running stream, is very thickly wooded with tall stringy-bark, gums, and other kinds of palm-trees, which are very beautiful, the stem growing upwards of fifty feet high, the leaves from eight to ten feet in length, with a number of long smaller ones growing from each side, resembling an immense feather; a great number of these shooting out from the top of the high stems, and falling gracefully over, has a very pretty, light, and elegant appearance. Followed the creek for about two miles down this gorge, and camped on an open piece of ground. The top course of the table land is a layer of magnetic ironstone, which attracted my compass upwards of 20 degrees; underneath is a layer of red sandstone, and below that is an immense mass of white sandstone, which is very soft, and crumbling away with the action of the atmosphere. In the valley is growing an immense crop of grass, upwards of four feet high; the cabbage palm is still in the creek. We have seen a number of new shrubs and flowers. The course of the table land is north-north-west and south-south-east. The cliffs, from the camp in the valley, seem to be from two hundred and fifty to three hundred feet high. Beyond all doubt we are now on the Adelaide river. Light winds, variable. Latitude, 13 degrees 44 minutes 14 seconds.
Friday, 11th July, Adelaide River, North-west Side, Table Land. The horses being close at hand, I got an early start at 7.20, course north-west. In a mile I got greatly bothered by the boggy ground, and numbers of springs coming from the table land, which I am obliged to round. At two miles got clear of them, and proceeded over a great number of stony rises, very steep; they are composed of conglomerate quartz, underneath which is a course of slates, the direction of which is north-west, and lying very nearly perpendicular, and also some courses of ironstone, and a sharp rectangular hard grey flint stone. My horses being nearly all without shoes, it has lamed a great many of them, and, having struck the river again at fifteen miles, I camped. They have had a very hard day’s journey. The country is nearly all burnt throughout, but those portions which have escaped the fire are well grassed. I should think this is a likely place to find gold in, from the quantity of quartz, its colour, and having so lately passed a large basaltic and granite country; the conglomerate quartz being bedded in iron, and the slate perpendicular, are good signs. The stony rises are covered with stringy-bark, gum, and other trees, but not so tall and thick as on the table land and close to it, except in the creek, where it is very large; the melaleuca is also large. Since leaving the table land we have nearly lost the beautiful palms; there are still a few at this camp, but they are not growing so high; the cabbage palm is still in the creek and valleys. Light winds from south-east. Country burning all round. Latitude, 13 degrees 38 minutes 24 seconds. This branch I have named the Mary, in honour of Miss Mary Chambers.
Saturday, 12th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. Started at 7.30; course, north-west. At one mile and a half came upon a running stream coming from the north-east; had great difficulty in getting the horses across, the banks being so boggy. One got fixed in it and was nearly drowned; in an hour succeeded in getting them all safe across. At six miles I ascended a high, tall, and stony hill; the view is not good, except to the westward. In that direction there is seemingly a high range in the far distance, appearing to run north and south; the highest point of the end of the range is west, to which the river seems to tend. My horse being so lame for the want of shoeing, I shall strike in for the river and follow it for another two miles, as it seems to run so much to the westward. I have resolved to use some of the horseshoes I have been saving to take me back over the stony country of South Australia. To enable McGorrerey to get them all shod on the front feet before Monday, I have camped. There is still a slaty range on each side of the river, with quartz hills close down to it; the timber the same as yesterday. The country has recently all been burned; but, judging from the small patches that have escaped, has been well grassed up to the pass of the hills. The valley and banks of the creeks are of beautiful alluvial soil. One new feature seen to-day is the growing of large clumps of bamboo on the banks of the river, from fifty to sixty feet in height and about six inches in diameter at the butt. I am now on one of the tributaries of the Adelaide River. There must have been a dreadful fire here a few days ago; it has destroyed everything before it, except the green trees, to the edge of the water. Slight winds, variable. Latitude, 13 degrees 35 minutes 58 seconds.
Sunday, 13th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. Shoeing horses. Wind blowing strong; variable from all points of the compass.
Monday, 14th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. One of the horses cannot be found this morning, and he has been for some time very ill and weak, and no appearance of getting better. It was my intention to have left him. We have been all round the tracks forward and backward over the feeding-ground and can see nothing of him. I am afraid he has gone off to some place and died; I shall therefore waste no more time in looking for him. If he is alive I may have a chance of recovering him on my return. Late start, in consequence of so long looking for him. As I have now got all the horses shod on the front feet, I shall proceed on a north-west course through the stony rises, which are still quartz and slate, splendidly grassed, with gums and other trees and bushes not too thick to get through with ease. Crossed six small creeks, one with holes with water in them; the third one, a large creek, which I crossed at nine miles, I have named William Creek, after the second son of John Chambers, Esquire, of Adelaide; all running at right angles to my course. Immediately after crossing this last creek the country changed to granite; the rises are composed of immense blocks of it, with occasionally some quartz. The country has been all burned. The valleys between the granite rises are broad and of first-rate soil, many of them are quite green, caused by springs oozing from the granite rock. We have passed a number of trees resembling the iron-bark, also some like new ones, and many shrubs which Mr. Kekwick has found. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 13 degrees 29 minutes 25 seconds.
Tuesday, 15th July, Billiatt Springs. I have named these springs in token of my approbation of Billiatt’s thoughtful, generous, and unselfish conduct throughout the expedition. I started at 7.40 this morning, course north-west. Crossed granite and quartz rises, with broad valleys between, both splendidly grassed. At three miles crossed a small creek with water; at another mile the same creek again; one also to my line on the south-west side, and immediately went off to the south-west. At six miles the river came close to the line, and immediately went off to the west. Continued on my course through granite and quartz country, splendidly grassed, and timbered with stringy-bark and gums, pines, palms, nut-trees, and a wattle bush, which in some places was rather thick, but not at all difficult to get through. At ten miles again struck the river; it is now apparently running to the north. Changed to that course, but it soon left me. At three miles and a half on the north course struck another creek running from the range north-east; it has an abundance of water, and is rather boggy. King’s horse fell with him in it, but did no further injury than giving him a wetting. A few of the other horses stumbled and rolled about in it for a short time, but we got them all across without accident. Changed to west of north; at half a mile reached a saddle between two hills, and ascended the one to the west, the river now running between ranges to the west; they seemed a good deal broken, with some high points to the north-west. There is a higher one, seemingly running north and south, with apparently a plain between about four miles broad, on which are four or five lines of dark trees; this leads me to suppose that the river is divided. The plain being very thickly timbered, I could not see distinctly which was the main channel. Descended, and proceeded on a north-west course. At one mile and a half struck the river, again running north; changed to that, and at two miles and a half camped. The country is now all burnt. I am obliged to stop where I can get feed for the horses. One of the channels comes close to the bank, east side, about six yards wide and two feet deep; bed sandy. The main channel must be in the middle of the plain. The hill I ascended to-day has been under the influence of fire; it is composed of quartz, and a hard dark-coloured stone; the quartz runs in veins throughout it, in places crystalline, and formed into spiral and many-sided figures; in places there is a crust of iron, as if it had been run between the stones, that is also crystalline. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 13 degrees 17 minutes 22 seconds.
Wednesday, 16th July, The Mary, Adelaide River. Started at 7.40, course north. The river runs off again to the north-west, and I have passed over an undulating country, all burnt, but the soil of the richest description. The rises are comprised of quartz and a hard white stone, with occasionally a little ironstone. At three miles crossed a creek with water holes. At five miles crossed another. At seven miles came close to a high hill–ascended it; at the foot it is composed of a hard slaty stone covered with a cake of iron; about the middle is quartz, and on the top conglomerated quartz. The view from south-west to north-west is extensive, but this not being the highest hill, the rest is hidden. To the west is a high hill, bluff at both ends, seemingly the last hill of the range; its course apparently north-west and south-east. At this bluff hill the range seems to cease, or drops into lower hills. A branch of the river lies between it and me, but there are still a number of stony hills before I can reach it. To the north-west and north there are high and stony hills. The river now seems to run to the west, on a bearing of 30 degrees north of west. From twenty to twenty-five miles distant is another range, at the foot of which there is a blue stripe, apparently water, which I suppose to be the main stream of the Adelaide. Descended, as the country is too rough and stony to continue either to the north or north-west. I changed to 3 degrees north of west, crossed some stony hills and broad valleys with splendid alluvial soil, the hills grassed to the top. On that course struck the branch of the river. Still very thick with the same kind of timber already mentioned. Most of the bamboos are dead. I suppose the fire has been the cause of it. I again find it running to the north; I turn to that course. At three miles struck a large creek coming from the east with large sheets of water; had to run it up half a mile before I could get across it. Crossed it all right, and passed through a beautiful valley of green grass. After that, found that I was again on the stony rise, where every blade of grass had been burned off, and not knowing how far this may continue, I have turned off again for the creek, to give the horses the benefit of the valley. The timber is the same as yesterday in some places; the stringy-bark is much larger. The banks of the river, when we first came upon it to-day, were high and stony. The range to the east seems to cease about here. We are now crossing low undulations. I have seen a number of kangaroos to-day; they do not seem to be as large as those in the south. The valleys are composed of conglomerated ironstone underneath the soil. A large number of new birds seen to-day, some of them with splendid plumage. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 13 degrees 7 minutes 21 seconds.
Thursday, 17th July, Tide Creek, Adelaide River. Started at eight o’clock, course north-west; passed over some stony hills, small creeks, and valleys well grassed. At three miles again met with the branch of the river, with bamboos and trees of the same description as before, a running stream, but not so rapid. At five miles, observing an open plain among the trees, and the river trending more to the westward, I changed my course to it, 15 degrees west of north; found it to be open plain, of rich alluvial soil in places; at times it seemed to be subject to inundation, I suppose the drainage from the range to the eastward, which is distant about four miles. I am pleased it has been burnt, but where it has not the grass is most abundant; where the water seems to remain it is rather coarse. The plains are studded with lines of green gum-trees, and the cabbage palms are numerous, which give them a very pretty park-like appearance. They continued for ten miles, when we made a small stony hill; we met with a large creek, with large holes of water in it, and supposing I had got upon the plain that ran to the sea-coast, and seeing those I had passed over so dry, camped; and having sent Thring to a rise to see where the river is, he returned, but can see nothing of it, but reports high hills to the north-west. I am glad of this, for it is not my intention to follow the river round if I can get water in other places, for it has already been well described south of this by Lieutenant Helpman when he came up in a boat, and I wish to see what the country is away from its banks. Wind south-east, with a few clouds from the north. For the last week the weather has been excellent, not too hot during the day, and cool and refreshing at night. The mosquitoes are very annoying, and the flies during the day are a perfect torment. This creek I have called Priscilla Creek. Latitude, 12 degrees 56 minutes 54 seconds.
Friday, 18th July, Priscilla Creek. Started at 8.15, course north-west. Passed over grassy plains and stony rise; when, at three miles, seeing the termination of a range in a bluff point, changed my course to 310 degrees. Proceeded, still crossing stony hills, consisting of ironstone, slate, and a hard white rock, which is broken into rectangular fragments; also over broad valleys, which are covered with grass that when green must have stood very high, but is now so dry that it breaks off before the horses. My horse being first, collects so much on his front legs that I have been obliged to stop, pull him back, and allow it to fall, so that he may step over it, go on, get another load, and do the same. At six miles and a half, after crossing a plain, crossed a deep bamboo creek; this I have named Ellen Creek. Proceeded over two other stony rises and valleys of the same description, and came upon extensive plains, well grassed, and of beautiful alluvial soil; crossing them towards the bluff point at fifteen miles, came upon the Adelaide between me and the bluff, which is about a mile further on; the river is about eighty yards wide, and so still that I could not see which way the current was. I suppose its being high tide was the cause of this. The banks are thickly lined with bamboo, very tall and stout, very steep, and twelve feet down to the water’s edge; the water appeared to be of great depth, and entirely free from snags or fallen timber. The range on the opposite side of the river, for which I was directing my course, being the highest I have seen in this new country, I have named it after His Excellency the Governor-in-Chief of South Australia, Daly Range, and its highest peak to the north Mount Daly. Before reaching the river, at thirteen miles, we passed a high conspicuous tent hill, at right angle, north-east to our line; this I have named Mount Goyder, after the Surveyor-General of South Australia. Followed the river on a north course for about a mile, when I was stopped by a deep side creek of thick bamboo, with water; turned to the east, rounded the bamboo, but found myself in a boggy marsh, which I could not cross. This marsh is covered with fine grass, in black alluvial soil, in which is growing a new kind of lily, with a large broad heart-shaped leaf a foot or more across; the blossoms are six inches high, resemble a tulip in shape, and are of a deep brilliant rose colour; the seeds are contained in a vessel resembling the rose of a watering-pot, with the end of each egg-shaped seed showing from the holes, and the colour of this is a bright yellow. The marsh is studded with a great number of melaleuca-trees, tall and straight. As I could not cross, I had to round it, which took me a little more than an hour; when I got upon some low undulating rises, not far from Mount Goyder, composed of conglomerate ironstone and ironstone gravel, which seem to produce the springs which supply the marsh. Camped on the side of the marsh, to give the horses the benefit of the green grass, for some of them are still troubled with worms, and are very poor and miserable, and I have no medicine to give them, and there is not a blade of grass on the banks of the river–all has been burnt within the last four days. Native smoke in every direction. Wind south-east, with a few clouds. Latitude, 12 degrees 49 minutes 30 seconds.
Saturday, 19th July, Lily Marsh, Adelaide River. Started at 9.10, course 20 degrees east of north. At three miles crossed some stony rises and broad alluvial grassy valleys; at four miles met the river, had to go half a mile to the south-east to round it. Again changed to my first course; at seven miles and a half crossed a creek with water. The country to this is good, with occasionally a little ironstone and gravel, timber of stringy-bark, and a little low gum scrub. Having crossed this creek, we ascended a sandy table land with an open forest of stringy bark (good timber), palms, gums, other trees and bushes; it has been lately burnt, but the roots of the grass abound. This continued for about three miles. There is a small stony range of hills to the west, which at the end of the three miles dropped into a grassy plain of a beautiful black alluvial soil, covered with lines and groves of the cabbage palm trees, which give it a very picturesque appearance; its dip is towards the river; in two miles crossed it, and again ascended low table land of the very same description as the other. At fourteen miles struck another creek with water, and camped. The country gone over to-day, though not all of the very best description, has plains in it of the very finest kind–even the sandy table-land bears an abundant crop of grass. The trees are so thick that I can get no view of the surrounding country; the tall beautiful palm grows in this creek. Native smoke about, but we have not seen any natives. There are large masses of volcanic rock on the sides of this creek. At about a mile to the eastward is a large body of springs that supply water to this creek, which I have named Anna Creek. Camped at ten minutes to three o’clock. Wind variable. Latitude, 12 degrees 39 minutes 7 seconds.
Sunday, 20th July, Anna Creek. The mosquitoes at this camp have been most annoying; scarcely one of us has been able to close his eyes in sleep during the whole night: I never found them so bad anywhere–night and day they are at us. The grass in, and on the banks of, this creek is six feet high; to the westward there are long reaches of water, and the creek very thickly timbered with melaleuca, gum, stringy-bark, and palms. Wind, south-east.
Monday, 21st July, Anna Creek and Springs. Again passed a miserable night with the mosquitoes. Started at eight o’clock; course, north-north-west. At three miles came upon another extensive fresh-water marsh, too boggy to cross. There is rising ground to the north-west and north; the river seems to run between. I can see clumps of bamboos and trees, by which I suppose it runs at about a mile to the north-north-west. The ground for the last three miles is of a sandy nature, and light-brown colour, with ironstone gravel on the surface, volcanic rock occasionally cropping out. The borders of the marsh are of the richest description of black alluvial soil, and when the grass has sprung after it has been burnt, it has the appearance of a rich and very thick crop of green wheat. I am now compelled to alter my course to 30 degrees south of east, to get across a water creek coming into the marsh, running deep, broad and boggy, and so thick with trees, bushes, and strong vines interwoven throughout it, that it would take a day to cut a passage through. At three miles we crossed the stream, and proceeded again on the north-north-west course, but at a mile and a half were stopped by another creek of the same description. Changed to east, and at half a mile was able to cross it also, and again went on my original bearing. Continued on it for three miles, when we were again stopped by another running stream, but this one I was able to cross without going far out of my course. Proceeded on the north-north-west course, passing over elevated ground of the same description as the first three miles. At seventeen miles came upon a thick clump of trees, with beautiful palms growing amongst them; examined it and found it to have been a spring, but now dry. Proceeded on another mile, and was again stopped by what seemed to be a continuation of the large marsh; we now appeared to have got right into the middle of it. It was to be seen to the south-west, north-east, and south-east of us. Camped on a point of rising ground running into it. The timber on the rises between the creeks is stringy-bark, small gums, and in places a nasty scrub, very sharp, which tore a number of our saddle-bags: it is a very good thing the patches of it are not broad. The grass, where it has not been burned, is very thick and high–up to my shoulder when on horseback. About a mile from here, to the west, I can see what appears to be the water of the river, running through clumps of trees and bamboos, beyond which, in the distance, are courses of low rising ground, in places broken also with clumps of trees; the course of the river seems to be north-north-west. On the east side of the marsh is also rising ground; the marsh in that direction seems to run five or six miles before it meets the rising ground, and appears after that to come round to the north. Nights cool. Latitude, 12 degrees 28 minutes 19 seconds. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 22nd July, Fresh-water Marsh. As the marsh seems to run so much to the east, and not knowing how much further I shall have to go to get across the numerous creeks that appear to come into it, I shall remain here to-day and endeavour to find a road through it to the river, and follow up the banks if I can. I have a deal of work to do to the plan, and our bags require mending. After collecting the horses Thring tried to cross the marsh to the river, and succeeded in reaching its banks, finding firm ground all the way; the breadth of the river here being about a hundred yards, very deep, and running with some velocity, the water quite fresh. He having returned with this information, I sent him, King, and Frew, mounted on the strongest horses, to follow the banks of the river till noon, to see if there is any obstruction to prevent my travelling by its banks. In two hours they returned with the sad tidings that the banks were broken down by watercourses, deep, broad, and boggy; this is a great disappointment, for it will take me a day or two longer than I expected in reaching the sea-coast, in consequence of having to go a long way round to clear the marsh and creeks. The edge of the marsh was still of the same rich character, and covered with luxuriant grass. The rise we are camped on is also the same, with ironstone gravel on the surface; this seems to have been a favourite camping-place for a large number of natives. There is a great quantity of fish bones, mussel, and turtle shells, at a little distance from the camp, close to where there was some water. There are three poles fixed in the ground, forming an equilateral triangle, on the top of which was a framework of the same figure, over which were placed bars of wood: its height from the ground eight feet. This has apparently been used by them for smoke-drying a dead blackfellow. We have seen no natives since leaving the Roper, although their smoke is still round about us. On and about the marsh are large flocks of geese, ibis, and numerous other aquatic birds; they are so wild that they will not allow us to come within shot of them. Mr. Kekwick has been successful in shooting a goose; it has a peculiar-shaped head, having a large horny lump on the top resembling a topknot, and only a very small web at the root of his toes. The river opposite this, about a yard from the bank, is nine feet deep. Wind variable. Night cool.
Wednesday, 23rd July, Fresh-water Marsh. Started at 7.40, course 22 degrees east of south, one mile, to round the marsh; thence one mile south-east; thence east for six miles, when we struck a large creek, deep and long reaches; thence three quarters of a mile south before we could cross it. This I have named Thring Creek, in token of my approbation of his conduct throughout the journey; thence east, one mile and a half; thence north for nine miles, when I again struck the large marsh. Thring Creek has been running nearly parallel with the north course until it empties itself into the marsh. The country gone over to-day, after leaving the side of the marsh, as well as the banks of the creek, and also some small plains, is of the same rich description of soil covered with grass; the other parts are slightly elevated, the soil light with a little sand on the surface of a brown colour; timber, mixture of stringy-bark and gums, with many others; also, a low thick scrub, which has lately been burnt in many places, the few patches that have escaped abounding in grass. I have come twelve miles to the eastward to try to round the marsh, but have not been able to do so; the plains that were seen from the river by those who came up it in boats is the marsh; it is covered with luxuriant grass, which gives it the appearance of extensive grassy plains. I have camped at where the Thring spreads itself over a portion of the marsh. There is rising ground to the north-west, on the opposite side, which I suppose to be a continuation of the elevated ground I passed before crossing the creek, and the same that I saw bearing north from the last camp. I suppose it runs in towards the river. Wind, south. Latitude, 13 degrees 22 minutes 30 seconds.
Thursday, 24th July, Thring Creek, Entering the Marsh. Started at 7.40, course north. I have taken this course in order to make the sea-coast, which I suppose to be distant about eight miles and a half, as soon as possible; by this I hope to avoid the marsh. I shall travel along the beach to the north of the Adelaide. I did not inform any of the party, except Thring and Auld, that I was so near to the sea, as I wished to give them a surprise on reaching it. Proceeded through a light soil, slightly elevated, with a little ironstone on the surface–the volcanic rock cropping out occasionally; also some flats of black alluvial soil. The timber much smaller and more like scrub, showing that we are nearing the sea. At eight miles and a half came upon a broad valley of black alluvial soil, covered with long grass; from this I can hear the wash of the sea. On the other side of the valley, which is rather more than a quarter of a mile wide, is growing a line of thick heavy bushes, very dense, showing that to be the boundary of the beach. Crossed the valley, and entered the scrub, which was a complete network of vines. Stopped the horses to clear a way, whilst I advanced a few yards on to the beach, and was gratified and delighted to behold the water of the Indian Ocean in Van Diemen Gulf, before the party with the horses knew anything of its proximity. Thring, who rode in advance of me, called out “The Sea!” which so took them all by surprise, and they were so astonished, that he had to repeat the call before they fully understood what was meant. Then they immediately gave three long and hearty cheers. The beach is covered with a soft blue mud. It being ebb tide, I could see some distance; found it would be impossible for me to take the horses along it; I therefore kept them where I had halted them, and allowed half the party to come on to the beach and gratify themselves by a sight of the sea, while the other half remained to watch the horses until their return. I dipped my feet, and washed my face and hands in the sea, as I promised the late Governor Sir Richard McDonnell I would do if I reached it. The mud has nearly covered all the shells; we got a few, however. I could see no sea-weed. There is a point of land some distance off, bearing 70 degrees. After all the party had had some time on the beach, at which they were much pleased and gratified, they collected a few shells; I returned to the valley, where I had my initials (J.M.D.S.) cut on a large tree, as I did not intend to put up my flag until I arrived at the mouth of the Adelaide. Proceeded, on a course of 302 degrees, along the valley; at one mile and a half, coming upon a small creek, with running water, and the valley being covered with beautiful green grass, I have camped to give the horses the benefit of it. Thus have I, through the instrumentality of Divine Providence, been led to accomplish the great object of the expedition, and take the whole party safely as witnesses to the fact, and through one of the finest countries man could wish to behold–good to the coast, and with a stream of running water within half a mile of the sea. From Newcastle Water to the sea-beach, the main body of the horses have been only one night without water, and then got it within the next day. If this country is settled, it will be one of the finest Colonies under the Crown, suitable for the growth of any and everything–what a splendid country for producing cotton! Judging from the number of the pathways from the water to the beach, across the valley, the natives must be very numerous; we have not seen any, although we have passed many of their recent tracks and encampments. The cabbage and fan palm-trees have been very plentiful during to-day’s journey down to this valley. This creek I named Charles Creek, after the eldest son of John Chambers, Esquire: it is one by which some large bodies of springs discharge their surplus water into Van Diemen Gulf; its banks are of soft mud, and boggy. Wind, south. Latitude, 12 degrees 13 minutes 30 seconds.
Friday, 25th July, Charles Creek, Van Diemen Gulf. I have sent Thring to the south-west to see if he can get round the marsh. If it is firm ground I shall endeavour to make the mouth of the river by that way. After a long search he has returned and informs me that it is impracticable, being too boggy for the horses. As the great object of the expedition is now attained, and the mouth of the river already well known, I do not think it advisable to waste the strength of my horses in forcing them through, neither do I see what object I should gain by doing so; they have still a very long and fatiguing journey in recrossing the continent to Adelaide, and my health is so bad that I am unable to bear a long day’s ride. I shall, therefore, cross this creek and see if I can get along by the sea-beach or close to it. Started and had great difficulty in getting the horses over, although we cut a large quantity of grass, putting it on the banks and on logs of wood which were put into it. We had a number bogged, and I was nearly losing one of my best horses, and was obliged to have him pulled out with ropes; after the loss of some time we succeeded in getting them all over safely. Proceeded on a west-north-west course over a firm ground of black alluvial soil. At two miles came upon an open part of the beach, went on to it, and again found the mud quite impassable for horses; in the last mile we have had some rather soft ground. Stopped the party, as this travelling is too much for the horses, and, taking Thring with me, rode two miles to see if the ground was any firmer in places; found it very soft where the salt water had covered it, in others not so bad. Judging from the number of shells banked up in different places, the sea must occasionally come over this. I saw at once that this would not do for the weak state in which my horses were, and I therefore returned to where I had left the party, resolving to recross the continent to the City of Adelaide. I now had an open place cleared, and selecting one of the tallest trees, stripped it of its lower branches, and on its highest branch fixed my flag, the Union Jack, with my name sewn in the centre of it. When this was completed, the party gave three cheers, and Mr. Kekwick then addressed me, congratulating me on having completed this great and important undertaking, to which I replied. Mr. Waterhouse also spoke a few words on the same subject, and concluded with three cheers for the Queen and three for the Prince of Wales. At one foot south from the foot of the tree is buried, about eight inches below the ground, an air-tight tin case, in which is a paper with the following notice:
“South Australian Great Northern Exploring Expedition.
“The exploring party, under the command of John McDouall Stuart, arrived at this spot on the 25th day of July, 1862, having crossed the entire Continent of Australia from the Southern to the Indian Ocean, passing through the centre. They left the City of Adelaide on the 26th day of October, 1861, and the most northern station of the Colony on 21st day of January, 1862. To commemorate this happy event, they have raised this flag bearing his name. All well. God save the Queen!”
[Here follow the signatures of myself and party.]
As this bay has not been named, I have taken this opportunity of naming it Chambers Bay, in honour of Miss Chambers, who kindly presented me with the flag which I have planted this day, and I hope this may be the first sign of the dawn of approaching civilization. Exactly this day nine months the party left North Adelaide. Before leaving, between the hours of eleven and twelve o’clock, they had lunch at Mr. Chambers’ house; John Bentham Neals, Esquire, being present, proposed success to me, and wished I might plant the flag on the north-west coast. At the same hour of the day, nine months after, the flag was raised on the shores of Chambers Bay, Van Diemen Gulf. On the bark of the tree on which the flag is placed is cut–DIG ONE FOOT–S. We then bade farewell to the Indian Ocean, and returned to Charles Creek, where we had again great difficulty in getting the horses across, but it was at last accomplished without accident. We have passed numerous and recent tracks of natives to-day; they are still burning the country at some distance from the coast. Wind, south-east. Latitude, 12 degrees 14 minutes 50 seconds.
…
RETURN.
Saturday, 26th July, Charles Creek, Chambers Bay, Van Diemen Gulf. This day I commence my return, and feel perfectly satisfied in my own mind that I have done everything in my power to obtain as extensive a knowledge of the country as the strength of my party will allow me. I could have made the mouth of the river, but perhaps at the expense of losing many of the horses, thus increasing the difficulties of the return journey. Many of them are so poor and weak, from the effects of the worms, that they have not been able for some time to carry anything like a load, and I have been compelled to make the (symbol crescent over C) horses stand the brunt of the work of the expedition. As yet not one of them has failed; they have all done their work in excellent style. The sea has been reached, which was the great object of the expedition, and a practicable route found through a splendid country from Newcastle Water to it, abounding, for a great part of the way, in running streams well stocked with fish–and this has been accomplished at a season of the year during which we have not had one drop of rain. Started, following my tracks back. Passed my former camp on the Thring; went on and crossed it. Proceeded on my east course to the west, about one mile and a half, to some small green marshy plains of black alluvial soil, with a spring in the centre, covered with fine green grass. Camped. Wind, south. Latitude, 12 degrees 30 minutes 21 seconds.
Sunday, 27th July, Small Grassy Plains. Day rather warm; mosquitoes terrible; no sleep last night; never found them so bad before; not a breath of wind to drive them away.
Monday, 28th July, Small Grassy Plains. Started at 7.40, course 25 degrees west of south, for my camp of the eighteenth instant. At ten miles struck my tracks, thus avoiding the boggy creeks that flow into the large marsh. On this course passed five small black alluvial plains, covered with grass, three of them having springs with water on the surface. They lie between slightly elevated country of light-brown soil, having stringy-bark and gums, with occasionally a thin scrub abounding in grass. On the plains there is occasionally a little of the volcanic rock cropping out. Followed my former tracks to the camp on the Lily Marsh, and remained for the night. We all passed a miserable night with the mosquitoes. My hands, wrists, and neck, were all blistered over with their bites, and were most painful.
Tuesday, 29th July, Lily Marsh. At half-past seven o’clock proceeded on the track. Passed my camp of 17th instant, and arriving at the one of the 16th at four o’clock p.m., camped. Wind, south.
Wednesday, 30th July, Side Creek, Adelaide River. All were delighted with a comfortable night’s rest–no mosquitoes. Proceeded to Billiatt Springs and camped. One of the horses, Jerry, has been ill for the last three weeks, and although he has not had anything to carry, it has been as much as we could do to get him into the camp. This afternoon he gave in altogether, and Mr. Kekwick was quite unable to get him a step further, and was compelled to leave him about three miles back, where there is some water and plenty of feed. Wind, south-east.
Thursday, 31st July, Billiatt Springs. Proceeded and passed our camps of 13th and 12th instant. Crossed the Mary branch of the Adelaide: went along the south side, expecting to avoid the boggy creek crossed on the 12th instant. When nearly opposite to it, camped. Found this part of the branch deep, broad, and boggy; but I think we will be able to cross in the morning by cutting down a number of cabbage palms, which are growing very thick here. Light winds from south-east.
Friday, 1st August, South Side of the Mary. Recrossed the Mary, which is very boggy on the banks. We were enabled to cross it safely by cutting a large quantity of long grass, laying it on the sides of the banks, with a few logs and pickets driven into the bed to prevent the current from carrying away the grass. In this we succeeded very well. After crossing I found we had still to encounter the other running and boggy creek of the 12th ultimo; but, by repeating the same operation, we were successful. Passed our camp of the 11th ultimo, and proceeded on towards the table land. On approaching it, where the springs come from underneath, found it very boggy; had some difficulty in getting the horses through it. Got them all through with the exception of Frew’s horse, which stuck hard and fast in it, and we were obliged to pull him out, which was soon accomplished, and we got him safe on terra firma. Continued along the foot of the table land, and halted at our camp of the 10th ultimo. At about seven p.m. last night I heard something plunging in the river; sent down to see what it was; found two of the horses bogged, and unable to extricate themselves. Got ropes, and all the party to pull them out. After an hour’s hard work succeeded. On coming near the table land the country is all on fire, causing a dense black smoke and heated atmosphere. Wind, south-east.
Saturday, 2nd August, North-west Side of Table Land. Proceeded up the creek to the gorge–where we came down from the top of the table land; ascended it, which they all did well except one horse, which refused to go up, and caused me to lose more than an hour with him; we had to take all the things off him and carry them to the top on our backs. We had to zigzag him backwards and forwards, and got him to the top after a deal of trouble. Crossing on the top we met with a large fire about two miles broad. The wind not being strong, nor the grass very long, we got through it well, but my weak eyes suffered much from the smoke coming from the burning logs, trees, and grass. The atmosphere very hot and almost overpowering before we got through it. One of the horses knocked up, but we were able to get him on to the running creek connected with Kekwick’s large group of springs, where I am obliged to camp and try to recover him. This is the first one of the (symbol crescent over C) horses that has failed; but he has not had fair play, through the negligence of the man who had him. He has for some time been carrying a load of one hundred and forty pounds without my knowledge, far more than he was able to carry. He has been a good horse, and has done a deal of work. There are a number of native tracks both up and down our tracks. One of the natives seems to have a very large foot. Wind, south.
Sunday, 3rd August, Kekwick’s Large Springs. Last evening, just as the sun was dipping, five natives made their appearance, armed with spears, and came marching boldly up to within eighty yards of the camp, where they were met by Mr. Kekwick and others of the party who had advanced to meet them. They were all young men, small, and very thin. Seeing so many approaching them they soon went off. They were all smeared over with burnt grass, charcoal, or some other substance of that description. This morning, shortly after sunrise, the same five again made their appearance. I went up to them to see what they wanted. Saw that they had painted their bodies with white stripes ready for war. As it is my intention to pass peaceably through the different tribes, I endeavoured to make friends with them by showing them we intended them no harm if they will leave us alone. One of them had a curious fish spear, which he seemed inclined to part with, and I sent Mr. Kekwick to get some fish-hooks to exchange with him, which he readily did; we then left them. They continuing a longer time than I wished, and gradually approaching nearer to our camp, thinking perhaps they really did not wish to part with the spear, I sent Mr. Kekwick back with it to them to see if that was what they wanted, and to take the fish-hooks from them. But when they saw what was intended, they gave back the spear and retained the hooks. They offered another with a stone head upon the same terms, which was accepted. Mr. Kekwick had a deal of trouble before he could get them to move off, when they were joined by another, and then went off by twos. In a short time they set fire to the grass all round us to try to burn us out. Two of them came again close to the camp under pretence of looking for game before the fire, at the same time setting fire to the grass closer to us. But Mr. Kekwick and one of the others, seeing their intention, ran up to them, who, on their approach, ran off, setting fire to the grass as they went along, which gave us a deal of trouble in putting out, as we wished to save as much feed for the horses as will do for them till to-morrow morning; we have managed that, if they do not come and set fire to it again. If they do I shall be compelled to use preventive means with them, for I can stand it no longer; they must be taught a lesson that we possess a little more power than they anticipate. I would have moved on, but some of my horses are so ill that they are unable to travel. If the natives we have seen to-day are a sample of those that inhabit this country, they are certainly the smallest and most miserable race of men that I have ever seen. In height about five feet, their arms and legs remarkably thin, they do not seem to want the inclination of doing mischief if they could get an opportunity, but they find we are rather too watchful to give them a chance. From their manner I have no doubt there were many more concealed, who intended attacking us under cover of the smoke–indeed if they see us unprepared they may yet do it before evening. At sundown they have not again made their appearance. Wind, south.
Monday, 4th August, Kekwick’s Large springs. Proceeded to the Katherine and camped. The horse that knocked up on Saturday gave in again two miles before we arrived here, although the distance is only thirteen miles, and he had a rest all Sunday. I shall be compelled to leave him here; he only destroys other horses dragging him along, and as the season is so far advanced, I am doubtful of the water in some of the ponds, and therefore cannot stop with him. I have been so very unwell to-day, with symptoms of fever, that I could scarcely reach this place; but I hope I shall be better by to-morrow. Nights and mornings are now very cold, but the sun is very hot during the middle and afterpart of the day. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 5th August, The Katherine. Leaving the knocked-up horse behind, proceeded to the Fanny, and camped. It was as much as I could do to sit in the saddle this distance. Wind, south.
Wednesday, 6th August, The Fanny. Proceeded to the Waterhouse and camped. The natives have been along our track, and burned the grass to within three miles of our camp. On arriving here I was much disappointed on finding all the water gone, but, following back the north-west branch, I found enough for our use to-night and to-morrow morning. The country is all on fire to the south-east. Wind, variable. The journey has been rather rough and stony, and my weak horses feel it very much. I am afraid I shall be compelled to leave some more of them behind. I cannot now stay for them to recover, after seeing the rapidity with which this water has dried up. A long delay will cause my retreat to be cut off in the pond country. Wind, south-east. There is still permanent water up the north-west branch of this creek.
Thursday, 7th August, The Waterhouse. Started at half-past seven, and at two minutes past ten o’clock I arrived at the running stream (the Chambers) of the 4th ultimo and camped. Weak horses looking very bad. Country on fire round about us. A number of natives have been following on our former tracks. Wind, south.
Friday, 8th August, Running Stream, The Chambers. Crossed the hard sandstone range, and got upon the branch of the Chambers that I followed up, passing our camp of 3rd ultimo, with plenty of permanent water. Followed it down to our camp of the 2nd ultimo and remained there. Had to leave one of the done-up horses about two miles behind. Another horse gave in, and it was as much as Mr. Kekwick could do to get him thus far. The natives have burned all the grass throughout this day’s journey. A little has escaped at this camp, and I am now compelled to give my horses a rest until Monday morning. I thought they would have been able to carry me across the Chambers before I gave them a rest, but, if I proceed further, I shall lose more of them. The weather is beginning to be again very hot in the middle of the day. Wind, south-east.
Saturday, 9th August, River Chambers. Resting horses. Day hot. Wind variable.
Sunday, 10th August, River Chambers. Resting horses. I have sent Thring to bring up the one that was left behind on Friday; in a short time he brought him up, looking a most deplorable picture; the other one that gave in the same day is quite as bad. I shall have to leave them behind; it is only destroying other horses to force them along. I must also reduce the weight the others are carrying, to enable them to get along. I have had all the saddle-bags overhauled, and shall leave everything we can possibly do without–even boots and clothes belonging to the party have not been spared; all were quite willing to sacrifice anything they had, with the exception of one who had a pair of new boots he had never put on. I told him to put them on, and leave the old ones, but he immediately told me that he had got a bad foot; I very soon cured him of that by telling him if that was the case he might leave the new ones. I have managed to leave about three hundredweight; many of the things I can ill spare, but I hope by doing this to be able in a short time to push on a little quicker. Light winds, variable.
Monday, 11th August, River Chambers. Two of the horses having strayed this morning, it was a quarter past nine before I could get a start. I had to proceed very slowly, in consequence of five of the horses being so ill that they were unable to walk quickly. Proceeded on my former tracks, cutting off the bends of the river. In some places it is very stony. Late in the afternoon managed to get all the horses to the first camp on this river. Light winds, south-east.
Tuesday, 12th August, River Chambers. Horses missing again this morning. Started at half-past eight. Proceeded to the south-east end of the reedy swamp, and at half-past three o’clock camped. An hour before halting, we surprised a number of native women and children who were preparing roots and other things for their repast. The moment they saw us they seized on their children, placed them on their shoulders, and ran off screaming at a great rate, leaving all their things behind them, amongst which we saw a piece of iron used as a tomahawk; it had a large round eye into which they had fixed a handle; the edge was about the usual tomahawk breadth; when hot it had been hammered together. It had apparently been a hinge of some large door or other large article; the natives had ground it down, and seemed to know the use of it. Left their articles undisturbed, and proceeded to the river Roper. My horses are still looking very bad. The cause must be the dry state of the grass; it is so parched up that when rubbed between the hands it becomes a fine powder, and they must derive very little nourishment from it. I can hear natives talking and screaming on the other side of the river, which at this place is a strong running stream about thirty yards wide and apparently deep. Wind, south-east, blowing strong.
Wednesday, 13th August, Roper River, Reedy Swamp. One of the horses missing again this morning; he is one that generally goes off and hides himself if he can find a place to do so. Searched all round, but could find nothing of him or his tracks. Thinking that he might be hidden amongst the thick bushes over the river, sent Frew to look through them on foot, and Mr. Kekwick to an open place up the river to see if he had got into it. Mr. Kekwick returned in a short time and reported that he saw him lying drowned in the middle of it. I am sorry for this: he was a good horse, in fair condition, was with me last year, and has always done his work well, although he has caused a deal of trouble and loss of time by so frequently concealing himself. I shall feel his loss very much, as so many of the other horses are so poor that they are able to carry but little of a load, and I am obliged to let four go without carrying anything; indeed it is as much as they can do to walk the day’s journey, although the journeys are short. I shall be compelled to make them still shorter to try and get them round again. As we were saddling, one native man and two women made their appearance and came close to the camp. Mr. Kekwick and I went up to them; the man was middle-aged, stout and tall, the women were also tall, one especially. Their features were not so coarse as those we had seen before–a very great difference between this fellow and those I saw on the source of the Adelaide River. The man made signs that he would like to get a fishhook by bending his forefinger and placing it in his mouth, imitating the method of catching fish. I gave him one with which he was much pleased: I also gave a cotton handkerchief to each of the women; one of them no sooner got it than she held out the other hand and called out “more, more, more;” with that request I did not feel inclined to comply. They remained until we started. Proceeding about three quarters of a mile down the river to where I had crossed it before, I got all the horses over without difficulty. There is now no difference in the strength, depth, nor velocity of the stream since we were here; it is exactly in the same state as when we previously crossed it. After crossing it to the other side, I had to cross another deep although dry creek coming from the east; proceeded on a south-east course to avoid the deep boggy creek that comes into the river, but at two miles I was stopped by an immense number of springs, very boggy, and emitting a large quantity of water; they seem to come from the east, as far as I could see, in a wooded valley between two hills. I had to round them until I got upon the south-east course again. At seven miles came upon a large creek or chain of ponds, having long broad deep reaches of water; followed this, running nearly my course for seven miles in a straight line. Camped. My horses cannot do more. The country that I have travelled over to-day is of the very finest description, rich black alluvial soil, completely matted with grass, the water most excellent and abundant. The timber, gum and melaleuca, a few of the trees resembling the shea-oak also; a few of the fan palms growing among the springs, very tall, upwards of forty feet; the cabbage palm, and a number of other bushes. The general course to-day has been about east-south-east. Wind variable.
Thursday, 14th August, Springs and Chains of Ponds South of the Roper. Started at half-past seven, intending to follow a south-east course to make the Mussel Camp on the 23rd of June; but, meeting with another large creek with continuous water, deep, broad, and boggy, also a number of springs and water creeks, so boggy that I could not cross them, had to twist and turn about very frequently, and sometimes to go quite back again, before I could clear them–which brought me often close to the river again. About eleven o’clock, as I was approaching the east end of a low rocky range of hills, where I expected to get rid of all the boggy ground, I was again stopped by a broad, deep, and boggy sheet of water. A few minutes before coming to it, I was seized with a violent pain under the right shoulder-blade, which deprived me of breath and power of utterance: it darted through my body like lightning, causing the most excruciating pain that I have ever felt during my life. I had to halt the party, and was lifted from the saddle completely powerless. After dismounting, the pain became so violent, and the torture so excessive, that I thought my career in the world was coming quickly to a close. I was completely paralysed, and a cold perspiration was pouring in streams over my face and body. Recollecting I had got a mixture of laudanum and other strong aromatic tinctures, had it sought for and took a strong dose. After suffering an hour the extremes of torture, I began to feel the good effects of the medicine, and obtained a little relief from the pain ceasing for a few seconds; but still very bad. In a short time afterwards I was able to bear being lifted into the saddle; again my sufferings commenced, for every false step the horse made sent the pain through my body like a knife, and almost brought me to the ground. Being determined to reach the Mussel Camp to-night, and get quit of the Roper River, which has been so unfortunate to me in drowning two of my best horses, I kept my saddle until I reached it–which was not till near five o’clock. Such a day of torture I never experienced before. On reaching our tracks, about four miles from the Mussel Camp, another of the horses knocked up, and we could not get him a step further. I expected to have lost him long before this; he is one of those that failed on my last journey, and was sent back from Mount Margaret. Light winds from east.
Friday, 15th August, Mussel Camp. I have passed a miserable night, and feel but little better this morning, and as the horses require rest, I shall remain here to-day. Shortly after sunrise, three natives came close to the camp; Mr. Kekwick went up to them. Two were of the number of those who visited us the first time at the large reedy swamp. They were very quiet, and seemed very friendly; they had come to have a look at us, and satisfy their curiosity. I feel a little easier to-night. Light wind, variable.
Saturday, 16th August, Mussel Camp. Started at nine o’clock. Another of my horses very ill; I think that many of them must have eaten some poisonous plant on the Roper and its tributaries; I never saw horses fall away so rapidly before. The worst are those that have been in good condition throughout the journey, and the work they have been doing since I commenced my return journey any horses ought to have done with ease. I have never travelled more than eight hours a day, and frequently not more than six hours. In a day or two they fall away to perfect skeletons, are quite stupid, and hardly able to walk. I am glad that I am now quit of the Roper, and hope that I shall have no more of them taken ill. If I can only get the weak ones beyond Newcastle Water, where I expect to get some new grass for them (from the June and July rains), they would soon recover. My old horses are all looking well, although they have had to carry the heaviest loads throughout the journey. I should have been in a sad way without them–they are my mainstay. Arrived at the Rock Camp, River Strangways, at two o’clock without having to leave any more. I feel a little better to-day, but the motion of the horse has been very severe throughout the journey. The water at this camp is drying up very rapidly: it is reduced three feet in depth since we left, and I am very much afraid it will be all gone in Purdie Ponds–if such is the case, I shall lose all the weak horses. Wind in strong puffs, variable.
Sunday, 17th August, Rock Camp. Resting horses. Winds light and variable.
Monday, 18th August, Rock Camp. Three of the best horses are missing this morning–they are the three leading horses–while feeding; and I have never known them to be away from the others before. The three horse-keepers have returned at half-past ten, and can see nothing of them; the ground is so hard that their tracks leave but little impression, so that they might have passed them unseen. Mounted Thring and King on fresh horses to round the feeding-tracks again, and at half-past twelve they returned with them. They happened to come upon their tracks on a small piece of sandy ground on the opposite side of the creek; they traced them to a large permanent water lagoon, deep and broad, with water-lilies growing round it, and a number of ducks upon it; it is about three quarters of a mile west-south-west from this camp. Not seeing them there they followed their tracks for another mile, and there found them, at which I was very glad, for they are three of my very best horses, on which I am placing my dependence for carrying me back. I felt very uneasy at their being away, thinking that the natives might have cut them off during night. Saddled and proceeded to my first camp, north of the Rocky Gorge, but was disappointed to find all the water gone, which I did not expect. Proceeded a mile further, and found as much as will do for a drink for the horses to-night and to-morrow morning. Camped. Light winds, variable.
Tuesday, 19th August, First Camp North of Rocky Gorge. Started at eight o’clock, proceeding to the Rocky Gorge, and camped. This water has shrunk considerably since we left it, and I have now little hopes of there being any water in Purdie Ponds. If there is not I shall require to push through to Daly Waters. Light winds, south-east.
Wednesday, 20th August, Rocky Gorge, River Strangways. If there is no water in Purdie Ponds, I have six horses that will not be able to go through to Daly Waters; they must be two nights without it, and that they will not be able to stand. I have therefore determined to send Thring and King to Purdie Ponds to-morrow, to see if there is any water, and also to examine another place that I observed in coming through, where I think there may be water. If they find none at either of these places, I shall be compelled to leave the six weak horses at the camp, where there is and will be plenty of food and water for them. To attempt taking them through, and be compelled to leave them behind where there will be no chance of their getting a drop of water, would, I consider, be a great cruelty; here they are safe, and there is a chance of their being picked up by the next party. If Thring succeeds in getting water, I shall still endeavour to take them on. I am yet suffering very much from scurvy; my teeth and gums are so bad that it causes me excessive pain to eat anything, and what I do eat I am unable to masticate properly, which causes me to feel very ill indeed. Light winds, south-east.
Thursday, 21st August, Rocky Gorge, River Strangways. At 7.30 despatched Thring and King to see if there is any water in the Ponds. Resting horses, repairing saddle-bags, etc. Day hot, night and morning cool; wind, south-east. My sight has been very much impaired during the last month; after sundown, I am in total darkness. Even though the moon is full, and shining bright and clear to the others, to me it is darkness; I can see her dimly, but she gives me no more light than if she had been painted on a piece of canvas. I am now quite incapable of taking observations at night, and I am most thankful this did not happen before I was enabled to reach the ocean, as the most of my observations are taken at night. After the equinox the sun is too high to be measured by the sextant in the artificial horizon.
Friday, 22nd August, Rocky Gorge, River Strangways. Day exceedingly hot. Wind still from south-east, sometimes blowing in strong puffs. A little after two o’clock Thring and King returned with the good news that there is still water in Purdie Ponds; there is as much as will do for us until Monday morning. I am very glad of it, for it will enable me to get the weak horses through to Newcastle Water. After that I hope they will soon recover, for I expect that rain has fallen to the southward of that, and trust I shall get some fresh feed for them, which they require very much. I still feel very unwell to-day.
Saturday, 23rd August, Rocky Gorge, River Strangways. Started at half-past seven, and at four o’clock arrived at the Ponds. The day has been extremely hot, but about noon some heavy clouds came up from the east and south-east, which made it a little cooler, and enabled me to get all the weak horses through; one of them showed symptoms of giving in before we reached the Ponds, but we got him in all right. I shall remain here until Monday morning, when I shall have again another long journey without water (thirty-five miles) to Daly Waters. At sundown the clouds all cleared away, without giving us any rain. Wind, south-east. This day’s journey has completely knocked me up. At one time I thought I should never have been able to reach this water. I had no idea I was in such a weak state, and am very doubtful of my being able to stand the journey back to Adelaide; whatever may occur I must submit to the will of Divine Providence.
Sunday, 24th August, Purdie Ponds. Day hot. Wind light, from south-east. About noon a few clouds came up, but they all disappeared about sundown. Very little improvement in me to-day.
Monday, 25th August, Purdie Ponds. Started at seven o’clock on my former tracks towards Daly Waters. At seven miles south of the Blue-grass Swamp saw a heavy fog to the east, in the same place that I saw the black fog in coming up; it must be caused by a large body of water in that direction. The natives have been running our tracks, and have burnt the grass on both sides of it for some distance. There seem to be very few of them about this part of the country. At half-past four passed the large swamp that receives the surplus water of Daly Waters, with water still in it, but very much reduced. At a quarter past five o’clock arrived at Daly Waters; found them also very much reduced, but still an abundant supply. Got all the weak horses through, which is more than I expected. This long journey has again completely exhausted me, and I feel very ill. Wind, south-east, with a few clouds.
Tuesday, 26th August, Daly Waters. I feel a little better this morning, but still very weak and languid. I shall give the horses and myself a rest to-day, for I am quite unable to ride. Wind, south-east, with a few clouds from the same direction.
Wednesday, 27th August, Daly Waters. Last evening, about half-past seven, Thring observed a comet bearing about 20 degrees west of north, and about 15 degrees above the horizon; the tail is short and the nucleus large. I regret that I am unable to see it. I cannot now see a single star, everything at night is total darkness. I should like to take some observations of it, but I am quite debarred from doing so. Started at half-past seven and proceeded along the Daly Waters, in which we saw an abundant supply. On reaching McGorrerey Ponds, and finding plenty of water, camped. I feel a good deal better to-day, but the motion of travelling on horseback is still very severe. Although Daly Waters is much reduced, there is still enough to last six months longer, even should no rain fall. These ponds will also hold out about three months longer. Wind, strong from south-east, with a few clouds.
Thursday, 28th August, McGorrerey Ponds. Proceeded to King’s Ponds and camped. Find that the natives have been running our tracks, and have burnt large patches of grass; at this camp they have burnt it round. The water here is nearly all dried up; a few days later and I should not have got a drop. There is enough to last me to-night and to-morrow morning. Strong wind from south-east. The natives have cut on one side of my initials, on a gum-tree by the water where we camp, a figure resembling (a stylised flying bird).
Friday, 29th August, King’s Ponds. Started at quarter past seven; proceeded to Frew’s Pond, but was disappointed to find it quite dry. Dug down two feet, but could find no water. Proceeded on a straight course for Newcastle Water. Crossed Sturt Plains, and after dark camped on them. I would have gone to Howell Ponds, but finding the others so nearly dry, I was doubtful of them. A little before sundown, after I had passed them some distance, I observed flocks of pigeons flying towards them, showing that there is water still there. It is too late for me to go there now, Newcastle Water being the nearest. Wind, south-east. I feel a little better than I did on the former long journey.
Saturday, 30th August, Sturt Plains. At dawn of day started, being still some eight miles from Newcastle Water. The horses look very wretched this morning, especially the weak ones. About half-past eight arrived there, and found an abundant supply of water, though much reduced. No rain seems to have fallen since we left this, upwards of four months ago. A short time before we arrived a number of natives were observed following at a distance behind the rear of the party. They followed us on to our old camp, when I sent Mr. Kekwick up to them to keep them amused until I had the horses unpacked and taken down to water. By giving them a handkerchief he obtained a stone tomahawk from them. They are a fine race of men, tall, stout, and muscular, but not very handsome in features. They were very quiet. By making signs they were made to understand they were not to come nearer to our camp than about one hundred and fifty yards. They remained until noon staring at us and our horses. Some who could not see us very well got into the gum-trees, and had a long look at us. They were seventeen in number; four of them were boys, one of them much lighter than the others, nearly a light yellow. At noon they all went off, after remaining for four hours. Once more have I returned, if I may so call it, into old country again, after an absence of four months and ten days, exploring a new and splendid country from this to the Indian ocean without receiving a single drop of rain, or without any hostilities from the natives. I have returned from the coast to this in one month and three days. The horses have been one night without water, but got it early next morning, between eight and nine o’clock, and they would not have been without it if I could have seen to have guided the party after sundown. After the rays of the sun have left the earth, all is total darkness to me, even if there is a moon; I was therefore compelled to camp until daylight. Had my horses been in anything like a fair condition to have done a day’s journey, and my health permitting, I could have accomplished the journey from the coast to this in three weeks. Before sundown we were again visited by our black friends; this time two old men accompanied them, whom Mr. Kekwick recognised as among those who visited the Depot at Howell Ponds during my absence. They all came up this time painted in red and white, and after remaining a short time went quietly to their camp. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 31st August, North Newcastle Water. The natives again visited us this morning, and after remaining some time went off quietly. Wind, south-east. Few clouds at sundown.
Monday, 1st September, North Newcastle Water. Whilst saddling the horses this morning the natives again came up, and were anxious to know if they might be permitted to visit the camp after we were gone; that of course I had no objection to. They have been very quiet and peaceable during our stay; but I suppose they observed that both night and day we were always prepared to resist any aggression on their part. Started at seven o’clock, and proceeded by the base of the Ashburton range to my former camp on the East Newcastle Water. Distance, twenty-five miles; course nearly south-east. Arrived at four o’clock and found the water much reduced, but still in great abundance. Not a drop of rain has fallen since we left. There are, apparently, two tribes of natives on this water, one inhabiting the north and the other the south; for, on those of the north visiting us, we could not recognise any of those we saw on the southern water. One of the natives was a very amusing little fellow, rather less than five feet high, having a very peculiar and comical countenance and antics that would have eclipsed Liston in his best days, and as supple in the movements of his joints as any clown on the stage. He imitated every movement we made, and burlesqued them to a very high degree, causing great laughter to his companions and us. He seems to be the buffoon of the tribe. The other natives delighted in making sport of him, by ridiculing the shortness of his stature and laughing at him behind his back. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 2nd September, East Newcastle Water. Proceeded to Lawson Creek, but found no water in the lower part. Went up into the gorge, and there found as much as will do; it also is nearly gone, but there are still a few feet of it. I had no idea that such a body of water could have evaporated so quickly, which now makes me very doubtful of the waters to the southward. Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 3rd September, Lawson Creek. As I now do not expect to get water before I reach the Hunter or the Burke, a distance of upwards of forty miles, I shall give the horses one day’s rest to enable them to do the journey. I expect to lose some of the weak ones; to delay longer is only making the risk the greater. This must be an uncommonly dry season; not a single drop of rain has fallen in this part of the country since we left it. Last year we had three days’ rain about the middle of June, and I was in hopes there would be the same this year, but am very much disappointed. I shall lighten the horses as much as I can possibly do, by leaving the water-bags, which are nearly useless, blankets, rugs, and cloths, as well as any other articles that can be done without. Provisions I MUST carry. I sincerely hope the forthcoming equinox will give me some rain and enable me to return. I feel a little better, but very weak and feeble from the severe attack of scurvy. My mouth and gums are so sore that to eat any food gives me the greatest pain. I cannot chew it, and am obliged to swallow it as it is, which makes me very ill. I am the only one of the party that is at present troubled with it. Wind, east.
Thursday, 4th September, Lawson Creek. Started at 6.40, and proceeded to the Hawker, but found no water there; thence to Watson Creek, none there; thence to Powell, Gleeson, and a number of other creeks that had water in them last year, but there is not a drop. Continued on to the creek that I camped at coming up. Arrived at 6.45 p.m.; found that water also gone, although it was a large deep hole when we were here before. Camped. Weak horses nearly done up. About 8.30 p.m. sent Thring up the creek to see if he could find any water. In three hours he returned: he had followed it up into the rough rocky hills until he could get no further, without seeing a drop. Wind, east. A few clouds at sundown coming from the south and south-east.
Friday, 5th September, Branch Creek of Hunter. Had to watch the horses during the night to prevent them straying in search of water. Started at 5.40 a.m. for the Hunter; in an hour and three quarters found some water in its bed. Camped, and will give the horses the benefit of it to-day. Wind variable.
Saturday, 6th September, The Hunter. Proceeded to the Burke, and found an abundant supply of water in the large iron conglomerate water hole that I discovered last year; it is reduced about four feet, but is still deep, and will last yet a long time without rain. I should say it was permanent without a doubt. Camped. From here I shall require to send on in advance to see if there is water in the Tomkinson; if not, I shall require to rest the horses here for three or four days to enable them to do the journey to Attack Creek without it. If there is none in the Tomkinson, I do not expect to find any in the Morphett. Native smoke about. They have burnt a great portion of the grass about here. The day has been oppressively hot and close. Wind from the east-south-east, with heavy clouds from the south-east to the south-west at sundown.
Sunday, 7th September, The Burke. After sunrise the clouds all gone. At 6.30 despatched Thring and King to the Tomkinson to see if there is any water. The day again oppressively hot, with clouds from south and south-east. Wind variable.
Monday, 8th September, The Burke. The clouds continued to come up du-ring the night, but after sunrise they cleared off; still no rain. Between one and two p.m. Thring and King returned with the disheartening tidings that there was no water in or about the Tomkinson. I shall give the horses two more days’ rest, and push through to Attack Creek, where I am almost sure of there being water. The wind variable, sometimes north, east, and west. The clouds are broken up, and are nearly all gone, without leaving rain.
Tuesday, 9th September, The Burke. Resting horses, mending saddle-bags, etc. Wind, north and variable, with a few clouds from the west and south-west.
Wednesday, 10th September, The Burke. Thring on his return last Monday saw some water about four miles higher up this creek, nearly on our course for the Tomkinson; to that I shall go to-day, and make a start for Attack Creek to-morrow morning. Every mile now gained is of the utmost importance to me. Started early, to get there in the cool of the morning. In an hour and a half arrived at the water and camped. It is situated at the foot of some ironstone conglomerate rock, and will last a week or two longer. It has a number of small fish in it. The soil on its banks is light and a little sandy, with spinifex and grass mixed through it. Wind, north and north-west; the clouds have all disappeared. This morning I again feel very ill. I am very doubtful of my being able to reach the settled districts. Should anything happen to me, I keep everything ready for the worst. My plan is finished, and my journal brought up every night, so that no doubt whatever can be thrown upon what I have done. All the difficult country is now passed, and what remains is well known to those who have been out with me before; so that there is no danger of the party not finding their way back, should I be taken away. The only difficulty they will have to encounter is the scarcity of water, caused by the extreme dryness of the season.
Thursday, 11th September, The Upper Burke. Started at 6.40; crossed the Tomkinson and small grassy plains; ascended the north spur of the Whittington range. After sundown, it becoming quite dark to me, so that I could not see the horse’s head before me, I was compelled to halt on the top of the range, four miles from my former camp on the Morphett. Day excessively hot; myself and horses have felt it very much. Wind variable, from the north and north-east.
Friday, 12th September, Top of Whittington Range. At break of day started over the range to my former camp, but found all the water gone. Proceeded down the Morphett, and at four miles found a little in the sandy bottom of what had once been a large hole. There is as much as will do for me until to-morrow by digging. All the clouds gone; not the slightest appearance of rain. The country on fire all round us. Wind, north-west and variable. Day exceedingly hot.
Saturday, 13th September, The Morphett. Started at 7.20, crossed the other spur of Whittington range, and at 11.20 arrived at Attack Creek. There is still an abundant supply of water, although much reduced–much lower than I have ever seen it. In about an hour and a half after camping, some native women came to the lower end of the hole where Billiatt was getting some water. The moment they saw him they went off at full speed. In a short time afterwards one man made his appearance and came marching up towards us. Sent Mr. Kekwick to meet him. As he approached him the black became stationary, and moving back a little, beckoned to some others to come up. Mr. Kekwick observed five or six others down at the lower end of the water hole, one of whom came up. I then sent Frew to Mr. Kekwick. They approached very cautiously, but as soon as they caught sight of Mr. Kekwick’s gun, he could not get near them. On laying it down he got a little nearer; they shrank back when he attempted to touch them. Taking out a small strip of white calico which he had in his pocket, he tore it into two and held it out to them. They wished to possess it, but did not fancy coming too close to him for it. He made a sign that he wished to tie it round their wrists; they gradually approached nearer, holding out their arms at full length, and so frightened were they to come close, that he had to reach out his full length to tie them on; after which they gained a little more confidence, pointed towards the gun, imitated the report with their mouth, and held up three fingers, signifying that they recollected my first visit and number, which they do not seem to have forgotten, and seem to dread the appearance of a gun. The first one that came up had a very long spear, with a flat, sharp, and barbed point. They were two elderly stout men, one very much diseased and lame. They remained a long time looking at us. None of the others came up. In a little more than three hours they went off and we saw no more of them during the evening. Wind, south-west, with heavy clouds from the same direction and from the south.
Sunday, 14th September, Attack Creek. During the night the sky frequently became overcast with heavy clouds, which seemed to indicate rain, but none fell. About eight o’clock the wind changed to north-east, bringing up very heavy clouds, which led me to expect rain, but I was much disappointed, for at half-past twelve they all broke up and went off. This morning, at sunrise, I despatched Thring and Nash to see if there is water in Hayward, Phillip, Bishop, Tennant, or Goodiar Creeks. If there is none I shall require to rest the horses for three days, and then push on for the Bonney. It is a very long distance, and only the very best of them will be able to do it. I feel a little better this morning, but still very weak. The pains are increasing in my limbs, and my mouth is so bad I can eat nothing but a little boiled flour. How I am to get over such long pushes I do not know. I must trust entirely to Divine Providence. The natives have not visited us this morning. A little before four o’clock p.m. Nash returned. Thring had sent him back to report that there was water, by digging in the sand, at Hayward Creek, while he goes on to see if there is any other creek. Wind variable, with heavy clouds at sundown.
Monday, 15th September, Attack Creek. Started at 8.40. On crossing the creek, one of the weak horses, which had eaten some poison about the Roper, and which has been getting weaker every day, in attempting to get up the bank, which was not steep, fell and rolled back into the creek. There he had to be some time before he was able to get up. I saw that it was useless taking him any further, therefore left him where he will get plenty of feed and water. Proceeded to the Hayward, where I met Thring. There is some soft mud in Phillip Creek, but none in Bishop Creek. Camped, and cleared out a place for the horses to drink at. A number of natives have been camped on the opposite side of the creek, where they have left their spears, dishes, etc. Thring had arrived here some time before. About twenty of them coming closer to him than was safe, he mounted his horse and chased them to the hills, where they are now seated watching us. Some of them are approaching nearer. Mr. Kekwick could not get them to come near him until one of the old men who visited us at Attack Creek arrived and came up to him, which gave the others confidence. A number of them then came forward–tall, stout, well-made fellows, armed with long heavy spears, having bamboo at one end. One of them had also part of a large sea-shell, but it is so broken and ground down for a scoop that I cannot say of what description it is. The bamboo and the sea-shell show that this tribe has communicated with the sea-coast. They remained until sundown, and then did not seem inclined to go away, but prepared sleeping-places for the night–a proof that this is the only water near. There are upwards of thirty men, besides women and children. Wind, south-east. Clouds all gone.
Tuesday, 16th September, Hayward Creek. The natives showed themselves again at daybreak, but kept on the opposite bank of the creek, having a long look at us, and calling out something at the top of their voices which we could not understand. Watered our horses, saddled, and moved on amidst a succession of yells and screeches from old and young. Proceeded across Short ranges, and Phillip, and Bishop Creeks. Looked into every place I could think of, but could not find a drop. Moved on to Tennant Creek. Found that dry. Tried digging in the sand, without effect. Pushed on to the large rocky water hole in Goodiar Creek, where I made almost sure that I should find some. On arriving, was sadly disappointed to find that dry also. Proceeded across the McDouall range, and camped on a grassy plain between it and Mount Samuel. The natives followed us nearly to Tennant Creek, raising a line of smoke all the way. They kept about a mile to the east of us, on some rising ground that runs nearly parallel with my tracks. We have had to lighten a heavy cart-horse named Charley. When any hardship is to be undergone, he is always the first to show symptoms of giving in. He had only thirty pounds to carry to-day, and he looks ten times worse than those that are carrying one hundred and twenty. I shall require to let him go without anything to-morrow. We shall have to watch the horses during the night to prevent them from straying in search of water. Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 17th September, McDouall Range. Started at daybreak for the Murchison range. About eleven o’clock the cart-horse gave in, and would not move a step further. I am obliged to leave him; he has been carrying nothing all the morning. Two others that have been very weak from eating some poisonous plant will, I fear, give in before the end of the day. A little after four o’clock I found I must leave them. At dark arrived at the Baker, which I found dry. Camped. This is another night the horses will be without water, and will require to be watched. A quantity of native smoke about. There must be permanent water about this range somewhere, but I have no time to look for it now. Tomorrow I must push on for the Bonney. If that fails me I shall be in a sad predicament, but I trust that the Almighty will still continue to show me the same great kindness that he has done throughout my different journeys. There is very little improvement in my health. I feel very much being in the saddle so long. Twelve hours is almost too much for my weak state, but I must endure it. Wind, south-east.
Thursday, 18th September, Murchison Range. Proceeded at daydawn to the Gilbert. Found it dry. Went on towards the Bonney; crossed the McLaren–no water. At two o’clock arrived at the Bonney, and am most thankful to Divine Providence that there is still a good supply of water that will last some time longer. My horses look very bad indeed. I expected to have lost more of them. They have got over this first difficulty very well. Towards the end of the journey my old horse took the lead. Day hot. Wind, south-east.
Friday, 19th September, The Bonney. From this camp Mount Fisher bears 119 degrees 30 minutes. I must remain here some time to get my horses round again. A large number of them are looking very ill this morning. Being so long without water and the dry state in which the grass is, has reduced them more than three months’ hard work would have done. If the grass had any nourishment in it, two or three days would have done for them. Not a drop of rain seems to have fallen here for the last twelve months; everything is dry and parched up. This appears to be the driest part of the year. I am very doubtful of the water in the Stirling, the next place that I was depending upon. From the very reduced state in which this is, I have very little hope of there being any there. The day has been again oppressively hot. I trust we shall soon have rain. Wind variable. Native smoke about.
Saturday, 20th September, The Bonney. Resting horses. I feel very ill again; being so long in the saddle is very severe upon me. Day again very hot. Wind from the west, with a few clouds, which I trust will bring up rain.
Sunday, 21st September, The Bonney. Resting horses. Day very hot. Wind, west; clouds broken up.
Monday, 22nd September, The Bonney. This morning sent Thring up the creek to see if there is any larger water than this that can be depended on for some time to come. Very hot. Clouds all gone. Wind variable.
Tuesday, 23rd September, The Bonney. Recruiting horses, etc. About eleven o’clock Thring returned. He has been about twenty miles up the creek to where it became much narrower and was joined by a number of small ones coming from very rough and stony hills. Its general course is about east-south-east. At four miles from this he found a pool of water four feet deep, two hundred yards long, and thirty feet broad. There is a considerable quantity of water all the way up, but shallow, and none of the extent of the former one found. Should I be forced to retreat, that will be a safe place to fall back on until rain falls. Day again oppressively hot. Wind, east.
Wednesday, 24th September, The Bonney. Shortly after sunrise despatched Thring to see if there is any water in Thring Ponds, or any between them and this. I would have gone myself, but was quite unable to do so, being very little better. One of my good horses has met with an accident in feeding along the bank of the creek in places where it is very precipitous. A portion must have given way and thrown him into the creek, injuring him very much in the chest and other parts of the body. I am afraid he will not be able to travel with me, which will be a great loss, having so many weak ones already. Wind, south-east, with a few clouds.
Thursday, 25th September, The Bonney. Clouds all gone, no rain. Resting horses, etc. Day hot, morning and evening cool, with strong wind from east and south-east. I have been obliged to reduce the rations to five pounds of flour and one pound of dried meat per week for each man, which will leave me provisions at that rate until the end of January, in case I should be locked in with the dry state of the season. The flies at this place are a perfect torment. A little after three o’clock p.m. Thring returned. There was no water in the Barker, none in the Sutherland, and when he got to the ponds, found them quite dry also; he then returned two miles to where there was some good feed for the horse, and camped for the night without water, intending to return to this in the morning. In saddling he observed some crested pigeons fly past him to the south of east; he thought it would be as well to follow them some distance in that direction, as they might be going to water, as about that time in the morning is generally the time they fly towards it. After going a few miles he surprised fourteen natives at breakfast. As soon as they saw him they ran off at full speed. Observing some small wooden troughs with water in them, he collected it together and gave it to his horse. Examined the small creek for more, but could find none, and knowing the natives would not carry it very far, and that there must be some no great way off, went on a little further and found a fine pool of water with ducks on it, but shallow. He then returned. This will bring the Stirling within visiting distance. I shall remove the party down to the pool to-morrow. Strong wind, still from the south-east.
Friday, 26th September, The Bonney. In consequence of the horses separating during the night, I did not get a start before nine o’clock; followed my former tracks across Younghusband’s range; thence on a bearing 25 degrees east of south; arrived at the pool of water at 5.15 p.m. Before reaching the water we crossed four red sand hills, with spinifex, running north-east and south-west, having broad valleys between, in which are growing melaleucas, gum-trees, and grass. After rain they retain water, but now are quite dry. This one that we are now camped at is much larger, having the same description of timber, with polyganum growing round about it; the water is shallow, and will not last long. There are a number of ducks, geese, and other water-fowl on it, but too shy to be approached. A quantity of native smoke about. I am very ill to-day; I am scarcely able to endure the motion of the horse thus far. The horse that injured himself so much knocked up about two miles from this water, but we were able to get him to it before sundown. I shall have to kill him and eat what is good of him; it is useless to attempt taking him on a long journey without water–he would never be able to do it; and, as we are now upon half rations of meat, I shall kill and eat him, so that he will not be lost altogether. Wind variable. Day exceedingly hot.
Saturday, 27th September, Pool of Water. Before attempting to see if there is water in the Stirling, I have sent Thring on course 20 degrees west of south, to see if there is any creek or water between two stony ranges of hills that lie east of Mount Morphett. At sundown he has not returned. Wind, west. Day very hot. After sundown we shot the black horse that was not able to travel; shall cut him up and dry him to-morrow; there are some parts very much injured by bruises he got in his tumble. He also showed evidence of having drunk too much water at the Bonney. Being so exhausted and knocked up on my arrival there, I was unable to go and see they did not drink too much, and had to leave it to others. In all my journeys (and my horses have been much longer time without water than this), this is the first horse that has injured himself in that way.
Sunday, 28th September, Pool of Water. About eight o’clock, Thring returned, being out all night without food or blankets; he had found a large gum creek in the place I had sent him to, with water in it, by sinking in its sandy bed. I shall move the party to it to-morrow morning. Wind variable, mostly from the north and north-east. Day very hot. Latitude, 20 degrees 47 minutes 59 seconds.
Monday, 29th September, Pool of Water. Started at seven o’clock, course 20 degrees west of south. For the first five miles we passed over a fine country, soil red, and in places a little sandy, with gums, grass, a little scrub, and in places a little spinifex. After this it became covered with spinifex until within five miles of the creek, where the mulga commenced, with plenty of grass, which continued to its banks, where we arrived after twenty-six miles, and had to dig six feet in the sand before we could get sufficient water for the horses; by ten o’clock p.m. however we got them all watered. I am inclined to believe this is a continuation of the Taylor and other creeks coming from Forster range more to the eastward. After my arrival here, I sent Thring up the creek to see if he could find any surface water. After dark he returned and informed me that he had followed it into the Crawford range, and that it came through the range; if such is the case, there is no doubt of it being the Taylor with the creeks from Forster range. There is no surface water, but apparently plenty by digging in the bed of the creek, judging from the number of native wells that he saw with water in them. At one of the wells he saw several natives, who ran off on his approach. Latitude, 21 degrees 9 minutes 30 seconds. Wind variable. Day oppressively hot.
Tuesday, 30th September, The Taylor. As soon as I could get the horses, I despatched Thring to the Stirling to see if there is water. I have sent King on with him, with a pack-horse carrying two bags of water for the horse that carries him to the Stirling. They are to follow this creek up, and, if it is the Taylor, they are to stop to-night at our last camp on it. Next morning King is to return to me, whilst Thring goes on to examine the Stirling. Still all hands engaged in sinking for water for the horses. Wind from the south-east, with heavy clouds from the north-west and south-west, showing every indication of rain, which I sincerely hope will fall before morning.
Wednesday, 1st October, The Taylor. About nine o’clock last night there were a few drops of rain, and almost immediately afterwards the clouds broke up and went off to the south-east, to our very great disappointment. This morning there are still a few light ones about, but very high, and no more appearance of rain. Wind still strong and blowing from the same quarter. We have now got enough water for the horses, and can water them all in about two hours. No natives have shown themselves since we have been here, although their smoke was quite close to us yesterday. In the afternoon Thring and King returned, having found a fine pool of water about fifteen miles up the creek, four feet deep, which will serve us for a short time. Sundown: still blowing strong from the south-east; clouds all gone.
Thursday, 2nd October, The Taylor. Started at five minutes to eight, course 3 degrees west of south; at five miles got through the gap in the range, then changed to 20 degrees west of south, and after ten miles on that course reached the water hole. The journey to-day has been over first-rate travelling-ground, avoiding crossing the range at Mount Morphett. The country in many places along the creek has large grassy plains with mulga, gum-trees, and scrub, not too thick to get easily through. Native smoke under the hills to the east. Strong cool wind blowing all day from the south-east. A little before sundown three natives came within three hundred yards of the camp, setting fire to the grass as they came along. We could not get them to come any nearer. Latitude 21 degrees 22 minutes 12 seconds.
Friday, 3rd October, Surface Water, The Taylor. Shortly after sunrise despatched Thring and King in search of water higher up the creek. I feel so weak and ill that I am now scarcely able to move about the camp. This morning Frew, in searching for some of the horses, came upon the three natives we saw last night; the moment they saw him off they went at full speed, and he saw no more of them. They must have been sneaking about and watching our camp during the night. Wind still blowing strong south-east.
Saturday, 4th October, Surface Water, The Taylor. It still continues to blow very strong from the same quarter. A little before two p.m. King returned. They had followed up this creek for a considerable distance beyond where the Taylor joined it, and as it came more from the south-east than I had expected, and approached near to Forster range, Thring changed his course to the Stirling, according to my instructions. A little before sundown they arrived at my former camp on the Stirling; found the water hole quite dry; dug down, but could find no moisture. They had not seen a drop of water during the whole day. In the morning King returned to me, giving Thring’s horse the water that he had carried with him to enable him to search the Stirling down and round about the adjoining country. Still blowing strong from the same direction. No clouds visible.
Sunday, 5th October, Surface Water, The Taylor. Still blowing strong and cool from the same quarter. About half-past one o’clock Thring returned; he could find no surface water, neither any to be had by digging. He then crossed over to the foot of the Hanson, where he saw some native smoke; on his arriving at it he surprised a native busily engaged in sinking for water, about six feet deep, in the bed of the creek, who, as soon as he saw him, jumped out of the well and ran off as fast as he could. He then tried to see what quantity of water was in the bottom of the well, but having nothing but a quart pot to clear it out with, he was unable to form a correct opinion, but from all appearances he thinks there will be sufficient for our use for some time, only it will require an immense deal of labour and time to remove the great body of sand to enable the horses to get down to it. To-morrow I shall send Thring with McGorrerey and Nash, with four horses and sufficient provisions for a fortnight. On their arrival at the native well on the Hanson they will be able easily to get water enough for their four horses that night. McGorrerey and Nash will then clear out the well and see what quantity there is in it, while Thring will proceed up the Hanson to see if there is water in the springs that I discovered on my first journey through the centre. If they are dry he will proceed with the examination of the Hanson to above where we crossed it; he will then return to the diggers; by that time they will be able to judge if there is sufficient water for the whole party. If there is sufficient he will leave them to dig, and come on to me; if not, and there is no more water higher up, he will bring them on with him, and I shall require to try a course more to the south-east. In the afternoon the three natives again made their appearance, bawling out as they came near, but retreated as Mr. Kekwick went towards them to see what they wanted. Wind still south-east.
Monday, 6th October, Surface Water, The Taylor. Shortly after sunrise despatched Thring with McGorrerey and Nash to the Hanson. Day very hot. I am still very ill–no improvement whatever. Wind strong from the south-east.
Tuesday, 7th October, The Taylor. What a miserable life mine is now! I get no rest night nor day from this terrible gnawing pain; the nights are too long, and the days are too long, and I am so weak that I am hardly able to move about the camp. I am truly wretched. When will this cease? Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 8th October, The Taylor. Wind still blowing from the south-east; no appearance of rain.
Thursday, 9th October, The Taylor. Last night, about sundown, a native woman and youngster came to the waterhole, rushed down, had a drink, and were running off again, when I cooed and made signs of friendship; in a few seconds the woman gained confidence, and, not seeing any of us approach, went down to the hole again, and fetched up a large troughful of water. Mr. Kekwick tried to induce her to stop, in order to gain some information from her, but it was of no use; the faster he walked the faster she did the same, chatting all the time, pointing to the south; so he left her to walk at her leisure. They do not seem to be at all frightened of us; but we cannot get any of them to come near, although we have tried every time they have come. The day again oppressively hot. I still feel very ill. Wind from south-east. Nothing particular has occurred during the day. This is dreadful work to be detained here so long. I am afraid soon I shall not be able to sit in the saddle, and then what must I do? I feel myself getting weaker and weaker every day. I hope the Almighty will have compassion on me, and soon send me some relief. He is the only one that can do it–my only friend.
Friday, 10th October, The Taylor. Last night, a little before sundown, until after dark, we were amused by a farce enacted by the natives, apparently to keep us quiet and render us powerless, while they approached the water hole and got what water they required. They commenced at some distance off, raising a heavy black smoke, (by setting fire to the spinifex), and calling out most lustily at the top of their voices. As the sun got lower I had the party prepared for an attack; on they came, the fire rolling before them. We could now occasionally see them; one was an old man with a very powerful voice, who seemed to be speaking some incantations, with the most dreadful howl I ever heard in my life, resembling a man suffering the extremes of torture; he was assisted in his horrid yell by some women. As the evening got darker and they were within one hundred and fifty yards of us, and nearly opposite our camp, the scene was very pretty–in fact grand. In the foreground was our camp equipment with the party armed, ready to repel an attack. On the opposite side of the creek was a long line of flames, some mounting high in the air, others kept at a low flickering light. In the midst of the flames the natives appeared to be moving about, performing all sorts of antics; behind them came the old man with his women. At every high flame he seemed to be performing some mysterious spell, still yelling in the former horrid tone, turning and twisting his body and legs and arms into all sorts of shapes. They appeared like so many demons, dancing, sporting, and enjoying themselves in the midst of flames. At last they and their fire reached the water hole after continuing this horrid noise for nearly two hours without intermission; as soon as they came in sight of the water, those in front rushed down into it, satisfied themselves, filled their troughs and bags, except the old man, who kept up his howl until he was stopped by a drink of water. This seemed to satisfy them, for they went off from us about three quarters of a mile and camped, I suppose thinking they had done great things in keeping us so quiet. Shortly after this something started the horses which made them all rush together. I kept the party under arms till nine o’clock p.m. and then, everything appearing to be quiet, I sent them all to bed except the one on guard. The natives were quiet during the night. This morning the blacks watched us collecting the horses and watering them; they then very quietly slipped down to the water, filled their troughs, etc., and in about half an hour went off and left us in possession of the water. They must certainly think we are very much to be frightened by fire and a great noise, or they would never have come in the way they did last night; they would have been rather surprised had they attacked us, to find that we could both speak and injure by fire. I am better pleased that they went away quietly; it is far from my wish to injure one of them if they will let me pass peaceably through. About two o’clock p.m. Thring returned; he had examined up the Hanson, but could not find a drop of water, either on the surface or by digging. On his return to where he had left the two men to dig, he found there would not be enough water for the whole party, as it came in so slowly; it is on the top of hard burnt sandstone; he therefore came on to inform me of the result, leaving the two men still there. They had been visited by the natives, who appeared to be inclined to be rather unfriendly at first, but on showing them they were welcome to use the water as well as the party, they became friendly, and came over night and morning to fill their troughs and bags. They pointed to the south-south-east, and made signs, by digging with a scoop, that there was water in that direction, but how far he could not make out. This is a sad disappointment to me. I dare not move the party on to where they are digging, there is too little water. To-morrow morning I must send Thring and King on to Anna Reservoir to see if there is any there; if that is dry I shall be locked in until rain falls, and that may not be before the equinox, in March, a very dismal prospect to look forward to. I shall start Thring and King to-morrow morning; they will reach where the diggers are to-morrow night, and will rest their horses there on Sunday. On Monday morning start for Anna Reservoir–King, with a pack-horse carrying water, will go on one day with Thring. The water to be given to Thring’s horse night and morning. Thring will proceed to the Reservoir. King will return to the diggers with the empty bags, have them filled, and next morning start with fresh horses and the water to meet Thring on his return in case the Reservoir is dry; this is the only way that I see it can be done. I now begin to feel the want of my health dreadfully. Although Thring is a good bushman and does his best, poor fellow, yet he wants experience and maturer judgment; he has had hard work of it lately, but he is always ready to start again at any moment that I wish. Wind, south-east. A few light clouds about.
Saturday, 11th October, The Taylor. The natives camped last night at their former place; they seem to have given up all their buffoonery. I suppose they see it has no effect upon us. Shortly after sunrise despatched Thring and King. The day again oppressively hot, with a few light clouds from the south. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 12th October, The Taylor. The natives again encamped in their former place last night. They came in late and started early this morning. They always seem to go off to the westward. Day again oppressively hot. Wind, south-east.
Monday, 13th October, The Taylor. Can see nothing of the natives this morning; they must have gone off during the early part of last night. We tried to get near to them yesterday afternoon by making friendly signs, etc., but the moment we approached them they ran off, and everything we can think of will not induce them to come near us or allow us to get near them; they are the most timid race I have ever met with, which I think is a very bad feature–such are often very treacherous. I should have a much higher opinion of them if they would come boldly forward and see if we were friends or foes. Wind from the north; heavy clouds from south and south-west.
Tuesday, 14th October, The Taylor. During the night there was a deal of lightning in the south and south-west; clouds about, but high and much broken. About two o’clock p.m. they collected together and gave a very promising appearance of a heavy fall of rain; they seemed to be coming up all round, but the heaviest from the south and south-west. At four o’clock p.m. it began to lighten and thunder, accompanied by a shower which did not last above a few minutes. Sundown: still the same promising dark, heavy, gloomy appearance. Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 15th October, The Taylor. During the night we had a terrific storm of lightning and thunder, which continued throughout the night and morning at intervals, but little rain has fallen, it has merely damped the surface of the ground. At twelve o’clock to-day it has nearly cleared all away, leaving only a few light clouds, which is another very great disappointment. At sundown it again became overcast. Wind variable.
Thursday, 16th October, The Taylor. Still cloudy during the night and morning, but no rain has fallen; the heavy clouds pass south of us to the eastward. I am now nearly helpless; my legs are unable to support the weight of my body, and, when I do walk a little way, I am obliged to have the assistance of one of the party, and the pains caused by walking are most excruciating. I get little sleep night or day. I must endure my sufferings with patience, and submit to the will of the Almighty, who, I trust, will soon send me some relief. Wind variable.
Friday, 17th October, The Taylor. Still heavy clouds during the night and day, but no rain will fall. Still very ill. About three o’clock p.m. Thring returned; he has been to Anna Reservoir and found plenty of water, and a number of natives camped at it, who ran off the moment they saw him; he watered his horse and recrossed the range, not thinking it prudent to camp where there were so many of them. He has met with the same description of weather that we have had up here, thunder and lightning with a heavy, cloudy sky, but nothing but a light shower or two of rain. I shall move the party on to the Hanson to-morrow, and, if I am able to ride, shall push on to-morrow. Wind variable; sky still overcast.
Saturday, 18th October, The Taylor. Started at twenty minutes to eight for the Hanson; sky still overcast with heavy clouds. We had two light showers during the journey. I am now so helpless that I have to be lifted into the saddle. I endured the pain of riding for the first seventeen miles far better than I expected; after that it became almost unbearable, and camped at twenty-four miles, having found as much water in the rocks of the Stirling as will do for the horses to-night and to-morrow morning, left from a shower of rain, for which I am very thankful. I could not have gone on more than three miles. I was then enduring the greatest pain and agony that it is possible for a man to suffer. On being lifted from the horse, all power was gone out of my legs, and when I attempted to put the weight of my body on them the pain was most excruciating. Still heavy clouds about, indicating rain. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 19th October, The Stirling. I had a few hours’ sound sleep last night, which I find has done me a deal of good. During the early part of the night two heavy showers of rain fell, and left plenty of water for the horses; got them up, and saddled and proceeded to the Hanson. At eight miles arrived there, finding the party all well; they had not been troubled with the natives except by their coming down to the water during the night time, and bringing into the hole a quantity of sand with them. I had to be taken from horseback nearly in the same state as yesterday. Wind, south-east.
Monday, 20th October, The Hanson. Started early; passed the Centre; crossed the upper part of the Hanson, and at five miles beyond it camped. Distance, thirty-five miles. Not a drop of rain seems to have fallen for a long time. During the whole day’s journey this has been a terrible day of agony for me; nine hours and a half in the saddle. I had to be taken from my horse in the same helpless state as before. My feet and legs are now very much swollen; round the ankles they are quite black, and the pain is dreadful. I still continue to take the bicarb of potash, but it has little or no effect. Wind variable.
Tuesday, 21st October, South of the Centre. About sunrise started for Anna Reservoir, and at 5.30 p.m. arrived there, completely exhausted. Wind, variable. Heavy clouds from the south-east.
Wednesday, 22nd October, Anna Reservoir. Last night I was so completely overcome by fatigue and exhaustion that I had no sleep during the whole of the night, which makes me feel very ill indeed this morning. I shall be obliged to remain here to-day and to-morrow, to see if that will recruit my strength and enable me to perform the long journeys to the McDonnell range. About twelve o’clock heavy thundery weather to the west and south.
Saturday, 23rd October, Anna Reservoir. I shall rest to-day and have what shoes there are left put on the horses. I, with William Auld, will proceed to-morrow about ten miles in advance, to divide the long journey into two, for I have not strength to do it in one day. Wind variable.
Friday, 24th October, Anna Reservoir. Started early, taking with me Thring, King, and Auld, with one pack-horse to carry my tent, water, etc. Proceeded through the thick mulga scrub, and at ten miles camped, which I find is quite as much as I am able to do. Had my tent put up, and myself carried into it. Sent Thring and King back with the horses to the Reservoir, keeping Auld with me. The party will start from the Reservoir early to-morrow morning, pick me up, and proceed to Mount Harris. Wind, east.
Saturday, 25th October, Mulga Scrub South of Anna Reservoir. A few minutes before ten o’clock a.m. the party arrived all right. I was soon ready and lifted up into the saddle, and started at 10.10. During the day it has been excessively hot. At 5.45 p.m. arrived at Mount Harris, being nearly eight hours in the saddle, which is far more than I am able to endure in my terribly weak state. It is between my shoulder-blades and the small of my back that I am so much affected while riding. When the pain from them becomes unbearable I endeavour to get on as far as I can by supporting my weight upon my arms until they give way. I arrived here in a state of utmost exhaustion; so much so that I was quite unable to eat a single mouthful of anything. After we had the horses unpacked, a few natives made their appearance on the side of the mount, calling out something and pointing to the north-east. Sent Thring and King to see if they could make anything of them, but they soon ran down the other side of the mount, and, when seen again, were marching off in the direction they had pointed out. They had taken good care before leaving to use nearly all the water in the crevices of the granite rocks; they left about a quart. Finding it quite impossible to remain so long in the saddle as I have done to-day, I got Mr. Kekwick and some of the others to construct a stretcher during the night, which I hope will enable me to do a long journey to-morrow. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 26th October, Mount Harris. Had the stretcher placed between two horses. Had great difficulty before we could get two that would allow it to be passed between them. At last succeeded in getting two that we thought would do very well, as they seemed to go very quietly with it. I shall continue on horseback until I find that I have got enough of it. Started a little after sunrise. I found I could continue two hours and a half in the saddle without fatiguing myself too much. Having done this, I sent to the rear of the party for the stretcher, when, to my great disappointment and vexation, I found that a short time before something had annoyed one of the horses, which set to and kicked it all to pieces, which is a great misfortune. I continued in the saddle, and proceeded until I was exhausted, which happened at the end of fifteen miles, when I was compelled to stop. Keeping Auld with me, and some water, I sent on the party and all the horses to Mount Hay. If they find water they are to camp and return for me to-morrow; if not, they are to push on to the Hamilton Spring; if that is gone, they will have to cross the range to Brinkley Bluff. I find myself getting weaker and weaker every day. I am very ill indeed. Wind, south-east.
Monday, 27th October, Hills North of Mount Hay. About 11.30 a.m. King and Nash returned for me. Thring had found water in one of the gullies, but the approach to it was very rough and stony indeed. Thring had gone to see if there was any water in the clay-pans that I had camped at on my journey up, and if there is, will take the party over there, and will send one of the men to meet me and inform me of it. The distance from here to the water is ten miles. Had the horses saddled; mounted, and proceeded towards it. At the end of two hours the motion of the horse became so dreadful to me, and the pain I was suffering from was such as no language can describe; but I still continued in the saddle, and, within a mile and a half of the water, met Frew, whom Thring had sent to say that he had found plenty of water in the clay-pans, with green grass, and that the party had moved on to it. Distance from where we were then to the clay-pans, six miles further. I could no more sit in the saddle that distance than I could fly; I am now already completely exhausted, and have still a mile and a half to ride before I can reach the other water. To that I must go, and see what a night’s rest will do in the morning. While taking a drink of water, I was seized with a violent fit of vomiting blood and mucus, which lasted about five minutes, and nearly killed me. Sent Frew on to the party. Went on the best way I could with the other three to the water. Arrived there feeling worse than I have ever done before. I have told King and Nash to remain with me in case of my dying during the night, as it would be lonely for one young man to be here by himself. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 28th October, Mount Hay. Started in the cool of the morning, and in two hours reached where the party were camped, so much exhausted and so completely done up that I could not speak a word–the power of speech has completely left me. I was lifted from the saddle and placed under the shade of a mulga bush. In about ten minutes I recovered my speech. I find that I can no longer sit on horseback; gave orders for some of the party to make a sort of reclining seat, to be carried between two horses, one before the other; also gave orders that a horse was to be shot at sundown, as we are getting rather short of meat, and I hope the change of beef tea made from fresh meat will give me some increase of strength, for I am now reduced to a perfect skeleton, a mere shadow. At sundown had the horse shot; fresh meat to the party is now a great treat. I am denied participating in that pleasure, from the dreadful state in which my mouth still is. I can chew nothing, and all that I have been living on is a little beef tea, and a little boiled flour, which I am obliged to swallow. To-night I feel very ill, and very, very low indeed. Wind, south-east, with a few clouds.
Wednesday, 29th October, Clay-pans East of Mount Hay. This morning I feel a little relieved in comparison with my exhausted state of yesterday. I had a very troubled night’s rest. All hands cutting up the horse, and hanging up the meat to dry. Thring and Nash out for two long poles to fix the chair in, which they succeeded in finding. At twelve o’clock had all the meat of the horse cut up and hung up to dry. Day oppressively hot. Wind, south-east. Clouds.
Thursday, 30th October, Clay-pans East of Mount Hay. I think I am a little better this morning, but still very weak and helpless. Find that the chair will not answer the purpose, and must have a stretcher instead. Wind, south-east.
Friday, 31st October, Clay-pans East of Mount Hay. I felt a little improvement this morning, which I hope will continue; and I think I have reached the turn of this terrible disease. On Tuesday night I certainly was in the grasp of death; a cold clammy perspiration, with a tremulous motion, kept creeping slowly over my body during the night, and everything near me had the smell of decaying mortality in the last stage of decomposition and of the grave. I sincerely thank the Almighty Giver of all Good, that He, in His infinite goodness and mercy, gave me strength and courage to overcome the grim and hoary-headed king of terrors, and has kindly permitted me yet to live a little longer in this world. Auld, who was in attendance upon me on that night, informed me that my breath smelt the same as the atmosphere of a room in which a dead body had been kept for some days. What a sad difference there is from what I am now and what I was when the party left North Adelaide! My right hand nearly useless to me by the accident from the horse; total blindness after sunset–although the moon shines bright to others, to me it is total darkness–and nearly blind during the day; my limbs so weak and painful that I am obliged to be carried about; my body reduced to that of a living skeleton, and my strength that of infantine weakness –a sad, sad wreck of former days. Wind variable.
Saturday, 1st November, Clay-pans East of Mount Hay. Although in such a weak state, I shall try if I can ride in the stretcher as far as Hamilton Springs. Started early; found the stretcher to answer very well. On arriving at the springs, saw that there was not sufficient water for the horses, and, as I had stood this part of the journey so well, made up my mind to cross the range to Brinkley Bluff. Proceeded, and arrived there about five o’clock p.m. I have stood the long journey far better than I expected, but feel very tired and worn out. Wind variable. Cloudy.
Sunday, 2nd November, Brinkley Bluff, The Hugh. Got a few hours’ good sleep during the night, and feel a good deal better this morning. Day still cloudy. Wind variable.
Monday, 3rd November, Brinkley Bluff, The Hugh. Started at 7.30 a.m. for Owen Springs. Saw where one of the horses died that I was compelled to leave behind on coming up. As there is only the hair of his mane and tail to be seen, and not a single bone, I am inclined to think that he has been killed, carried off, and eaten by the natives. I expect the other one has shared the same fate. At 2.20 p.m. arrived at the springs. Plenty of water. I have stood the journey very well, but am very tired. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 4th November, Owen Springs, The Hugh. Started at 7.20 a.m., passing through the gorge of the Waterhouse range. At 1.20 arrived at the springs under the conglomerate rock, a mile and a half north-east of the gorge in James range. I feel the shaking of the stretcher very much, and am again very tired, but am glad to find that I am getting a little stronger. Wind, south-east. The clouds are all gone.
Wednesday, 5th November, Spring, Conglomerate Rock, The Hugh. Started at 7.25 a.m. Passed through the gorge of James range and proceeded to the side creek in which water was obtained on coming up. Found some still there. Camped. Sent four of the party to clear out the hole; in the meantime sent Thring up the side creek to see if there is any surface water left from the showers of rain that have fallen here some short time ago. Since leaving the McDonnell range we have had plenty of green grass, showing that rain has fallen some time back; it has made no impression upon the large creek, which is quite dry. In a short time Thring returned; he has seen as much as will do for forty horses to-night, which is a good thing. Sent him up with them, and watered the remainder at this hole, into which the water comes very slowly, in consequence of the main creek having none in its bed below the sand. I again feel tired from the shaking of the horses and the stretcher. The swelling of my gums and the black blisters, which have been so very painful for such a long time back, are slowly giving way before some vegetable food which I have been able to get since coming into the green, grassy country; I hope it will soon cure me. My teeth are still loose, but it is a great thing to get a little relief from a great mouthful of swollen, blistered, and most painful gums. When my mouth was closed I had scarcely room for my tongue; the blisters are now much reduced. Wind, south-east.
Thursday, 6th November, The Hugh. Started at 7.20 towards the Finke; at five p.m. met with some water in a clay-pan, and camped. I am a little stronger to-day, and feel that I am gradually improving. Wind, south-east. Night and morning cool.
Friday, 7th November, North of the Finke. Proceeded to Pascoe Springs in the Finke; found plenty of water and camped. Day oppressively hot. Wind, south-east.
Saturday, 8th November, Pascoe Springs, The Finke. Proceeded to Sullivan Creek and found sufficient water to do for us until Monday morning, and this being a place for feed for the horses, I shall remain here until that time. I feel very tired and sore after this rough week’s work, and am glad of a day’s rest. I feel a gradual improvement in my health and strength, which I hope will continue to increase. Wind variable, mostly from south-east.
Sunday, 9th November, Sullivan Creek. During the night had a few drops of rain; heavy clouds to the west, north-west, north, north-east, and east. Wind blowing strong and variable. Sundown: the sky overcast with heavy clouds.
Monday, 10th November, Sullivan Creek. Some of the horses missing this morning. Did not get a start till nine o’clock a.m. Day oppressively hot. Crossed the Finke three times, and arrived at Polly Springs, where there is plenty of water. Camped. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 11th November, Polly Springs, The Finke. Proceeded to Marchant Springs. Camped. The water is low and rather boggy. Dug a place about eighteen inches deep in the firm ground, and the water came boiling up. I am happy to find that I am gaining a little strength again. I was able to walk two or three steps by leaning upon two of the party, but the pain was very severe. Wind, south-east; a few clouds about.
Wednesday, 12th November, Marchant Springs, The Finke. As I am not certain of water at the next two camps, I will rest the horses as well as myself here to-day, for we both require it very much; it will enable them to stand a long push if required. A number of showers of rain seem to have fallen here this month. Wind, south-east.
Thursday, 13th November, Marchant Springs, The Finke. Started at 7.40. Proceeded towards the Goyder, and at nine miles found myself in as dry a country as ever; not a drop of rain seems to have fallen here for upwards of twelve months. On arriving at the Goyder found a little moisture at the bottom of the sand in the rocks–not enough for the horses. Pushed on towards the Coglin, and at dark camped in the mulga scrub without water. Day most oppressively hot. Light wind from south-east.
Friday, 14th November, Mulga Scrub. Started at six o’clock a.m. Examined the different creeks in which I found water on my journey to the north but there was not a drop. At twelve miles reached the Coglin–none there. Country all in the same dry state. Proceeded on to the Lindsay, where I am sure of water. At four o’clock arrived there and found plenty. Camped. Thanks be to God, I am once more within the boundary of South Australia! I little expected it about a fortnight ago. If the summer rain has fallen to the south of this, there will be little difficulty in my getting down. I am again suffering very much from exhaustion, caused by a severe attack of dysentery, which has thrown me back a good deal in the strength I was collecting so quickly, but I hope it will not continue long. Wind, south-east.
Saturday, 15th November, The Lindsay. At day-break I have sent Thring to the Stevenson to see if there is water there, either on the surface or by digging in the sand; if there is I shall move the party over there to-day, and on Monday morning start for the Hamilton (I expect no water