pluto, and Mount Playfair, were
all visible from it, as were also Mounts Owen and Faraday. The
connections extended westward; for to the W.N.W. the broken cliffs at
the head of the Salvator and the Claude, were not very distant, and these
I was careful to avoid. A range immediately westward of this cone, was
higher than it, and extended from Mount Playfair. To cross that range at
its lowest part, which bore 26° W. of S., was our next object. We found
the range covered with brigalow and other still more impervious scrubs.
On the crest, the rock consisted of clay ironstone. The centigrade
thermometer stood, at noon, at 30° 5′ equal to 87°, of Fahrenheit; the
height above the sea we made 2032 feet. Beyond this crest, we
encountered a scrub of matted vines, which hung down like ropes, and
pulled some of us off our horses, when it happened that any of these
ropes were not observed in time in riding through the thicket. A very
dense forest of young Callitris trees next impeded us, and were more
formidable than even the vines. The day was passed in forcing our way
through these various scrubs, the ground declining by a gentle slope
only. We next found firmer soil underfoot, that where the Callitris scrub
grew having been sandy, and we saw at length, with a feeling of relief,
that only brigalow scrub was before us; we ascended gravelly hills, came
upon a dry water-course, and then on a chain of ponds. Near one of these
ponds, sate an old woman, beside a fire, of course, although the weather
was very warm; and a large net, used for taking emus, hung on a
brigalow bush close by. The men were absent, looking for food, as we
partly conjectured, for little could Yuranigh make out of what she said,
besides the names of some rivers, to which I could point with the hand. I
was surprised to find that here, the name for water was “Narran,” the
name for it in the district of the Balonne being “Nadyeen,” whereas the
word for water amongst the tribes of the Darling is Kalli. That the
“Narran” river and swamp are named from this language of tribes now
dwelling much further northward, seems obvious; and, as the natives on
the Darling know little of the “Narran” or its swamp, it may be inferred
that there the migration of native tribes has been progressive from south
to north; the highest known land in Australia being also to the southward
of the Darling. The chain of ponds, according to the old woman, was
named “Cùnno,” and ran into the “Warreg” which, as she pointed, was
evidently the name of the river we had formerly traced downwards from
near Mount P. P. King. I left the “Cùnno,” and plunged into the brigalow
to the northward, thus crossing a slightly elevated range, where we found
a little water-course falling N.N.W. By following this downwards, we
found water in it, as twilight grew obscure, and gladly halted beside it for
the night, in latitude 25° S.
[* A thick flour-bag covered outside with melted mutton-fat.]
12TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer was 59°; our height
then above the sea has been ascertained to have been 1787 feet.
Continuing to follow down the brigalow creek, we found that it joined a
chain of ponds running N.E., and these we traced in the contrary
direction, or upwards, as far as seemed desirable. We struck off from that
water-course, first to the N.W., then to the W., arriving soon at a steep
low ridge of clay ironstone, which was covered thick with brigalow. We
crossed that low ridge, and, at a distance of about a mile and a half
beyond, met another acclivity still more abrupt and stony. This we also
ascended, and found upon it a “malga” scrub: the “malga” being a tree
having hard spiky dry branches, which project like fixed bayonets, to
receive the charge of ourselves, horses, and flour-bags; but all which
formidable array we nevertheless successfully broke through, and arrived
at the head of a rocky gully, falling N.W. Down this, however, we
attempted in vain to pass, and in backing out we again faced the “malga,”
until, seeing a flat on the right, I entered it, and there fell in with the
water-course again. It led us many miles, generally in a N.W. direction,
and contained some fine ponds, and entered, at length, a little river,
whose banks were thickly set with large yarra trees. The general course
of this river was W.N.W., until it was joined by one coming from the N.,
and at the junction there was a deep broad pond of clear water. At this we
watered our horses, and passed on to encamp under some rocky hills,
three quarters of a mile to the N.N.W. of that junction, in latitude 24° 52′
50″ S. The temperature at noon this day, on the highest part of the ridge
we crossed, was 84°; the height there above the sea, 1954 feet; and at 3
p.m., in channel of water-course, the thermometer stood at 89°; the
height there above the sea being 1778 feet.
13TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer stood at 38°; the height
above the sea was found to be 1659 feet. I verily believed that THIS river
would run to Carpentaria, and I called it the Nive, at least as a
conventional name until the native name could be ascertained, in
commemoration of Lord Wellington’s action on the river of that name;
and, to the tributary from the north, I gave the name of Nivelle.
Pursuing the united channel downwards, we traversed fine open grassy
plains. The air was fragrant from the many flowers then springing up,
especially where the natives had burnt the grass. Among them were
MORGANIA GLABRA; EREMOPHILA MITCHELLII; a singular little POLYGONUM
with the aspect of a TILLOEA; two very distinct little FRANKENIAS[*], and a
new scabrous HALORAGIS with pinnatifid leaves.[**] The extensive burning
by the natives, a work of considerable labour, and performed in dry
warm weather, left tracts in the open forest, which had become green as
an emerald with the young crop of grass. These plains were thickly
imprinted with the feet of kangaroos, and the work is undertaken by the
natives to attract these animals to such places. How natural must be the
aversion of the natives to the intrusion of another race of men with cattle:
people who recognise no right in the aborigines to either the grass they
have thus worked from infancy, nor to the kangaroos they have hunted
with their fathers. No, nor yet to the emus they kill FOR their fathers ONLY;
these birds being reserved, or held sacred, for the sole use of the old men
and women!
[* F. SCABRA (Lindl. MS.); undique scabro-tomentosa, foliis linearibus
margine revolutis non ciliatis, floribus solitariis pentameris, calycibus
patentim pilosis. F. SERPYLLIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); tomentosa hispida, foliis
oblongis planis longè ciliatis, floribus solitariis subcapitatis pentameris,
calycibus patentim hispidis.]
[** H. ASPERA (Lindl. MS.) caule angulato foliis fructuque scabris, foliis
alternis oppositisque linearibus acutis apice pinnatifidis, floribus
distanter spicatis monoicis pendulis, stigmatibus plumosis, fructu
subgloboso.]
The river pursued a course to the southward of west for nine miles, but
it turned afterwards southward, eastward, and even to the northward of E.
After tracing it thus twenty-two miles, without seeing any water in its
bed (which was broad, but every where choked with sand), we were
obliged to encamp, and endure this privation after a very warm and
laborious day. Where the natives obtained water themselves, quite
puzzled Yuranigh, for we passed by spacious encampments of theirs, and
tracts they had set fire to, where trees still lay smoking.
14TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at 7 this morning was 72° of
Fahrenheit; the height above the sea, of the river bed, as subsequently
determined by Captain King, 1470 feet. With the earliest light, I had laid
down my survey of this river, by which the course appeared to have
turned towards the S.E. This not being what was desired, I took a direct
northerly course through the scrub, towards a hill on the left bank,
whence I had seen, on our way down, a rocky gap to the N.W. in a
brigalow range. After a ride of eight miles, by which we cut off the grand
curve in the river’s course, we arrived at this hill. I hoped to have found
water near the spot, in a sharp turn in the river which I had not examined,
and near which, on the day before, I had seen two emus, under a bank
covered with brigalow scrub. Nor was I disappointed, for after finding
traces of a recent current into the river-bed at that point, I discovered, at
less than a hundred yards up, a fine pond of precious OPAL—I mean not
crystal, but that fine bluey liquid which I found always so cool and
refreshing when it lay on clay in the shady recesses of brigalow scrubs, a
beverage much more grateful to our taste than the common “crystal
spring.” Here, then, we watered our impatient horses, and enjoyed a
wash and breakfast—the men (two old soldiers) being D’ACCORD in one
sentiment of gratitude to a bountiful Providence for this water.
Like “a giant refreshed with wine,” we next set out for the gap to the
north-west, and passed through an open brigalow scrub, ascending very
gradually, during a ride of three miles, to where I at length could
discover that the fall was in the other direction. At this point, I observed
the barometer, which indicated our height above the sea to be 1812 feet.
Fahrenheit’s thermometer stood then (5 p.m.) at 86°. The dry channel of
a water-course had afforded us an opening through the scrub, and had
also guided us to the highest part of the ground. The fresh prints of the
feet of three men in the smooth bare sand, told us that the same natives
whose track Yuranigh had seen in the river we traced yesterday, were
now going in the same direction as ourselves, and just before us; for the
smell of their burning fire-sticks, and even small portions of burning
embers which had dropped, made this evident. The higher ground was
flat, and on it the rosewood acacia grew amongst the brigalow. The rocky
gap (in a ridge) was still distant at least three miles; the sun nearly set,
and not a blade of grass visible amongst the brigalow bushes. But what
was all this to the romantic uncertainty as to what lay beyond! With
eager steps we followed a slight channel downwards; found that it
descended more rapidly than the one by which we had ascended; that it
also increased, and we were guided by it into a little valley, verdant with
young grass, while yet the red sky over a departed sun shone reflected
from several broad ponds of water. This seemed to us a charming spot,
so opportunely and unexpectedly found, and we alighted on a fine grassy
flat by the margin of a small lagoon, where stood a most graceful group
of bushes for shelter or shade. After sunset, the sky was overcast with
very heavy clouds; the air was sultry, and we expected rain.
15TH SEPTEMBER.—As soon as daylight appeared I hastened towards
the gap, and ascended a naked rock on the west side of it. I there beheld
downs and plains extending westward beyond the reach of vision,
bounded on the S. W. by woods and low ranges, and on the N. E. by
higher ranges; the whole of these open downs declining to the N. W., in
which direction a line of trees marked the course of a river traceable to
the remotest verge of the horizon. There I found then, at last, the
realization of my long cherished hopes, an interior river falling to the N.
W. in the heart of an open country extending also in that direction.
Ulloa’s delight at the first view of the Pacific could not have surpassed
mine on this occasion, nor could the fervour with which he was
impressed at the moment have exceeded my sense of gratitude, for being
allowed to make such a discovery. From that rock, the scene was so
extensive as to leave no room for doubt as to the course of the river,
which, thus and there revealed to me alone, seemed like a reward direct
from Heaven for perseverance, and as a compensation for the many
sacrifices I had made, in order to solve the question as to the interior
rivers of Tropical Australia. To an European, the prospect of an open
country has a double charm in regions for the most part covered with
primaeval forests, calling up pleasing reminiscences of the past, brighter
prospects for the future—inspiring a sense of freedom, especially when
viewed from the back of a good horse:—
“A steed! a steed! of matchless speede,
A sword of metal keene—
All else to noble minds is drosse,
All else on earth is meane!” —OLD SONG.
I hastened back to my little party (distant a mile and a half from the
gap), and immediately made them mount to follow me down the watercourse,
which, as I had seen from the rock, would lead us into the open
country. The little chain of ponds led westward, until the boundless
downs appeared through the woods; a scene most refreshing to us, on
emerging from so many thick scrubs. Our little river, after crossing much
open plain, fell into another coming from E.S.E., and columns of smoke
far in the N.W. showed that there was water, by showing there were
inhabitants. The grass on these downs was of the richest sort, chiefly
PANICUM LOEVINODE, and I was not sorry to recognise amongst it,
SALSOLOE, and the ACACIA PENDULA, amongst the shrubs. As we followed
the river downwards, the open downs appeared on the W.N.W. horizon
as if interminable. This river, unlike that I had called the Nive, had no
sand in its bed, which consisted of firm clay, and contained deep
hollows, and the beds of long reaches, then, however, all dry, while
abundance of large UNIO shells lay upon the banks, and proved that the
drought was not of common occurrence. The general course of the river I
found to be about W.N.W. true. We continued to follow it through its
windings all day, which I certainly should not have done, but for the sake
of water, as our progress downwards was thus much retarded. Towards
evening, Corporal Graham discovered water in a small tributary coming
from the S.E., while Yuranigh found some also in the main channel,
where that tributary fell into it. We encamped on Graham’s ponds, as this
was called, and turned our horses loose on the wide plain, up to the knees
in grass half dry, half green, that they might be the more fit “for the field
to-morrow.” The sky had been lowering all day, and the heat was
intense; but during the night, the air was delicious for sleeping in, under
heaven’s canopy and protection.
16TH SEPTEMBER.—The “gorgeous curtains of the East” over grandly
formed clouds harmonised well with my sentiments on awaking, again to
trace, as if I had been the earliest man, the various features of these fine
regions of earth. At 7 a.m. the temperature was 63°; and (from
observations registered then) the height above the sea has been found to
be 1216 feet. Throughout the day we travelled over fine downs and
plains covered with the finest grass, having the river on our right.
Beyond it, we saw hills, which seemed to be of greater height in
proportion as we descended with the river. Some were much broken, and
appeared to present precipices on the other side. A broad valley extended
westward from between the farthest of these broken ranges, which range
seemed to be an offshoot from one further eastward. On examining the
river, below the supposed junction of a tributary from the east, I found its
character altered, forming ponds amongst brigalow trees. Water was,
however, scarce. We fortunately watered our horses about 3 p.m., at the
only hole we had seen that day, a small muddy puddle. The ACACIA
PENDULA formed a belt outside the brigalow, between the river and the
open plains, and many birds and plants reminded us of the Darling; the
rose cockatoo and crested-pigeon, amongst the former; SALSOLOE and
SOLANUM amongst the latter. At length, we saw before us, to the
westward, bold precipitous hills, extending also to the southward of west.
A thunder storm came over us, and night advancing, we halted without
seeing more, for that day, of the interesting country before us, and having
only water enough for our own use, the product of the shower. No pond
was found for the horses, although we had searched for one, many miles
in the bed of the river. Still, the remains of mussel shells on the banks
bore testimony that water was seldom so scarce in this river, flowing as it
did through the finest and most extensive pastoral region I had ever seen.
17TH SEPTEMBER.—The temperature at seven this morning was 57°;
our height above the sea 1112 feet. “Like the gay birds that” awoke us
from “repose” we were “content,” but certainly not “careless of
tomorrow’s fare;” for unless we found water to-day, “to-morrow” had
found us unable either to proceed or return! Trusting wholly to
Providence, however, we went forward, and found a pond in the river
bed, not distant more than two miles from where we had slept. In making
a cut next through a brigalow scrub, towards where I hoped to hit the
river, in a nearly westerly direction, I came out upon open downs, and
turned again into a brigalow scrub on my right. After travelling a good
many miles, N.W., through this scrub, we arrived on the verge of a plain
of dead brigalow; and still pursuing the same course, we came out, at
length, upon open downs extending far to the northward. I continued to
ride in that direction to a clear hill, and from it I obtained a view of a
range of flat-topped hills, that seemed to extend W.N.W.; the most
westerly portion of these being the steep-sided mass seen before us
yesterday. They now lay far to the northward, and the intervening
country was partly low and woody, and partly consisted of the downs we
were upon. But where was the river? Yarra trees and other indications of
one appeared nearest to us in an easterly direction, at the foot of some
well-formed hollows on that side the downs. Towards that point I
therefore shaped my course, and there found the river—no longer a
chain of dry ponds in brigalow scrub, but a channel shaded by lofty yarra
trees, with open grassy banks, and containing long reaches full of water.
White cockatoos shrieked above us; ducks floated, or flew about, and
columns of smoke began to ascend from the woods before us. This was
now, indeed, a river, and I lost no time in following it downwards. The
direction was west; then north-west, tolerably straight. Water was
abundant in its bed; the breadth was considerable, and the channel was
well-marked by bold lofty banks. I remarked the salt-bush of the Bogan
plains, growing here, on sand-islands of this river. The grass surpassed
any I had ever seen in the colony in quality and abundance. The slow
flying pelican appeared over our heads, and we came to a long broad
reach covered with ducks, where the channel had all the appearance of a
river of the first magnitude. The old mussle shells (UNIO) lay in heaps,
like cart-loads, all along the banks, but still we saw none of the natives.
Flames, however, arose from the woods beyond the opposite bank, at
once in many directions, as if by magic, as we advanced. At 3 p.m.
Fahrenheit’s thermometer in the shade stood at 90°. Towards evening, we
saw part of the bed dry, and found it continuously so, as night came on.
The sun had set, while I still anxiously explored the dry recesses of the
channel in search of water, without much hopes of success, when a wild
yell arose from the woods back from the channel, which assured us that
water was near. Towards that quarter we turned, and Yuranigh soon
found a fine pond in a small ana-branch, upon which we immediately
halted, and took up our abode there for the night. It may seem strange
that so small a number could act thus unmolested by the native tribes, but
our safety consisted chiefly in the rapidity of our movements, and their
terror of strangers wholly unknown, perhaps unheard of, arriving on the
backs of huge animals, or centaurs whose tramp they had only heard at
nightfall. Like Burns’s “Auld Nick,”
——”rustling through the boortrees comin’
Wi’ eerie sought!”
our passage was too rapid to admit of any design for attack or
annoyance being concocted, much less, carried into effect; next night we
hoped to sleep thirty miles off, where our coming would be equally
unexpected by natives. Latitude, 24° 34′ 30″ S.
18TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the temperature of the air was 72°; the
height of the spot above the sea, 995 feet. Keeping along the river bank
for some miles, I found its general course to be about N.W.; and seeing
clear downs beyond the right bank, I crossed, and proceeded towards the
highest clear hill on the horizon. There I obtained a distant view of the
ranges intersected yesterday, and of their prolongations. That to the
northward of the river, whose general direction to the point already fixed
had been 22° W. of N., there formed an angle, and continued, as far as I
could judge by the eye, nearly northward. The range to the southward of
the river also turned off, extending nearly to the southward. These two
limits of the vast valley, thus receding from the river so as to leave it
ample room to turn and wind on either side, amidst its accompanying
woods, through grassy downs of great extent, obliged me to explore its
course with closer attention. From another clear hill on these downs, to
which I next proceeded, I thought I perceived the line of another river
coming from ranges in the N.E., and expecting it would join that whose
course we had thus far explored, I proceeded in a nearly N.W. direction
over open downs towards the line of trees. I found therein a fine pond of
water, the soil of the downs consisting of stiff clay. MESEMBRYANTHEMUM
and various SALSOLOE appeared in some parts. My horses being rather
jaded, I halted rather early here, and laid down my journey, protracting
also the angles I had observed of the points of distant ranges. Latitude,
24° 27′ 27″ S. I found by the barometer that we were already much lower
than the rivers Salvator and Claude, and the upper part, at least, of the
Belyando; while we were still remote from the channel we were
pursuing.
19TH SEPTEMBER.—The thermometer at 7 a.m. stood at 57°. The
height of these ponds above the sea was 861 feet. Young, I think, has
said, that a situation might be imagined between earth and heaven, where
a man should hear nothing but the thoughts of the Almighty; but such a
sublime position seems almost attained by him who is the first permitted
to traverse extensive portions of earth, as yet unoccupied by man; to
witness in solitude and silence regions well adapted to his use, brings a
man into more immediate converse with the Author both of his being,
and of all other combinations of matter than any other imaginable
position he can attain. With nothing but nature around him; his few
wants supplied almost miraculously; living on from day to day, just as he
falls in with water; his existence is felt to be in the hands of Providence
alone; and this feeling pervades even the minds of the least susceptible,
in journeys like these. Those splendid plains where, without a horse, man
seems a helpless animal, are avoided, and are said to be shunned and
disliked by the aboriginal man of the woods. Even their lonely
inhabitant, the emu, seems to need both wings and feet, that he may
venture across them. We travelled nearly west over plains; then through a
brigalow scrub, two miles in breadth; emerging from which, on a
perfectly level plain of very rich soil, we turned rather to the southward
of west, to where the distant line of river-trees seemed most accessible.
Bushes of ACACIA PENDULA skirted this plain; and, passing through them,
we crossed a track of nearly half a mile wide of soft sand, evidently a
concomitant feature of the river. We next traversed a belt of firm blue
clay, on which a salsolaceous bush appeared to be the chief vegetation;
and, between it and the river, was another belt of sand a mile broad, on
which grew a scrub of rosewood acacia. The river there ran in four
separate channels, amongst various trees; brigalow and yarra being both
amongst them. I crossed these channels, and continued westward that I
might ascend a hill on the downs beyond. From that eminence, no hill
was visible on any part of the horizon, which everywhere presented only
downs and woods. Far in the S.W. a hollow admitted of a very distant
view, which terminated in downs beyond a woody valley. The course of
our river appeared to be N.W., as seen by Yuranigh, from a tree we
found here. In that direction I therefore proceeded; recrossing the river,
where, in a general breadth of about 400 yards, it formed five channels.
The grass was more verdant here, and the ponds in these small separate
channels seemed likely to contain water. We continued N. W. across fine
clear downs, where we found the heat so intense, (Centigrade
thermometer, 37°, or 99° of Fahrenheit,) that I halted two hours under the
shade of a small clump of trees. When we continued our ride in the
afternoon, three emus that had been feeding on the downs came
inquisitively forward; curiosity, apparently inspiring them with more
courage than even the human inhabitants. Unfortunately for these birds,
our bacon had become so impalatable that a change of diet was very
desirable, and Graham, therefore, met them half-way on his horse; the
quadruped inspiring more confidence in the bird. It was curious to
witness the first meeting of the large indigenous bird and large exotic
quadruped—such strange objects to each other! on the wide plains
where either of them could
——”overtake the south wind.”
One of the emus was easily shot from the horse’s side, and, that
evening being the Saturday night of a very laborious week, we were not
slow in seeking out a shady spot by the side of a pond in the river bed.
There my men had a feast, with the exception of Yuranigh; who,
although unable to eat our salt bacon, religiously abstained from eating
emu flesh, although he skinned the bird and cut it up, SECUNDUM ARTEM,
for the use of the white men. The channel of the river was still divided
here, amongst brigalow bushes. We only reached it by twilight.
Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 86°. Height above the sea, 758 feet.
20TH SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. the thermometer was 78°. Water
appearing to be more constant now in the river, I ventured to pursue its
general course in straighter lines, across the fine open downs, which lay
to the eastward of it. Beyond these I perceived lines of wood as
belonging to another river; and, on advancing in that direction, I first
encountered a great breadth of brigalow scrub; next, we entered a
rosewood scrub, redolent with blossom; then an open forest, in which we
found the deep well-formed channel of a river coming from the eastward.
The bottom was rocky, and bore marks of a recent current. This river
also spread into branches: we crossed three, and then again entered upon
open downs. Next we crossed a well-defined line of deep ponds, with
yarra trees, and coming from E.N.E. over the downs; and three miles
further on, we crossed another coming from N.E., on which, finding a
good lagoon, I encamped early, that the men might have time to cook for
themselves some of the emu, and that the horses might also have some
sufficient rest. Latitude, 24° 12′ 42″ S. Thermometer, at 1 p.m., 86°.
Height above the sea, 724 feet.
21ST SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer at 6 a.m., 63°. I found that the
various tributaries to the river channel had imparted to it a greater
tendency westward; but we fell in with it again six miles to the westward
of where we had passed the night. Its character was the same—a
concatenation of ponds amongst brigalow; but these seemed better filled
with water, apparently from the more decided slopes and firmer soil of
the adjacent country. The course next turned considerably to the
southward of west, while one ana-branch separating from it, ran about
westward. I found an open plain between these, across which I travelled;
until, again meeting the southern branch, we crossed it where it seemed
to turn more to the northward. The day was warm, and I halted two hours
under the shade of some trees, where I laid down our journey on paper,
and found we were making great progress towards Carpentaria, across a
very open country. We were no longer in doubt about finding water,
although in the heart of Australia, surrounded by an unbroken horizon.
On proceeding, we passed some large huts near the river, which were
of a more substantial construction, and also on a better plan than those
usually set up by the aborigines of the south. A frame like a lean-to roof
had first been erected; rafters had next been laid upon that; and,
thereupon thin square portions of bark were laid, like tiles. A fine pond
of water being near, we there spancelled our horses and lay down for the
night. At 5 p.m. the thermometer was at 82°. Height above the sea, 707
feet.
22D SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 58°. This was no sandybedded
river like others we had discovered. The bed still consisted of
firm clay, and now the rich vegetation on the banks presented so much
novelty, that, without the means of carrying an herbarium, I was
nevertheless tempted to select a bouquet of flowers for Dr. Lindley, and
carry them amongst my folded maps. The very herbage at this camp was
curious. One plant supplied an excellent dish of vegetables. There were
others resembling parsley, and having the taste of water-cresses with
white turnip-like roots. Here grew also a dwarf or tropical CAPPARIS.
Among the grasses was a tawny ERIANTHUS, apparently the same as that
formerly seen on the banks of the Bogan, and the curious DANTHONIA
PECTINATA, gathered in Australia Felix in 1836. There was also amongst
the grasses a PAPPOPHORUM, which was perhaps the P. GRACILE, formerly
collected in the tropical part of New Holland by Dr. Brown; and a very
remarkable new species of the same curious genus, with an open narrow
panicle, and little branches not unlike those of a young oat.[*] The river
again formed a goodly continuous channel. Its most splendid feature, the
wide open plains, continued along its banks, and I set out on this, as we
had indeed on all other mornings since we made the discovery, intensely
interested in the direction of its course. We had not prolonged our
journey very far across the plains, keeping the trees of the river we had
left visible on our right, when another line of river trees appeared over
the downs on our left. Thus it seemed we were between two rivers, with
their junction before us, for the ground declined in that direction. And so
we found it. At about seven miles from where we had slept, we arrived at
the broad channel of the first river we had traced down, whose impetuous
floods had left the trees half bent to the earth, and clogged with drift
matter; not on any narrow space, but across a deep section of 400 yards.
The rocks in the channel were washed quite bare, and crystal water lay in
ponds amongst these rocks. A high gravelly bank, crowned with
brigalow, formed the western margin, but no brigalow could withstand
the impetuous currents, that evidently, at some seasons, swept down
there. It was quite refreshing to see all clear and green, over so broad a
water-worn space. The junction with the northern river took place just
below, and I continued my journey, not a little curious to see what sort of
a river would be formed by these channels when united. I found the
direction of the course to be about N.W., both running nearly parallel.
About three miles on I approached the united channel, and found the
broad, deep, and placid waters of a river as large as the Murray. Pelican
and ducks floated upon it, and mussle-shells of extraordinary size lay in
such quantities, where the natives had been in the habit of eating them, as
to resemble snow covering the ground. But even that reach seemed
diminutive when compared with the vast body of water whereof traces
had, at another season, been left there; these affording evidence that,
although wide, they had still been impetuous in their course. Verdure
alone shone now, over the wide extent to which the waters sometimes
rose. Beyond that channel lay the almost boundless plains, the whole
together forming the finest region I had ever seen in Australia. Two
kinds of grass grew on these plains; one of them a brome grass,
possessing the remarkable property of shooting up green from the old
stalk.
[* P. AVENACEUM (Lindl. MS.); aristis 9 inaequalibus scabris infra medium
plumosis, paniculâ pilosâ angustâ interruptâ ramulis inferioribus demum
refractis, spiculis 3-floris, glumis pubescentibus multistriatis, paleis
villosis, foliis……]
The bees were also new to Yuranigh, who drew my attention to their
extreme smallness; not much exceeding in size a knat or mosquito.
Nevertheless, he could cut out their honey from hollow trees, and thus
occasionally procure for us a pleasant lunch, of a waxy compound, found
with the honey, which, in appearance and taste much resembled fine
gingerbread. The honey itself was slightly acid, but clear and fine
flavoured.
I hoped the deep reach would have been continuous, as it looked
navigable, even for steamers, but it continued so only for a few miles,
beyond which the channel contained ponds only. I finally alighted beside
one of these ponds, which was so large, indeed, that the colonists would
have called it a lagoon; this one being high above the river channel, on a
verdant plain. As yet, we had not seen a single inhabitant of this El
Dorado of Australia. At 2 p.m. thermometer 88°. Height above the sea
712 feet.
23D SEPTEMBER.—At 7 a.m. thermometer 59°. Latitude 24° 2′ S. New
flowers perfumed the dry bed of this river, and these showed, in their
forms and structure, that nature even in variety is infinite. I regretted I
could not collect specimens. Our only care now, was the duration of our
provisions. Water was less a subject of anxiety with me now, than it had
been at any period of the journey. We had made the Emu eke out our
little stock, and my men (two old soldiers) were willing to undergo any
privation that might enable me to prolong my ride. This day completed
half the month, but I was determined to follow the course of this
interesting river at least four days longer. The back of one of our pack
horses had become so sore, that he would no longer endure a load; we
threw away the pack saddle, and divided his load, so as to distribute it in
portions, on some of the saddle horses and the other pack animal. The
course of the river towards the west, and our limited time, obliged me to
stride over as much of the general direction as possible. I crossed the
river, and travelled across open downs. I saw the tops of its Yarra trees
on my left. At about four miles, we crossed what seemed a large river,
but which must have been only an ana-branch from the main stream. We
next traversed a fine open down of six miles; the soil, a firm blue clay
with gravel, and on this grew two varieties of grass which I had seen
nowhere else. The valley I next approached, contained the channel of a
river flowing towards our river; a tributary, which evidently bore
impetuous floods into it, sometimes. This also ran in three channels. I
called it the Alice.
As this new river was likely to turn the main stream off to the
westward or south, I travelled west by compass over vast downs, finely
variegated with a few loose trees like a park, but extending on all sides to
the horizon. Where I looked for the main channel, I saw rising ground of
this kind; and meeting with another small river, with a stoney bed and
water in it, I bivouacqued, for the day was very hot; the thermometer, at
3 p.m., 90° in the shade. The pond here was much frequented by
pigeons, and a new sort of elegant form and plumage, was so numerous
that five were killed at two shots. The head was jet-black, the neck milkwhite,
the wings fawn-colour, having lower feathers of purple. I had no
means of preserving a specimen, but I took a drawing of one.[*] Height
above the sea here, 826 feet.
[* By which I find it has been named GEOPHAPS HISTRIONIEA.]
24TH SEPTEMBER.—I continued to seek the river across extensive
downs, in many parts of which dead brigalow stumps remained,
apparently as if the decay of that species of scrub gave place to open
ground. I turned now to the S.W., and became anxious to see the river
again. At length we came upon a creek, which I followed down, first to
the S.W. and next southerly, until it was time to alight, when we
established our bivouac by a large lagoon in its bed, in latitude 24° 3′ 30″
S. Thermometer, at 3 p.m. 98°. Height above the sea, 688 feet.
25TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer stood at 73°. We ought
to have been retrogressive yesterday, according to the time calculated on
for our stock of provisions; but we could not leave the river without
tracing it to the furthest accesible point. We still continued, therefore, to
follow the water-course which had brought us thus far, expecting at
every turn to find its junction with the river, whose course had obviously
turned more than usual to the southward. We fell in with a larger
tributary from the N. W.; after which junction, the tributary took a more
westerly direction than the minor channel which brought us to it. We
thus came upon a large lagoon, beside which were the huts of a very
numerous tribe of natives, who appeared to have been there very
recently, as some of the fires were still burning. Well beaten paths, and
large permanent huts, were seen beyond that encampment; and it was
plain that we had entered the home of a numerous tribe. I should have
gladly avoided them at that time, had not a sight of the river been
indispensable, and the course of the creek we were upon, the only certain
guide to it. Level plains extended along its banks, and I had been
disappointed by the appearance of lofty Yarra trees, which grew on the
banks of large lagoons. On approaching one of these, loud shrieks of
many women and children, and the angry voices of men, apprised me
that we had, at length, overtaken the tribe; and, unfortunately, had come
upon them by surprise. “AYA MINYÀ!” was vociferated repeatedly, and
was understood to mean, “What do you want!” (What seek ye in the land
of Macgregor!) I steadily adhered to my new plan of tactics towards the
aborigines, and took not the slightest notice of them, but steadily rode
forward, according to my compass bearing. On looking back for my men,
I saw one beckoning me to return. He had observed two natives, with
spears and clubs, hide themselves behind a bush in the direction in which
I was advancing. On my halting, they stole away, and, when a little
further on, I perceived an old white-haired woman before me, on seeing
whom I turned slightly to one side, that we might not frighten her or
provoke the tribe. The whole party seemed to have been amusing
themselves in the water during the noon-day heat, which was excessive;
and the cool shades around the lagoon looked most luxuriant. Our
position, on the contrary, was anything but enviable. With jaded horses
scarcely able to lift a leg, amongst so many natives, whose language was
incomprehensible, even to Yuranigh. I asked him whether we might not
come to a parley with them, and see if they could understand him. His
answer was brief; and, without turning even his head once to look at
them:—”You go on!” which advice, quite according with my own
notions, founded on experience, I willingly went on. Even there, in the
heart of the interior, on a river utterly unheard of by white men, an iron
tomahawk glittered on high in the hand of a chief, having a very long
handle to it. The anxious care of the females to carry off their children
seemed the most agreeable feature in the scene, and they had a mode of
carrying them on the haunch, which was different from anything I had
seen. Some had been digging in the mud for worms, others searching for
freshwater muscles; and if the whole could have been witnessed
unperceived, such a scene of domestic life amongst the aborigines had
been worth a little more risk. The strong men assumed a strange attitude,
which seemed very expressive of surprise; having the right knee bent, the
left leg forward, the right arm dropping, but grasping clubs; the left arm
raised, and the fingers spread out. “Aya, aya, minyà!” they continually
shouted; and well might they ask what we wanted! Hoping they would
believe us to be Centaurs, and include the two old pack-horses in
counting our numbers, I had not the slightest desire to let them know us
more particularly; and so travelled on, glad, at length, to hear their “Aya
minyàs” grow fainter, and that we were leaving them behind. About five
miles further south, the perfume from the liliaceous banks of the river
was the first indication of its vicinity. We found it full 400 yards broad,
presenting its usual characteristics,—several separate channels and
ponds of water; there, according to the barometer, the height above the
sea was only 633 feet; the temperature at 3 p.m., in the shade, 99° of
Fahrenheit. We watered our horses, crossed, and plunged into the
brigalow beyond, where I meant to steal a march upon the noisy tribe;
who, by that time, probably were sending to call in their hunting parties,
that they might follow our track. Their mode of killing a kangaroo may
best exemplify their tactics towards strangers; whose path in the same
manner could be followed by day, and sat down beside at night, to be
again tracked in the morning, until the object of pursuit could be
overtaken. The brigalow beyond the river grew on a rising ground of
sharpedged red gravel, and, from a small opening, I saw the course of the
river running nearly northward. Here, then, I turned towards the east to
travel home by ascending the left bank, with the intention to cut off the
great sweep which the river described, as we had found on tracing it
down; and, in hopes we should so intercept any tributaries it might
receive from that side. At dusk, I met with one containing a fine lagoon,
and near this I fixed my bivouac. Yuranigh most firmly objected to our
sitting down close by the water, saying we might there be too easily
speared by the wild natives who were then, probably, on our track; but he
did not object to my bivouac on the more open plain adjacent, one man
keeping a good look-out. I called these, Yuranigh’s ponds. Latitude, 24°
19′ 2″ S.
26TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer stood at 61°. My horse
was quite leg-weary, and I was very loath to force him on, but one day’s
journey further was indispensable. We traversed open plains and passed
through patches of brigalow of an open kind of scrub. The surface was
grassy, but very gravelly; indeed it was, in many places, so devoid of
mould as to resemble a newly Macadamized road,—the fragments
being much of that size, and in general of a reddish colour, consisting,
for the most part, of a red siliceous compound. In a ride of twenty-six
miles, we saw no country much better, and I was obliged to conclude that
the left bank was by no means so good as the country on the right, or to
the northward of the river. We arrived, however, by nightfall, at a goodly
water-course, in which we providentially found a pond, and encamped;
resolved there to rest our horses next day, (being Sunday,) and most
thankful to Him to whom the day was dedicated. Latitude 24° 12′ 37″ S.
Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 92°.
27TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 68°. On laying down my
work on paper, I found we had made a most favourable cut on the way
homewards, our old bivouac of the 21st inst., being about due east from
us, and distant not quite fifteen miles; the great tributary from the S.E.
passing between, upon which we could depend for a supply of water, if it
should be required.
It would appear that the finer the climate, and the fewer man’s wants,
the more he sinks towards the condition of the lower animals. Where the
natives had passed the night, no huts, even of bushes, had been set up; a
few tufts of dry grass only, marked the spot where, beside a small fire,
each person had sat folded up, like the capital letter N; but with the head
reclining on the knees, and the whole person resting on the feet and
thigh-joints, clasped together by the hands grasping each ankle. Their
occupation during the day was only wallowing in a muddy hole, in no
respect cleaner than swine. They have no idea of any necessity for
washing themselves between their birth and the grave, while groping in
mud for worms, with hands that have always an unpleasant fishy taint
that clings strangely to whatever they touch. The child of civilization that
would stain even a shoe or a stocking with one spot of that mud, would
probably be whipt by the nurse: savage children are not subject to that
sort of restraint. Whether school discipline may have any thing to do
with the difference so remarkable between the animal spirits of children
of civilised parents and those of savages, I shall make no remark; but that
the buoyancy of spirit and cheerfulness of the youth amongst the savages
of Australia, seem to render them agreeable companions to the men on
their hunting excursions, almost as soon as they can run about. If the
naturalist looks a savage in the mouth, he finds ivory teeth, a clean
tongue, and sweet breath; but in the mouth of a white specimen of
similar, or indeed less, age, it is ten to one but he would discover only
impurity and decay, however clean the shoes and stockings worn, or
however fine the flour of which his or her food had consisted. What,
then, is civilization in the economy of the human animal? one is led to
inquire. A little reflection affords a satisfactory answer. Cultivated man
despises the perishable substance, and pursues the immortal shadow.
Animal gratification is transient and dull, compared to the acquisition of
knowledge—the gratification of mind—the raptures of the poet, or the
delight of the enthusiast, however imaginary. It is true that, amongst
civilized men, substance is still represented by the yellow ore, and that
the votaries of beauty “bend in silken slavery;” but are not beauty or gold
as dust in the balance, substantial though they be, when weighed in lofty
minds against glory or immortality? When the shadow he pursues is
worth more, and is more enduring than the substance, well might it be
said that “Man is but a shadow, and life a dream.” Such were my
reflections on this day of rest, in the heart of a desert, while protected
from the sun’s rays by a blanket, and in some uncertainty how long these
dreams under it would continue undisturbed.
“The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell: a hell of heaven!”
Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 90°.
28TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 63°. The horses were
much refreshed by that day’s repose, and we this morning continued our
journey in an easterly direction, over downs and through open scrubs,
meeting no impediment from brigalow. We crossed the various branches
of a considerable tributary coming from E.S.E., the only water seen this
day, besides the great river; which we met with, exactly where, according
to its general course, it was to be looked for. We crossed it, and
encamped on the right bank of the northern river, at the place where I had
previously crossed.
This day I had discovered, from the highest parts of the downs, a range
to the S. W., and was able to intersect some of the principal hills, and so
determine its place and direction. I named the most westerly feature,
Mount Gray; the lofty central mass, the Gowen Range, and a bold
summit forming the eastern portion, Mount Koenig. I had now obtained
data sufficient to enable me to determine the extent of the lower basin of
the river, by laying down the position and direction of the nearest ranges.
The last-mentioned appeared flat-topped, and presented yellow cliffs like
sandstone. At 6 p.m., the temperature was 81°.
29TH SEPTEMBER.—At 6 a.m., the thermometer was 59°. Re-crossing
the river, I travelled, in a straight line, towards my camp of 19th
September: thus, performing in one, the journeys of two former days. We
crossed the main channel we had previously traced down, thus
identifying it. The country was, in general, open; the downs well covered
with grass, and redolent with the rich perfume of lilies and strange
flowers, which grew all over them amongst the grass. We arrived at the
spot I sought, and there encamped. Our provisions were nearly out; the
sun having reduced the men’s sugar, and melted the bacon, which had
been boiled before we set out. This was an unfortunate blunder. Bacon,
in such warm weather, should be carried uncooked, and our’s might have
then been very good. The men jocosely remarked, that, although we had
out-manoeuvred the natives, the weather had been so hot that,
nevertheless, we could not “save our bacon.” Thermometer, at 5 p.m.,
83°.
30TH SEPTEMBER.—Thermometer, at 7 a.m., 67°. I found, by my map,
that I might very much shorten the homeward route to next camp (that of
18th September), by travelling towards it in a straight line across the
downs. We accordingly set out on the bearing of 5½° S. of E., and hit
the spot exactly at a distance of eighteen miles; arriving early, so as to
afford some good rest to our horses. We crossed open downs chiefly,
passed through a narrow belt of brigalow (about a mile wide), and twice
crossed a tributary to the river, which tributary we thus discovered. The
water-course on which we had again encamped, arose in open downs of
fine firm clay, and it was pleasant to see a great river thus supplied by the
waters collected only amongst the swelling undulations and valleys of
the country through which it passed, like the rivers of Europe. The river
we had discovered, seemed, in this respect, essentially different from
others in Australia, which usually arise in mountains, and appear to be
rather designed to convey water into regions where it is wanting, than to
carry off any surplus from the surfaces over which they run.
1ST OCTOBER.—Our track back across the downs, brought again into
view the Northern range, and I now named the prominent mountain at its
salient, Mount Northampton, in honour of the noble marquis at the head
of the Royal Society. The range to the southward also appeared above
the trees of the valley, and I gave the name of Mount Inniskillen to the
salient mountain, which appeared so remarkable a feature to us on first
advancing into that region, from the eastward. We again reached the river
this day, after traversing the wide plains. Its woods still resounded with
the plaintive cooing of a dove, which I had not seen elsewhere. At a
distance, the sound resembled the distant cooy of female natives, and we
at first took it for their voices until we ascertained whence these notes
came. I had arrived at a fine reach of the river, and while watering the
horses, preparatory to leaving its banks, (to make a short cut on our
former route,) when a pair of these birds appeared on a bough over head,
so near that I could take a drawing, by which I have since ascertained the
bird to have been GEOPELIA CUNEATA.
But the river we were about to leave required a name, for no natives
could be made to understand our questions, even had they been more
willing than they were to communicate at all. It seemed to me, to deserve
a great name, being of much importance, as leading from temperate into
tropical regions, where water was the essential requisite,—a river
leading to India; the “nacimiento de la especeria,” or REGION WHERE SPICES
GREW: the grand goal, in short, of explorers by sea and land, from
Columbus downwards. This river seemed to me typical of God’s
providence, in conveying living waters into a dry parched land, and thus
affording access to open and extensive pastoral regions, likely to be soon
peopled by civilised inhabitants. It was with sentiments of devotion, zeal,
and loyalty, that I therefore gave to this river the name of my gracious
sovereign, Queen Victoria. There seemed to be much novelty in the
plants along its banks. The shells of the fresh-water mussle (UNIO), which
lay about the old fires of the natives, exceeded in size any we had seen
elsewhere. I measured one, and found it six inches long, and three and a
half broad. On the plains near this spot, grew a beautiful little ACACIA,
resembling A. PENDULA, but a distinct species, according to Mr. Bentham.[*]
We crossed the open downs and our former route, hastening to make the
tributary river before night. We reached the channel by sunset; the moon
was nearly full, and we continued to search in the bed for water, until we
again fell in with our former track, near the place where we had watered
our horses on the morning of the 17th September. On hastening to the
pond, we found the intense heat of the last twelve days had dried it up,
and we were obliged to encamp without water; a most unpleasant
privation after a ride of thirty miles, under an almost vertical sun. The
river must receive a great addition below this branch from the
Northampton ranges, entering probably about that great bend we had this
day cut off; leaving the deep reaches formerly seen there, on our left, or
to the northward. An uncommon drought had not only dried up the
waters of this river, but killed much of the brigalow scrub so effectually,
that the dead trunks alone remained on vast tracts, thus becoming open
downs.
[* A. VICTORIAE (Benth. MS.) glabra, glauca, ramulis teretibus, phyllodiis
linearibus subfalcatis obtusis basi angustatis crassis enervibus, glandulâ
prope basin immersâ, pedunculis glaberrimis gracilibus racemosis
capitulo parvo 12-20-floro multoties longioribus.]
2D OCTOBER.—At 6 a.m. the thermometer gave a temperature of 59°.
The height above the sea was 1081 feet. In tracing back our old track, I
sent Corporal Graham to examine a part of the river channel likely to
contain water, and the report of his pistol some time after in the woods,
welcomer than sweetest music to our ears just then, guided us to the spot,
where he had found a small pond containing enough for all our wants.
For the men, having no more tea or sugar, a good drink was all that was
required; the poor fellows prepared my tea not the less assiduously,
although I could have had but little comfort in drinking it under such
circumstances, without endeavouring to share what was almost
indivisible. We this day performed a long journey, reaching our former
bivouac, of the 16th September, on Graham’s creek, at an early hour.
Three emus were seen feeding close by; but, although several attempts
were made to get near them, with a horse stalking, we could not kill any
of them.
3D OCTOBER.—Soon after we had quitted our bivouac, the emus were
again seen on the plains. I could not deny the men the opportunity thus
afforded them of obtaining some food; for, although they concealed their
hunger from me, I knew they were living on bread and water. Graham
succeeded in wounding one of the birds, which, nevertheless, escaped.
He then chased a female followed by about a dozen young ones, towards
us, when we caught three. It had occurred to me this morning, to mark
and number the bivouacs we had occupied thus far, for the purpose of
future reference, when any other party might proceed, or be sent again,
into this country. I had, therefore, cut the number 73 on a tree at this
bivouac of 3d October, under the initials N.S.W. We pursued a straight
course over the downs, east by compass, until we joined our old route
along the water-course, from our camp near the gap, and this brought us
back, at an early hour to that spot, where I marked a tree with the figures
72.
4TH OCTOBER.—We recrossed the brigalow range, (where the
temperature, at 9 a.m., was 79°,) and alighted by the pond at the
junction of the Nivelle and Nive; near where we had passed the night of
the 12th September. This day we again saw the CALLITRIS; a tree so
characteristic of sandy soils, but of which we had not observed a single
specimen in the extensive country beyond. Marked 71 on a tree.
5TH OCTOBER.—Soon after we left our bivouac, I saw in the grass
before me, a large snake. This was rather a novelty to us, being almost
the first we had seen in these northern regions of Australia. I dismounted,
and went forward to strike it with a piece of wood. Yuranigh did the
same, both missed it, when it unexpectedly turned upon us, took a
position on higher ground beside a large tree, then descended with head
erect, moving nimbly towards the horses, and the rest of the party. The
deadly reptile glided straight to the forefeet of my horse, touched the
fetlock with his head, but did not bite; then passed to the hind legs and
did the same, fortunately the horse stood quietly. The snake darted
thence towards one of the men, who was about to throw a stick at him,
and was next in the act of pursuing Yuranigh, when Graham gave him a
charge of small shot, which crippled his movements until he could be
despatched. This snake was of a brown colour, red spotted on the belly,
about six feet long, and five inches in circumference. I had never before
known any Australian snake to attack a party, but we had certainly
brought the attack on ourselves. We made a good cut on our former
circuitous route when tracing down the river Nive, and arrived at our
former bivouac at an early hour. This was fortunate, as all the ponds,
formerly full of good water, had, in the interim, dried up; and I
proceeded to cross the scrubby range, by pursuing a straight direction
towards Mount Pluto. But some magnetic influence so deranged my
compass, that, on reaching the crest of the range, I found that mountain
bore nearly east instead of N. E. N. I saw three of my fixed points,
however, by which, with my pocket sextant, I could ascertain our true
position, which proved to be very wide of my intended course. It was,
like many other accidental frustrations of my plans in this journey, an
aberration that did us good, for we had thereby avoided the bad scrub
formerly passed through, and also a rocky part of the range. We next
descended into a valley in which, after following down a dry watercourse
two miles, we found a fine pond of water, exactly as the sun was
setting. This day I had shot a curious bird, somewhat resembling a small
turkey, in a tree. The feathers were black; the head was bare and red.
This fowl was apparently of the galinaceous tribe. The flesh was
delicious, and afforded a most timely dinner to the party. A numerous
body of natives had followed our former track across the rocky ranges
we traversed this day, as appeared by their foot-marks, and Yuranigh
also discovered, in the same manner, that three natives had this morning
preceded us on our return; nevertheless we saw none of these denizens of
the woods.
6TH OCTOBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 48°. Height above the sea,
696 feet. This day we hoped to rejoin the party at the camp of the
Pyramids; but the journey was long, and it included an ascent of Mount
Pluto, from which I had still to observe some important angles. I marked
this bivouac, with 70 cut on a tree, the two last being, respectively
marked, 71 and 72, as already stated; these numbers continuing the series
from LXIX, my lowest camp on the Belyando.
The scrub is thick about these volcanic ranges, but on the downs and
plains of Central Australia, that impediment disappears. My men and
myself were in rags from passing through these scrubs, and we rejoiced
at the prospect of rejoining, this day, our countrymen at the Pyramids. I
found a fine open forest between the ponds where we had formerly
passed the night, and Mount Pluto; and we crossed several water-courses,
the grass on their banks being green and young, because the old grass
had been burnt off by the natives. These water-courses form the highest
sources of the Salvator. We were at no very considerable elevation above
the sea where we had slept (696 feet), yet we found the air on the
mountains much cooler than that of the interior plains. There was much
Callitris in the woods passed through this day; and the soil, although well
covered with grass, was sandy. I ascended Mount Pluto by the N. W.
side, where the loose fragments of trap, on a very steep slope, obstruct
the growth of a thorny scrub, covering other parts of the mountain sides.
The view from the summit was very favourable for my purpose, and I
passed an hour and a half in taking angles on all distant points. Mount
Owen and Mount Kilsyth were both visible; Buckland’s Table-land in the
East, and some of the recently discovered ranges in the west, were just
visible across the trap-rock range, which connected Mount Playfair with
Mount Hutton; which range almost shut out the view to the westward. In
the S. W., some very remarkable features appeared to terminate
westward, in abrupt cliffs over a low country, into which the Maran (as
far as known), the Warrego, and the Nive, seem to carry their waters.
What that country is, was a most interesting point, which I was very
reluctant to leave still a mystery. No volcanic hills appeared to the
westward of this trio, which thus seem to mark the place where the
upheaving forces have most affected the interior structure of Australia.
The temperature on Mount Pluto, at noon, was 90°; and the elevation
above the sea, 2420 feet.
On descending to where I had left the horses, we mounted, and struck
into the old outward track; but we had difficulty in following it, although
it was not above a month old. We saw many kangaroos to the eastward
of Mount Pluto, but could not get a shot at any. I had seen much smoke
in the direction of our camp, and was anxious about the safety of the
party left there. We reached it before sunset, and were received with loud
cheers. All were well, the natives had not come near, the cattle were in
high condition. Mr. Stephenson had a fine collection of insects, and some
curious plants. My man Brown had contrived to eke out the provisions so
as to have enough to take us back to Mr. Kennedy. The grass looked
green and luxuriant about the camp, and the spot proved a most
refreshing home both to us and to our jaded horses, on whose backs we
had almost constantly been for nearly a month. The party had collected
specimens of XEROTES LEUCOCEPHALA; BOSSIOEA CARINALIS; the purple
INDIGOFERA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES MULTIFLORA; the DODONOEA HIRTELLA of
Miquel, a hairy shrub with pinnated leaves; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS;
GOODENIA PULCHELLA Benth.; HIBBERTIA CANESCENS; these had been found
on the rocky ground near the camp, some on the sides, and even near the
summits of the pyramids. On the sandy flats at the foot of these hills,
were gathered, AJUGA AUSTRALIS; DAMPIERA ADPRESSA, a gay, though,
almost leafless herb, with blue flowers nestling in grey wool; three miles
below the camp a species of VIGNA, closely allied to V. CAPENSIS Walp.,
was found; and among the larger forest trees was a Eucalyptus, allied to,
but probably distinct from, the E. SIDEROXYLON A. Cunn.
The LABICHEA DIGITATA was now in fruit; the JACKSONIA SCOPARIA formed
a shrub, ten or twelve feet high, occupying sandy places, and having
much resemblance to the common broom of Europe. The ACACIA
CUNNINGHAMII grew about the same height; the GREVILLEA LONGISTYLA was
seen on the sandstone, forming a shrub seven or eight feet high; and there
also grew the pretty ZIERIA FRAZERI[*]; the DODONOEA MOLLIS was a small
shrub six feet high, whereof the fruit was now ripe; the LEUCOPOGON
CUSPIDATUS, also small. A PIMELEA near P. LINIFOLIA formed a shrub, only
two feet high, growing on the rocks; the HOVEA LANCEOLATA, grew ten feet
high in similar situations; the LEPTOSPERMUM SERICATUM was still
abundant on the sandstone rocks, and amongst these also grew the
POMAX HIRTA, a plant six inches high.
[* Z. FRASERI (Hook. MS.); ramulis junioribus puberulis, foliis impunctatis
brevissime petiolatis, foliolis lanceolatis acutis marginibus leviter
revolutis subtus pallidis pubescenti-sericeis, pedunculis trifloris folio
brevioribus.—Very distinct from all other ZIERIOE. Detected by Fraser
on Mount Lindsay.]
At the base of these mountains, a slight variety of ACACIA VISCIDULA
formed a bush twelve feet high; a variety of BORONIA BIPINNATA formed a
small upright shrub, with flowers larger than usual; and much finer
specimens were now also found, of the white and red flowered BORONIA
ERIANTHA; the DODONOEA PEDUNCULARIS was loaded with its fruit; the
SCHIDIOMYRTUS TENELLUS, or a new species nearly allied to it, formed a
shrub six feet high. A variety of AOTUS MOLLIS, with rather less downy
leaves and rather smaller calyxes; the ACACIA LONGISPICATA, with its
silvery leaves and long spikes of yellow blossoms, acquired a stature of
twelve feet, at the foot of the rocks; and small specimens of the beautiful
LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR, which we had also observed, in a finer state, near
Mount Pluto. The LABICHEA DIGITATA was abundant in sheltered ravines
amongst the rocks; and, also, the DODONOEA ACEROSA, loaded with its
four-winged reddish fruit, formed a shrub there four feet high.
On the flats at the base of these ranges, grew the stiff, hard leaved,
glutinous TRIODIA PUNGENS, with fine erect panicles of purple and green
flowers (the first occasion this, on which I had seen this plant in flower).
The BRUNONIA SERICEA continued to appear; also a minute species of
ALTERNANTHERA. The DIANELLA STRUMOSA formed a coarse, sedgy herbage,
relieved by its large panicles of blue flowers; and a fine species of
Dogbane near TABERNOEMONTANA, and probably not distinct from that
genus, according to Sir William Hooker. A shrub, five feet high, which
proved to be a new species of ACACIA, also grew at the foot of the
precipices[*]; a new and very distinct species of LOGANIA[**]; a new
RUTIDOSIS, a tall herbaceous perennial[***]; a fine, new, long leaved
GREVILLEA, with yellow flowers.[****] A woolly-leaved KERAUDRENIA, with
inconspicuous flowers[*****]; and, in the open forest, a pretty species of
Comesperm, about five feet high, with rosy flowers, and smooth or
downy stems; it was allied to C. RETUSA.[******]
[* A. UNCIFERA (Benth. MS.) molliter velutino-pubescens, ramulis
subteretibus, stipulis subulatis caducissimis, phyllodiis falcatoellipticis v.
oblique oblongis utrinque acutis uncinato-mucronatis minute 1-2-
glandulosis, racemis polycephalis phyllodio paullo longioribus, capitulis
multifloris tomentosis.—Near A. CALEYI and A. VESTITA. Phyllodia from
an inch and a half to two inches long, half an inch broad, resembling
much in shape those of A. MYRTIFOLIA.]
[** L. CORDIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); herbacea erecta estipulata glabra, foliis
cordato-acuminatis sessilibus 3-5-nerviis, racemis corymbosis
axillaribus terminalibusque in paniculam contractam terminalem
foliosam magis minusve congestis.]
[*** R. ARACHNOIDEA (Hook. MS.); elata, arachnoideo-tomentosa, foliis
remotis lanceolatis acuminatis calloso-cuspidatis, panicula laxa, ramis
longis polycephalis, capitulis aggregatis, involucris ovatis.—A widely
distinct species from the only hitherto described species of this genus (R.
HELICHRYSOIDES), both in the leaves and flower-heads.]
[**** G. JUNCIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); ramis angulatis pubescenti-sericeis, foliis
rigidis angustissime linearibus elongatis semiteretibus acutis glabris
marginibus revolutis, racemis ovatis multifloris, pedicellis perianthiisque
sericeis, ovariis sessilibus longissime albosericeis, stylis glabris,
folliculis oblique ovatis sericeo-tomentosis.]
[***** K. ? INTEGRIFOLIA (Hook. MS.); foliis oblongo-lanceolatis
apiculatis subtus pannoso-tomentosis marginibus costa nervisque
glandulosis.—In this the styles are connected at the apex, free below.
The capsule is deeply 5-lobed. The anthers are remarkably curved
outwards, like a horse-shoe, which is not the case in true KERAUDRENIA.
W. I. H.]
[****** C. SYLVESTRIS (Lindl. MS.); erecta a basi divisa, caulibus pubescentibus
glabrisve, foliis oblongis mucronatis, racemis corymbosis terminalibus,
bracteis deciduis, corollae lobo medio integerrimo.]
On the rocky slopes, or crests, were found, also, various new plants
which have been since described, viz. A small shrub, with leaves from
three to four inches long, found to be a new species of CONOSPERMUM[*]; a
small shrubby species of LABICHEA[**]; an inconspicuous shrub, two feet
high, was a new species of MICRANTHEUM, allied to M. ERICOIDES, Desf.[***]; a
downy DODONOEA, very near D. PEDUNCULARIS, but with thinner truncated
leaves, and more glutinous fruit[****]; and, on the edge of the mountain,
grew a curious new Acacia, resembling a pine tree[*****], but with the stature
of a shrub, and a GREVILLEA, forming a shrub seven or eight feet high.[*]
[* C. SPHACELATUM (Hook. MS); foliis linearibus subfalcatis sphacelatoapiculatis
molliter incano-pubescentibus inferne longe attenuatis
uninerviis paniculis pedunculatis corymbosis, floribus bracteisque
sericeis.]
[** L. RUPESTRIS (Benth. MS.) glabra vel vix in partibus novellis puberula,
foliis sessilibus plerisque trifoliolatis, foliolis lineari-oblongis
spinosomucronatis coriaceis marginatis terminali lateralibus bis pluriesve
longiore, antheris subaequalibus conformibus.]
[*** M. TRIANDRUM (Hook. MS.); foliis cuneatis solitariis, floribus masculis
triandris.]
[**** D. PUBESCENS (Lindl. MS.); minutissime pubescens, viscosa,
foliis brevibus apice triangularibus tridentatis truncatisque, capsulis
tetrapteris pedunculatis alis rotundatis.]
[***** A. PINIFOLIA (Benth. MS.) glabra ramulis teretibus, phyllodiis erectosubincurvis
longe lineari-filiformibus nervo utrinque prominenti
subtetragonis breviter pungenti-mucronatis, pedunculis solitariis
brevissimis, capitulis multifloris, sepalis spathulatis liberis v. vix basi
cohaerentibus.—Very near A. PUGIONIFORMIS, but the phyllodia are five,
six, or more inches long, being longer even than in A. CALAMIFOLIA. It
differs from the latter species in the inflorescence and calyx.]
[****** G. LONGISTYLA (Hook. MS.); ramis pubescentibus, foliis longissime
linearibus acutis basi attenuatis margine subrevolutis supra glabris subtus
albo-tomentosis, racemis oblongo-ovatis, perianthiis glandulosis, ovariis
semiglobosis stipitatis sericeo-hirsutissimis, stylo longissimo glabro.
—Leaves a span and more long; flowers rather large, apparently purple.]
Chapter VIII.
SINGULAR FOSSILS NEAR THE CAMP.—INTERESTING PLANTS DISCOVERED.—ASCENT
OF MOUNT FARADAY.—RETURN TO THE WARREGO.—A NATIVE OLD MAN.—PASS BY
MOUNT OWEN.—THE MARANOÀ.—RECROSS THE MINOR STREAMS.—ITS
TRIBUTARIES.—NONDESCRIPT ANIMAL.—POSSESSION CREEK.—A HORSE KILLED BY
ACCIDENT.—APPROACH THE CAMP OF MR. KENNEDY.—FIND ALL WELL THERE.—MANY
PLANTS FOUND THERE.—HIS ACCOUNT OF THE NATIVES’ VISITS.—RIDE TO MOUNT
SOWERBY.—FOSSILS FOUND THERE.——THE WHOLE PARTY FINALLY QUITS THE DEPÔT
CAMP.—TRACE THE MARANÒA DOWNWARDS.—OPEN DOWNS ON ITS BANKS.—WATER
SCARCE.—REQUISITE PONDS.—REACH ITS JUNCTION WITH THE BALONNE.—TRACES
OF HORSEMEN ALONG OUR OLD TRACK.—THE PARTY ARRIVES, AND HALTS, AT
ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE.—MR. KENNEDY SENT TO RECONNOITRE THE COUNTRY IN A
DIRECT LINE TOWARDS MOUNT RIDDELL.
7TH AND 8TH OCTOBER.—THESE two days were devoted to the
completion of my maps of the late tour, and of drawings of two of the
birds seen on the Victoria. Our horses required a day or two’s rest, and I
had enough to do in my tent, although the heat was intense.
9TH OCTOBER.—Once more I rode into the lower country a few miles,
to take a sketch of another remarkable hill. In the afternoon I examined
the sandstone caverns in the hill opposite to our camp; some very curious
organic remains having been found there by one of the party during my
absence. I found that these occurred on the lower side of sandstone strata,
and that they had become denuded by the decomposition of sandstone
underneath. We were to leave this camp next morning. The men were on
very reduced rations, and I was apprehensive that we might be
disappointed in our search for water in many places where we had before
encamped and found it. In the afternoon, the sky became suddenly
overcast, distant thunder was heard; and the southern portion of the
heavens, over the country to which we were about to return, was
evidently discharging some heavy rain there. At twilight, the rain
commenced to fall heavily at our camp, and continued to do so during
four hours. Such a supply came most opportunely for us, and, although I
could not be so vain as to suppose that the thunder rolled only for our
benefit alone, I felt as thankful as though it had. This day I saw on the
cavernous hill the woolly ACTINOTUS HELIANTHI, one of the most singular of
umbelliferous plants; and, on descending to the base, a white variety of
the COMESPERMA SYLVESTRIS, with smooth branches: unlike the kind
observed in September, it did not grow above one foot high. A small
shrub grew on the rocks, a pretty little Calytrix, near C. MICROPHYLLA A
Cunn. (from Port Essington and Melville Island); but the branches, with
their leaves, are more stout, and the bracts more obtuse. Sir W. Hooker
supposes it to be a new species. We here found this day a woolly-leaved
plant, with long branching panicles of brilliantly blue flowers, which
Professor de Vriese has ascertained to be a new genus of the natural
order of Goodeniads, and which he calls LINSCHOTENIA DISCOLOR.[*]
Thermometer, meter, at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 94°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9,
64°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
[* LINSCHOTENIA DE VRIESE. Calyx superus, limbo obsoleto. Corollae
quinquefidae tubo hine fisso, lobis majoribus margine utroque
auriculato-crispis, alatisve, duobus minoribus lanceolatis, interne
appendice proprio cuculliformi instructis. Antherae imberbes,
cohaerentes. Filamenta libera, quandoque subflexuosa. Ovarium
uniovulatum; stylus inflexus; stigmatis indusium ore nudum; semen in
nuce solitarium.
Genus dicatum Jano Huigenio Linschotenio, geographo, navarcho,
itineratori seculi XVI., qui historiae naturalis, imprimis vero
geographiae et rei nauticae progressui eximie profuit. Linschotenia
Dampierae proxime habitu et plurimis cum floris, tum habitus
characteribus, paracolla cuculliforme ab omnibus Goodeniacearum
generibus huc usque cognitis, diversa.
L. DISCOLOR, suffruticosa, erecta, albo-lineata, foliis alternis,
petiolatis, oblongis, acutis, integris, planis, superne pallide
viridibus, glaberrimis, inferne densissime albo-lanatis. Inflorescentia
spicata, ramosa, griseo-lanata, floribus subsessilibus, basi bracteolatis,
corollis quinquelobis, lilacinis, extus griseo-barbatis; paracorollis
nigrescentibus.
Legit anno 1846, Praefectus militaris nobil. T. L. Mitchell in
Nova-Hollandia subtropica.
Planta elegantissima, inter Scaevolas persimilis habitu SC. REINWARDTII
de Vriese in LEHM. PL. PREISS. videtur esse suffruticosa. Caulis est teres.
Folia sunt alterna, fere 7 cent. longa et 1½ cent. lata, petiolata,
petiolo ad insertionem quodammodo crassiore, fere ½ cent. longo,
integerrima, utrinque acuta, nervo medio crassiore, subtus lanata, fere
alutacea, albissima; superne viridia, opaca; bracteae lineari-lanceolatae,
utraque superficie lanatae, acutae; rhachis elongata, fere 10-15 cent.
longa, inferne albo-lanata, sursum griseo-lanata. Pedunculi communes 5-10 cent.
longi, patentes, alterni, griseo-tomentosi. Flores alterni, sessiles,
bracteolati, bracteolis suboppositis; calyces villosi, limbis obsoletis;
corollae persistentis lobis marginibus inflexis, externe medio calycis instar
hirsutis, interne glaberrimis: cucullis corollae badiis, convexis, uno latere
hiantibus, interiori mediaeque loborum parti affixis; filamenta libera,
filiformia, antherae his continuae, glabrae. Stigma capitatum, indusio imberbe.
—DE VRIESE.]
10TH OCTOBER.—We commenced our retreat with cattle and horses in
fine condition, and with water in every crevice of the rocks. That in the
reedy swamp near the pyramids, had a sulphureous taste, and nausea and
weak-stomach were complained of by some of the men. I certainly did
not think the swamp a very desirable neighbour, with the thermometer
sometimes above 100°, and therefore I was more desirous to retire from
it. As the party returned along their former track, I went to the summit of
Mount Faraday, and observed a number of useful angles for my map. Mr.
Stephenson was with me, and found some new plants and insects, while I
ascertained the height, by the barometer, to be 2523 feet above the sea.
The plants growing there were COMMELINA UNDULATA, THYSANOTUS ELATIOR,
PLECTRANTHUS PARVIFLORUS, the yellow VIGNA LANCEOLATA, with a villous
form of AJUGA AUSTRALIS, and a little PILOTHECA, with narrow, closepressed
leaves.[*] The mountain is volcanic, the broken side of the crater
being towards the N.W. Some compact basalt appeared near the summit.
On reaching the Warrego in the evening, we found the party had arrived
there at 3 p.m., the distance travelled comprising two former days’
journeys. They had also found water close to the camp, where none had
been when they had been there before. Many beautiful shrubs were now
beginning to bloom. The BURSARIA INCANA was now covered with its
panicles of white flowers; the OZOTHAMNUS DIOSMOEFOLIUS, a shrub four
feet high, was loaded with small bulbs of snow white flowers; a downy
variety of LOTUS AUSTRALIS, with pink flowers[*], was common on the open
ground; the ACACIA PODALYRIOEFOLIA was now forming its fruit; in the open
forest we found a beautiful little GOMPHOLOBIUM[***]; the HAKEA PURPUREA,
a spiny-leaved, hard shrub, with numerous crimson leaves[****], and the
EUPHORBIA EREMOPHILA, an inconspicuous species of SPURGE.[*****] Mr.
Stephenson and I had been so busy collecting these on our way back, that
we only reached the camp at sunset. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at
noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 82; at 9, 62°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
[* P. CILIATA (Hook. MS.); ramulis pilosis, foliis erectis subimbricatis
linearibus obtusis ciliatis dorso convexis glandulosis superne planis
nudis, petalis ovali-ellipticis obtusis marginibus extus albopubescentibus.
—Allied to P. AUSTRALIS, but different in the leaves,
which are here ciliated at the margin, very glandulous on the back; and in
the flowers, which are smaller, the petals more obtuse, and having a
broad, white line of pubescence round the margin at the back.]
[** L. AUSTRALIS var. PUBESCENS, ramis pedunculisque pilis mollibus
patentibus vestitis. G. B.]
[*** G. FOLIOLOSUM (Benth. MS.) foliis impari-pinnatis, foliolis 15-25
obovato-truncatis obcordatisve glabris, petiolis ramulisque pilosulis,
racemis terminalibus subcorymbosis laxis paucifloris. Fruticulus
ramosissimus foliolis confertis vix lineam longis.]
[**** H. PURPUREA (Hook. MS.) foliis tereti-filiformibus rigidis trifidis
segmentis simplicibus furcatisve mucronatis glabris, floribus purpureis
pedicellisque glabris, capsulis obovatis acutis lignosis stipitatis
subtuberculatis.]
[***** E. EREMOPHILA (All. Cunn. in Hook. Herb.); fruticosa, ramulis fastigiatis
foliisque parvis linearibus dentato-scrratis glabris, capsulis
globosotriangularibus laevibus glabris.—Collected by Allan Cunningham
in Dirk Hartog’s island.]
11TH OCTOBER.—Following the chord of the arc described by our
journeys of 30th June, and 1st July, on tracing down the Warregò, I made
the furthest of the two camps, by a straight line of nine miles, passing
through a fine open forest country. The pond, which formerly supplied us
here, was now quite dry, but one much larger in a rocky bed was found a
few hundred yards further up the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 54°; at
noon, 80°; at 4 p.m. 88°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 52°.
12TH OCTOBER.—This day we also turned two former days’ journeys
into one, and arrived at Camp XXXVIII. by 2 p.m., the ponds at the
intermediate camp (XXXIX.) being dry. Nevertheless, the recent rains
had left some water in rocky hollows, at which we could water our
horses on the way. By the river side this morning, we found a variety of
the HELIPTERUM ANTHEMOIDES, D.C., with the leaves pubescent and the
scales of the involucre paler. The silky grass, IMPERATA ARUNDINACEA,
occurred in the swampy flat we crossed before we encamped. Soon after
we set out in the morning, an old man was seen coming along the valley
towards us, without at first seeing the party. When he did, which was not
until he had come very near, he uttered a sort of scream, “OOEY!”, and ran
up amongst some rocks beyond the water-course, nor would he stop,
when repeatedly called to by Yuranigh. He carried a firestick, a small
bag on his back, and some bomarengs under his left arm. His hair was
grey but very bushy, and he looked fat. The poor fellow was dreadfully
frightened, which I much regretted, for I might otherwise have obtained
from him some information about the ultimate course of the Warrego,
etc. We found water in one of the rocky ponds near our former
encampment, but others in which some had formerly been found, were
dry, and I was not without some doubt about finding water, on our way
back to join Mr. Kennedy. Thermometer, at sunrise, 42°; at noon, 87°; at
4 p.m., 96°; at 9, 78°;—with wet bulb, 60°.
13TH OCTOBER.—The night was uncommonly hot, thermometer 79°
here, where in June last it had been as low as 7°. The sky had been
clouded, but the morning cleared up, and we enjoyed a cool breeze in
passing amongst the sandstone gullies. On arriving at the foot of Mount
Owen the day became very sultry, and there was a haziness in the air. On
Mount Owen Mr. Stephenson found a new species of VIGNA with yellow
flowers[*], and the SWAINSONIA PHACOIDES, conspicuous with its pink
flowers. We took up our old ground over the gullies, and I went in quest
of water. The ponds formerly here, had dried up, but Yuranigh found a
deep one in the solid rock, containing enough for months. It was
inaccessible to horses, but with a bucket we watered both these and the
bullocks. The mercurial column was low, the sky became overcast, and a
slight shower raised our hopes that at length rain might fall in sufficient
quantity to relieve us from the difficulty about water, in returning
towards Mr. Kennedy’s camp. Thermometer, at sunrise, 63°; at noon,
79°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 64°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
[* V. LANCEOLATA (Benth. MS.) glabra volubilis, foliolis lanceolatis
reticulatis integris v. basi hastato-lobatis, pedunculis folio multo
longioribus apice paucifloris, calyce glabro campanulato dentibus tubo
brevioribus, carina rostrata acuta.—Flowers smaller than in V. VILLOSA,
but of the same form.]
14TH OCTOBER.—During the night several smart showers fell, and at
daybreak the sky seemed set for rain. When we set off it rained rather
heavily. I took a new direction, and got into a gully which led to our
former track of 17th June. Crossing it, I passed into the bed of the
Maranòa, and followed it down with the carts, until we arrived at the
large pond in solid rock, to which I had sent the bullocks on the 18th
June. Here we encamped, and I marked a tree with the number 74, as it
might be necessary on future occasions to refer to where a permanent
supply of water may be found in that part of the country. Thermometer,
at sunrise, 60°; at noon, 71°; at 4 p.m., 66°; at 9, 52°;—with wet bulb,
48°.
15TH OCTOBER.—Last evening the wind blew keenly, and the night was
cold, the temperature very different from that experienced of late. The
morning presented a thick haze and drizzling rain, this kind of weather
being rather favourable for crossing the loose sandy surface, which the
men dreaded, remembering how it had before affected their eyes. I at
first endeavoured to travel this day along the river bank, but I found its
course so tortuous, and the country on its banks so hilly and rocky, that I
left it, and proceeded in a direction that would intersect the former track.
We thus passed through a fine open forest, fell in with our old track at a
convenient point, and found water still in the pond at the camp of 15th
June, where we therefore again set up our tents. The sky had cleared up,
and the air was pleasantly cool, with a fine breeze blowing from S.E. On
the river bank, we observed this day the native bramble, or Australian
form of RUBUS PARVIFOLIUS, L. A small nondescript animal ran before Mr.
Stephenson and myself this morning. It started from a little bush at the
foot of a tree, had large ears, a short black tail, ran like a hare, and left
a similar track. It was about the size of a small rabbit. The death of our
dogs on the Bogan, under the intense heat and drought, had been a very
serious loss to us, as we found on many occasions like this; and where
kangaroos, of apparently rare species, escaped from us from our having
no dogs. We were, also, from want of such dogs, much more exposed to
attacks of the natives. Evening again cloudy. Thermometer, at sunrise,
45°; at noon, 64°; at 4 p.m., 67°; at 9, 57°;—with wet bulb, 50°.
16TH OCTOBER.—A clear cool morning, with a fine refreshing breeze
from east, succeeded the cloudy weather of yesterday. I crossed the little
river, and travelled straight towards Camp XXXVII. On the higher
ground grew a heath-like bush, (ERIOSTEMON RHOMBEUM,) three or four
feet high. At a distance of only nine miles, we came upon the little river
beside that camp, and fell into the old track a mile on beyond it; and,
early in the day, we arrived at a chain of ponds, half-way to the next
camp at Possession Creek. The ponds where I went to encamp were dry;
but, on following the water-course downwards, I came to its junction
with the Maranòa, at half a mile from the camp, and found a large basin
of water at that point. Here, the NOTELOEA PUNCTATA was no longer a low
trailing bush, but a shrub ten or twelve feet high, with the appearance of
a European PHILLYREA. On the wet ground at the river bank, grew an
entire-leaved variety (?) of PLANTAGO VARIA. The wild carrot, DAUCUS
BRACHIATUS, with an annual wiry root, was also seen in the rich ground
near the river. Yuranigh found more of the native tobacco, which the
men eagerly asked for some of. This was a variety of the southern
NICOTIANA SUAVEOLENS, with white flowers, and smoother leaves.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 37°; at noon, 70°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 51°;
—with wet bulb, 42°. Height above the sea, 1315 feet. (Camp 75.)
17TH OCTOBER.—The thermometer stood as low as the freezing point
this morning, and the day was cooled by a wind from the N. E. In
crossing Possession Creck, we saw nothing of the formerly belligerent
natives. From Camp XXXIII, I took a direct course to Camp XXXII,
where we arrived early. No water remaining in the adjacent ponds, I
followed the dry channel down to its junction, and found the Maranòa
full of water; this point being three quarters of a mile from our camp. We
had this day passed over a fine open forest country, in which were also
groves of the ACACIA PENDULA. The vegetation, in general, seemed
drooping, from the want of rain; but the whole was available for grazing
purposes. We saw, this day, plants of PYCNOSORUS GLOBOSUS, in the dry
forest land; and the purple-flowered RUELLIA AUSTRALIS. The ACACIA
SPECTABILIS formed a spreading bush, about eight feet high. The HOVEA
LEIOCARPA, and CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS, were also found; with a new
MYRIOGYNE[*], and a small shrub, three feet high, with narrow, blunt,
glaueous leaves, tasting like rum. A small fruit, with the fragrance of an
orange, proved to be a new species of TRIPHASIA.[**]
[* M. RACEMOSA (Hook. MS.) radice perenni fusiformi superne multicipiti,
caulibus decumbentibus, foliis lineari-cuneatis grosse serratis punctatis,
capitulis in racemis subnudis terminalibus.—Very different from any
described MYRIOGYNE, in the terminal racemed capitula.]
[** T. GLAUCA (Lindl. MS.); spinosa, foliis coriaceis integerrimis
crenatisque linearibus glaucis obtusis retusisque, floribus trimeris
dodecandris 2-3nis brevi-pedicellatis.]
It is much to be regretted, that the specimens gathered here of the
brigalow, should have been so imperfect that they could not be
described. If an Acacia, Mr. Bentham says, it is different from any he
knows.
The vicinity of the river here affords security for a supply of water, in
seasons like the present, when any contained in the smaller channels may
be dried up. In the afternoon we lost a horse, which fell from a
precipitous part of the bank, at the junction of the creek with the river.
One man was leading four, when one horse kicked another, which,
falling perpendicularly, from a height of about forty feet, was so much
hurt as to be unable to rise. The folly, or rather obstinacy of the man,
leading so many together, on the verge of a precipice, was contrary to
particular orders previously given, and which ought to have been
enforced by Graham, who was in charge. Thermometer, at sunrise, 32°;
at noon, 78°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 45°.
18TH OCTOBER.—The horse, still unable to get on his legs, and
apparently dying, was shot, and buried in the sand of the bed of the
creek. This loss, when we were so near our depôt camp, was much to be
regretted, as we should have otherwise taken back every bullock and
horse, after an absence, from that camp, of four months and fifteen days.
We saw not a single native about the woods or the river, and were,
therefore, the more anxious to know how Mr. Kennedy and the natives
had agreed at the depôt camp, now within a day’s ride of us. We
continued to follow our former track to Camp XXXI, and it may be
remarked, to their credit, that the aborigines had not attempted to deface
any of these marked trees. It might have occurred, even to them, that
such marks were preparatory to the advent of more white men into their
country. The fine, deep reaches in the river, looked still full and
unfailing; and a short journey to-morrow would take us to the camp of
the rest of the party. We this day found a little jasmine in flower, of
which Mr. Stephenson had formerly collected the seeds. It was white, not
more than a foot high, with solitary white flowers, emitting a delightful
fragrance, and it grew in the light sandy forest land.[*] A tree loaded with
pods, which the natives eat, has been determined by Sir William Hooker
to be the BRACHYCHITON POPULNEUM, Br., or STERCULIA HETEROPHYLLA of
Cunn. Here was picked up a singular little annual plant, belonging to the
genus PIMELEA, with hairy, loose spikes of minute green flowers[**]; and
by the river we found the CALANDRINIA BALONENSIS.
[* J. SUAVISSIMUM (Lindl. MS.); herbaceum, ramis angulatis, foliis
sessilibus simplicibus alternis oppositisque lineari-lanceolatis,
pedunculis solitariis unifloris supra medium bibracteatis foliis
longioribus, sepalis subulatis, corollae laciniis 5-7 acutissimis.]
[** P. TRICHOSTACHYA (Lindl. MS.); annua, foliis alternis linearibus pilis
paucis adpressis, spicis laxis terminalibus villosissimis.]
The morrow was looked forward to with impatience. Four months and
a half had the main body of the party been stationary; and that was a long
time to look back upon, with the expectation that it had remained
undisturbed, although isolated in a country still claimed and possessed by
savages. Thermometer, at sunrise, 38°; at noon, 83°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at 9,
64°;—with wet bulb, 48°.
19TH OCTOBER.—The party was early in motion along the old track.
Leaving the intermediate camp to the left, we struck across the country
so as to hit the track again within a few miles of the depôt camp. Old
tracks of cattle, when the earth had been soft, and the print of A SHOE,
were the first traces of the white man’s existence we met with; nor did we
see any thing more conclusive, until the tents on the cliffs overhanging
the river were visible through the trees. We saw men, also, and even
recognised some of them, before our party was observed; nor did they
see us advancing, with a flag on the cart, until Brown sounded the bugle.
Immediately all were in motion, Mr. Kennedy coming forward to the
cliffs, while the whole party received us with cheers, to which my men
heartily responded. Mr. Kennedy ran down the cliffs to meet me, and
was the first to give me the gratifying intelligence that the whole party
were well; that the cattle and sheep were safe and fat; and, that the
aborigines had never molested them. A good stock-yard had been set up;
a storehouse had also been built; a garden had been fenced in, and
contained lettuce, radishes, melons, cucumbers. Indeed, the whole
establishment evinced the good effects of order and discipline. Drysdale,
the storekeeper, had collected many birds and plants, and had also been
careful of the stores. The orphan from the Bogan, little Dicky, had grown
very much, and seemed a very intelligent boy; and the little intercourse
Mr. Kennedy had had with the aborigines, limited as it was, by my
instructions to him, was curiously characteristic of the tact and
originality of this singular race. On one occasion, when on being
informed that natives were near, he had hastened to meet them, taking
little Dicky with him, he found remaining only a female and her mother,
a remarkably old woman, who had before concealed herself among the
reeds. The daughter on his approach sung a beautiful song, rapidly
running through the whole gammut. Then bowing her head, she
presented the back of it to him, and placing her stone-tomahawk in his
hand, she bade him strike. Mr. Kennedy threw the tomahawk on the
ground; and seeing the grey head amongst the reeds, he prevailed on the
mother to come out. She was hideous in person, which was much more
AFFREUX from the excessive rage with which she seemed to denounce the
white men;—her fiend-like eyes flashing fire, as if prophetic of the
advent of another race, and the certain failure of her own.
The daughter seemed, at first, to treat lightly the ire of her aged parent,
playfully patting with her finger her mother’s fearfully protruding lip. Mr.
Kennedy endeavoured to ascertain, through Dicky, the downward course
of the river, and she seemed to express, and to point also, that the river
passed southerly into the Balonne, which river she named, and even the
Culgòa: she seemed to say the name of that locality was “Mundì.”
Neither of these females had any covering, but the younger wore, by way
of ornament, a page of last year’s Nautical Almanac, suspended by a cord
from her neck. The mother continuing implacable, the daughter, with a
graceful expression of respect for her, and courtesy to the stranger,
waved her arm for him to retire, which gesture Mr. Kennedy and Dicky
immediately obeyed. At another interview, a scheme to decoy Dicky
away was tried, as related thus in Mr. Kennedy’s journal:—”Sunday,
26th July. Prayers were read at 11 a.m., after which, having been told by
Drysdale that the natives were still near the camp, and that there was a
native amongst them who could make himself more intelligible to Dicky
than the rest, I had started down the river to see them to collect what
information I could, and then induce them to go farther from the camp. I
had not gone far before the cooys from the tents made me aware that the
natives were by this time in sight. I therefore returned, and the first
object that caught my eye was the bait—a gin, dancing before some
admiring spectators; and behind her was a fine, lusty native advancing by
great strides, as he considered the graceful movements of his gin were
gaining as fast upon the hearts of the white men. On going up to him
Dicky put the usual questions as to the name of the river, and its general
course. His reply to the first was not very satisfactory, but our impression
was that he called it Bàlun. With respect to its course, he plainly said that
it joined the Balonne; repeatedly pointing in the direction of that river
and then following with his hand, the various windings of this branch;
repeating the while some word implying ‘walk, walk,’ and ending with
‘Balonne.’ He knew the names of the mountains Bindàngo and
Bindyègo. After this conversation he took some fat, which he appeared
to have brought for the purpose, and anointed Dicky by chewing it, and
then spitting upon his head and face. He next whispered to him, and (as
Dicky says) invited him to join them. I then motioned to the men, who
were looking on at a short distance, to go to the camp; and as they
obeyed, I made the same signs to the native to move in the opposite
direction, which he at length did with evident reluctance and
disappointment, throwing away his green bough, and continually looking
back as he retired. I desired Dicky to tell him never to come near our
tents, and that no white man should go to his camp.”
It seems that one family only inhabits these parts, as only three huts at
most were to be seen in any part of the country, either up or down the
river; a very fortunate circumstance for our party, obliged to remain so
long at one spot, after such a formal notice had been given to quit it, as
our visitors of the 30th of May gave during my absence. Mr. Drysdale,
the store-keeper, had collected an herbarium during the long sojourn of
the party at that camp, which included many new plants. In August,
plants had begun to blossom; and in September various novelties had
been found in flower. In August, he gathered EURYBIA SUBSPICATA, Hook.
EURYBIOPSIS MACRORHIZA; or a species allied to it. ACACIA DECORA;
GOODENIA CORONOPIFOLIA R. Br.; CONVOLVULUS ERUBESCENS; a hairy variety
of BORONIA BIPINNATA, with smaller flowers than usual, and most of the
leaves simply pinnate. A cruciferous plant, probably new; two new
species of EURYBIA and CALOTIS, SENECIO CARNOSULUS? D. C. An ASPERULA?
with the habit of Galium. MYOPORUM DULCE; VERONICA PLEBEIA; an acerose
LEUCOPOGON; a species of violet, with small, densely-spiked flowers (was
covered with wild bees in search of its honey). A species of BRUNONIA,
apparently the same as the B. SIMPLEX of the north bank of the Darling,
but taller and less hairy. A NYSSANTHES, apparently undescribed;
SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA; a small variety of SALSOLA AUSTRALIS; XEROTES
DECOMPOSITA, a hard-leaved, sedgy plant; a fine LEUCOPOGON, with
unilateral flowers; and another species with yellowish blossoms, both
perhaps new. A pretty little grass belonging to the genus PAPPOPHORUM,
with a blackish green colour.[*] A magnificent new ACACIA, with leaves
nearly a foot long.[**] A minute annual CALANDRINIA.[***] An ERODIUM, closely
resembling the European E. LITTOREUM, Arn. and Benth., from Isle of St.
Lucie; it was also found by A. Cunningham in the swamps of the
Lachlan. A new PROSTANTHERA, with indented glandular viscid leaves.[****] A
beautiful ever-lasting plant belonging to the genus HELIPTERES.[*****] A new
LEPTOCYAMUS, with slender, trailing, hairy stems.[******] SIDA VIRGATA (Hook.
MS.)[*******] SIDA FILIFORMIS (A. Cunn.).[********] A new DODONOEA in the way
of the D. CUNEATA of the colony, with long, slender flower stalks.[*********]
[* P. VIRENS (Lindl. MS.); pumilum, caespitosum, aristis 9 plumosis
rigidis apice nudis, spicâ compositâ laxâ tenui villosâ, glumis pilosis,
paleis sericeo-pilosis, foliis tactu scabris vaginis pilosis juxta ligulam
villosis.]
[** A. MACRADENIA (Benth. MS.); glabra, ramulis angulatis, phyllodiis
elongatis subfalcatis acutiusculis basi longe angustatis marginatis
crassiusculis uninervibus penniveniis nitidis glandula magna prope basin,
racemis brevibus polycephalis flexuosis subpaniculatis, capitulis
multifloris, calyce breviter dentato apice corollaque aureo-hispidulis,
ovario tomentoso.—Near A. FALCIFORMIS D. C. Phyllodia eight to ten
inches, or near a foot long, from six to ten lines broad.]
[*** C. PUSILLA (Lindl. MS.); foliis equitantibus subacinaciformibus
radicalibus, caulibus simplicibus racemosis v. unifloris, floribus longè
pedunculatis infimis divaricatis, floribus minutis 8-andris.]
[**** P. EUPHRASIOIDES (Benth. MS.) tota viscoso-villosa, foliis linearioblongis
pinnatifido-dentatis ad axillas subfasciculatis, floribus
paucisaxillaribus breviter pedicellatis, calycis labiis integris, antherarum
calcare longiore loculum superante.—The foliage and flowers look at
first sight very much like those of some of the AUSTRALIAN EUPHRASIOE.
The leaves are about three lines long.]
[***** H. GLUTINOSA (Hook. MS.); piloso-glandulosa, viscosa, foliis
angustolinearibus cuspidato-acuminatissimis, capitulis solitariis.—Young buds
rich rose-colour: full blown capitula pure white, the involucre having a
slight tinge of purple.]
[****** L. LATIFOLIUS (Benth. MS.); molliter villosus, foliolis membranaceis
oblique obovatis ovalibusque utrinque adpresse pubescentibus villosisve,
calycibus subsessilibus villosis.]
[******* S. FILIFORMIS (All. Cunn. MS.); tota stellato-tomentosa, ramis
patentissimis elongatis, foliis brevissime petiolatis cordato-ovatis
crenato-serratis, pedunculis axillaribus unifloris gracillimis folio triplo
longioribus, calyce 5-fido petalis duplo breviore.]
[******** S. VIRGATA (Hook. MS.); ramis elongatis virgatis stellato-tomentosis,
foliis brevissime petiolatis lineari-oblongis serratis supra
pubescentivelutinis subtus calyceque 5-fido stellato-pannosis fulvescentibus,
stipulis acicularibus rigidis spinescentibus, pedunculis axillaribus
unifloris folio brevioribus, petalis (flavis) calyce duplo longioribus.]
[********* D. PEDUNCULARIS (Lindl. MS.); viscosa, glabra, foliis rigidis
elongatis spathulatis acutis tridentatis integrisque lobo medio majore,
pedicellis 1-3-filiformibus, capsulis tetrapteris viscosis alis coriaceis
rotundatis.]
In September, were gathered in water-holes on the ranges, RANUNCULUS
SESSILIFLORUS, Br. in De Cand.; and near the camp the hard-leaved XEROTES
LAXA; JUSTICIA MEDIA; EVOLVULUS LINIFOLIUS; GOODENIA FLAGELLIFERA De Vr.;
CHLOANTHES STOECHADIS; the beautiful ACACIA SPECTABILIS, loaded with
yellow flowers, on the banks of the river S. W. of the camp. A broader
haired variet of ACACIAPENNIFOLIA; BOERHAAVIA MUTABILIS, Br. ? TECOMA
OXLEYI; ACACIA CUNNINGHAMII; CARISSA OVATA Br.? a spiny, zigzag, shrub
with shining leaves and white flowers; CASSIA ZYGOPHYLLA. A variety of
SIDA PISIFORMIS, A. Cunn., with closer leaves and a browner pubescence;
SIDA (Abutilon) FRAZERI Hook. var. PUMILA. KERAUDRENIA INTEGRIFOLIA;
LEPTOCYAMUS LATIFOLIUS; POMAX HIRTA? D. C., or a variety. EREMOPHILA
MITCHELLII var.? LATIFOLIA (Benth. MS.). DODONOEA ACEROSA, A.
HELICHRYSUM? near H. ODORUM D. C., but with the leaves downy on both
sides. PIMELEA COLORANS, a plant found by A. Cunningham along the river
Macquarie. STACKHOUSIA MURICATA, Lindl., which is, perhaps, not distinct
from S. SPATULATA, Sieb. A PODOLEPIS, resembling P. RUGATA Labill.
PODOLEPIS LONGIPEDATA, D. C. SOLANUM BIFLORUM, a grey-leaved, dwarf,
herbaceous plant. RANUNCULUS PLEBEIUS, very like an English buttercup. A
PLEURANDRA, near P. ERICIFOLIA, probably a variety. RUELLIA AUSTRALIS;
PITTOSPORUM SALICINUM. One of the Dodder laurels (CASSYTHA PUBESCENS,
R. Br.), a species also found near Port Jackson. VIGNA LANCEOLATA;
XEROTES LONGIFOLIA, a very common, hard-leaved plant. ANTHERICUM
BULBOSUM, R. Br. GERANIUM PARVIFLORUM? or one nearly allied to it:
exactly the same species is found in Van Diemen’s Land. HELIPTERUM
ANTHEMOIDES? D. C., but smaller in all its parts. NEPTUNIA GRACILIS;
BRUNONIA SERICEA; SIDA, apparently new. A new and fine species of
MENTHA.[*] A new, round-leaved species of PROSTANTHERA.[**] A new species
of SWAINSONA[***]; PLEURANDRA CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.).[****] A new TRICHINIUM,
with conical flower-heads.[*****] A species of HIBISCUS, with purple
flowers.[******] A new species of DAVIESIA, with spiny, shaggy leaves.[*******]
Thermometer, at sunrise, 46°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 75°; at 9, 50°;
—with wet bulb, 47°.
[* M. GRANDIFLORA (Benth. MS.); molliter pubescens, caulibus erectis,
foliis petiolatis ovatis acutiusculis dentatis planis verticillatis laxis
sexfloris, calycis dentibus lanceolato-subulatis intus vix pilosis, corolla
calyce subduplo longiore, staminibus exsertis.—Near M. AUSTRALIS Br.,
but the leaves broader and flowers larger.]
[** P. RINGENS (Benth. MS.); ramulis puberulis, foliis petiolatis
rhombeoorbiculatis integerrimis utrinque opacis glandulosis, calycis glandulosi
glabri labiis integris, corollae labio superiore subgaleato, antherarum
calcaribus loculo brevioribus.—Foliage nearly that of P. RHOMBEA.
Flowers much larger.]
[*** S. PHACOIDES (Benth. MS.); decumbens molliter pubescens, foliolis 13-
15-linearibus cuneatisve, pedunculis folio longioribus apice paucifloris,
legumine brevissime stipitato villoso.—A low plant with much the
habit of several PHACAS or ASTRAGALI. Flower yellow, smaller than in S.
CORONILLOEFOLIA.]
[**** P. CISTOIDEA (Hook. MS.); pilis stellatis brevibus rigidis asperis, foliis
angusto-linearibus obtusis marginibus revolutis, floribus in ramos breves
solitariis, staminibus sub-12 unilateralibus, filamentis infra medium
inaequaliter connexis antheras longitudine aequantibus, ovario parvo
globoso lanato.]
[***** T. CONICUM (Lindl. MS.); hirto-pubescens, caule basi diviso, ramis
ascendentibus subsimplicibus, foliis lineari-lanceolatis acutis, spicâ
conicâ, bracteis unincrviis mucronatis glabris, rachi tomentosâ.
[****** H. STURTII (Hook. MS.); suffruticosus ubique subtus praecipue
dense stellatim tomentosus, foliis petiolatis oblongo-ovatis ellipticisve
obtusis grosse crenato-serratis, pedunculis axillaribus unifloris solitariis
folio brevioribus, involucro monophyllo ….. turbinato 6-8-fido calycem
5-fidum aequante, capsulis hispidissimis.—This species was also found
by Capt. Sturt in the south interior. The flowers are purple, sometimes
yellowish in drying. The involucre is very remarkable, monophyllous,
broad at top and 6 or 8-cleft, almost wholly concealing the calyx.—W.
J. H.]
[******* D. FILIPES (Benth. MS.); ramis hirsutis inermibus, foliis ovalioblongis
sublanceolatisve apice spinoso-mucronatis planis pubescentibus,
pedicellis filiformibus folio demum longioribus in pedunculo brevissimo
solitariis geminisve.]
20TH OCTOBER.—It was necessary to halt here a day or two, that the
blacksmith might have time to repair the light carts, and shoe the horses.
I took a ride this day with Mr. Kennedy to a hill some miles eastward of
the camp, in which he had found some remarkable fossils. The hill
consisted of a red ferruguinous sandstone, in parts of which were
imbedded univalve and bivalve shells, pieces of water-worn or burnt
wood, and what seemed fragments of bone. To some of the portions of
wood, young shells adhered, but others bore, evidently, marks of fire;
showing the black scarified parts, and those left untouched or
unscarified, very plainly. Other portions of woods had their ends waterworn,
and were full of long cracks, such as appear in wood long exposed
to the sun. These specimens were, in general, silicified: but the outer
parts came off in soft flakes resembling rotten bark, being equally pliant,
although they felt gritty, like sand, between the teeth. This hill was rather
isolated, but portions of tabular masses, forming the range of St. George’s
Pass, and in contact with the volcanic hill of Mount Kennedy which
forms a nucleus to these cliffy ranges, being about 9 miles N. E. of this
hill, to which, from its contents, I gave the name of Mount Sowerby. The
weeping GEIJERA PENDULA again occurred in abundance near Mount
Sowerby; the CAPPARIS LASIANTHA was climbing up the rocks there, and
amongst the grasses we observed a species of the genus LAPPAGO,
perhaps not distinct from the Indian L. BIFLORA. Thermometer, at sunrise,
39°; at noon, 56°; 4 p.m., 87°; at 9, 67°; with wet bulb, 52°.
21ST OCTOBER.—I took a ride with Mr. Kennedy to the summit to
which I had attached his name, having occasion to take a back angle
from it on Mount Owen, and one or two other points. I could there show
him many of the distant summits to the northward of the country, I was
about to lay down on my map. We rode over a fine tract of forest land,
extending from the camp to the foot of the mountain, a distance of about
twelve miles. On the high range grew a profusion of a beautiful little
PTEROSTYLIS, quite new, but in the way of P. RUFA[*], a single specimen of a
new KENNEDYA was gathered there.[**] On the plains we found a curious
new form of the genus DANTHONIA, much resembling wheat in ear[***], and a
new JASMINE, with a rich perfume, resembling I. LINEARE, but with short
axillary corymbs of flowers. This species has been named by Dr. Lindley
after myself.[****] We found also the SOLANUM VIOLACEUM with its violet
flowers and orange spines. A fine wiry herbage was formed by the
LAXMANNIA GRACILIS, now in flower, ERYTHROEA AUSTIALIS D. C., a smallflowered
species of CENTAURY, the DIANELLA RARA, R. Br. and SALVIA
PLEBEIA. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at noon, 85°; at 4, p.m., 84°; at 9,
65° with wet bulb, 52°.
[* P. MITCHELLII (Lindl. MS.); foliis omnibus radicalibus stellatis, vaginis
scapi multiflori 3 remotis, scpalis setaceo-acuminatis, labelli laminâ
ovato-lineari obtusâ canaliculatâ supra pilis (luteis) articulatis crinitâ.]
[** K. PROCURRENS (Benth. MS.); foliolis 3 ellipticis ovatisve mucronulatis
utrinque hirtellis subtus reticulatis, stipulis subcordato-lanceolatis
acutissimis striatis, pedunculis versus apicem plurifloris petiolo multo
longioribus, floribus subnutantibus.—Flowers considerably smaller
than in K. PROSTRATA, and petals narrower.]
[*** D. TRITICOIDES (Lindl. MS.); culmo ramoso stricto, foliis glabris margine
spinoso-scabris basi planis apice involutis, spicâ cylindraceâ distichâ
secundâ, spiculis subtrifloris flore summo mutico abortiente, paleae
inferioris dorso lanatae aristâ rectâ glumâ mucronatâ multinervi longiore.]
[**** J. MITCHELLII; foliis ternatis glabris; foliolis linearibus
linearilanceolatisque, ramis teretibus, corymbis axillaribus subsessilibus
foliis multo brevioribus, calycibus pubescentibus subtruncatis 5-dentatis,
corollae limbo 5-fido acuto.]
22D OCTOBER.—The information Mr. Kennedy had gathered from the
natives, about the final course of the river; his surveys thereof, which,
even on foot, he had extended sixteen miles (eight miles each way from
the camp), and the fact, that the fish of the Balonne, Cod, or GRISTES
PEELII had, at length been caught in it, all led to the conclusion that this
river was no other than the tributary which on the 24th, of April I at first
followed up, and afterwards halted and wrote back to Mr. Kennedy
about. By following this down, the probability that we should find water
seemed greater, than by returning along our old track, where we had left
behind some ponds so small that we could not hope to find any water
remaining, especially at two of the camps between us and Bindango, I
therefore determined to follow this river downward, and to survey its
course. We left the depôt camp this morning, and to avoid some overhanging
cliffs on the river, we travelled first over an open tract. The
camp we left, namely, XXIX, or “MOONDI,” or the “second depôt camp,”
will be found a valuable cattle-station or sheep-station, by the first
squatter coming this way. The runs about it are very extensive; the
natives few and inoffensive, and the stock-yard etc., left there, renders it
very complete. I must not omit, however, to mention, that the water had
become slightly brackish, but not so as to be unpalatable, or even,
indeed, perceptible, except to persons unused to it. The large reach had
fallen two feet since the party first occupied that station. In other reaches
lower down, that we passed during this day’s journey, the water was
perfectly sweet. I proceeded about thirteen miles with the light party, and
encamped at the junction of a little river from the N. W. formerly crossed
by me (on my ride of 23d May). A new poppy was found on the flats by
the river, near PAPAVER DUBIUM; but the leaves, when dry, became darkgreen
not pale; the aculei are too numerous and stout, pectant not
depressed, and the flowers very small. The teams and drays did not arrive
as expected, and the men with me had not brought any provisions with
them. We saw natives in the woods before we encamped, and parts of the
grass on fire. A beautifully worked net, laid carefully under a piece of
bark, having two curiously carved stakes attached to it, was found by Mr.
Kennedy, who made deep impressions of his boots in the soil near it, that
the natives might see that white men had been there, and had left the net
untouched. Thermometer, at sunrise, 47°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 85°; at
9, 70°; with wet bulb, 56°. Height above the sea, 1185 feet (Camp 76).
23RD OCTOBER.—We were obliged to halt, and await the arrival of the
drays, which only took place at ½ past 11, a.m. The cattle were found
to be so fat and fresh, that the drivers could not get them along faster.
Mr. Stephenson obtained a specimen of the dove observed by me on the
Victoria. (GEOPALIA CUNEATA). I had heard the note in the woods, and
directed his attention to it. The SWANSONIA CORONILLOEFOLIA adorned the
rich flats with its crimson pear-shaped blossoms, and the CROTALARIA
DISSITIFLORA, was also in flower, but smaller than usual; more rigid, with a
denser silky pubescence, and smaller, shorter leaflets. The SIDA
(Abutilon) FRAZERI (Hook. M S.)[*] and also the CLEMATIS STENOPHYLLA[**],
were found on this part of the river. Thermometer, at sunrise, 48°; at
noon, 91°; at 4 p.m., 93°; at 9, 65°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
[* S. (ABUTILON) FRASERI (Hook. MS.); tota stellato-pubescens, foliis
ovatiscordatis acutis argutè crenato-serratis, petiolo folium aequante,
pedunculis axillaribus solitariis unifloris apicem versus articulatis,
calycis 5-partiti segmentis ovato-lanceolatis.—SIDA DUMOSA, J.
Backhouse MS. in Hook. Herb. (not Swartz). This has a most extensive
range; having been found at Moreton Bay by Mr. Backhouse, at Brisbane
River by Fraser and Smith, and in other parts of this colony by All.
Cunningham.]
[** C. STENOPHYLLA Fraser in Hook. Herb. C. OCCIDENTALIS A. Cunn. in
Hook. Herb.—Very nearly allied to C. MICROPHYLLA of De Cand. Syst. i.
p. 147. but in that the carpels are said to be glabrous.]
24TH OCTOBER.—Soon after leaving the camp this morning, we entered
upon an open country, the downs extending before us from the right bank
of the river, the course of which was somewhat to the eastward of south.
The cattle came on faster this day, and we encamped on the skirts of the
plain, near a fine reach of water in the river. We were now upwards of
twenty miles to the westward of Bindango, with abundance of water;
whereas I had always looked back to much difficulty in returning by that
route, as the ponds near it were likely to be dried up. I had seen the
higher parts of these downs from the summit of Bindango, but did not
then suspect that a large river was in the midst of them, whose course
was so favourable for a traveller proceeding northward. The discovery of
these extensive downs was an important incident in this journey, watered
as they were by a fine river; especially as the country to the N. W. was
open or thinly wooded, and likely to be found so as far as the central
downs and plains on the banks of the river Victoria. A new and very
remarkable Ventilago was found this day.[*] I now again numbered the
camps, continuing the series backwards, by a different character; this was
numbered 77; the last, 76. The utility of these numbers along our
surveyed line will be admitted, when the country is taken up, as they will
not only serve to identify localities with the map, but may also enable the
land-surveyors to connect local surveys with the general map of the
country. The sky was overcast with thunder-clouds in the afternoon, and
the mercurial column was low; but no rain fell, and a clear starry sky, at
9 p.m., admitted of our observations as usual. Thermometer, at sunrise,
53°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 83°; at 9, 58°;—with wet bulb, 47°. Height
above the sea, 1295 feet. (Camp 77.)
[* V. VIMINALIS (Hook. MS.); foliis anguste elongato-lanceolatis
integerrimis nervis costa parallelis, paniculis axillaribus
terminalibusque.—The other hitherto known species of the genus, have
broad leaves, more or less denticulate, with patent nerves. The flowers
and fruit entirely accord with those of the genus.—W. J. H. “Tree 20
feet high, growing on high sandy ridges.”]
25TH OCTOBER.—We continued in the direction of a column of smoke I
had perceived yesterday, believing that there I should intersect the river,
or at least find water. We found the open downs at length, hemmed in by
ACACIA PENDULA, growing openly; but which gave place to a scrub, as we
approached some ridges. These ridges consisted of red gravel; the scrub
contained callitris, casuarina, silver-leaved iron-bark, malga and
brigalow, the two latter growing so thickly as to compel me to turn
eastward to avoid them. This elevated rocky ground was found more
extensive than I had expected, throwing down many water-courses to the
east and north-east; but, at length, we made the river, and encamped after
a journey of 10 1/3; miles. It there ran through a deep valley, due
south, with a broad channel, in which we found a reach of water covered
with ducks. The country beyond it, to the eastward, over which our
former route passed, appeared like high table-land in bluey distance; but
neither of the mountains Bindango or Bindyego were visible from the
country traversed by the party this day. Thermometer, at sunrise, 43°; at
noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at 9, 65°;—with wet bulb, 51°. Height above
the sea, 1186 feet. (Camp 78.)
26TH OCTOBER.—A river coming into the Maranòa, about a mile from
our camp, was apparently the river Amby; but without having traced its
course throughout, I could not feel certain of this, after all I had seen of
these rivers: I think this was the same, however. We kept the Maranòa on
our left during the whole of this day’s journey, and were thus able to
pursue a tolerably straight line in the direction of about 20° E. of S. At
length, arriving at the junction of an important tributary from the N. W.,
full of water, and seeing another also join from the east, I crossed the
main channel and encamped on the left bank, in sight of a reach of broad
blue water below the junction, of an extent which reminded us of the
Balonne itself. The valley of the river seemed bounded by continuous
ranges of high land, which looked in the back-ground like table-land.
Recently, much grass and bushes had been burnt, along the banks of the
river, by the natives; and we this day passed over a tract where the grass
was still in a blaze on both sides of us. Crows and hawks hovered over
the flames, apparently intent on depriving the devouring clement of
whatever prey more properly belonged to them. In a dry part of the bed
of the river, I met with many instances of a singular habit of the eelfish
(JEWFISH) PLOTOSUS TANDANUS.[*] I had previously observed, elsewhere, in
the aquatic weeds growing in extensive reaches, clear circular openings,
showing white parts of the bottom, over which one or two fishes
continually swam round in circles. I now found in the dry bed, that such
circles consisted of a raised edge of sand, and were filled with stones,
some as large as a man’s closed fist. Yuranigh told me that this was the
nest of a pair of these fish, and that they carried the stones there, and
made it. The general bed of the river where I saw these nests, consisted
wholly of deep firm sand; and that the fish had some way of carrying or
moving stones to such spots, seemed evident, but for what purpose I
could not discover. Thermometer, at sunrise, 56°; at noon, 83°; at 4 P.
M., 93°; at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb, 59°.
[* See Pl. 6. fig. 2. p. 44. vol. i. of Three Expeditions.]
27TH OCTOBER.—We now travelled along the left bank of the river, and
found the country tolerably open. The ADRIANIA ACERIFOLIA grew on an
islet in the river.[*] This still pursued a remarkably straight course, and
contained abundance of water. After passing over a place where the bush
was on fire, we saw a female in the act of climbing a tree. When she had
ascended about eight feet, she remained stationary, looking at us without
any appearance of dismay. I continued to pursue a straight-forward
course, but told Yuranigh to inquire, EN PASSANT, what was the name of
the river; to which question she replied, in his own language, “The name
of that water is Maranòa:” thus confirming the name we had already
understood, however indirectly, to be that of the river. It proved the
accuracy of my servant Brown’s ear, for it was first communicated to
him, during my absence, by the old chief at Bindango. The gin appeared
to be climbing in search of honey. To state that this female wore no sort
of clothing, were superfluous to any reader of this journal who may have
been in such interior parts of Australia. After travelling about fourteen
miles, we came upon a fine reach of the river, and encamped beside it.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 59°; at noon, 68°; at 4 p.m., 95°; at 9, 77°;
—wet bulb, 65°. Height above the sea, 832 feet. (Camp 80.)
[* A. ACERIFOLIA (CROTON ACERIFOLIUM All. Cunn. MS.); foliis cordato-ovatis
trifidis segmentis acuminatis grosse inaequaliter sinuato-serratis, subtus
bracteisque pubescenti-tomentosis.—Shrub three feet high. Flowers
scarlet. Collected by Allan Cunningham along the Lachlan river.]
28TH OCTOBER.—Heavy rain was falling soon after day-break, and I
most willingly sat still in my tent, hoping the rain would continue. Just in
sight of it grew a picturesque tree: the half-dead, half-alive aspect
presented by the same sort of tree, was not unfrequent in the Australian
woods; and I was induced to sketch this specimen, as highly
characteristic of the scenery. These trees, “so wither’d and so wild in
their attire,” generally appear under the shelter of other taller trees; have
half their branches dead, the part still in foliage drooping like the willow,
the leaf being very small. It is an Acacia (A. VARIANS), and I was informed
by Yuranigh that it is the Upas of Australia; the natives call it
“Goobang,” and use a bough of it to poison the fish in waterholes. They
are too honest and fair in their fights to think of poisoning their weapons.
The aspect of this half-dead tree is certainly characteristic of its
deleterious qualities, in the wild romantic outline resembling
Shakspeare’s lean, poison-selling apothecary,—
—”who dwelt about the very gates of death,
Pale misery had worn him to the bones.”
Some good soaking rain fell until about 10 a.m., after which we had a
cool day and cloudy sky. The rain ensured to us at least dew on the grass
for a morning or two; and this, with the prospect of finding the channel
dry lower down, was a great advantage. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at
noon, 75°; at 4 p.m., 76°; at 9, 60°;—wet bulb, 51°.
29TH OCTOBER.—A clear cool morning. We travelled this day with so
much ease, that we got over twenty miles without apparent fatigue, to
bullocks or horses. The necessity for travelling so far arose from the utter
want of water in the river bed. The course was very direct; the country
was open, and clothed with rich verdure on which our cattle could have
reposed, doubtless with great satisfaction, both to themselves and drivers,
had water also been at hand; but after travelling over, and measuring
twenty miles, we were obliged to encamp without any. As this seemed
only a branch of the river. I sent Corporal Graham to ascertain what was
beyond, while I, with Yuranigh, examined this channel backwards. We
found no water in either direction, but Corporal Graham discovered the
main channel at a mile and a half westward from our camp, and traced it
to near the junction with the ana-branch on which we were encamped.
We discovered this day a club and shield, such as the natives use on the
Belyando, carefully put away upon a sort of scaffold of bark, and
covered with bark. The shield was made of very light wood, the face
being rounded, and having been covered with a dark varnish like japan;
for which the surface had been made rough by crossed lines, resembling
those made on the first coat of plaster. It was evident, from the marks on
this shield, that the clubs were frequently used as missiles.[*] Each man of
the tribe that visited my camp on the Belyando, carried three or four of
these, but no shields; a plain indication that they were not then armed for
war against other aborigines. Thermometer, at sunrise, 36°; at noon, 68°;
at 4 p.m., 73°; at 9, 49°;—with wet bulb, 40°.
[* Deposited in the British Museum (60, 61.).]
30TH OCTOBER.—We were now fifty-two miles from the junction of the
dry channel we crossed by the Balonne, and forty from the nearest part of
our former route, in advancing into this country. The risk of want of
water was worth encountering in the most direct line homewards, which
was by following down this river. I travelled, as straight as the bush
would allow, towards the junction; Graham examining the channel while
we proceeded. No water was found where the rivers united. Having
halted the small party with me, I followed one branch many miles with
Yuranigh, but all we could find were some wells, dug by natives, in a
part of the sandy bed; in one of which Yuranigh found, by a long bough
he thrust in, that there was moisture about five feet below the surface. I
returned, determined to encamp near this, and dig a well. The bullock
teams had also arrived when I returned to the party, and I learnt that
Drysdale, having observed that my little dog Procyon came in wet, had
been led to the discovery of a lagoon about three miles back, at which the
cattle had been already watered. I immediately encamped. At finding
water the dog was most expert, the native next, we inferior to both. We
had come about fifteen miles, and I wished to lay down the journey on
the map. On doing this, I found we had at length attained a point from
whence, in case of necessity, we could go as far as the Balonne, even if
no water were found in the country intervening, the direct distance being
under forty miles. During the afternoon, a still larger lagoon was found,
higher up than the first. I resolved to give the cattle a day’s rest, and then
to proceed prepared, by well watering them previously, to travel on to the
Balonne, but not with much expectation that scarcity of water would
oblige us to go so far. Thermometer, at sunrise, 34°; at noon, 70°; at 4 P.
M., 78°; at 9, 60°;—with wet bulb, 46°.
31ST OCTOBER.—Two men were sent to the westward, where they
found a dry sandy country with pines, the same as that seen by me on my
first ride from St. George’s bridge to the N.W., on the 18th of April. I
was myself engaged at the camp, on my general map of the country.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 33°; at noon, 81°; at 4 p.m., 84°; at 9, 51°
—wet bulb, 43°. Height above the sea, 882 feet.
1ST NOVEMBER.—The cattle and horses, having been all night loose
beside Drysdale’s ponds, were brought in early, and we then proceeded.
After travelling about eight miles, over ground bearing traces of
inundation, and looking, as we proceeded, into the river channel for
water, Yuranigh found a lagoon in a hollow parallel to the river, and I
encamped, resolved to reduce as much as possible the distance to be
traversed in uncertainty about finding water. We had, however, found
rocky ridges on the left, like bergs to the river; and the voices of natives
in the woods, as well as these ridges, redeemed the country from the
aspect of drought. This was but a small portion of the fine pastoral
country, traversed by this river, where we found the channel dry; and I
think this want was compensated by many lagoons and watercourses in
that back country extending to the little river from Mount Abundance,
the Cogoon.
2D NOVEMBER.—After watering all the animals, we went forward,
prepared to go on to the Balonne, even if we should meet with no water
until we arrived at that river. We found, however, that the country we
were to traverse was well watered. Three miles on from our camp, the
country appeared quite verdant, and park-like in its woods. The channel
of the river was bordered with green reeds, and contained a deep reach of
sparkling water. The river took a turn to the eastward, and, in the angle
formed by its again turning south, a little tributary entered it from the
north, which was full of ponds of water, and had not long ceased to run.
This came from the rocky tract situated between our old line of route,
along the little river Cogoon near Mount First View, and the Maranòa.
The water now found supplied the only link wanting in our explored line
along the last mentioned river, and I had no doubt that, by crossing that
country more directly towards the upper part of the Maranòa, a supply
would be found at convenient stages. On crossing the little tributary
(which I called Requisite Ponds), we found that the river resumed its
straight course towards the Balonne; and, in latitude 27° 31′ 37″ S., we
again saw green reeds and a good pond, beside which we encamped.
Thermometer, at sunrise, 50°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 79°; at 9, 63°;
—with wet bulb, 61°. (Camp 82.) Height above the sea, 969 feet.
3D NOVEMBER.—The river accompanied us but a short way this day, as
I had determined to follow a straight line towards the junction with the
Balonne, aware that the course of the river, for ten or twelve miles above
that point, turned very much to the westward. We passed through much
open forest, and over much sandy ground, on which the callitris always
appeared to predominate. Little scrub lay in our way. At length, plains
again appeared before us through the trees; and, beyond them, after
travelling twenty-two miles, we saw before us the river line, running
north-east. We crossed it, and still continued to travel on towards the
main river; but night overtook us when not far distant from it, so that we
were obliged to encamp within the distance of a mile and a half, after a
journey, with carts, of 26½ miles. Here occurred the only Epiphyte
observed during the expedition. It was growing in the dead parts of trees
in the forest, and proved to be the CYMBIDIUM CANALICULATUM of Brown.
One of the specimens had a raceme of flowers above a foot long. The
fragrant JASMINUM MITCHELLII occurred, with narrower leaves than usual,
at the foot of the forest trees. JUSTICIA ADSCENDENS, an inconspicuous
weed, covered the plains in large tufts. The MELALEUCA TRICHOSTACHYA was
there; and on the plains, and in open forests, grew a woolly. ANDROPOGON,
which appeared not to be distinct from the A. BOMBYCINUS. In the open
forest grew, here and there, the delicate COESIA OCCIDENTALIS, and on the
plains a small species of HEDYOTIS; a new CALOCEPHALUS in bunches[*], and
a creeping plant, with yellow flowers, since found to be a new species of
GOODENIA.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, 51°; at noon, 85°; at 4 p.m., 86°; at
9, 66°;—with wet bulb, 54°. Height above the sea, 819 feet.
[* C. GNAPHALIOIDES (Hook. MS.); annua erecta arachnoidea superne
dichotome ramosa, foliis linearibus, capitulorum glomerulis laxiusculis
corymbosis, involucri cylindracei squamis pellucidis albis.—Probably a
distinct genus.]
[** G. FLAGELLIFERA (de Vriese MS.); herbacea, glabra, foliis radicalibus
longe petiolatis, spathulatis, flagellis elongatis: floribus radicalibus,
axillaribus, longissime pedunculatis; calyce supero, quinquefido, laciniis
lineari-lanceolatis, bibracteolato; corolla bilabiata flava, labio superiore
fisso; fllamentis et antheris liberis; stigmatis indusio ciliato; flagellis
folii-et floriferis valde elongatis capsula prismatica, biloculari; seminibus
marginatis compressis; flagellis floriferis; floribus in axilla folii
ovatorotundati, auriculati, subamplexicaulis, contentis, brevius
pedunculatis.—Folia radicalia, 8-10 cent. longa, 1½-2 cent. lata,
apice rotundata, subrepandula, deorsum attenuata, subdecurrentia,
utrinque glaberrima, subtus pallidiora; folia flagellorum bracteiformia,
ovata, subrotunda, uno vel utroque latere auriculata, alterutra auricula
multo minore, floribus vero in bractearum illarum axillis, reliquis multo
minoribus neque ad normam perfectis, brevius pedunculatis. Affinis
species G. HEDERACEOE.—DE VR.]
4TH NOVEMBER.—At an early hour we proceeded, and had the
satisfaction soon to find our old wheeltracks along the bank of the
majestic Balonne. This truly noble river was here as broad as the Thames
at Richmond; its banks were verdant with a luxuriant crop of grass, and
the merry notes of numerous birds gave the whole scene a most cheering
appearance; especially to us who were again upon a route connected with
home, and at a point 200 miles nearer to it, than where we had last seen
that route. We had since made the discovery, and completed the survey,
of the lower Maranòa, a river which had brought us in a very straight
direction back to this point; and by tracing this down, we had established
a well watered line of route back to the fine regions we had discovered in
the more remote interior. I marked a tree at this camp (83.), which mark
is intended to show where this route turns towards the Maranòa x. being
marked at the next camp back along the old track. In the Balonne, huge
cod-fish (GRISTES PEELII) were caught this afternoon; indeed, we already
felt comparatively at home, although still far from the settled districts,
and strangers to all that had been passing in the world during seven
months. I was busy endeavouring to complete my maps before other
cares should divert my attention from the one subject that had occupied it
so long. But in perusing nature’s own book, I could, at leisure, think
sometimes on many other subjects, and I fancied myself wiser than when
I set out,—much improved in health,—bronzed and bearded; sunproof,
fly-proof, and water-proof: that is to say, proof against the want of
it, “LUCUS A NON LUCENDO.” Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 76°; at
4 p.m., 85°; at 9, 71°;—wet bulb, 59°. Height above the sea, 738 feet.
5TH NOVEMBER.—We now travelled back along our old track towards
Camp VIII., at St. George’s Bridge, where the first depôt had been
stationed; the tracks of several horsemen, returning after rain, were
visible along our route, and the prints of natives’ feet with them. How far
these parties had been further on, along the other route by which we had
advanced, we could not then ascertain. In the course of our ride this day,
we came suddenly upon two females, who were so busy digging roots on
a plain crossed by our track, that we were too near to admit of their
running off before they perceived us; they therefore remained on the spot
until we went up to them. They informed us, through Yuranigh, that “the
tracks were those of five white men on horseback, who had been
accompanied by natives on foot. They came there about one moon before
then, and had been looking very much all about; these females could not
think what for.” We took up our old position, overlooking the rocky bed
of the river. Pieces of old iron had been left untouched by the natives,
both at this camp, and were found on our old track in returning. As these
articles were such as they could have made great use of, I considered
their leaving them a proof of their good disposition towards the exploring
party; and of the very favourable impression we had made formerly on
the aborigines, at the interview with the assembled tribes of this river. In
the scrubs adjacent, we found, for the first time, the ripe fruit of the
“Quandang” (FUSANUS ACUMINATUS), and several shrubs in flower that we
thought new to botany. Thermometer, at sunrise, 44°; at noon, 76°; at 4
p.m., 85°; at 9, 71°;—wet bulb, 59°.
Chapter IX.
MR. KENNEDY SENT TO EXPLORE THE MOONI PONDS.—I COMPLETE THE
MAPS.—EXCESSIVE HEAT AGAIN.—NEW PLANTS FOUND.—MR. KENNEDY
RETURNS—AFTER SUFFERING MUCH FROM THE HEAT AND DROUGHT.—CORPORAL GRAHAM
SENT WITH DESPATCHES FOR THE GOVERNOR OF NEW SOUTH WALES.—THE PARTY
CROSSES THE BALONNE—BY ST. GEORGE’S BRIDGE.—REACHES THE MOONI PONDS—OR
RIVER.—TRACKS OF CATTLE AND HORSES NUMEROUS.—A WHITE WOMAN MET
WITH.—CATTLE STATIONS.—HEAVY AND CONTINUED RAIN RETARDS THE
PARTY.—FLOODS ALMOST SURROUND THE CAMP.—THE WATERS KEPT BACK BY A DAM OF
SAND.—AFTER SEVENTEEN DAYS HALT, THE PARTY CROSSES FROM THE MOONI TO THE
BARWAN.—A FLOOD IN THE BARWAN.—PASSAGE WITH THE BOATS.—MUSQUITOES
NUMEROUS AFTER THE RAIN.—STRAY HORSES JOIN OURS.—THE MAAL ALSO
FLOODED.—CROSS IT WITH THE BOATS.—THE MEEI CROSSED.—CROSS OTHER
BRANCHES OF THE GWYDIR.—RECOGNISE MOUNT RIDDELL.—ENTER ON EXTENSIVE
PLAINS.—SNODGRASS LAGOON.—A YOUNG SQUATTER.—LEAVE THE PARTY IN CHARGE
OF MR. KENNEDY.—RIDE HOMEWARDS.
5TH to 9TH NOVEMBER.—These days I devoted to the protracting of
angles taken on the Victoria, and the last day to writing my despatch to
the Government; and on this morning (the 9th) I sent Mr. Kennedy,
followed by Corporal Graham and John Douglas, to examine the country
in the direction of the furthest point attained by me on my journey of
1831; that was on the Barwan (Karaula) in latitude 29° 2′ S., and bearing
about 20° E. of S. from this camp. A chain of ponds, called the “Mooni”
ponds, were said to water the intervening country, and I wished to
ascertain whether they were favourable for the connection of our recently
explored route, with the termination of that marked out by me in 1831,
when my journey, undertaken expressly with the same objects in view,
was accidentally frustrated.
Corporal Graham was to go forward to the postoffice at Tamworth with
the despatches, when Mr. Kennedy, having ascertained the situation of
the Mooni ponds, should return. In the meanwhile, I continued to finish
maps and drawings, although suffering much inconvenience from
excessive heat, under a tent infested with numerous flies. The banks of
the river were gay with the purple flowers of SWAINSONA CORONILLOEFOLIA;
FUSANUS ACUMINATUS, produced its crimson-coloured fruit, which
Yuranigh brought us from the bush; the spotted bark tree, ELOEODENDRON
MACULOSUM, was also in these scrubs. A yellow-flowered herbaceous
plant, has been determined by Professor De Vriese to be identical with
the Swan River GOODENIA PULCHELLA. A salt plant, greedily eaten by the
cattle, proved to be a variety of the ATRIPLEX NUMMULARIS, observed in
February on the Macquarie. A species of GREWIA, in fruit, appeared to be
the same as the G. RICHARDIANA of Walpers. The TRICHINIUM FUSIFORME R.
Br., was covered with its globular, shaggy flower-heads, in the sandy
open parts of the forest. A very remarkable shrub, five or six feet high,
with the foliage of a Phyllirea, and spreading branches, was loaded with
short racemes of white flowers. It proved to be a plant of the natural
order of Bixads, and allied to MELICYTUS, but with hermaphrodite flowers.[*]
A submerged plant, in the water, was found to be a new species of
MYRIOPHYLLUM, with tuberculate fruit.[**] CASSIA CORONILLOIDES, a low shrub,
was in flower.[***] A shrubby MYOPORUM put forth sweet and edible fruit.[****]
A new ELOEODENDRON, with small panicles of white flowers, formed a
forest tree twenty feet high, remarkable for its spotted bark.[*****] A
fir-leaved CASSIA, with thin, sickle-leaved pods, formed a bush, from four to
five feet high.[******] A new blue-flowered MORGANIA, decorated the
river-bank[*******]; lastly, a new species of indigo[********], completed the list
of plants we gathered at this season at the camp over St. George’s Bridge.
[* M. ? OLEASTER (Lindl. MS.); glaberrimus, foliis lineari-lanceolatis supra
griseis subtus virentibus venosis racemis strictis multo longioribus,
floribus hermaphroditis.—OBS. SEP. 5. PET. 5 hypog. imbricata. ST. 5 in
margine disci magni inserta. OVAR. ovatum 1-loc. plac. 3-par. STYLUS
simplex. STIGMA parvum 3-dent. FRUCTUS ignotus, verisim. carnosus.]
[** M. VERRUCOSUM (Lindl. MS.); foliis submersis capillaceo-multifidis
emersis ternatim verticillatis ovatis pinnatifidis, floribus octandris,
fructibus tuberculatis.]
[*** C. CORONILLOIDES (A. Cunn. MS.); ramis subangulatis petiolisque minute
puberulis, foliolis 8-10-jugis lineari-oblongis obtusiusculis glabris,
glandula cylindrica inter par infimum, racemis axillaribus 2-3-floris folio
multo brevioribus.—Very near C. AUSTRALIS, but the leaflets are fewer
and smaller, and the subulate glands of that species are wanting.—G. B.
[**** M. DULCE (Benth. MS.); ramulis laevibus, foliis anguste lanceolatis
planis acutis uninervibus basi angustatis, laciniis calycinis
linearilanceolatis acutis brevibus, corollae limbo imberbi.—Intermediate
between M. TENUIFOLIUM Br. and M. DESERTI Cunn.]
[***** E. MACULOSUM (Lindl. MS.); inerme, foliis linearibus obovatis
integerrimis obtusis, paniculis terminalibus ultra folia evectis.]
[****** C. CIRCINNATA (Benth. MS.); glabriuscula, petiolis phyllodineis
lineari-subteretibus, foliolis nullis, racemis phyllodio plerumque
brevioribus 1-2-floris, legumine plano glabro cincinnato v. spiraliter
contorto.—Phyllodia one to one and a half inch long, resembling the
leaflets of C. HETEROLOBA. Pod like that of several PITHECOLOBIA, but not
yet ripe.]
[******* M. FLORIBUNDA (Benth. MS.); dense glandulosa, caeterum glabra, ramis
strictis dense foliosis foliis linearibus rarissime dentatis, pedicellis
plerisque geminis folio florali multo brevioribus.—This is a very
distinct species which was also gathered by Sir T. Mitchell in 1836, but
my specimen was not complete enough to describe it accurately, the
branches are thickly covered with leaves and flowers. The lower leaves
are one to two inches long, the flowers blue, like those of
M. GLABRA. G.B.]
[******** I. BREVIDENS (Benth. MS.) fruticosa, gracilis, pilis parvis canescens,
foliolis 6-10-jugis cum impari oppositis obovatis subplanis mucronatis v.
emarginatis utrinque strigosis, racemis multifloris laxis folia vix
superantibus, bracteis minutis, calycis villosuli dentibus brevissimis
obtusis, corolla pubescente, legumine strigilloso incurvo.—It has much
the aspect of I. MICRANTHA (Bunge), but the flowers are not quite so small,
and the teeth of the calyx are very different.]
15TH NOVEMBER.—Mr. Kennedy having been absent much longer than
was expected, at length appeared on the opposite bank of the river with
Douglas, both being on foot, and Douglas leading only one (strange)
horse. The information Mr. Kennedy brought me was favourable to the
project of uniting this route with that to the Barwan, and the (now)
settled district of the Nammoy. He had found that the Mooni ran nearly
north and south, and that its banks were occupied with cattle-stations to
within a day’s ride of our camp. This ride of discovery had, however, cost
the lives of two of our horses, the bearing already mentioned as the
direction given for Mr. Kennedy’s guidance having been TRUE and not
magnetic. Pursuing that bearing BY COMPASS, Mr. Kennedy had ridden
almost parallel to the Mooni, sixty-three miles, without hitting them, or
finding water. The heat was intense, one of the horses died, and the men
were very ill; when they at length reached these ponds. In returning, he
had travelled by the stations, and borrowed the horse brought back, from
the station nearest to us, occupied by Messrs. Hook. From these
gentlemen Mr. Kennedy had ascertained that Sir Charles Fitzroy was the
new Governor.
17TH NOVEMBER.—The whole party crossed the Balonne by St.
George’s Bridge, and I arrived, the same afternoon, with a small
advanced party on the Mooni, which we made in latitude 28° 17′ 51″ S.
The channel was full of water, and thus we completed the last link
wanted to form a chain of communication DIRECT FROM SYDNEY, to the
furthest limits we had explored. The ground was imprinted with the
hoofs of cattle, and we already felt as if at home. The day was one of
extreme heat without any wind; the thermometer stood at 104° in the
shade. Yet the horses drew the carts easily twenty-four miles and a
quarter. We had passed over a country covered with excellent grass,
consisting chiefly of plains and open forest, with scrubs of ACACIA
PENDULA, and a soil of clay. In the scrubs we found a new species of
CANTHIUM, a shrub ten or twelve feet high; and in the open forest ACACIA
NERIIFOLIA was observed in fruit; HIBISCUS STURTII Hook.; an Evolvulus
related to SERICEUS; a new yellow CROTALARIA[*] ; and a noble new species
of STENOCHILUS, with willowy leaves and large trumpet flowers.[**]
Thermometer, at sunrise, rise, 62°; at noon, 103°; at 4 p.m., 104°; at 9,
81°;—with wet bulb, 67°. Height above the sea, 622 feet. (Camp 84.)
[* C. DISSITIFLORA (Benth. MS.); herbacea, laxe ramosa, stipulis setaceis,
foliolis elliptico-oblongis rarius ovalibus obtusis supra glabris subtus
ramulisque pube tenui subcanescentibus, racemis erectis oppositifoliis
elongatis, floribus (ultra 20) distantibus, carinae rostro brevi recto, ovulis
numerosis, legumine breviter stipitato pubescente.—Very near to C.
SENEGALENSIS among the LONGIROSTRES, but the habit is more rigid, the
leaflets rather larger, the beak of the keel shorter, and the pod (which is
only very young in the specimen) is borne on a short stalk.]
[** S. (PLATYCHILUS) BIGNONIAEFLORUS (Benth. MS.); glaber viscosus-foliis
longe lanceolatis linearibusve apice subuncinato, calycis foliolis latis
acutis, corollae glabrae ventricosae laciniis obtusissimis infima dilatata
subtriloba vix caeteris magis soluta, staminibus vix exsertis.—Leaves
three to six inches long, two to six lines broad, thick and clammy.
Flowers above an inch long, remarkable for the broad divisions of the
corolla, and the general form much that of a BIGNONIA. This difference in
the form of the corolla, would perhaps justify the placing it into a distinct
genus instead of a mere section, especially as that peculiarity which gave
the name of STENOCHILUS does not exist, were it not that the forms of the
corolla are so different in different other species, that they will not
furnish generic characters where the habit is similar.—G. B.]
18TH NOVEMBER.—The teams came in very early, not having been
above one mile behind. I remained encamped there, in the expectation of
some decided change of weather. The night had been oppressively hot.
The season during which we had been beyond the Balonne, viz., that
between the 23rd April and 5th November, was the most proper for
visiting the tropical regions of Australia.
Here we found TRICORYNE ELATIOR, a delicate yellow-flowered plant; a
species of the genus Fugosia near F. DIGITATA, a plant of Senegambia, but
less glabrous, and with the leaflets of the involucre much larger.
MORGANIA GLABRA, a little erect herbaceous plant, having the appearance
of being parasitical on roots; ACACIA VARIANS, in the open forest, in rich
soil. ANTHERICUM BULBOSUM, formerly seen on the Narran. In the thick
forest, a shrub six feet high with small white flowers, CATHA
CUNNINGHAMII[*] (Hook. MS.), and a new species of VIGNA very near V.
LANCEOLATA, though very different in habit.[**] Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°;
at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 103°; at 9, 76°;—with wet bulb, 64°.
[* C. CUNNINGHAMII (Hook. MS.); inermis, foliis lineari-lanceolatis rigidis
mucronato-acutis integerrimis subfalcatis superne latioribus basi in
petiolum perbrevem attenuatis, floribus axillaribus fasciculatis,
pedunculis simplicibus vel racemosis bracteolatis.]
[* V. SUBERECTA (Benth. MS.); leviter pubescens, suberecta, ramosissima,
foliolis lato-lanceolatis basi integris vel hastato-trilobatis, pedunculis
folio subbrevioribus apice paucifloris, calycis pubescentis campanulati
dentibus tubo subaequilongis, carina rostrata acuta, legumine puberulo.]
19TH NOVEMBER.—The party moved off at an early hour. The tracks of
cattle and horses became more and more numerous as we proceeded, and
the channel of the little river was full of water, on which a large species
of duck was very plentiful. At length we came upon the track of wheels,
and followed them towards the station; which was not yet visible when
our young native, Dicky, fell a shouting and laughing, drawing my
attention to what certainly was a “RARA AVIS” to him. This was a white
woman going with pails to milk the cows, and the first white female he
could ever have seen. The jeering laugh of the young savage was
amusing, as he pointed to that swaddled, straw-bonneted object, as
something curious in natural history, to which my attention, as he
thought, would be rivetted: but the sight was, nevertheless, a welcome
one to all the party. Soon two comfortable stations, one on each side of
the river, appeared before us; and the neatly dressed mother of two
chubby white children stood at the door of one of them. I had a
memorandum from Mr. Kennedy to call at the other, to thank the owner
for lending him a horse; and there I first entered again under a roof, and a
most agreeable cover it did seem to me after living nearly a year under
canvass, in houseless wilds. These were cattle stations, and both
appeared to be well-laid out for the purpose, and upon a scale more
substantial and worthy of it, than I had hitherto seen in squatting districts.
The placing of two such stations thus near each other, is a good
arrangement, not only affording better security against the depredations
of natives, but also as banishing that aspect of solitude and loneliness
such places in general present; and in the outset of such a life,
implanting, in the still uncultivated soil, the germs of social union, on the
solid basis of mutual protection.
I continued to travel some miles beyond these stations, for the sake of
obtaining better grass for our cattle; and thus lengthened the journey to
near twenty miles, in very warm weather, the thermometer being 104° in
the shade. Thermometer, at sunrise, 58°; at noon, 102°; at 4 p.m., 104°;
at 9, 75°;—with wet bulb, 63°. (Camp 85.) Latitude, 28° 30′ 51″ S.
20TH NOVEMBER.—Travelling south by compass, we found a tolerably
open forest, and the Mooni on our left, until we fell in with Mr.
Kennedy’s track on riding back. Following this (as he had been guided
back by an experienced stockman), we at length crossed the Mooni, and
fell into a cart-track leading southward, and at a few miles beyond where
we fell into that track, we encamped on the left bank of the Mooni; a tree
at this camp being marked 86. Again we saw, in the woods about this
camp, the HYLOCOCCUS SERICEUS R. Br., a remarkable tree, with oblong
leaves, and fruit resembling a small orange. It is a curious genus, and
belongs to the poisonous order of Spurgeworts. We found here also, the
HELICHRYSUM SEMIPAPPOSUM D. C.; ACACIA SPECTABILIS; a new species of
BEYERIA, near B. VISCOSA, Mig.; the variety of CASSIA SOPHERA (Linn.)
cultivated in some botanical gardens, under the name of C. SOPHERELLA; a
beautiful tree with pinnate leaves and spreading panicles of large white
flowers, called THOUINIA AUSTRALIS; the EUCALYPTUS BICOLOR A. Cunn. MS.,
a species closely allied to E. HOEMATOMMA Sm., but the marginal nerve is
not so close to the edge of the leaf (this is the “bastard box” of the
carpenters); a fine new large-flowered SIDA[*]; and it appears that the
“Yarra” tree of the natives here, is a new Eucalyptus, which Sir William
Hooker calls E. ACUMINATA.[**]
[* S. (ABUTILON) TUBULOSA (All. Cunn. MS.); tota velutino-pubescens, foliis
cordato-ovatis (sinu profundo angusto) sublonge acuminatis dentatoserratis,
stipulis subulatis flaccidis, pedunculis axillaribus solitariis
unifloris folio brevioribus, calyce elongato tubuloso 5-fido laciniis
acuminatis, petalis (flavis) vix duplo brevioribus.—W. J. H.]
[** E. ACUMINATA (Hook. MS.); foliis alternis petiolatis lanceolatis longe
acuminatis subaristatis penninerviis glaucis reticulatis nervis lateralibus a
margine remotiusculis, floribus umbellatis (4-6-floris), umbellis
pedunculatis, calycis tubo hemisphaerico in pedicellum gracilem
attenuato, calyptra conico-acuminato calycis tubum superante.]
Just as we sat down here, rain came on; the wind changed to S. W. and
the sky looked more portentous of rainy weather than we had ever seen it
on this journey. Now this was the first country in which we had any
reason to dread wet weather, since we crossed the Culgoa about the
beginning of April. Here rain would render the ground impassable, and
inundate the country. The mercury in the barometer was falling, and so
was the rain. Thermometer, at sunrise, 61°; at noon, 62°; at 4 p.m., 57°;
at 9, 53°;—with wet bulb, 53°.
21ST NOVEMBER.—The wind had shifted from E. to S. W., and the rain
had set in,—to proceed was quite impossible. The coolness of a cloudy
day rendered the tent much more agreeable and convenient for finishing
maps in, than one under the extremely hot sunshine which mine had been
recently exposed to so long at St. George’s Bridge. I had now, therefore,
a good opportunity of completing the maps. The great heat which had
prevailed during so many successive days there, portended some such
change as this; and we were thus likely to be caught in that very region
so subject to inundation, which I was formerly so careful to avoid, that I
endeavoured to travel so as to be within reach of a hilly country. For that
reason chiefly I had proceeded into the interior, by the circuitous route of
Fort Bourke.
21ST NOVEMBER TO 7TH DECEMBER.—The sky resembled that in
Poussin’s picture of the Deluge; and to one who had contended a whole
year with scarcity of water, in regions where this coming supply had so
long been due, the reflection would often occur, that this rain, if it had
fallen a year sooner, might have expedited that journey very much
indeed; whereas it was now very likely to retard the return of the party.
This was the only spot where such a rain could have seriously impeded
our progress; the waters of the great rivers were sure to come down, and
we had still to traverse extensive low tracts, where, in 1831, I had seen
the marks of floods on trees, which had left an impression still remaining
on my mind, that I thought it very desirable then, to get my party safe out
of these flats as soon as possible.
On the 28th November, or eight days after the rains set in, the Mooni
waters came down, at first slowly, but gradually filling up the channel,
until they rose to such a height, as to oblige me to move three of the
drays. During the night, the rising inundation began to spread over the
lower parts of the surface back from the river; while the current came
down with such rapidity, and, judging from marks of former inundations
on the trunks of box-trees (“GOBORRA”), it appeared probable the water
might reach our camp. I therefore determined to move it by daylight to a
sand-hill, about a quarter of a mile back from the river. This was effected
in good time, and only in time. Between the camp beside the Mooni, and
that we afterwards established on the sand-hill, there was a hollow by
which the rising floods would pass to an extensive tract of low ground
almost surrounding our camp on the sand-hill, and which would,
probably, render our passage out of that position difficult, even after the
waters had subsided. I therefore employed the men in throwing up a dam
across this hollow, between our hill-camp and the river, so as to prevent
the inundation from passing that way. We had no better material than
sand to oppose to this water; yet, by throwing up enough, we succeeded
in arresting the waters there, although they rose to the height of two feet
four inches on the upper side of our dam, and gave, to the country above
it, the appearance of a vast lake, covering our old encampment; so that
the figures 86 cut on a tree, were the only traces of it that remained above
water. Our camp on the sand-hill was elevated above the sea 641 feet, or
about 80 feet higher than the river. The waters continued to rise until the
2d of December, when they became stationary; and next day they began
slowly to subside. By the evening of the 5th, they had receded from the
dam; and the sky, which had been lowering until the 1st, began to present
clouds of less ominous form. Still the return of clear weather was slow,
and accompanied by thunder-showers. Plants put forth their blossoms as
soon as the sun re-appeared; amongst others, the DIDISCUS PILOSUS Benth.;
a pretty little umbelliferous plant. BOERHAAVIA was again seen here;
CARISSA OVATA, a shrub three feet high, with spiny branches, and very
sweet white flowers; the NEPTUNIA GRACILIS also, with the appearance of a
sensitive plant, was seen in the open flats. It was only on the 7th that a
crust had been formed on the earth, sufficiently firm for the cattle to
travel upon; and we embraced the earliest opportunity of quitting that
camp, where the superabundance of water had detained us seventeen
days. Musquitoes now tormented us exceedingly, and had obliged us to
tether the horses at night, to prevent them from straying. We this day
passed over the soil without finding the wheels to sink much, until we
arrived at Johnston’s station, five miles from our camp, and where I had
been told the ground was firm. There, on the contrary, we encountered
the only two swamps at all difficult. Even the drays got through them,
however, and I gladly quitted the banks of the Mooni, taking a straight
direction towards the Barwan, and encamped ten miles from the former.
That central ground between the Mooni and the Barwan, had brigalow
growing upon it, was firm, and in some hollows we found water. A
heavy thunder-shower fell at sunset, but we were on such firm soil, that I
was under no apprehension that it would have the effect of retarding our
journey.
8TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 69°. Height above the sea,
782 feet. Having determined our position on the map, I now chose such a
direction for our homeward route, as would form the most eligible
general line of communication between Sydney and the Maranòa. It
seemed desirable that this should cross the Barwan (the Karaula of my
journey of 1831), some miles above the point where I had formerly
reached that river; and thus avoid the soft low ground upon the Nammoy,
falling into my old track about Snodgrass lagoon, or when in sight of
Mount Riddell. With this view, our latitude being 28° 57′ 20″ S.,
longitude 149° 11′ E., I chose the bearing of S.S.E. (or rather 23½° E.
of S.), for my homeward guidance; and this morning I travelled, over a
good firm surface, for sixteen miles in that direction, when we arrived at
the bank of the Barwan and there encamped. We had passed through
some open scrub, chiefly of the rosewood kind, and crossed several small
grassy plains; saw one or two patches of brigalow, but very little callitris.
An improvement was visible in the quality of the grass, when we came
within the distance of about two miles from the river; and open forests or
plains of richer soil, its usual concomitants, plainly enough indicated the
presence of the Barwan (or “Darling”). In the country we traversed, we
saw no cart tracks; but the deep impressions of a few stray cattle,
apparently pursued by natives, were visible throughout the scrubs. There
was still a considerable flood in the river, although the water had been
recently much higher, as was obvious from the state of the banks.
Latitude, 28° 37′ 20″ S. Height above the sea, 590 feet.
9TH DECEMBER.—All hands were busy this morning in making
preparations for crossing the Barwan. The boats were soon put together,
and on reconnoitring the river in one of them, I soon found a favourable
place for swimming the cattle and horses at, and which was effected
without accident. The unloaded drays were next drawn through the river
at the same place; which was about three hundred yards lower down the
river than that at which we had encamped, and which was marked by the
number 87, cut on a tree. My former camp on this river in 1831, for want
of such a mark, could not be recognised. According to my surveys, it
should have been found seventeen miles lower down the river. All our
stores and equipment were carried across in the boats. These looked well
in the water; their trim appearance and utility, then renewed my regret
that I had not reached the navigable portion of the Victoria, and that its
channel had been so empty. Perhaps more efficient portable boats never
were constructed, or carried so far inland undamaged. They were
creditable to the maker, Mr. Struth of Sydney. By their means, the whole
party was comfortably encamped this afternoon, on the left bank of the
Barwan, just before a heavy thunder-shower came down. The river had
fallen several feet during the day. Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 82°.
10TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m. thermometer 68°. The mosquitoes were
most tormenting; as was well expressed by one of the men outside my
tent, who remarked to his companion, “That the more you punishes ’em,
the more they brings you to the scratch:” a tolerable pun for one of “the
fancy,” of which class we had rather too many in the party. The horses,
although tethered and close spancelled, could not be secured, even thus.
Some had broken away and strayed during the night. It was ascertained
by Yuranigh, that four other strange horses were with ours, having come
amongst them and led them astray. These had broken loose from a neigh-
bouring station, whence a native came to the men I had left to await the
horses at the Barwan, and took back the strange horses. I had gone
forward with the party, still pursuing the same bearing, and came thus
upon the “Maäl,” a channel not usually deep, but, at the time, so full of
water, with a very slight current in it, that here again we were obliged to
employ the boats. This channel was distant 5½ miles from where we
had crossed the Barwan. The bullocks were made to swim across in the
yokes, drawing the empty drays through, which they accomplished very
well; “RARÎ NANTES IN GURGITE VASTO.” The loads were carried in the boats,
and the horses taken across, as before. The camp was established at an
early hour on the left bank of the “Maal,” which camp I caused to be
marked 88, in figures cut on an iron bark tree. Latitude, 29° 1′ 20″ S.
This seemed to be the same channel crossed by me on 5th February,
1832, at a similar distance from the main river.
11TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 7 a.m., 70°. We continued to
travel homewards on the same bearing; thus tracing with our wheels, a
direct line of road from Sydney to the northern interior and coast. The
plains were gay with the blue flowers of a new CYCLOGYNE[*]; a new
CANTHIUM, was in fruit[**]; and we found also a species of Malva, which
Sir William Hooker has determined to be MALVA OVATA (Cav.), or scarcely
differing from that species, except in the rather soft and short hairs to the
calyx (not long and rigid): the two ends of the curved carpels are equal or
blunt; but in M. OVATA the upper one is longer and attenuated into a short
beak. The same plant was found by Frazer along the Brisbane. The
THYSANOTUS ELATIOR was again found here; and a shrubby CRUCIFEROUS
plant, quite woody at the base, with very narrow linear setaceous
pinnatifid leaves,[***] and linear curved torulose silicules. A new HAKEA with
stout needle like leaves, was also found this day in the scrub. We met
with no impediment for eighteen miles, when I encamped, although
without reaching water enough for our cattle. I knew we could not expect
to meet with any watercourse between the Barwan and the Gwydir;
which latter river I wished to cross as soon as possible, in hopes then to
meet with roads and inhabitants. Even cattle-tracks had again become
rare in this intermediate ground, although the grass was in its best state,
and most exuberant abundance. We crossed much open plain, and passed
through several shady forests of casuarina. A curious provision of nature
for the distribution of the seeds of a parasitical plant was observed here,
each seed being enclosed within a sort of pulp, like bird-lime, insoluble
in water; the whole resembling a very thin-skinned berry. On this being
broken, probably by birds, the bird-lime is apt to attach the seed to trees
or branches, and so the parasitical growth commences. On the plains, the
blue flowers of a large variety of MORGANIA GLABRA caught the eye: the
rare and little known HETERODENDRON OLOEFOLIUM of Desfontaines, a genus
referred to Soapworts by Mr. Planchon. We found also this day, a new
POLYMERIA with erect stems, silky leaves, and pink flowers.[****] Height above
the sea, 554 feet.
[* C. SWAINSONIOIDES (Benth. MS.); foliolis 8-11 anguste oblongis,
racemis laxis dissitifloris, carina spiraliter contorta.—Habit of a
SWAINSONIA or LESSERTIA. Flowers blue, as in the original Swan river
species (C. CANESCENS). That has not a spirally-twisted keel, but the
structure is indicated both by the circinnate apex of the style, and by a
slight curl at the summit of the keel.]
[** C. OLEIFOLIUM (Hook. MS.); foliis obovato-oblongis obtusis glaucis basi
in petiolum gracilem attenuatis, stipulis parvis acutis, fructibus didymis.]
[*** H. LONGICUSPIS (Hook. MS.); rigida glaberrima, ramis junioribus
subpubescentibus, foliis bi-triuncialibus tereti-filiformibus rigidis strictis
longe mucronatis, perianthiis glabris, capsulis suboblique ovatis lignosis
glabris brevi-acuminatis.]
[**** P. LONGIFOLIA (Lindl. MS.); erecta, foliis sericeo-nitentibus
linearilanceolatis auriculatis, pedunculis unifloris foliis multo
brevioribus.]
12TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 67°. Passing over a
similar sort of country for some miles (and through a scrub, on first
leaving the camp), we at length came upon a more open country, where
the ground seemed to fall southward. Cattle-tracks were again numerous,
and cow-dung abundant, an article in much request with us just then, its
smoke being a valuable specific for keeping off the mosquitoes, when a
little of it was burnt before a tent. We next came upon more spacious
plains than any we had seen southward of the Balonne; and I recognised,
with great pleasure and satisfaction, the blue peak of Mount Riddell,
distant 61 miles. This seemed to peep through the obscurity of fifteen
laborious years, that had intervened since I had given a name to that
summit. It now proved the accuracy of my recent survey, appearing
exactly in the direction, where, according to my maps, I pointed my glass
to look for it. Like the face of an old friend, which, as the Persian
proverb says, “brighteneth the eyes,” so this required clear eyes to be
seen at all; even Yuranigh, could not at first be persuaded that it was not
a cloud. This fine peak must always be a good landmark on these vast
plains, and may yet brighten the eye of the traveller from India, when
emerging from the level regions upon the Barwan. We next perceived at
a distance, a cloud of dust raised by a numerous herd of cattle, and came
upon a water-course, or branch of the Gwydir, called, I believe, the
“Meei.” As I wanted to cross the Gwydir, I crossed this and continued;
met with another deep ditch or channel, four miles beyond the Meei; and,
at three miles beyond that, another: none of these resembling the Gwydir
I had formerly seen. I had ridden twenty-five miles, and hastened back to
meet the carts, and encamped them just beyond the first-mentioned of
these two water-courses. The heavy drays were, of course, far behind.
Latitude, 29° 34′ 41″ S. Height above the sea, 553 feet.
13TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 10 a.m., 70°. The drays joined us
early, having performed an immense distance yesterday. This being
Sunday, rest for the remainder of the day was both proper and necessary.
I found we were within a less distance of Snodgrass Lagoon, than we
were from the camp we had left the previous day. I expected to fall in
with some road, when we reached the country to which I had formerly
led the way. At sunset the sky seemed charged with rain, and the
barometer had fallen 2½ millimetres; much thunder, and but a slight
shower followed, after which the sky cleared up. Heavy rain there, must
have caused much difficulty and delay to the party, as we were upon low
levels subject to inundation. Height above the sea, 499 feet.
Thermometer, at 6 p.m., 88°.
14TH DECEMBER.—Thermometer, at 6 a.m., 76°. During the night, and
at day-break, heavy rain pattered on my tent, but a streak of the blue sky
appeared in the N.W., which increased; and before 7 a.m. the sun shone
on the ground, and dried it so that we could proceed. We crossed a
channel of the river, at three miles, which is called the “Moomings;” and
still I doubted whether we had not yet to cross the main channel of the
Gwydir, having seen no current in any of those channels I had crossed. I
had however already crossed the latitude of the river I had formerly seen;
and, coming soon to rising ground, and seeing before me the wide-spread
plains of my former journey, I was convinced that the late rains had not
extended to the Gwydir, and that this river had been crossed by us in
these several channels. At length, I arrived at the lagoon I had named, in
former times, after Colonel Snodgrass; thus terminating this journey,
having travelled in a direct line the last seventy-three miles of it, to meet
at this point the line from Sydney, traced by me thus far in the year 1831.
Height above the level of the sea, 545 feet. Thermometer, at 7 p.m., 87°.
The temporary occupation of the country by squatters, imprints but few
traces of colonization. Cattle-tracks were visible, certainly, but nothing
else. No track remained along the line which I had so many years before
laboured to mark out. Having ordered some of the men to look out for a
stockman, one was at length caught, and persuaded to come to my tent,
but not without some apprehension that the people he had come amongst
so suddenly were robbers. He was a youth, evidently of the Anglo-Saxon
race, in a state of transition to the condition of an Australian stockman.
His fair locks strayed wildly from under a light straw hat about the ears
of an honest English face, and the large stock whip in his hand explained
what he was about,—”in search of some stray cattle.” He had evidently
never heard of exploring expeditions, past or present; nor of such a name
as “Snodgrass Lagoon.” Mount Riddell was called “Cow hill,” according
to him. Knew there was a road to Maitland, but of Sydney he seemed to
require some minutes to recal the recollection. He had come from the
station of Mr.——, where he was employed as stockman. Came out
from England about six years ago with a brother. When asked if his
brother was with him, he said “No.” To my next question, as to the rest
of his relatives, a tear was the only reply, and I pushed my inquiries no
further.
16TH DECEMBER.—I left the camp, accompanied by Mr. Kennedy, and,
in looking for my old route, we soon arrived at cattle stations. The
lagoon was full, and the first station we saw was on the opposite bank;
but having crossed some miles higher, we arrived at one, where the
master and some men were busy in the stockyard, and there we were
hospitably received. It was then about 2 p.m., and tea mixed with milk
was set before us, with a quart pot full of fine salt, and some hard-boiled
eggs. Having put into my tea a table-spoonful of the salt, mistaking it for
sugar, and there being no sugar, I had two strong reasons for not taking
much tea. Fortunately for me, however, I did eat one of the hard-boiled
eggs, for from that hour I was doomed to fast two days. There I bade Mr.
Kennedy farewell, leaving him in charge of the party, and proceeded
along a cart-track homewards, followed by John Douglas, and a led
horse. Before we could arrive at the station where I intended to halt,
night overtook us on a plain, with very heavy rain, and total darkness.
The cart-track was no longer visible, and, after groping on some way
without it, we were obliged to alight and sit in the mud, without the
shelter of even a tree, until day-break. Daylight exhibited the station not
above two miles off, but that did not avail us much; for, on awaking the
inmates, and asking them for some breakfast, the hut-keeper shook his
head, and said he had no provisions to spare. Once more I struck away
from these “abodes of civilized men,” to look for my old track, which
had been traced along the base of the Nundawàr Range, where the bold
outlines of Mounts Lindesay and Forbes hung dimly, like shadows of the
past, amongst clouds lighted by beams from the rising sun. After having
been long in unknown regions, time and distance seem of little
consequence when we return to those previously known; and thus the
whole day soon passed in looking for my former track. But I sought it in
vain; and was glad at night to turn towards the banks of the Nammoy, in
search of a cattle-station. Since I had first explored that country to which
my wheel-tracks marked and led the way, station after station had been
taken up by squatters, not by following any line of route, but rather
according to the course of the river, for the sake of water; and in such
cases, the beaten track from station to station, no matter how crooked,
becomes the road. Thus it is, in the fortuitous occupation of Australia,
that order and arrangement may precede, and be followed only by “CHAOS
come again.” I arrived about sunset, at Mr. Cyrus Doyle’s station near the
Nammoy, where I was hospitably entertained by a man in charge of it,
who rode eight miles in twenty minutes only, to borrow some tea and
sugar for me, and who lived on very friendly terms with some old natives
who remembered me, and my first advance into that country.
18TH DECEMBER.—At 6 a.m., Thermometer 75°. Height above the sea
750 feet. Guided by one of these natives, I reached the “great road,” saw
many wool drays upon it, before I arrived at Maule’s creek; and I
endeavoured, for a considerable time, to pass two gentlemen in a gig, and
wearing veils, who were driving a lot of mares before them, and who
seemed to derive amusement from making their mares keep pace with
my entire horse.
The road this day traversed the luxuriant flats of the Nammoy, one of
the richest districts in the colony, as the fat cattle on the banks of the
river sufficiently attested. The mountains behind, afforded equally
eligible runs for sheep. Nothing could surpass the beauty of the scenery,
amid abundance of water, umbrageous trees, cattle, verdure, and distant
mountains. I was most comfortably lodged that night at Mr. Wentworth’s
station on the Nammoy, elevated above the sea 1055 feet, and next day I
reached the dwelling of a resident squatter, and saw a lady in a
comfortable house near the very spot, where, fifteen years before, I had
taken a lonely walk by the then unknown Nammoy, the first white man
permitted there to discover a “flowery desert.”[*] I was most kindly
welcomed by this family; but I asked in vain, even there, to be favoured
with the perusal of a newspaper. When I expressed anxiety about my
numerous family, and spoke of my long absence of a year, I observed a
tear in the lady’s eye, which I then thought the product of mere
sensibility; but I learnt subsequently, that she was aware the newspapers
she possessed, and out of sympathy withheld, would have apprised me of
the death of a son, which sad tidings were only communicated to me
some days after.[**]
[* Three Expeditions, etc., vol. i. p. 54.]
[** He died on the 16th July, at the age of eighteen, from the want of
medical aid, when surveying, in winter, the Australian Alps. His grave,
trodden by cattle hoofs, is in a desolate unconsecrated spot. He had
served the public, gratis, upwards of two years, as a draughtsman and
surveyor.]
Chapter X.
MR. KENNEDY CONDUCTS THE PARTY TO SYDNEY.—PROCEEDS OF THE SALE OF THE
CATTLE AND EQUIPMENT.—APPLIED TO THE REFITTING OF A LIGHT PARTY ON
HORSEBACK.—MR. KENNEDY’S INSTRUCTIONS TO TRACE DOWN THE VICTORIA.—Of the
aborigines.—CHARACTER OF YURANIGH.—IMPEDIMENTS TO THEIR
CIVILIZATION.—Of the Convicts.—THEIR USES IN THE COLONY.—CHARACTER OF
THOSE OF THE PARTY.—DIFFERENT CLASSES OF CRIMINALS.—THE UNFORTUNATE AND
THE DEPRAVED.—Of the present Colony of New South Wales.—NATURAL STATE.
—CAPABILITIES.—ITS TEMPORARY USES.—ULTIMATE COLONIZATION.—RETENTION
OF WATER.—NEW SYSTEMS OF AGRICULTURE REQUISITE.—GROWTH OF COTTON AND
SUGAR ALONG THE EASTERN COAST.—THE VINE AND THE OLIVE.—WHEAT
CROPS.—DIFFICULTY OF ACCESS TO MARKETS.—ROADS.—PROJECTED
RAILWAYS.—Conclusion.—ORIGIN OF THIS SURVEY.—ITS PRIMARY OBJECTS.
—ULTIMATE TENDENCY.—MY RESPONSIBILITY TO THE IMPERIAL
GOVERNMENT.—CO-OPERATION OF THE COLONIAL LEGISLATURE.—FINAL
REPORT.—GREAT GEOGRAPHICAL FEATURES.—THE NATURAL DIVISIONS OF THE
TERRITORY.—PORT BOWEN—CAPRICORNIA.—GULF OF CARPENTARIA—AUSTRALINDIA.
The party which I had left in charge of Mr. Kennedy near Snodgrass
Lagoon arrived in the neighbourhood of Sydney on the 20th of January,
and the new Governor, Sir Charles Fitzroy, kindly granted such gratuities
to the most deserving of my men as I had recommended, and also sent
the names to England of such prisoners as His Excellency thought
deserving of Her Majesty’s gracious pardon.
The sale of the cattle and equipment produced about 500L.; and as Mr.
Kennedy volunteered his services, when the proper season should arrive
(March), to trace down the course of the river Victoria with a light party
on horseback, I submitted a plan to Sir Charles Fitzroy, and obtained His
Excellency’s permission to send this officer to survey the river, and to
apply the above-mentioned proceeds of sale in providing the equipment
of his party. Mr. Kennedy finally left Sydney about the middle of March,
with a party of eight men, all well mounted and leading spare horses,
with two light carts carrying a stock of provisions for fourteen months.
The following copy of his instructions will show what Mr. Kennedy was
required to do.
* * *
Surveyor-General’s Office,
Sydney, 22d February, 1847.
“Sir,
“His Excellency the Governor having been pleased to sanction my
proposal for the further exploration of the river Victoria with a small
party to be sent under your command; I have now the honour to enclose
to you a copy of instructions by which I was guided in conducting the
late expedition into the northern interior, and I have to request that you
will conform thereto, as much as the following particular instructions for
your especial guidance may permit.
“You will as early as possible return by the road across Liverpool Plains
so as to fall into the return route of the late expedition before you leave
the settled districts, and in this manner you will recross the Balonne at St.
George’s Bridge, take the route back to Camp (83), and thence by the
route along the Maranoa to Camp (XXIX), beyond which you will
proceed as hereinafter detailed, with reference to the accompanying
tracing of my survey.
“You will cross the Maranoa at Camp (XXIX), and continue along my
return route until you reach Camp (75). I beg you will be particular so far
in looking for the track of my party returning, as you will perceive by the
map that many very circuitous detours may be thus avoided. But beyond
Camp (75), about seven miles, you will have to leave my return track on
your right, and not cross a little river there at all, but go along my old
advance track to Camp (XXXIV). Thence you will proceed by Camps
(XXXV) and (XXXVI), in order to approach the bed of the Warregò in
the direction of my ride of 14th June, in a general N. W. direction. It is
very desirable that you should keep my horse tracks there; but this I can
scarcely expect, and I can only therefore request that you will proceed as
closely in that direction as you can. The bed of the Warregò may be
looked for at a distance further on, equal to that of my ride of 14th June.
“You will next pursue the course of the Warregò upwards towards
Mount Playfair, which the accompanying map will be sufficient to guide
you to. You will follow up the Cùnno Creek, leaving Mount Playfair on
your right or to the eastward, and you will thus fall into the line of my
horse-track about the spot where I spoke to an old native female. I wish
you would then take some pains to travel in the direction of my track
from the head of Cùnno through the Brigalow, which is comparatively
open, in the direction of my bivouac of 11th September.
“Keeping the direction of my track of next day, you will arrive at a low,
but stony, ridge (A) (across which you must be careful how you pass
your carts, but it is of no breadth), and you will descend into a flat, from
which you will ascend another stony ridge (B), of no greater height but
more asperity than the first, and covered with fallen timber. You will
have about a mile of that sort of difficulty to deal with on the higher part,
but by turning then to the right, you will fall into a well watered valley,
which will lead you to the Nive. In the whole of your route thus far, you
can meet with no difficulty in tracing it, guided by the map, and
following these instructions; but if Douglas should be with you, he will
no doubt recognize the country through which he passed with me. It is
very important that you should keep that route, as leading to the Victoria
in a very straight direction from Sydney, and a direction in which, should
your return be delayed beyond the time for which your party is to be
provisioned, it is probable, that any party sent after you to your aid or
assistance would proceed to look for you. After you shall have reached
the Nive and Camp (77), you cannot have any difficulty in finding Camp
(72) near the Gap, and from that valley you have only to follow down the
watercourse to be certain that you are on my track to the Victoria, and, as
you have been instructed to take an expert native with you, you ought to
find still my horse’s track across the downs, cutting off large bends of the
river. But beyond Camps 16th September or 1st October, you must keep
by the river along my route back, and not follow the circuitous track
which I took through Brigalow to the westward. After about four miles
by the river, you will see, by the map, that my return track again crossed
the outward track over the downs, so that you may fall into the route
westward of the great northern bend of the Victoria. I fear you must
depend on the latitude, pace measurement, and bearings, for ascertaining
the situations of my camps of 29th September and 28th September. You
will see by the map how generally straight my journeys were between
these points, and how important it would be for you to know the situation
of the camp of 28th September, that you may thence set out westward in
the direction of my return route, instead of following the main channel
throughout the very circuitous turn it then takes to the northward.
Beyond the lowest point attained by me, or the point (wherever that
may be) to which you will be able to identify the accompanying map
with my track, of course it will be your duty to pursue the river, and
determine the course thereof as accurately as your light equipment and
consequent rapid progress, may permit. You may, however, employ the
same means by which I have mapped that river so far; and, for your
guidance, I shall add the particulars of my method of measuring the
relative distances. If you count the strokes of either of your horse’s fore
feet, either walking or trotting, you will find them to be upon an average,
about 950 to a mile. In a field-book, as you note each change of bearing,
you have only to note down also the number of paces (which soon
becomes a habit); and to keep count of these, it is only necessary to carry
about thirty-five or forty small pieces of wood, like dice (beans or peas
would do), in one waistcoat pocket, and, at the end of every 100 paces,
remove one to the empty pocket on the opposite side. At each change of
bearing, you count these, adding the odd numbers to the number of
hundreds, ascertained by the dice, to be counted and returned at each
change of bearing to the other pocket. You should have a higher pocket
for your watch, and keep the two lower waisctoat pockets for this
important purpose.
“Now, to plot such a survey, you have only to take the half-inch scale of
equal parts (on the 6-inch scale in every case of instruments), and
allowing TEN for a hundred, the half-inch will represent 1000 paces. You
may thus lay down any broken number of paces to a true scale, and so
obtain a tolerably accurate map of each day’s journey. The latitude will,
after all, determine finally the scale of paces; and you can, at leisure,
adjust each day’s journey by its general bearing between different
latitudes; and, subsequently, introduce the details. You will soon find the
results sufficiently accurate to afford some criterion of even the variation
of the needle, when the course happens to be nearly east or west, and
when, of course, it behoves you to be very well acquainted with the rate
of your horse’s paces, as determined by differences of latitude.
You will be careful to intersect the prominent points of any range that
may appear on the horizon; and the nature of the rock also should be
ascertained in the country examined: small specimens, with letters of
reference, will be sufficient for this. Specimens of the grasses, and of the
flower or seed of new trees, should be also preserved, with dates, in a
small herbarium. But the principal object of the journey being the
determination of the course of the Victoria, and the discovery of a
convenient route to the head of the Gulph of Carpentaria, the
accomplishment of these great objects must be steadily kept in view,
without regard to minor considerations. Should the channel finally
spread into an extensive bed, whether dry or swampy, you will adhere, as
a general rule, to the eastern side or shore, as, in the event of any scarcity
of water, the high land known to be there will thus be more speedily
accessible to you; and I am also strongly of opinion, that you would
cross in such a route more tributaries from the east than from the west.
On arriving at or near the Gulph of Carpentaria, I have particularly to
caution you against remaining longer than may be unavoidable there, or,
indeed, in any one place, in any part of your route, where natives may be
numerous.
“Having completed (at least roughly) the map of your general route, it
will be in your power in returning, to take out detours, and cut off angles,
by previously ascertaining the proper bearings for doing so; and when so
returning, it would be convenient to number your camps, that the route
and the country may be better described by you, and recognised
afterwards by others. These numbers may be cut in common figures on
trees; and if, as I hope, you should reach the Gulph, you can commence
them there: you may prefix C to each number commencing with 1, thus
avoiding any confusion with the numbers of my numbered camps on the
Victoria.
“On returning to the colony, you will report to me, or to the officer in
charge of the Survey Department, the progress and results of your
journey.
“I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your obedient servant,
“T. L. MITCHELL,
SURVEYOR-GENERAL.
“E. B. C. Kennedy, Esq. J. P.
Assistant Surveyor,
Sydney.”
OF THE ABORIGINES.
There is no subject connected with New South Wales, or Australia, less
understood in England than the character and condition of the aboriginal
natives. They have been described as the lowest in the scale of humanity,
yet I found those who accompanied me superior in penetration and
judgment to the white men composing my party. Their means of
subsistence and their habits, are both extremely simple; but they are
adjusted with admirable fitness to the few resources afforded by such a
country, in its wild state. What these resources are, and how they are
economised by the natives, can only be learnt by an extensive
acquaintance with the interior; and the knowledge of a few simple facts,
bearing on this subject, may not be wholly devoid of interest.
Fire, grass, kangaroos, and human inhabitants, seem all dependent on
each other for existence in Australia; for any one of these being wanting,
the others could no longer continue. Fire is necessary to burn the grass,
and form those open forests, in which we find the large forest-kangaroo;
the native applies that fire to the grass at certain seasons, in order that a
young green crop may subsequently spring up, and so attract and enable
him to kill or take the kangaroo with nets. In summer, the burning of
long grass also discloses vermin, birds’ nests, etc., on which the females
and children, who chiefly burn the grass, feed. But for this simple
process, the Australian woods had probably contained as thick a jungle
as those of New Zealand or America, instead of the open forests in which
the white men now find grass for their cattle, to the exclusion of the
kangaroo, which is well-known to forsake all those parts of the colony
where cattle run. The intrusion therefore of cattle is by itself sufficient to
produce the extirpation of the native race, by limiting their means of
existence; and this must work such extensive changes in Australia as
never entered into the contemplation of the local authorities. The
squatters, it is true, have also been obliged to burn the old grass
occasionally on their runs; but so little has this been understood by the
Imperial Government that an order against the burning of the grass was
once sent out, on the representations of a traveller in the south. The
omission of the annual periodical burning by natives, of the grass and
young saplings, has already produced in the open forest lands nearest to
Sydney, thick forests of young trees, where, formerly, a man might
gallop without impediment, and see whole miles before him. Kangaroos
are no longer to be seen there; the grass is choked by underwood; neither
are there natives to burn the grass, nor is fire longer desirable there
amongst the fences of the settler. The occupation of the territory by the
white race seems thus to involve, as an inevitable result, the extirpation
of the aborigines; and it may well be pleaded, in extenuation of any
adverse feelings these may show towards the white men, that these
consequences, although so little considered by the intruders, must be
obvious to the natives, with their usual acuteness, as soon as cattle enter
on their territory. The foregoing journal affords instances of the habits of
the natives in these respects. Silently, but surely, that extirpation of
aborigines is going forward in grazing districts, even where protectors of
aborigines have been most active; and in Van Diemen’s Land, the race
has been extirpated, even before that of the kangaroos, under an agency
still more destructive.
It would be but natural, even admitting these aboriginal inhabitants to
be, as men, “only a little lower than the angels,” that they should feel
disposed, when urged by hunger, to help themselves to some of the cattle
or sheep that had fattened on the green pastures kept clear for kangaroos
from time immemorial by the fires of the natives and their forefathers;
but such cases have been, nevertheless, of rare occurrence, partly because
much human life has been sacrificed to the manes of sheep or cattle. No
orders of the local government can prevent the perpetration of these
atrocities. Government Orders have been put forth in formal obedience to
injunctions from home, and the policy of the local authorities has not
been influenced by less humane motives.
It would ill become me to disparage the character of the aborigines, for
one of that unfortunate race has been my “guide, companion, councillor,
and friend,” on the most eventful occasions during this last Journey of
Discovery. Yuranigh was small and slender in person, but (as the youth
Dicky said, and I believed,) he was of most determined courage and
resolution. His intelligence and his judgment rendered him so necessary
to me, that he was ever at my elbow, whether on foot or horseback.
Confidence in him was never misplaced. He well knew the character of
all the white men of the party. Nothing escaped his penetrating eye and
quick ear. His brief but oracular sentences were found to be SAGE, though
uttered by one deemed a SAVAGE; and his affection and kindness towards
the little native Dicky seemed quite paternal. The younger was the
willing servant of the elder; who obliged him to wash and clean himself
before he allowed him to sleep near him. Yuranigh was particularly clean
in his person, frequently washing, and his glossy shining black hair,
always well-combed, gave him an uncommonly clean and decent
appearance. He had promised himself and Dicky a great reception on
returning to Sydney, and was perhaps disappointed. Dicky had never
before seen houses, and Yuranigh took much delight in showing him the
theatre, and whatever else was likely to gratify his curiosity.
The boy was all questions and observation. I was at a loss how to make
these natives comfortable; or suitably reward their services. The new
Governor kindly granted the small gratuity asked for Yuranigh, and
Dicky became a favourite in my family. Both these natives loathed the
idea of returning to the woods, as savages; and, as if captivated with the
scenes of activity around them, both expressed a desire “to work and live
like white men.” This shows that, when treated on a footing of equality,
as these had been in my party, the Australian native MIGHT be induced to
take part in the labours of white men; but at the first annoyance, the old
freedom of the bush seems to overmaster their resolutions, and attracts
them back to it. Yuranigh was engaged (for wages, and under regular
agreement,) as stockman to a gentleman who had cattle in the north, and
he took an affecting leave of my family. I carried Dicky to my house in
the country, with the intention of having him educated there with my
children, provided A TUTOR COULD BE FOUND, which seemed doubtful when I
left the colony. It has been long a favourite project with me, to educate
an aboriginal native, as a husband for Ballandella, and that their children
should form, at least, one civilized family of the native race, upon which
the influence of education and religious principles might be fairly tried.
This has never yet been done, although the experiment is one of much
interest. It seems scarcely practicable, except by withdrawing the married
couple to another country, where the children might be educated, and
kept clear of all predilections for a life in the woods. I thought of sending
such a pair to some congenial climate, such as the South of Europe,
where they should be taught the whole art of cultivating the grape, fig,
and olive, as well as the management of other productions of similar
latitudes in that hemisphere. They might return to Australia with their
family in ten or twelve years; when, in speaking a different language
from those about them, they would be less open to the influences that
interpose between the employers and the employed in that colony; while
the utility of their employment might be of some benefit to it. Were this
experiment to succeed, the decent and comfortable condition afforded by
industry might raise the aborigines in their own estimation, and inspire
them with hope to attain to a state of equality with the white men, which,
without having some such examples set before them, must seem to them
unattainable. The half-clad native finds himself in a degraded position in
the presence of the white population: a mere outcast, obliged to beg a
little bread. In his native woods, the “noble savage” knows no such
degrading necessity.—All there participate in, and have a share of,
Nature’s gifts. These, scanty though they be, are open to all. Experience
here has proved, and the history of the aborigines of other countries has
shown, the absurdity of expecting that any men, “as free as Nature first
made man,” will condescend to leave their woods, and come under all
the restraints imposed by civilisation, purely from choice, unless they can
do so on terms of the most perfect equality. Surely it behoves the nation
so active in the suppression of slavery to consider betimes, in taking up
new countries, how the aboriginal races can be preserved; and how the
evil effects of spirituous liquors, of gunpowder, and of diseases more
inimical to them than even slavery, may be counteracted.
OF THE CONVICTS.
The prisoners who had hitherto formed the bulk of all the exploring
parties previously led by me into the interior of New South Wales, were
chosen chiefly from amongst men employed on the roads, who had
acquired good recommendations from their immediate overseers; but, on
this last occasion, the men forming the party were for the most part
chosen from amongst those still remaining in Cockatoo Island, the worst
and most irreclaimable of their class.
The concentration of convicts in that island was intended, I believe, to
follow out the Norfolk Island system, keeping the men under rigorous
surveillance, and making them work at their respective trades, or as
labourers. Even there, so near to Sydney, that labour, so available to lay
the foundations of a colony, might have been employed with great
advantage, in constructing a naval arsenal and hospital for our seamen on
the Indian station, with a dry dock attached to it for the repair of
war-steamers. Such a dock has been long a desideratum at Sydney, and
private enterprize might, ere this time, have embarked in a work so
essential to an important harbour, had not the Government always
possessed the means of cheaply constructing such a work by convict
labour, and been thus able at any time to have entered into such
competition as might have been very injurious to a private speculator. At
Cockatoo Island, blacksmiths, shoemakers, wheelwrights, were at work
in their various avocations; all the shoes, for both the men and horses of
the expedition, were made there; also one half of the carts, which proved
equally good as the other portion, although that was made by the best
maker in the colony, a celebrated man.
The eagerness evinced by all these men, so confined in irons on
Cockatoo Island, to be employed in an exploring expedition, was such
that even the most reckless endeavoured to smooth their rugged fronts,
and seemed to wish they had better deserved the recommendation of the
superintendent. The prospect of achieving their freedom, by one year of
good behaviour in the interior, was cheering to the most depressed soul
amongst these prisoners. All pressed eagerly forward with their claims
and pretensions, which, unfortunately for the knowing ones, were strictly
investigated by Mr. Ormsby the superintendent, and Captain Innes, the
visiting magistrate. The selection of such as seemed most eligible was at
length made, after careful examination of the phrenological
developments and police history of each; and it was not easy to find one
without a catalogue of offences, filling a whole page of police-office
annals. Still there were redeeming circumstances, corroborated by
physical developments, sufficient to guide me in the selection of a party
from amongst these prisoners. With them, I mixed one or two faithful
Irishmen, on whom I knew I could depend, and two or three of my old
followers on former journeys, who had become free.
This party of convicts, so organized, with such strong inducements to
behave well, and so few temptations to lead them astray, may be
supposed to have afforded a favourable opportunity for studying the
convict character. It may be asked by some, how such a party could have
been made to yield submissive obedience for so long a period as a year,
away from all other authority, than mere moral controul. This was
chiefly because these men were placed in a position where it was so very
clearly for their own interest to conduct themselves properly.
Accordingly, the greater number, as on all former expeditions, gave the
highest satisfaction, submitting cheerfully to privations, enduring
hardships, and encountering dangers, apparently willing and resolved to
do anything to escape from the degraded condition of a convict. But still
there were a few, amounting in all to six, who, even in such a party,
animated by such hopes, could not divest themselves of their true
character, nor even disguise it for a time, as an expedient for the
achievement of their liberty. These men were known amongst the rest as
the “flash mob.” They spoke the secret language of thieves; were ever
intent on robbing the stores, with false keys (called by them SCREWS).
They held it to be wrong to exert themselves at any work, if it could be
avoided; and would not be seen to endeavour to please, by willing cooperation.
They kept themselves out of sight as much as possible;
neglected their arms; shot away their ammunition contrary to orders; and
ate in secret, whatever they did kill, or whatever fish they caught.
Professing to be men of “the Fancy,” they made converts of two
promising men, who, at first, were highly thought of, and although one of
them was finally reclaimed, a hero of the prize ring, it was too obvious
that the men, who glory in breaking the laws, and all of whose songs
even, express sentiments of dishonesty, can easily lead the unwary and
still susceptible of the unfortunate class, into snares from which they
cannot afterwards escape if they would. Once made parties to an offence
against the law, they are bound as by a spell, to the order of flash-boys,
with whom it is held to be base and cowardly to act “upon the square,” or
HONESTLY in any sense of the word; their order professing to act ever
“upon the cross.” These men were so well-known to the better disposed
and more numerous portion of the party, that the night-guards had to be
so arranged, as that the stores or the camp should never be entirely in
their hands. Thus a watch was required to be set as regularly over the
stores, when the party was close to Sydney, as when it was surrounded
by savage tribes in the interior.
Between the “flash men” and the other men of the party, there was a
wide difference: An old man to whom they once offered some stolen
flour, refused it, saying, “I have been led into enough of trouble in my
younger days, by flash friends, and now I wish to lead a quiet life.”
Convicts, in fact, consist of two distinctly different classes: the one,
fortunately by far the most numerous, comprising those whose crime was
the result of impulse; the other class consisting of those whose principle
of action is dishonesty; whose trade is crime, and of whose reformation,
there is much less hope. The offenders of the one class, repented of their
crime from the moment of conviction; those of the other, know no such
word in their vocabulary. The one, is still “a thing of hope and change;”
and would eagerly avail himself of every means afforded him to regain
the position he had lost; the other, true to his “order,” will “die game.”
For the separation of the wheat from the chaff, a process by no means
difficult, the colony of New South Wales was formerly well adapted. The
ticket of leave granted to the deserving convict was one of the most
perfect of reformatory indulgences; each individual being known to the
authorities, and liable, on the least misconduct, to be sent to work on the
public roads. The colony of New South Wales has been the means of
restoring many of our unfortunate countrymen to positions in which they
have shown that loyalty, industry, public spirit, and patriotism, are not
always to be extinguished in the breasts of Englishmen, even by fetters
and degradation. It is to be regretted that a more vigilant discrimination
had not interposed a more marked line between those convicts deserving
emancipation, and those whose services are still wanted on the roads and
bridges of the colony.
OF THE COLONY OF NEW SOUTH WALES.
There is no country in which labour appears to be more required to
render it available to, and habitable by, civilised men, than New South
Wales or Australia. Without labour, the inhabitants must be savages, or,
at least, such helpless people as we find the aborigines. The squatters’
condition is intermediate, temporary, and one of necessity. That country
without navigable rivers, intersected by rocky ranges, and subject to
uncertain seasons, is unfavourable to agriculture and trade; to social
intercourse, and to the moral and physical prosperity of civilised man.
With equal truth, it may be observed, that there is no region of earth
susceptible of so much improvement, solely by the labour and ingenuity
of man. If there be no navigable rivers, there are no unwholesome
savannas; if there are rocky ranges, they afford, at least, the means of
forming reservoirs of water; and, although it is there uncertain when rain
may fall, it is certain that an abundant supply does fall; and the hand of
man alone is wanting to preserve that supply and regulate its use. In such
a clime, and under such a sun, that most important of elements in
cultivation, water, could thus be rendered much more subservient to
man’s use than it is in other warm regions, where, if the general
vegetation be more luxuriant, the air is less salubrious. Sufficient water
for all purposes of cultivation, health, and enjoyment, is quite at the
command of art and industry in this most luxuriant of climates. Thus, the
peculiar disadvantages Australia presents in her wild state, are such as
would greatly enhance the value of such a country under the operation of
human industry. In such a climate, for instance, an abundance of water
would be found a much greater luxury when retained, distributed, and
adjusted, by such means, to man’s uses, than where an abundance is but
the natural product of cloudy skies and frequent rains. Where natural
resources exist, but require art and industry for their development, the
field is open for the combination of science and skill, the profitable
investment of capital, and the useful employment of labour. Such is New
South Wales.
But the age of such adaptations there is still to come. The future is too
much speculated upon; hence no system of agriculture has been yet
adjusted to the peculiarities of climate and soil. Instead of studying and
adopting the agriculture of similar climates, and the arts by which
deficiencies in similar latitudes have from time immemorial been
corrected: irrigation, for instance, has not been yet attempted; the natural
fertility of the soil has alone been relied on, to compensate, in
favourable, seasons, for the deficiencies of others, not favourable,
perhaps, for the growth of wheat or barley, but the best imaginable for
that of other kinds of productions. So generally available is the structure
of the country for the reservation of water by dams, that a small number
of these might be made to retain as much of the surface water as might
even impart humidity to the atmosphere. This is because the channels of
rivers are in general confined by high banks, within which many, or
indeed most of them, might be converted by a few dams into canals. To
such great purposes convict labour ought to have been applied, had it
been possible to have allowed colonization and transportation to work
together. But the undulations of the land present everywhere facilities for
constructing reservoirs, which heavy showers would fill, and thus afford
means sufficient for the purposes of irrigation, were not labour now too
scarce there, to admit of the progress of colonization in a manner suitable
to the spirit of the age, and character of the nation.
The rich lands along the eastern coast, under a lofty range which
supplies abundance of water for the purposes of irrigation, are well
adapted for the cultivation of cotton and sugar, and, with labour, nothing
could prevent these regions from being made extensively productive of
both articles. Of the vine and the olive[*], it remains to be ascertained
whether some parts of the country may not be made as productive as
Andalusia, for instance, is, in the same parallel of latitude, in the opposite
hemisphere. The want of hands alone retards the development of every
branch of production derivable from industry in these regions.
[* Five months ago, soon after my return to England, I gave to the Society
of Arts two bottles of olive oil, the first samples ever produced, I believe,
in Australia. The oil was made by Mr. Kid, superintendent of the Botanic
garden at Sydney, from olives grown there, and seemed very clear and
good.]
Settled districts, back from the coast, at elevations of 1000 feet and
upwards, have produced abundant crops of wheat of very superior
quality; and, but for the non-completion of the roads between these
districts and the capital, in consequence of the withdrawal of convict
labour, the progress of agriculture in its adaptation to the soil and
climate, and, as a field for the employment of British immigrants, had
been much more advanced than it is there.
The roads which were opened by the above means, or proposed to be
opened, have become almost impassable, or remain wholly so; and it is,
therefore, the less surprising that the colonists look to the possible
introduction of railways with much interest. In a country like that around
Sydney, where extensive tracts of inferior land must be traversed by
roads in order to arrive at lands which are productive and settled, the
value and importance of a railway would be greatly enhanced; and
calculations have been made to show that a railway between Sydney and
the southern districts would pay, even from the traffic at present along
that line. The town of Goulburn, 124 miles from Sydney, in an open
undulating country, at a considerable height above the sea, is rapidly
growing into importance; and, by making either a good road or a railway,
between that town and Sydney, access would be gained to very extensive
tracts of valuable territory, easily traversed, and to which Goulburn is a
sort of centre.
On the whole, it may be said that the difficulty of access to the best
lands, from the want of good roads to them from the principal port, has,
of late years, greatly impeded the introduction of immigrants to the rural
districts, and added to the population of Sydney many individuals who
had been brought to the colony at the public expense, for the assistance
of settlers in the country.
CONCLUSION.
The employment of convicts on useful public works was, twenty years
ago, a primary object with the government of New South Wales. The
location of settlers on their grants by the measurement of their farms,
then much in arrear, and the division of the territory into counties,
hundreds, and parishes, in order to complete the deeds of grant to
settlers, altogether rendered necessary a general survey of the colony,
which work I commenced in 1827, EX OFFICIO, and, pursuant to Royal
Instructions, sent to the colony in 1825. The time between the years 1827
and 1837 was the most prosperous in the history of the colony of New
South Wales, when convicts made good roads, farms were measured up,
and the country was surveyed and divided into countries. Colonization
extended rapidly to the shores of the southern ocean, and Australia Felix
was made known to the British public.
The survey touched the limits of the then unknown country, for the
direction of great roads from a centre could not be considered permanent,
however limited the colony, without such consideration of their ultimate
tendency as could only be given with a knowledge of the whole
intervening country. My plans of exploration have been governed by
these views and objects, and the journey recorded in these pages was
intended to complete the last of three lines radiating from Sydney. One
led across the Blue mountains to Bathurst and the western interior as far
as the land seemed worth exploring; another by Goulburn to Australia
Felix and the southern coast; and, lastly, this, the third general route, to
the northern shores at the nearest point, the head of the Gulf of
Carpentaria,—from which I trust that by this time my assistant Mr.
Kennedy will have returned to Sydney.
Held responsible by the Government for the performance of such a
duty[*], I have endeavoured to work out its views with that unity of plan
which must result from a mathematical principle, and which has enabled
me to bring to a satisfactory conclusion, after the lapse of many years,
and in the face of considerable difficulty, an undertaking commenced at
the command of my Sovereign, and under the auspices of the British
Government. That the Royal Instructions were originally intended for the
benefit of the colony of New South Wales is best evinced by the fact that
this journey of survey and exploration has been undertaken on the
petition of the Legislative Council of the Colony, and performed wholly
at the expense of the colony of New South Wales.
[* Appendix, Letter No. 30/1252., page 431.]
It now remains for me to submit my final “Report,” or, in other words,
to point out how the geographical knowledge thus acquired may be
available for the economical extension of that colonisation which the
expansive energies of this great nation seem to require. New South
Wales may be benefited, it is true, by the establishment of any additional
market on the eastern coast, for her produce; and by a road to the Gulf of
Carpentaria; but a timely knowledge of the structure of the interior was
necessary to enable the Government to determine on the sites most
eligible for centres of colonisation required along the coast.
It is now ascertained that a great range separates the coast settlements
from the open pastoral country of the interior, as far as the parallel of 25°
south. That there it breaks off at the lofty plateau of Buckland’s Table
Land, which overlooks a much lower country in the north;—a country
but lightly wooded, watered by good rivers, and which affords an easy
access to extensive pastoral regions in the interior, without the
intervention of any such formidable barrier between that interior open
country and the coast, as the great range nearer the actual colony.
Precisely on that part of the coast, to which the united channels of the
water lead, a harbour has been surveyed and approved of by competent
naval officers. These geographical facts, therefore, render it easy to
define one situation more favourable than any other that might be found
along that coast, for the nucleus of a colony, and which would divide
almost equally the whole coast line between Sydney and Cape York. I
allude to Port Bowen, near Broad Sound; and the river Nogoa, which has
been (I believe) called lower down, the Mackenzie. A port on that part of
the coast, at the entrance within the reefs, would be advantageous to
steam navigation. The occupation of the fine country on the rivers
Victoria, Salvator and Claude, must depend on some such sea-port for
supplies; and on the occupation of that back-country must again, in a
great measure, depend the establishment of a direct line of
communication between Sydney and the Gulf of Carpentaria.
At the head of that gulf, admitting that a practicable and direct line of
route can be opened to it, the country, and the sea adjacent, may soon
require attention. By timely examination and good arrangement, a
commodious place of embarkation may be established there, which
might, by degrees, become an important town; where horses might be
shipped and conveyed by a short passage to India, free from the hazards
of Torres Straits. It would appear from the brief but intelligible
description by Captain Flinders, that Wellesley Islands, or Sweer’s
Island, being both higher than the main land, might be connected with it,
by some permanent work, and thus afford a good port for steamers, and
shelter and anchorage for other ships. According to the interesting
narrative of Captain Stokes, the temperature is remarkably low, and
convict labour might there be very usefully employed upon such works.
The head of the Gulf of Carpentaria, being that part of the Indian
Ocean nearest to Sydney, has appeared of more importance to the
colonists, since steam navigation became regular between England and
the Indian archipelago. Then it became more desirable for the colonists
to know the nature of the interior country between their capital and that
northern coast. The interior has been found very open and accessible; the
fine country at the head of the Victoria must soon be occupied, and thus
divide the whole distance into two equal parts, each of these not much
exceeding the distance between Sydney and Melbourne, in Australia
Felix; between which places mail-carriages now run twice a week.
Thus, while, by the extension of geographical research, the proper
fields for colonization are laid open for selection, and prepared for timely
arrangements on the part of the Imperial Government; the colonists of
New South Wales have promoted the general interests of their fellow
subjects at home, by the developement of the resources of the territory
around them.
He “who measured out the sea in the hollow of his hand, and weighed
the earth in a balance,” has determined, by the condition of these two
elements, the situation of the Gulf, and that of the great break in the East
Coast range—the one affording the nearest access to an important sea,
the other the easy way to a rich interior land. I would, with deference to
Him, “who led Israel like a flock,” and me in safety through the
Australian wilds, distinguish the two regions by timely descriptive names
on the map I now lay before the public; Capricornia, to express the
country under the tropics, from the parallel of 25° South, where nature
has set up her own land-marks, not to be disputed: Australindia, the
country on the shores of the most southern part of the Indian archipelago;
which two regions may be made conterminous according to natural
limits, when such limits can be accurately ascertained.
APPENDIX.
The Colonial Secretary to the Surveyor-General of New South Wales.
No. 30/1252.
Colonial Secretary’s Office, October 28. 1830.
Sir,
I have the honour, by the direction of His Excellency the Governor, to
inform you that the Right Honourable the Secretary of State has been
pleased to signify the King’s instructions for the discontinuance of the
office of the Commissioners appointed to survey and value the lands of
the Colony, and His Majesty’s commands that the performance of their
duties is for the future to be entrusted to the Surveyor-General, who, with
the aid of the Assistant Surveyors, will be held responsible for all
arrangements connected with the survey and division of the territory.
I have the honour to be,
Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
ALEX. M’LEAY.
To T.L. Mitchell, Esquire,
Surveyor-General.
* * * * *
A SYSTEMATICAL LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL PLANTS COLLECTED IN THE FOREGOING JOURNEY.
THOSE MARKED * ARE NEW.
[numerals refer to page numbers in the book]
[* The routes of the party advancing are coloured red (long-short-short-long)
on the maps; those by which it returned, blue (short-short-short).]
LONDON, FEB. 15. 1848.