exhausted state of the interior, we had on this occasion ample evidence of it, and of the fearful severity of the drought under which the country was suffering. As soon as the sun dipped under the horizon, hundreds of birds came crowding to the border of the lake, to quench the thirst they had been unable to allay in the forest. Some were gasping, others almost too weak to avoid us, and all were indifferent to the reports of our guns.
CATARACT OF THE MACQUARIE.
On leaving the Buddah, eleven only of the natives accompanied us. We reached the river again about noon, on a north-half-east course, where it had a rocky bed, and continued to journey along it, until we reached the cataract at which we halted. We travelled over soil generally inferior to that which we had seen on the preceding day, but rich in many places. The same kind of timber was observed, but the acacia pendula was more prevalent than any other, although near the river the flooded gum and Australian apple-tree were of beautiful growth.
It had appeared to me that the waters of the Macquarie had been diminishing in volume since our departure from Wellington Valley, and I had a favourable opportunity of judging as to the correctness of this conclusion at the cataract, where its channel, at all times much contracted, was particularly so on the present occasion. So little force was there in the current, that I began to entertain doubts how long it would continue, more especially when I reflected on the level character of the country we had entered, and the fact of the Macquarie not receiving any tributary between this point and the marshes. I was in consequence led to infer that result, which, though not immediately, eventually took place.
As they were treated with kindness, the natives who accompanied us soon threw off all reserve, and in the afternoon assembled at the pool below the fall to take fish. They went very systematically to work, with short spears in their hands that tapered gradually to a point, and sank at once under water without splash or noise at a given signal from an elderly man. In a short time, one or two rose with the fish they had transfixed; the others remained about a minute under water, and then made their appearance near the same rock into the crevices of which they had driven their prey. Seven fine bream were taken, the whole of which they insisted on giving to our men, although I am not aware that any of themselves had broken their fast that day. They soon, however, procured a quantity of muscles, with which they sat down very contentedly at a fire. My barometrical admeasurement gave the cataract an elevation of 680 feet above the level of the sea; and my observations placed it in east longitude 148 degrees 3 minutes and in latitude 31 degrees 50 minutes south.
It became an object with us to gain the right bank of the Macquarie as soon as possible; for it was evident that the country to the southward of it was much more swampy than it was to the north: but for some distance below the cataract, we found it impossible to effect our purpose. The rocks composing the bed of the river at the cataract, which are of trapp formation, disappeared at about eight miles below it, when the river immediately assumed another character. Its banks became of equal height, which had not before been the case, and averaged from fifteen to eighteen feet. They were composed entirely of alluvial soil, and were higher than the highest flood-marks. Its waters appeared to be turbid and deep, and its bed was a mixture of sand and clay. The casuarina, which had so often been admired by us, entirely disappeared and the channel in many places became so narrow as to be completely arched over by gum-trees.
A TRIBE OF NATIVES.
On the 16th, we fell in with a numerous tribe of natives who joined our train after the very necessary ceremonies of an introduction had passed, and when added to those who still accompanied us, amounted to fifty-three. On this occasion I was riding somewhat in front of the party, when I came upon them. They were very different in appearance from those whom we had surprised at the river; and from the manner in which I was received, I was led to infer that they had been informed of our arrival, and had purposely assembled to meet us. I was saluted by an old man, who had stationed himself in front of his tribe, and who was their chief. Behind him the young men stood in a line, and behind them the warriors were seated on the ground.
CONDUCT OF THE NATIVES.
I had a young native with me who had attached himself to our party, and who, from his extreme good nature and superior intelligence, was considered by us as a first-rate kind of fellow. He explained who and what we were, and I was glad to observe that the old chief seemed perfectly reconciled to my presence, although he cast many an anxious glance at the long train of animals that were approaching. The warriors, I remarked, never lifted their eyes from the ground. They were hideously painted with red and yellow ochre, and had their weapons at their sides, while their countenances were fixed, sullen, and determined. In order to overcome this mood, I rode up to them, and, taking a spear from the nearest, gave him my gun to examine; a mark of confidence that was not lost upon them, for they immediately relaxed from their gravity, and as soon as my party arrived, rose up and followed us. That which appeared most to excite their surprise, was the motion of the wheels of the boat carriage. The young native whom I have noticed above, acted as interpreter, and, by his facetious manner, contrived to keep the whole of us in a fit of laughter as we moved along. He had been named Botheri by some stockman.
In consequence of our wish to cross the river, we kept near it, and experienced considerable delay from the frequent marshes that opposed themselves to our progress. In one of these we saw a number of ibises and spoonbills; and the natives succeeded in killing two or three snakes. Our view to the westward was extremely limited; but to the eastward the country appeared in some places to expand into plains.
CROSSING OF THE RIVER.
After travelling some miles down the banks of the river, finding that they still retained their steep character, we turned back to a place which Mr. Hume had observed, and at which he thought we might, with some little trouble, cross to the opposite side. And, however objectionable the attempt was, we found ourselves obliged to make it. We descended, therefore, into the channel of the river, and unloaded the animals and boat-carriage. In order to facilitate the ascent of the right bank, some of the men were directed to cut steps up it. I was amused to see the natives voluntarily assist them; and was surprised when they took up bags of flour weighing 100 pounds each, and carried them across the river. We were not long in getting the whole of the stores over. The boat was then hoisted on the shoulders of the strongest, and deposited on the top of the opposite bank; and ropes being afterwards attached to the carriage, it was soon drawn up to a place of safety. The natives worked as hard as our own people, and that, too, with a cheerfulness for which I was altogether unprepared, and which is certainly foreign to their natural habits. We pitched our tents as soon as we had effected the passage of the river; after which, the men went to bathe, and blacks and whites were mingled promiscuously in the stream. I did not observe that the former differed in any respect from the natives who frequent the located districts. They were generally clean limbed and stout, and some of the young men had pleasing intelligent countenances. They lacerate their bodies, inflicting deep wounds to raise the flesh, and extract the front teeth like the Bathurst tribes; and their weapons are precisely the same. They are certainly a merry people, and sit up laughing and talking more than half the night.
BAROMETER BROKEN.
During the removal of the stores my barometer was unfortunately broken, and I had often, in the subsequent stages of the journey, occasion to regret the accident. I apprehend that the corks in the instrument, placed to steady the tube, are too distant from each other in most cases; and indeed I fear that barometers as at present constructed, will seldom be carried with safety in overland expeditions.
DESERTED BY THE NATIVES.
Nine only of the natives accompanied us on the morning succeeding the day in which we crossed the river. Botheri was, however, at the head of them; and, as we journeyed along, he informed me that he had been promised a wife on his return from acting as our guide, by the chief of the last tribe. The excessive heat of the weather obliged us to shorten our journey, and we encamped about noon in some scrub after having traversed a level country for about eleven miles.
Several considerable plains were noticed to our right, stretching east and west, which were generally rich in point of soil; but we passed through much brushy land during the day. It was lamentable to see the state of vegetation upon the plains from want of moisture. Although the country had assumed a level character, and was more open than on the higher branches of the Macquarie, the small freestone elevations, backing the alluvial tracts near the river, still continued upon our right, though much diminished in height, and at a great distance from the banks. They seemed to be covered with cypresses and beef-wood, but dwarf-box and the acacia pendula prevailed along the plains; while flooded-gum alone occupied the lands in the immediate neighbourhood of the stream, which was evidently fast diminishing, both in volume and rapidity; its bed, however, still continuing to be a mixture of sand and clay.
The cattle found such poor feed around the camp that they strayed away in search of better during the night. On such an occasion Botheri and his fraternity would have been of real service; but he had decamped at an early hour, and had carried off an axe, a tomahawk, and some bacon, although I had made him several presents. I was not at all surprised at this piece of roguery, since cunning is the natural attribute of a savage; but I was provoked at their running away at a moment when I so much required their assistance.
Left to ourselves, I found Mr. Hume of the most essential service in tracking the animals, and to his perseverance we were indebted for their speedy recovery, They had managed to find tolerable feed near a serpentine sheet of water, which Mr. Hume thought it would be advisable to examine. We directed our course to it as soon as the cattle were loaded, moving through bush, and found it to be a very considerable creek that receives a part of the superfluous waters of the Macquarie, and distributes them, most probably, over the level country to the north. It was much wider than the river, being from fifty to sixty yards across, and is resorted to by the natives, who procure muscles from its bed in great abundance. We were obliged to traverse its eastern bank to its junction with the river, at which it fortunately happened to be dry. We had, however, to cut roads down both its banks before we could cross it; and, consequently, made but a short day’s journey. The soil passed over was inferior to the generality of soil near the river, but we encamped on a tongue of land on which both the flooded-gum and the grass were of luxuriant height. We found a quantity of a substance like pipe-clay in the bed of the river, similar to that mentioned by Mr. Oxley.
GREAT HEAT.
The heat, which had been excessive at Wellington Valley, increased upon us as we advanced into the interior. The thermometer was seldom under 114 degrees at noon, and rose still higher at 2 p.m. We had no dews at night, and consequently the range of the instrument was trifling in the twenty-four hours. The country looked bare and scorched, and the plains over which we journeyed had large fissures traversing them, so that the earth may literally be said to have gasped for moisture. The country, which above the cataract had borne the character of open forest, excepting on the immediate banks of the river, where its undulations and openness gave it a park-like appearance, or where the barren stony ridges prevailed below that point, generally exhibited alternately plain and brush, the soil on both of which was good. On the former, crested pigeons were numerous, several of which were shot. We had likewise procured some of the rose-coloured and grey parrots, mentioned by Mr. Oxley, and a small paroquet of beautiful plumage; but there was less of variety in the feathered race than I expected to find, and most of the other birds we had seen were recognised by me as similar to specimens I had procured from Melville Island, and were, therefore, most probably birds of passage.
ASPECT OF THE COUNTRY, AND THE RIVER.
As we neared Mount Harris, the Macquarie became more sluggish in its flow, and fell off so much as scarcely to deserve the name of a river. In breadth, it averaged from thirty-five to forty-five yards, and in the height of its banks, from fifteen to eighteen. Mr. Hume had succeeded in taking some fish at one of the stock stations; but if I except those speared by the natives, we had since been altogether unsuccessful with the hook, a circumstance which I attribute to the lowness of the river itself.
About thirty miles from the cataract the country declines to the north as a medium point, and again changes somewhat in its general appearance. To the S. and S.W. it appeared level and wooded, while to the N. the plains became more frequent, but smaller, and travelling over them was extremely dangerous, in consequence of the large fissures by which they were traversed. The only trees to be observed were dwarf-box and the acacia pendula, both of stunted growth, although flooded-gum still prevailed upon the river.
On the 20th we travelled on a N.W. course, and in the early part of the day passed over tolerably good soil. It was succeeded by a barren scrub, through which we penetrated in the direction of Welcome Rock, a point we had seen from one of the Plains and had mistaken for Mount Harris.
ARRIVAL AT MOUNT HARRIS.
On a nearer approach, however, we observed our error, and corrected it by turning more to the left; and we ultimately encamped about a mile to the W.S.W. of the latter eminence. On issuing from the scrub we found ourselves among reeds and coarse water-grass; and, from the appearance of the country, we were led to conclude that we had arrived at a part of the interior more than ordinarily subject to overflow.
As soon as the camp was fixed, Mr. Hume and I rode to Mount Harris, over ground subject to flood and covered for the most part by the polygonum, being too anxious to defer our examination of its neighbourhood even for a few hours.
VESTIGES OF MR. OXLEY’S ENCAMPMENT.
Nearly ten years had elapsed since Mr. Oxley pitched his tents under the smallest of the two hills into which Mount Harris is broken. There was no difficulty in hitting upon his position. The trenches that had been cut round the tents were still perfect, and the marks of the fire-places distinguishable; while the trees in the neighbourhood had been felled, and round about them the staves of some casks and a few tent-pegs were scattered. Mr. Oxley had selected a place at some distance from the river, in consequence of its then swollen state. I looked upon it from the same ground, and could not discern the waters in its channel; so much had they fallen below their ordinary level. He saw the river when it was overflowing its banks; on the present occasion it had scarcely sufficient water to support a current. On the summit of the greater eminence, which we ascended, there remained the half-burnt planks of a boat, some clenched and rusty nails, and an old trunk; but my search for the bottle Mr. Oxley had left was unsuccessful.
A reflection naturally arose to my mind on examining these decaying vestiges of a former expedition, whether I should be more fortunate than the leader of it, and how far I should be enabled to penetrate beyond the point which had conquered his perseverance. Only a week before I left Sydney I had followed Mr. Oxley to the tomb. A man of uncommon quickness, and of great ability, the task of following up his discoveries was not less enviable than arduous; but, arrived at that point at which his journey may be said to have terminated and mine only to commence, I knew not how soon I should be obliged, like him, to retreat from the marshes and exhalations of so depressed a country. My eye instinctively turned to the North-West, and the view extended over an apparently endless forest. I could trace the river line of trees by their superior height; but saw no appearance of reeds, save the few that grew on the banks of the stream.
Mount Foster, somewhat higher than Mount Harris, on the opposite side of the river, alone broke the line of the horizon to the North N.W. at a distance of five miles. From that point all round the compass, the low lands spread, like a dark sea, before me; except where a large plain stretching from E. to W., and lying to the S.E. broke their monotony; and if there was nothing discouraging, there certainly was nothing cheering, in the prospect.
ILLNESS OF TWO OF THE MEN.
On our return to the camp, I was vexed to find two of the men, Henwood and Williams, with increased inflammation of the eyes, of which they had previously been complaining, and I thought it advisable to bleed the latter.
In consequence of the indisposition of these men, we remained stationary on the 21st, which enabled me to pay a second visit to Mount Harris. On ascending the smaller hill, I was surprised to find similar vestiges on its summit to those I had noticed on the larger one; in addition to which, the rollers still continued on the side of the hill, which had been used to get the boat up it. [Mr. Oxley had two boats; one of which he dragged to the top of each of these hills, and left them turned bottom upwards, buryinq a bottle under the head of the larger boat, which was conveyed to the more distant hill.]
Mount Harris is of basaltic formation, but I could not observe any columnar regularity in it, although large blocks are exposed above the ground. The rock is extremely hard and sonorous.
MOUNT FOSTER AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.
We moved leisurely towards Mount Foster, on the 22nd, and arrived opposite to it a little before sunset. The country between the two is mostly open, or covered only with the acacia pendula and dwarf-box. The soil, although an alluvial deposit, is not of the best; nor was vegetation either fresh or close upon it. As soon as the party stopped, I crossed the river, and lost no time in ascending the hill, being anxious to ascertain if any fresh object was visible from its summit, I thought that from an eminence so much above the level of the surrounding objects, I might obtain a view of the marshes, or of water; but I was wholly disappointed. The view was certainly extensive, but it was otherwise unsatisfactory. Again to the N.W. the lowlands spread in darkness before me; there were some considerable plains beyond the near wood; but the country at the foot of the hill appeared open and promising. Although the river line was lost in the distance, it was as truly pointed out by the fires of the natives, which rose in upright columns into the sky, as if it had been marked by the trees upon its banks.
To the eastward, Arbuthnot’s range rose high above the line of the horizon, bearing nearly due East, distant seventy miles. The following sketch of its outlines will convey a better idea of its appearance from Mount Foster than any written description.
[small sketch here–not shown in etext]
I stayed on the mount until after sunset, but I could not make out any space that at all resembled the formidable barrier I knew we were so rapidly approaching. I saw nothing to check our advance, and I therefore returned to the camp, to advise with Mr. Hume upon the subject. Not having been with me on Mount Foster, he took the opportunity to ascend it on the following morning; and on his return concurred with me in opinion, that there was no apparent obstacle to our moving onwards. As the men were considerably better, I had the less hesitation in closing with the marshes. We left our position, intending to travel slowly, and to halt early.
The first part of our journey was over rich flats, timbered sufficiently to afford a shade, on which the grass was luxuriant; but we were obliged to seek more open ground, in consequence of the frequent stumbling of the cattle.
We issued, at length, upon a plain, the view across which was as dreary as can be imagined; in many places without a tree, save a few old stumps left by the natives when they fired the timber, some of which were still smoking in different parts of it. Observing some lofty trees at the extremity of the plain, we moved towards them, under an impression that they indicated the river line. But on this exposed spot the sun’s rays fell with intense power upon us, and the dust was so minute and penetrating, that I soon regretted having left the shady banks of the river.
About 2.p.m. we neared the trees for which we had been making, over ground evidently formed by alluvial deposition, and were astonished to find that reeds alone were growing under the trees as far as the eye could penetrate. It appeared that we were still some distance from the river, and it was very doubtful how far we might be from water, for which the men were anxiously calling. I therefore halted, and sent Fraser into the reeds towards some dead trees, on which a number of spoonbills were sitting. He found that there was a small lake in the centre of the reeds, the resort of numerous wild fowl; but although the men were enabled to quench their thirst, we found it impossible to water the animals. We were obliged, therefore, to continue our course along the edge of the reeds; which in a short time appeared in large masses in front of us, stretching into a vast plain upon our right; and it became evident that the whole neighbourhood was subject to extensive inundation.
ENCAMP AMIDST REEDS.
I was fearful that the reeds would have checked us; but there was a passage between the patches, through which we managed to force our way into a deep bight, and fortunately gained the river at the bottom of it much sooner than we expected. We were obliged to clear away a space for the tents; and thus, although there had been no such appearance from Mount Foster, we found ourselves in less than seven hours after leaving it, encamped pretty far in that marsh for which we had so anxiously looked from its summit, and now trusting to circumstances for safety, upon ground on which, in any ordinary state of the river, it would have been dangerous to have ventured. Indeed, as it was, our situation was sufficiently critical, and would not admit of hesitation on my part.
NATURE OF THE COUNTRY.
After the cattle had been turned out, Mr. Hume and I again mounted our horses, and proceeded to the westward, with a view to examine the nature of the country before us, and to ascertain if it was still practicable to move along the river side. For, although it was evident that we had arrived at what might strictly be called the marshes of the Macquarie, I still thought we might be at some distance from the place where Mr. Oxley terminated his journey.
There was no indication in the river to encourage an idea that it would speedily terminate; nor, although we were on ground subject to extensive inundation, could we be said to have reached the heart of the marshes, as the reeds still continued in detached bodies only. We forced a path through various portions of them, and passed over ground wholly subject to flood, to a distance of about six miles. We then crossed a small rise of ground, sufficiently high to have afforded a retreat, had necessity obliged us to seek for one; and we shortly afterwards descended on the river, unaltered in its appearance, and rather increased than diminished in size. A vast plain extended to the N.W., the extremity of which we could not discern; though a thick forest formed its northern boundary.
It was evident that this plain had been frequently under water, but it was difficult to judge from the marks on the trees to what height the floods had risen. The soil was an alluvial deposit, superficially sandy; and many shells were scattered over its surface. To the south, the country appeared close and low; nor do I think we could have approached the river from that side, by reason of the huge belts of reeds that appeared to extend as far as the the eye could reach.
MEN ATTACKED WITH OPHTHALMIA.
The approach of night obliged us to return to the camp. On our arrival, we found that the state of Henwood and Williams would prevent our stirring for a day or two. Not only had they a return of inflammation, but several other of the men complained of a painful irritation of the eyes, which were dreadfully blood-shot and weak. I was in some measure prepared for a relapse in Henwood, as the exposure which he necessarily underwent on the plain was sufficient to produce that effect; but I now became apprehensive that the affection would run through the party.
Considering our situation in its different bearings, it struck me that the men who were to return to Wellington Valley with an account our our proceedings for the Governor’s information, had been brought as far as prudence warranted. There was no fear of their going astray, as long as they had the river to guide them; but in the open country which we were to all appearance approaching, or amidst fields of reeds, they might wander from the track, and irrecoverably lose themselves. I determined, therefore, not to risk their safety, but to prepare my dispatches for Sydney, and I hoped most anxiously, that ere they were closed, all symptoms of disease would have terminated.
In the course of the day, however, Spencer, who was to return with Riley to Wellington Valley, became seriously indisposed, and I feared that he was attacked with dysentery. Indeed, I should have attributed his illness to our situation, but I did not notice any unusual moisture in the atmosphere, nor did any fogs rise from the river. I therefore the rather attributed it to exposure and change of diet, and treated him accordingly. To my satisfaction, when I visited the men late in the evening, I found a general improvement in the whole of them. Spencer was considerably relieved, and those of the party who had inflammation of the eyes no longer felt that painful irritation of which they had before complained. I determined, therefore, unless untoward circumstances should prevent it, to send Riley and his companion homewards, and to move the party without loss of time.
We had not seen any natives for many days, but a few passed the camp on the opposite side of the river on the evening of the 25th. They would not, however, come to us; but fled into the interior in great apparent alarm.
DEPARTURE OF TWO MEN FOR WELLINGTON.
On the morning of the 26th, the men were sufficiently recovered to pursue their journey. Riley and Spencer left us at an early hour; and about 7 a.m. we pursued a N.N.W. course along the great plain I have noticed, starting numberless quails, and many wild turkeys, by the way. Leaving that part of the river on which Mr. Hume and I had touched considerably to the left, we made for the point of a wood, projecting from the river line of trees into the plain. The ground under us was an alluvial deposit, and bore all the marks of frequent inundation.
The soil was yielding, blistered, and uneven; and the claws of cray-fish, together with numerous small shells, were every where collected in the hollows made by the subsiding of the waters, between broad belts of reeds and scrubs of polygonum.
CONSULTATION.
On gaining the point of the wood, we found an absolute check put to our further progress. We had been moving directly on the great body of the marsh, and from the wood it spread in boundless extent before us. It was evidently lower than the ground on which we stood; we had therefore, a complete view over the whole expanse; and there was a dreariness and desolation pervading the scene that strengthened as we gazed upon it. Under existing circumstances, it only remained for us either to skirt the reeds to the northward, or to turn in again upon the river; and as I considered it important to ascertain the direction of the Macquarie at so critical and interesting a point, I thought it better to adopt the latter measure. We, accordingly, made for the river, and pitched our tents, as at the last station, in the midst of reeds.
There were two points at this time, upon which I was extremely anxious. The first was as to the course of the river; the second, as to the extent of the marshes by which we had been checked, and the practicability of the country to the northward.
In advising with Mr. Hume, I proposed launching the boat, as the surest means of ascertaining the former, and he, on his part, most readily volunteered to examine the marshes, in any direction I should point out. It was therefore, arranged, that I should take two men, and a week’s provision with me in the boat down the river; and that he should proceed with a like number of men on an excursion to the northward.
After having given directions as to the regulations of camp during our absence, we separated, on the morning of the 26th for the first time, in furtherance of the objects each had in view.
BOAT EXCURSION.
In pulling down the river, I found that its channel was at first extremely tortuous and irregular, but that it held a general N.W. course, and bore much the same appearance as it had done since our descent from Mount Foster.
We had a laborious task in lifting the boat over the trunks of trees that had fallen into the channel of the river or that had been left by the floods, and at length we stove her in upon a sunken log. The injury she received was too serious not to require immediate repair; and we, therefore, patched her up with a tin plate. This accident occasioned some delay, and the morning was consumed without our having made any considerable progress. At length, however, we got into a more open channel.
The river suddenly increased in breadth to thirty-five or forty-five yards, with a depth of from twelve to twenty feet of water. Its banks shelved perpendicularly down, and were almost on a level with the surface of the stream; and the flood mark was not more than two feet high on the reeds by which they were lined. We had hitherto passed under the shade of the flooded gum, which still continued on the immediate banks of the river; but, the farther we advanced, the more did we find these trees in a state of decay, until at length they ceased, or were only rarely met with.
TERMINATION OF THE RIVER.
About 2 p.m. I brought up under a solitary tree, in consequence of heavy rain: this was upon the left bank. In the afternoon, however, we again pushed forward, and soon lost sight of every other object amidst reeds of great height. The channel of the river continued as broad and as deep as ever, but the flood mark did not show more than a foot above the banks, which were now almost on a level with the water; and the current was so sluggish as to be scarcely perceptible. These general appearances continued for about three miles, when our course was suddenly, and most unexpectedly, checked. The channel, which had promised so well, without any change in its breadth or depth, ceased altogether; and whilst we were yet lost in astonishment at so abrupt a termination of it, the boat grounded. It only remained for us to examine the banks, which we did with particular attention. Two creeks were then discovered, so small as scarcely to deserve the name, and which would, under ordinary circumstances, have been overlooked. The one branched off to the north–the other to the west. We were obliged to get out of the boat to push up the former, the leeches sticking in numbers to our legs. The creek continued for about thirty yards, when it was terminated; and, in order fully to satisfy myself of the fact, I walked round the head of it by pushing through the reeds. Night coming on, we returned to the tree at which we had stopped during the rain, and slept under it. The men cut away the reeds, or we should not have had room to move. At 2 a.m. it commenced raining, with a heavy storm of thunder and lightning; the boat was consequently hauled ashore, and turned over to afford us a temporary shelter. The lightning was extremely vivid, and frequently played upon the ground, near the firelocks, for more than a quarter of a minute at a time.
It is singular, that Mr. Oxley should, under similar circumstances, have experienced an equally stormy night, and most probably within a few yards of the place on which I had posted myself. Notwithstanding that the elements were raging around me, as if to warn me of the danger of my situation, my mind turned solely on the singular failure of the river. I could not but encourage hopes that this second channel that remained to be explored would lead us into an open space again; and as soon as the morning dawned we pursued our way to it. In passing some dead trees upon the right bank, I stopped to ascend one, that, from an elevation, I might survey the marsh, but I found it impossible to trace the river through it. The country to the westward was covered with reeds, apparently to the distance of seven miles; to the N.W. to a still greater distance; and to the north they bounded the horizon.
The whole expanse was level and unbroken, but here and there the reeds were higher and darker than at other places, as if they grew near constant moisture; but I could see no appearance of water in any body, or of high lands beyond the distant forest.
As soon as we arrived at the end of the main channel, we again got out of the boat, and in pushing up the smaller one, soon found ourselves under a dark arch of reeds. It did not, however, continue more than twenty yards when it ceased, and I walked round the head of it as I had done round that of the other. We then examined the space between the creeks, where the bank receives the force of the current, which I did not doubt had formed them by the separation of its eddies. Observing water among the reeds, I pushed through them with infinite labour to a considerable distance. The soil proved to be a stiff clay; the reeds were closely embodied, and from ten to twelve feet high; the waters were in some places ankle deep, and in others scarcely covered the surface. They were flowing in different points, with greater speed than those of the river, which at once convinced me that they were not permanent, but must have lodged in the night during which so much rain had fallen. They ultimately appeared to flow to the northward, but I found it impossible to follow them, and it was not without difficulty that, after having wandered about at every point of the compass, I again reached the boat.
CAUSES OF THE FAILURE OF THE RIVER.
The care with which I had noted every change that took place in the Macquarie, from Wellington Valley downwards, enabled me, in some measure, to account for its present features. I was led to conclude that the waters of the river being so small in body, excepting in times of flood, and flowing for so many miles through a level country without receiving any tributary to support their first impulse, became too sluggish, long ere they reached the marshes, to cleave through so formidable a barrier; and consequently spread over the surrounding country–whether again to take up the character of a river, we had still to determine. Unless, however, a decline of country should favour its assuming its original shape, it was evident that the Macquarie would not be found to exist beyond this marsh, of the nature and extent of which we were still ignorant. The loss of my barometer was at this time severely felt by me, since I could only guess at our probable height above the ocean; and I found that my only course was to endeavour to force my way to the northward, to ascertain, if I could, from the bottom of the marshes; then penetrate in a westerly direction beyond them, in order to commence my survey of the S.W. interior. I was aware of Mr. Hume’s perseverance, and determined, therefore, to wait the result of his report ere I again moved the camp, to which we returned late in the afternoon of the second day of our departure. We found it unsufferably hot and suffocating in the reeds, and were tormented by myriads of mosquitoes, but the waters were perfectly sweet to the taste, nor did the slightest smell, as of stagnation, proceed from them. I may add that the birds, whose sanctuary we had invaded, as the bittern and various tribes of the galinule, together with the frogs, made incessant noises around us, There were, however, but few water-fowl on the river; which was an additional proof to me that we were not near any very extensive lake.
MR. HUME’S REPORT.
Mr. Hume had returned before me to the camp, and had succeeded in finding a serpentine sheet of water, about twelve miles to the northward; which he did not doubt to be the channel of the river. He had pushed on after this success, in the hope of gaining a further knowledge of the country; but another still more extensive marsh checked him, and obliged him to retrace his steps. He was no less surprised at the account I gave of the termination of the river, than I was at its so speedily re-forming, and it was determined to lose no time in the further examination of so singular a region.
FALSE CHANNEL; PERPLEXITIES.
On the morning of the 28th therefore we broke up the camp, and proceeded to the northward, under Mr. Hume’s guidance, moving over ground wholly subject to flood, and extensively covered with reeds; the great body of the marsh lying upon our left. After passing the angle of a wood, upon our right, from which Mount Foster was distant about fourteen miles, we got upon a small plain, on which there was a new species of tortuous box. This plain was clear of reeds, and the soil upon it was very rich. Crossing in a westerly direction we arrived at the channel found by Mr. Hume, who must naturally have concluded that it was a continuation of the river. The boat was immediately prepared, and I went up it in order to ascertain the nature of its formation. For two miles it preserved a pretty general width of from twenty to thirty yards; but at that distance began to narrow, and at length it became quite shallow and covered with weeds. We were ultimately obliged to abandon the boat, and to walk along a native path. The country to the westward was more open than I had expected. About a quarter of a mile from where we had left the boat, the channel separated into two branches; to which I perceived it owed its formation, coming, as they evidently did, direct from the heart of the marsh. The wood through which I had entered it on the first occasion bore south of me, to which one of the branches inclined; as the other did to the S.W. An almost imperceptible rise of ground was before me, which, by giving an impetus to the waters of the marsh, accounted to me for the formation of the main channel. It was too late, on my return to the camp, to prosecute any further examination of it downwards; but in the morning, Mr. Hume accompanied me in the boat, to ascertain to what point it led; and we found that at about a mile it began to diminish in breadth, until at length it was completely lost in a second expanse of reeds. We passed a singular scaffolding erected by the natives, on the side of the channel, to take fish; and also found a weir at the termination of it for the like purpose so that it was evident the natives occasionally ventured into the marshes.
There was a small wood to our left which Mr. Hume endeavoured to gain, but he failed in the attempt. He did, however, reach a tree that was sufficiently high to give him a full view of the marsh, which appeared to extend in every direction, but more particularly to the north, for many miles. We were, however, at fault, and I really felt at a loss what step to take. I should have been led to believe from the extreme flatness of the country, that the Macquarie would never assume its natural shape, but from the direction of the marshes I could not but indulge a hope that it would meet the Castlereagh, and that their united waters might form a stream of some importance. Under this impression I determined on again sending Mr. Hume to the N.E. in order to ascertain the nature of the country in that direction.
EXCURSION TO THE NORTH-WEST.
The weather was excessively hot, and as my men were but slowly recovering, I was anxious while those who were in health continued active, to give the others a few days of rest. I proposed, therefore, to cross the river, and to make an excursion into the interior, during the probable time of Mr. Hume’s absence; since if, as I imagined, the Macquarie had taken a permanent northerly course, I should not have an opportunity of examining the distant western country. Mr. Hume’s experience rendered it unnecessary for me to give him other than general directions.
A PLAIN ON FIRE.
On the last day of the year we left the camp, each accompanied by two men. I had the evening previously ordered the horses I intended taking with me across the channel, and at an early hour of the morning I followed them. Getting on a plain, immediately after I had disengaged myself from the reeds on the opposite side of the river, which was full of holes and exceedingly treacherous for the animals, I pushed on for a part of the wood Mr. Hume had endeavoured to gain from the boat, with the intention of keeping near the marsh. On entering it, I found myself in a thick brush of eucalypti, casuarinae and minor trees; the soil under them being mixed with sand. I kept a N.N.W. course through it, and at the distance of three miles from its commencement, ascended a tree, to ascertain if I was near the marshes; when I found that I was fast receding from them. I concluded, therefore, that my conjecture as to their direction was right, and altered my course to N.W., a direction in which I had observed a dense smoke arising, which I supposed had been made by some natives near water. At the termination of the brush I crossed a barren sandy plain, and from it saw the smoke ascending at a few miles’ distance from me. Passing through a wood, at the extremity of the plain, I found myself at the outskirts of an open space of great extent, almost wholly enveloped in flames. The fire was running with incredible rapidity through the rhagodia shrubs with which it was covered. Passing quickly over it, I continued my journey to the N.W. over barren plains of red sandy loam of even surface, and bushes of cypresses skirted by acacia pendula. It was not until after sunset that we struck upon a creek, in which the water was excellent; and we halted on its banks for the night, calculating our distance at twenty-nine miles from the camp. The creek was of considerable size, leading northerly. Several huts were observed by us, and from the heaps of muscle-shells that were scattered about, there could be no doubt of its being much frequented by the natives. The grass being fairly burnt up, our animals found but little to eat, but they had a tolerable journey and did not attempt to wander in search of better food. I shot a snipe near the creek, much resembling the painted snipe of India; but I had not the means with me of preserving it.
A TRIBE OF NATIVES.
Continuing our journey on the following morning, we at first kept on the banks of the creek, and at about a quarter of a mile from where we had slept, came upon a numerous tribe of natives. A young girl sitting by the fire was the first to observe us as we were slowly approaching her. She was so excessively alarmed, that she had not the power to run away; but threw herself on the ground and screamed violently. We now observed a number of huts, out of which the natives issued, little dreaming of the spectacle they were to behold. But the moment they saw us, they started back; their huts were in a moment in flames, and each with a fire-brand ran to and fro with hideous yells, thrusting them into every bush they passed. I walked my horse quietly towards an old man who stood more forward than the rest, as if he intended to devote himself for the preservation of his tribe. I had intended speaking to him, but on a nearer approach I remarked that he trembled so violently that it was impossible to expect that I could obtain any information from him, and as I had not time for explanations, I left him to form his own conjectures as to what we were, and continued to move towards a thick brush, into which they did not venture to follow us.
CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY.
After a ride of about eighteen miles, through a country of alternate plain and brush, we struck upon a second creek leading like the first to the northward. The water in it was very bitter and muddy, and it was much inferior in appearance to that at which we had slept. After stopping for half-an-hour upon its banks, to rest our animals, we again pushed forward. We had not as yet risen any perceptible height above the level of the marshes, but had left the country subject to overflow for a considerable space behind us. The brushes through which we had passed were too sandy to retain water long, but the plains were of such an even surface, that they could not but continue wet for a considerable period after any fall of rain. They were covered with salsolaceous plants, without a blade of grass; and their soil was generally a red sandy loam. There were occasional patches that appeared moist, in which the calystemma was abundant, and these patches must, I should imagine, form quagmires in the wet season.
On leaving the last-mentioned creek, we found a gently rising country before us; and about three or four miles from it we crossed some stony ridges, covered with a new species of acacia so thickly as to prevent our obtaining any view from them. As the sun declined, we got into open forest ground; and travelled forwards in momentary expectation, from appearances, of coming in sight of water; but we were obliged to pull up at sunset on the outskirts of a larger plain without having our expectation realized. The day had been extremely warm, and our animals were as thirsty as ourselves. Hope never forsakes the human breast; and thence it was that, after we had secured the horses, we began to wander round our lonely bivouac. It was almost dark, when one of my men came to inform me that he had found a small puddle of water, to which he had been led by a pigeon.
It was, indeed, small enough, probably the remains of a passing shower; it was, however, sufficient for our necessities, and I thanked Providence for its bounty to us. We were now about sixty miles from the Macquarie, in a N.W. by W. direction, and the country had proved so extremely discouraging, that I intimated to my men my intention of retracing my steps, should I not discover any change in it before noon on the morrow. A dense brush of acacia succeeded to the plain on which we had slept, which we entered, and shortly afterwards found ourselves in an open space, of oblong shape, at the extremity of which there was a shallow lake. The brush completely encircled it, and a few huts were upon its banks. About 10 p.m. we got into an open forest track of better appearance than any over which we had recently travelled.
ISOLATED HILL.
There was a visible change in the country, and the soil, although red, was extremely rich and free from sand. A short time afterwards we rose to the summit of a round hill, from which we obtained an extensive view on most points of the compass. We had imperceptibly risen considerably above the general level of the interior.
VIEW FROM THE SUMMIT.
Beneath us, to the westward, I observed a broad and thinly wooded valley; and W. by S., distant apparently about twenty miles, an isolated mountain, whose sides seemed almost perpendicular, broke the otherwise even line of the horizon; but the country in every other direction looked as if it was darkly wooded. Anticipating that I should find a stream in the valley, I did not for a moment hesitate in striking down into it. Disappointed, however, in this expectation, I continued onwards to the mountain, which I reached just before the sun set. Indeed, he was barely visible when I gained its summit; but my eyes, from exposure to his glare, became so weak, my face was so blistered, and my lips cracked in so many places, that I was unable to look towards the west, and was actually obliged to sit down behind a rock until he had set.
Perhaps no time is so favourable for a view along the horizon as the sunset hour; and here, at an elevation of from five to six hundred feet above the plain, the visible line of it could not have been less than from thirty-five to forty-five miles. The hill upon which I stood was broken into two points; the one was a bold rocky elevation; the other had its rear face also perpendicular, but gradually declined to the north, and at a distance of from four to five miles was lost in an extensive and open plain in that direction. In the S.E. quarter, two wooded hills were visible, which before had appeared to be nothing more than swells in the general level of the country. A small hill, similar to the above, bore N.E. by compass; and again, to the west, a more considerable mountain than that I had ascended, and evidently much higher, reflected the last beams of the sun as he sunk behind them. I looked, however, in vain for water. I could not trace either the windings of a stream, or the course of a mountain torrent; and, as we had passed a swamp about a mile from the hill, we descended to it for the night, during which we were grievously tormented by the mosquitoes.
RESULTS OF THE EXCURSION.
I had no inducement to proceed further into the interior. I had been sufficiently disappointed in the termination of this excursion, and the track before me was still less inviting. Nothing but a dense forest, and a level country, existed between me and the distant hill. I had learnt, by experience, that it was impossible to form any opinion of the probable features of so singular a region as that in which I was wandering, from previous appearances, or to expect the same result, as in other countries, from similar causes. In a geographical point of view, my journey had been more successful, and had enabled me to put to rest for ever a question of much previous doubt. Of whatever extent the marshes of the Macquarie might be, it was evident they were not connected with those of the Lachlan. I had gained knowledge of more than 100 miles of the western interior, and had ascertained that no sea, indeed that little water, existed on its surface; and that, although it is generally flat, it still has elevations of considerable magnitude upon it.
Although I had passed over much barren ground, I had likewise noticed soil that was far from poor, and the vegetation upon which in ordinary seasons would, I am convinced, have borne a very different aspect.
Yet, upon the whole, the space I traversed is unlikely to become the haunt of civilized man, or will only become so in isolated spots, as a chain of connection to a more fertile country; if such a country exist to the westward.
The hill which thus became the extreme of my journey, is of sandstone formation, and is bold and precipitous. Its summit is level and lightly timbered. As a tribute of respect to the late Surveyor-General, I called it Oxley’s Table Land, and I named the distant hills D’Urban’s Group, after Sir Benjamin D’Urban, in compliance with a previous request of my friend Lieut. De la Condamine, that I would so name any prominent feature of the interior that I might happen to come upon.
RETURN TO THE CAMP.
In returning to the camp, I made a circuit to the N.E., and reached the Macquarie late on the evening of the 5th of January; having been absent six days, during which we could not have ridden less than 200 miles. Yet the horses were not so fatigued as it was natural to expect they would have been.
My servant informed me that a party of natives had visited the camp on the 3rd, but that they retired precipitately on seeing the animals. I regretted to find the men but little better than when I left them. Several still complained of a painful irritation of the eyes, and of great weakness of sight. Attributing their continued indisposition in some measure to our situation, I was anxious to have moved from it; but as Mr. Hume was still absent, I could not decide upon the measure. He made his appearance, however, on the 6th, having ridden the greater part of the day through rain, which commenced to fall in the morning. Soon after his arrival, Dawber, my overseer of animals, who had accompanied him, was taken suddenly ill. During the night he became much worse, with shivering and spasms, and on the following morning he was extremely weak and feverish. To add to my anxiety, Mr. Hume also complained of indisposition. His state of health made me the more anxious to quit a position which I fancied unwholesome, and in which, if there was no apparent, there was certainly some secret, exciting cause; and as Mr. Hume reported having crossed a chain of ponds about four miles to the eastward, and out of the immediate precincts of the marshes, I ordered the tents to be struck, and placing Dawber on my horse, we all moved quietly over to them.
MR. HUME’S EXCURSION.
The result of Mr. Hume’s journey perplexed me exceedingly. He stated, that on setting out from the Macquarie his intention was to have proceeded to the N.E., to ascertain how far the reeds existed in that direction, and, if at all practicable, to reach the Castlereagh; but in case of failure, to regain the Macquarie by a westerly course. At first he travelled nearly four miles east, to clear the marshes, when he came on the chain of ponds to which we had removed.
He travelled over good soil for two miles after crossing this chain of ponds, but afterwards got on a red sandy loam, and found it difficult to proceed, by reason of the thickness of the brush, and the swampy state of the ground in consequence of the late rain.
The timber in the brushes was of various kinds, and he saw numerous kangaroos and emus. On issuing from this brush, he crossed a creek, leading northerly, the banks of which were from ten to twelve feet high. Whatever the body of water usually in it is, it now only afforded a few shallow puddles. Mr. Hume travelled through brushes until he came upon a third creek, similar to the one he had left behind him, at which he halted for the night. The water in it was bad, and the feed for the animals extremely poor. The brush lined the creek thickly, and consisted chiefly of acacia pendula and box. The country preserved an uniform level, nor did Mr. Hume, from the highest trees, observe any break on the horizon.
On the 2nd of January, Mr. Hume kept more northerly, being unable to penetrate the brushes he encountered. At two miles he crossed a creek leading to the N.W., between which and the place at which he had slept, he passed a native burial ground, containing eight graves. The earth was piled up in a conical shape, but the trees were not carved over as he had seen them in most other places.
The country became more open after he had passed the last mentioned creek, which he again struck upon at the distance of eight miles, and as it was then leading to the N.N.E. he followed it down for eighteen or twenty miles, and crossed it frequently during the day. The creek was dry in most places, and where he stopped for the night the water was bad, and the cattle feed indifferent.
Mr. Hume saw many huts, but none of them had been recently occupied, although large quantities of muscle-shells were scattered about. He computed that he had travelled about thirty miles, in a N.N.W. direction, and the whole of the land he passed over was, generally speaking, bad, nor did it appear to be subject to overflow.
On the 3rd, Mr. Hume proceeded down the creek on which he had slept, on a northern course, under an impression that it would have joined the Castlereagh, but it took a N.W. direction after he had ridden about four miles, and then turned again to the eastward of north. In consequence of this, he left it, and proceeded to the westward, being of opinion that the river just mentioned must have taken a more northerly course than Mr. Oxley supposed it to have done.
A short time after Mr. Hume turned towards the Macquarie, the country assumed a more pleasing appearance. He soon cleared the brushes, and at two miles came upon a chain of ponds, again running northerly in times of flood. Shortly after crossing these, he found himself on an extensive plain, apparently subject to overflow. The timber on it was chiefly of the blue-gum kind, and the ground was covered with shells. He then thought he was approaching the Macquarie, and proceeded due west across the flat for about two miles. At the extremity of it there was a hollow, which he searched in vain for water. Ascending about thirty feet, he entered a thick brush of box and acacia pendula, which continued for fourteen miles, when it terminated abruptly, and extensive plains of good soil commenced, stretching from N. to S. as far as the eye could reach, on which there were many kangaroos. Continuing to journey over them, he reached a creek at 5 p.m. on which the wild fowl were numerous, running nearly north and south, and he rested on its banks for the night. The timber consisted both of blue and rough gum, and the soil was a light earth.
Mr. Hume expected in the course of the day to have reached the Macquarie, but on arriving at the creek, he began to doubt whether it any longer existed, or whether it had not taken a more westerly direction. On the following morning, therefore, he crossed the creek, and travelled W.S.W., for about two miles over good plains; then through light brushes of swamp-oak, cypress, box, and acacia pendula, for about twelve miles, to another creek leading northerly. He shortly afterwards ascended a range of hills stretching W.N.W. to which he gave the name of New Year’s Range. From these hills, he had an extensive view, although not upon the highest part, but the only break he could see in the horizon was caused by some hills bearing by compass W. by S. distant about twenty-five miles. There was, however, an appearance as of high land to the northward, although Mr. Hume thought it might have been an atmospheric deception. From the range he looked in vain for the Macquarie, or other waters, and, as his provisions were nearly consumed, he was obliged to give up all further pursuit, and to retrace his steps. He fell in with two parties of natives, which, taken collectively, amounted to thirty-five in number, but had no communication with them.
It was evident, from the above account, that supposing a line to have been drawn from the camp northerly, Mr. Hume must have travelled considerably to the westward of it, and as I had run on a N.W. course from the marshes, it necessarily followed that our lines of route must have intersected each other, or that want of extension could alone have prevented them from having done so; but that, under any circumstances, they could not have been very far apart. This was too important a point to be left undecided, as upon it the question of the Macquarie’s termination seemed to depend.
Both Mr. Hume and myself were of opinion, that a medium course would be the most satisfactory for us to pursue, to decide this point; and it appeared that we could not do better than, by availing ourselves of the creek on which we were, and skirting the reeds, to take the first opportunity of dashing through them in a westerly direction.
DOUBTS OF THE FURTHER EXTENSION OF THE RIVER.
I entertained great doubts as to the longer existence of the river, and as I foresaw that, in the event of its having terminated we should strike at once into the heart of the interior, I became anxious for the arrival of supplies at Mount Harris; and although I could hardly expect that they had yet reached it, I determined to proceed thither. Mr. Hume was too unwell for me to think of imposing additional fatigue upon him; I left him, therefore, to conduct the party, by easy stages, to the northward, until such time as I should overtake them. Even in one day there was a visible improvement in the men, and Dawber’s attack seemed to be rather the effects of cold than of any thing else. A death, however, under our circumstances, would have been so truly deplorable an event, that the least illness was sufficient to create alarm.
I can hardly say that I was disappointed on my arrival at Mount Harris, to find its neighbourhood silent and deserted. I remained, however, under it for the greater part of the next day, and, prior to leaving it, placed a sheet of paper with written instructions against a tree, though almost without a hope that it would remain untouched.
PERPLEXING SITUATION.
A little after sun-set we reached the first small marsh, at which we slept; and on the following morning I crossed the plains of the Macquarie, and joined the party at about fifteen miles from the creek at which I had left it. I found it in a condition that was as unlooked for by Mr. Hume as it was unexpected by me, and really in a most perplexing situation.
On the day I left him, Mr. Hume only advanced about two miles, in consequence of some derangement in the loads. Having crossed the creek, he, the next morning, proceeded down its right bank, until it entered the marshes and was lost. He then continued to move on the outskirts of the latter, and having performed a journey or about eight miles, was anxious to have stopped, but there was no water at hand. The men, however, were so fatigued, in consequence of previous illness, that he felt it necessary to halt after travelling about eleven miles.
No water could be procured even here, notwithstanding that Mr. Hume, who was quite unfit for great exertion, underwent considerable bodily fatigue in his anxiety to find some. He was, therefore, obliged to move early on the following morning, but neither men nor animals were in a condition to travel; and he had scarcely made three miles’ progress, when he stopped and endeavoured to obtain a supply or water by digging pits among the reeds. From these he had drawn sufficient for the wants of the people when I arrived. Some rain had fallen on the 6th and 7th of the month, or it is more than probable the expedient to which he resorted would have failed of success. Mr. Hume, I was sorry to observe, looked very unwell; but nothing could prevent him from further endeavours to extricate the party from its present embarrassment.
JOURNEY CONTINUED.
As soon as I had taken a little refreshment, therefore, I mounted a fresh horse; and he accompanied me across a small plain, immediately in front of the camp, which was subject to overflow and covered with polygonum, having a considerable extent of reeds to its right.
From the plain we entered a wood of blue-gum, in which reeds, grass, and brush formed a thick coppice. We at length passed into an open space, surrounded on every side by weeds in dense bodies. The great marsh bore south of us, and was clear and open, but behind us the blue-gum trees formed a thick wood above the weeds.
About two hundred yards from the outskirts of the marsh there was a line of saplings that had perished, and round about them a number of the tern tribe (sea swallow) were flying, one of which Mr. Hume had followed a considerable way into the reeds the evening before, in the hope that it would have led him to water. The circumstance of their being in such numbers led us to penetrate towards them, when we found a serpentine sheet of water of some length, over which they were playing. We had scarcely time to examine it before night closed in upon us, and it was after nine when we returned to the tents.
From the general appearance of the country to the northward, and from the circumstance of our having got to the bottom of the great marsh, which but a few days before had threatened to be so formidable, I thought it probable that the reeds would not again prove so extensive as they had been, and I determined, if I could do so, to push through them in a westerly direction from our position.
SECOND GREAT MARSH.
The pits yielded us so abundant a supply during the night, that in the morning we found it unnecessary to take the animals to water at the channel we had succeeded in finding the evening before; but pursuing a westerly course we passed it, and struck deep into the reeds. At mid-day we were hemmed in by them on every side, and had crossed over numerous channels, by means of which the waters of the marshes are equally and generally distributed over the space subject to their influence. Coming to a second sheet of water, narrower, but longer, as well as we could judge, than the first, we stopped to dine at it; and, while the men were resting themselves, Mr. Hume rode with me in a westerly direction, to ascertain what obstacles we still had to contend with. Forcing our way through bodies of reeds, we at length got on a plain, stretching from S.E. to N.W., bounded on the right by a wood of blue-gum, under which the reeds still extended, and on the left by a wood in which they did not appear to exist. Certain that there was no serious obstacle in our way, we returned to the men; and as soon as they had finished their meal, led them over the plain in a N.W. by W. direction. It was covered with shells, and was full of holes from the effects of flood.
CONCLUSIONS IN REGARD TO THE MACQUARIE.
As we were journeying over it, I requested Mr. Hume to ride into the wood upon our left, to ascertain if it concealed any channel. On his return he informed me that he descended from the plain into a hollow, the bottom of which was covered with small shells and bulrushes. He observed a new species of eucalypti, on the trunks of which the water-mark was three feet high. After crossing this hollow, which was about a quarter of a mile in breadth, he gained an open forest of box, having good grass under it; and, judging from the appearance of the country that no other channel could exist beyond him, and that he had ascertained sufficient for the object I had in view, he turned back to the plain. We stopped for the night under a wood of box, where the grass, which had been burnt down, was then springing up most beautifully green, and was relished exceedingly by the animals.
It was in consequence of our not having crossed any channel, while penetrating through the reeds, that could by any possible exaggeration have been laid down as the bed of the river, that I detached Mr. Hume; and the account he brought me at once confirmed my opinion in regard to the Macquarie, and I thenceforth gave up every hope of ever seeing it in its characteristic shape again.
Independently however of all circumstantial evidence, it was clear that the river had not re-formed at a distance of twenty-five miles to the north of us, since Mr. Hume had gone to the westward of that point, at about the same distance on his late journey, without having observed the least appearance of reeds or of a river. He had, indeed, noticed a hollow, which occasionally contained water, but he saw nothing like the bed of a permanent stream. I became convinced, also, from observation of the country through which we had passed, that the sources of the Macquarie could not be of such magnitude as to give a constant flow to it as a river, and at the same time to supply with water the vast concavity into which it falls. In very heavy rains only could the marshes and adjacent lands be laid wholly under water, since the evaporation alone would be equal to the supply.
The great plains stretching for so many miles to the westward of Mount Harris, even where they were clear of reeds, were covered with shells and the claws of cray-fish and their soil, although an alluvial deposit, was superficially sandy. They bore the appearance not only of frequent inundation, but of the floods having eventually subsided upon them. This was particularly observable at the bottom of the marshes. We did not find any accumulation of rubbish to indicate a rush of water to any one point; but numerous minor channels existed to distribute the floods equally and generally over every part of the area subject to them, and the marks of inundation and subsidence were everywhere the same. The plain we had last crossed, was, in like manner, covered with shells, so that we could not yet be said to be out of the influence of the marshes; besides which we had not crossed the hollow noticed by Mr. Hume, which it was clear we should do, sooner or later.
SITUATION OF THE PARTY.
To have remained in our position would have been impossible, as there was no water either for ourselves or the animals; to have descended into the reeds again, for the purpose of carrying on a minute survey, would, under existing circumstances, have been imprudent. Our provisions were running short, and if a knowledge of the distant interior was to be gained, we had no time to lose. It was determined, therefore, to defer our further examination of the marshes to the period of our return; and to pursue such a course as would soonest and most effectually enable us to determine the character of the western interior.
CHAPTER II.
Prosecution of our course into the interior–Mosquito Brush–Aspect and productions of the country–Hunting party of natives–Courageous conduct of one of them–Mosquitoes–A man missing–Group of hills called New-Year’s Range–Journey down New-Year’s Creek–Tormenting attack of the kangaroo fly–Dreariness and desolation of the country–Oxley’s Table Land–D’Urban’s Group–Continue our journey down New-Year’s Creek– Extreme Disappointment on finding it salt–Fall in with a tribe of natives–Our course arrested by the want of fresh water–Extraordinary sound–Retreat towards the Macquarie.
We left our position at the head of the plain early on the 13th of January, and, ere the sun dipped, had entered a very different country from that in which we had been labouring for the last three weeks. We had, as yet, passed over little other than an alluvial soil, but found that it changed to a red loam in the brushes immediately backing the camp. An open forest track succeeded this, over which the vegetation had an unusual freshness, indicating that the waters had not long subsided from its surface. We shortly afterwards crossed a hollow, similar to that Mr. Hume had described, in which bulrushes had taken the place of reeds. Flooded-gum trees, of large size, were also growing in it, but on either side box alone prevailed, under which the forest grass grew to a considerable height. We crossed the hollow two or three times, and as often remarked the line of separation between those trees. The last time we crossed it the country rose a few feet, and we journeyed for the remainder of the day, at one time over good plains, at another through brushes, until we found water and feed, at which we stopped for the night, after having travelling about thirteen miles on a W. by N. course. The mosquitoes were so extremely troublesome at this place that we called it Mosquito Brush. At this time my men were improving rapidly, and Mr. Hume complained less, and looked better. I hoped, therefore, that our progress would be rapid into the interior.
CREEK LEADING NORTHERLY; PRODUCTIONS OF THE COUNTRY.
On the 14th we took up a westerly course, and in the first instance traversed a plain of great extent; the soil of which was for the most part a red sandy loam, but having patches of light earth upon it. The former was covered with plants of the chenopedia kind; the latter had evidently been quagmires, and bore even then the appearance of moisture. At about seven miles from Mosquito Brush we struck upon a creek of excellent water, upon which the wild fowl were numerous. Some natives was seen, but they were only women, and seemed so alarmed that I purposely avoided them. As the creek was leading northerly, we traced it down on that course for about seven miles, and then halted upon its banks, which were composed of a light tenacious earth. Brushes of casuarina existed near it, but a tortuous box was the prevailing tree, which, excepting for the knees of small vessels, could not have been applied to any use, while the flooded-gum had entirely disappeared. Some ducks were shot in the afternoon, which proved a great treat, as we had been living for some time on salt provisions. Our animals fared worse than ourselves, as the bed of the creek was occupied by coarse rushes, and but little vegetation was elsewhere to be seen. I here killed a beautiful snake, of about four feet in length, and of a bright yellow colour: I had not, however, the means of preserving it. Fraser collected numerous botanical specimens, and among them two kinds of caparis. Indeed a great alteration had taken place in the minor shrubs, and few of those now prevalent had been observed to the eastward of the marshes.
From the creek, which both I and Mr. Hume must have crossed on our respective journeys, we held a westerly course for about fifteen miles, through a country of alternate plain and brush, the latter predominating, and in its general character differing but little from that we had traversed the day previous.
The acacia pendula still continued to exist on the plains backed by dark rows of cypresses (Cupressus callitris). In the brushes, box and casuarina (Casuarina tortuosa), with several other kinds of eucalypti, prevailed; but none of them were sufficiently large to be of use. The plains were so extremely level that a meridian altitude could have been taken without any material error; and I doubt much whether it would have been possible to have traversed them had the season been wet.
HUNTING PARTY OF NATIVES.
As we were travelling through a forest we surprised a hunting party of natives. Mr. Hume and I were considerably in front of our party at the time, and he only had his gun with him. We had been moving along so quietly that we were not for some time observed by them. Three were seated on the ground, under a tree, and two others were busily employed on one of the lower branches cutting out honey. As soon as they saw us, four of them ran away; but the fifth, who wore a cap of emu feathers, stood for a moment looking at us, and then very deliberately dropped out of the tree to the ground. I then advanced towards him, but before I got round a bush that intervened, he had darted away. I was fearful that he was gone to collect his tribe, and, under this impression, rode quickly back for my gun to support Mr. Hume. On my arrival I found the native was before me. He stood about twenty paces from Mr. Hume, who was endeavouring to explain what he was; but seeing me approach he immediately poised his spear at him, as being the nearest. Mr. Hume then unslung his carbine, and presented it; but, as it was evident my re-appearance had startled the savage, I pulled up; and he immediately lowered his weapon. His coolness and courage surprised me, and increased my desire to communicate with him. He had evidently taken both man and horse for one animal, and as long as Mr. Hume kept his seat, the native remained upon his guard; but when he saw him dismount, after the first astonishment had subsided, he stuck his spear into the ground, and walked fearlessly up to him. We easily made him comprehend that we were in search of water; when he pointed to the west, as indicating that we should supply our wants there. He gave his information in a frank and manly way, without the least embarrassment, and when the party passed, he stepped back to avoid the animals, without the smallest confusion. I am sure he was a very brave man; and I left him with the most favourable impressions, and not without hope that he would follow us.
From a more open forest, we entered a dense scrub, the soil in which was of a bright-red colour and extremely sandy, and the timber of various kinds. A leafless species of stenochylus aphylta, which, from the resemblance, I at first thought one of the polygonum tribe, was very abundant in the open spaces, and the young cypresses were occasionally so close as to turn us from the direction in which we had been moving. In the scrub we crossed Mr. Hume’s tract, and, from the appearance of the ground, I was led to believe mine could not be very distant.
FATE OF THE MACQUARIE.
We struck upon a creek late in the afternoon, at which we stopped; New Year’s Range bearing nearly due west at about four miles’ distance. Had we struck upon my track, the question about which we were so anxious would still have been undecided; but the circumstance of our having crossed Mr. Hume’s, which, from its direction, could not be mistaken, convinced me of the fate of the Macquarie, and I felt assured that, whatever channels it might have for the distribution of its waters, to the north of our line of route, the equality of surface of the interior would never permit it again to form a river; and that it only required an examination of the lower parts of the marshes to confirm the theory of the ultimate evaporation and absorption of its waters, instead of their contributing to the permanence of an inland sea, as Mr. Oxley had supposed.
NEW YEAR’S RANGE.
On the 17th of January we encamped under New Year’s Range, which is the first elevation in the interior of Eastern Australia to the westward of Mount Harris. Yet when at its base, I do not think that we had ascended above forty feet higher than the plains in the neighbourhood of that last mentioned eminence. There certainly is a partial rise of country, where the change of soil takes place from the alluvial deposits of the marshes, to the sandy loam so prevalent on the plains we had lately traversed; but I had to regret that I was unable to decide so interesting a question by other than bare conjecture.
Notwithstanding that Mr. Hume had already been on them, I encouraged hopes that a second survey of the country from the highest point of New Year’s Range would enable us to form some opinion of it, by which to direct our future movements; but I was disappointed.
The two wooded hills I had seen from Oxley’s Table Land were visible from the range, bearing south; and other eminences bore by compass S.W. and W. by S.; but in every other direction the horizon was unbroken. To the westward, there appeared to be a valley of considerable extent, stretching N. and S., in which latter direction there was a long strip of cleared ground, that looked very like the sandy bed of a broad and rapid river. The bare possibility of the reality determined me to ascertain by inspection, whether my conjecture was right, and Mr. Hume accompanied me on this excursion. After we left the camp we crossed a part of the range, and travelled for some time through open forest land that would afford excellent grazing in most seasons. We passed some hollows, and noticed many huts that had been occupied near them; but the hollows were now quite dry, and the huts had been long deserted. After about ten miles’ ride we reached a plain of white sand, from which New Year’s Range was distinctly visible; and this no doubt was the spot that had attracted my attention. Pools of water continued on it, from which circumstance it would appear that the sand had a substratum of clay or marl. From this plain we proceeded southerly through acacia scrub, bounding gently undulating forest land, and at length ascended some small elevations that scarcely deserved the name of hills. They had fragments of quartz profusely scattered over them; and the soil, which was sandy, contained particles of mica.
MOSQUITOES.
The view from them was confused, nor did any fresh object meet our observation. We had, however, considerably neared the two wooded hills, and the elevations that from the range were to the S.W., now bore N.W. of us. We had wandered too far from the camp to admit of our returning to it to sleep; we therefore commenced a search for water, and having found some, we tethered our horses near it for the night, and should have been tolerably comfortable, had not the mosquitoes been so extremely troublesome. They defied the power of smoke, and annoyed me so much, that, hot as it was, I rolled myself in my boat cloak, and perspired in consequence to such a degree, that my clothes were wet through, and I had to stand at the fire in the morning to dry them. Mr. Hume, who could not bear such confinement, suffered the penalty, and was most unmercifully bitten.
A MAN MISSING.
We reached the camp about noon the following day, and learnt, to our vexation, that one of the men, Norman, had lost himself shortly after we started, and had not since been heard of. Dawber, my overseer, was out in search of him. I awaited his return, therefore, before I took any measures for the man’s recovery; nor was I without hopes that Dawber would have found him, as it appeared he had taken one of the horses with him, and Dawber, by keeping his tracks, might eventually have overtaken him. He returned, however, about 3 p.m. unsuccessful, when Mr. Hume and I mounted our horses, and proceeded in different directions in quest of him, but were equally disappointed.
We met at the creek in the dark, and returned to the camp together, when I ordered the cypresses on the range to be set on fire, and thus illuminated the country round for many miles. In the morning, however, as Norman had not made his appearance, we again started in search of the poor fellow, on whose account I was now most uneasy; for his horse, it appeared, had escaped him, and was found with the others at watering time.
I did not return to the camp until after sunset, more fatigued than I recollect ever having been before. I was, however, rejoiced on being informed that the object of my anxiety was safe in his tent; that he had caught sight of the hill the evening before, and that he had reached the camp shortly after I left it. He had been absent three nights and two days, and had not tasted water or food of any kind during that time.
To my enquiries he replied, that, being on horseback, he thought he could have overtaken a kangaroo, which passed him whilst waiting at the creek for the cattle, and that in the attempt, he lost himself. It would appear that he crossed the creek in the dark, and his horse escaped from him on the first night. He complained more of thirst than of hunger, although he had drunk at the watering-place to such an excess, on his return, as to make him vomit; but, though not a little exhausted, he had escaped better than I should have expected.
COUNTRY AROUND NEW YEAR’S RANGE.
New Year’s Range consists of a principal group of five hills, the loftiest of which does not measure 300 feet in height. It has lateral ridges, extending to the N.N.W. on the one hand, and bending in to the creek on the other. The former have a few cypresses, sterculia, and iron bark upon them; the latter are generally covered with brush, under box; the brush for the most part consisting of two distinct species of stenochylus, and a new acacia. The whole range is of quartz formation, small fragments of which are profusely scattered over the ridges, and are abundantly incrusted with oxide of iron. The soil in the neighbourhood of New Year’s Range is a red loam, with a slight mixture of sand. An open forest country lies between it and the creek, and it is not at all deficient in pasture.
NEW YEAR’S CREEK.
That a change of soil takes place to the westward of the creek, is obvious, from the change of vegetation, the most remarkable feature of which is the sudden check given to the further extension of the acacia pendula, which is not to be found beyond it, it being succeeded by another acacia of the same species and habits; neither do the plants of the chenopedia class exist in the immediate vicinity of the range.
I place these hills, as far as my observations will allow, in east lon. 146 degrees 32 minutes 15 seconds, and in lat. 30 degrees 21 minutes south; the variation of the compass being 6 degrees 40 minutes easterly.
As New Year’s Creek was leading northerly, it had been determined to trace it down as long as it should keep that course, or one to the westward of it. We broke up the camp, therefore, under the range, on the evening of the 18th, and moved to the creek, about two miles north of the place at which we had before crossed it, with the intention of prosecuting our journey on the morrow. But both Mr. Hume and I were so fatigued that we were glad of an opportunity to rest, even for a single day. We remained stationary, therefore, on the 19th; nor was I without hope that the natives whom we had surprised in the woods, would have paid us a visit, since Mr. Hume had met them in his search for Norman, and they had promised not only to come to us, but to do all in their power to find the man, whose footsteps some of them had crossed. They did not, however, venture near us; and I rather attribute their having kept aloof, to the circumstance of Mr. Hume’s having fired a shot, shortly after he left them, as a signal to Norman, in the event of his being within hearing of the report. They must have been alarmed at so unusual a sound; but I am sure nothing was further from Mr. Hume’s intention than to intimidate them; his knowledge of their manners and customs, as well as his partiality to the natives, being equally remarkable. The circumstance is, however, a proof of the great caution that is necessary in communicating with them.
ANNOYED BY KANGAROO FLIES.
I have said that we remained stationary the day after we left the range, with a view to enjoy a little rest; it would, however, have been infinitely better if we had moved forward. Our camp was infested by the kangaroo fly, which settled upon us in thousands. They appeared to rise from the ground, and as fast as they were swept off were succeeded by fresh numbers. It was utterly impossible to avoid their persecution, penetrating as they did into the very tents.
The men were obliged to put handkerchiefs over their faces, and stockings upon their hands; but they bit through every thing. It was to no purpose that I myself shifted from place to place; they still followed, or were equally numerous everywhere. To add to our discomfort, the animals were driven almost to madness, and galloped to and fro in so furious a manner that I was apprehensive some of them would have been lost. I never experienced such a day of torment; and only when the sun set, did these little creatures cease from their attacks.
SUDDENLY RELIEVED.
It will be supposed that we did not stay to subject ourselves to another trial; indeed it was with some degree of horror that the men saw the first light of morning streak the horizon. They got up immediately, and we moved down the creek, on a northerly course, without breakfasting as usual. We found that dense brushes of casuarina lined the creek on both sides, beyond which, to our left, there was open rising ground, on which eucalypti, cypresses, and the acacia longifolia, prevailed; whilst to the east, plains seemed to predominate.
Although we had left the immediate spot at which the kangaroo flies (cabarus) seemed to be collected, I did not expect that we should have got rid of them so completely as we did. None of them were seen during the day; a proof that they were entirely local. They were about half the size of a common house fly, had flat brown bodies, and their bite, although sharp and piercing, left no irritation after it.
About noon we stopped at the creek side to take some refreshment. The country bore an improved appearance around us, and the cattle found abundance of pasture. It was evident that the creek had been numerously frequented by the natives, although no recent traces of them could be found. It had a bed of coarse red granite, of the fragments of which the natives had constructed a weir for the purpose of taking fish. The appearance of this rock in so isolated a situation, is worthy of the consideration of geologists.
DESOLATION OF THE COUNTRY.
The promise of improvement I have noticed, gradually disappeared as we proceeded on our day’s journey, and we at length found ourselves once more among brushes, and on the edge of plains, over which the rhagodia prevailed. Nothing could exceed in dreariness the appearance of the tracks through which we journeyed, on this and the two following days. The creek on which we depended for a supply of water, gave such alarming indications of a total failure, that I at one time, had serious thoughts of abandoning my pursuit of it. We passed hollow after hollow that had successively dried up, although originally of considerable depth; and, when we at length found water, it was doubtful how far we could make use of it. Sometimes in boiling it left a sediment nearly equal to half its body; at other times it was so bitter as to be quite unpalatable. That on which we subsisted was scraped up from small puddles, heated by the sun’s rays; and so uncertain were we of finding water at the end of the day’s journey, that we were obliged to carry a supply on one of the bullocks. There was scarcely a living creature, even of the feathered race, to be seen to break the stillness of the forest. The native dogs alone wandered about, though they had scarcely strength to avoid us; and their melancholy howl, breaking in upon the ear at the dead of the night, only served to impress more fully on the mind the absolute loneliness of the desert.
It appeared, from their traces that the natives had lingered on this ground, on which they had perhaps been born, as long as it continued to afford them a scanty though precarious subsistence; but that they had at length been forced from it. Neither fish nor muscles remained in the creek, nor emus nor kangaroos on the plains. How then could an European expect to find food in deserts through which the savage wandered in vain? There is no doubt of the fate that would have overtaken any one of the party who might have strayed away, and I was happy to find that Norman’s narrow escape had made a due impression on the minds of his comrades.
SANDY PLAINS; LEAVE THE CREEK.
We passed some considerable plains, lying to the eastward of the creek, on parts of which the grass, though growing in tufts, was of luxuriant growth. They were, however, more generally covered with salsola and rhagodia, and totally destitute of other vegetation, the soil upon them being a red sandy loam. The paths across the plains, which varied in breadth from three to eight miles, were numerous; but they had not been recently trodden. The creek continued to have a thick brush of casuarina and acacia near it, to the westward of which there was a rising open forest track; the timber upon it being chiefly box, cypress, and the acacia longifolia. It was most probably connected with New Year’s Range, those elevations being about thirty miles distant. It terminated in some gentle hills which, though covered in places with acacia shrub, were sufficiently open to afford an extensive view. From their summit Oxley’s Table Land, towards which we had been gradually working our way, was distinctly visible, distant about twenty miles, and bearing by compass W. by S. On descending from these hills (called the Pink Hills, from the colour of a flower upon them) which were scattered over with fragments of slaty quartz, we traversed a box flat, apparently subject to overflow, having a barren sandy scrub to its left. I had desired the men to preserve a W.N.W. direction, on leaving them, supposing that that course would have kept them near the creek; but, on overtaking the party, I found that they had wandered completely away from it. The fact was, that the creek had taken a sudden bend to the eastward of N. and had thus thrown them out. It was with some difficulty that we regained it before sunset; and we were at length obliged to stop for the night at a small plain, about a quarter of a mile short of it, but we had the satisfaction of having excellent feed for the animals.
OXLEY’S TABLE LAND.
Fearful that New Year’s Creek would take us too far to the eastward, and being anxious to keep westward as much as possible, it struck me that we could not, under existing circumstances, do better than make for Oxley’s Table Land. Water, I knew, we should find in a swamp at it’s base, and we might discover some more encouraging feature than I had observed on my hasty visit to it. We left the creek, therefore on the 23rd, and once more took up a westerly course. Passing through a generally open country, we stopped at noon to rest the animals; and afterwards got on an excellent grazing forest track, which continued to the brush, through another part of which I had penetrated to the marsh more to the south. While making our way through it, we came upon a small pond of water, and must have alarmed some natives, as there was a fresh made fire close to it. Our journey had been unusually long, and the cattle had felt the heat so much, that the moment they saw water they rushed into it; and, as this created some confusion, I thought it best to stop where we were for the night.
In the morning, Mr. Hume walked with me to the hill, a distance of about a mile. It is not high enough to deserve the name of a mountain, although a beautiful feature in the country, and showing well from any point of view. We ascended it with an anxiety that may well be imagined, but were wholly disappointed in our most sanguine expectations. Our chief object, in this second visit to Oxley’s Table Land, had been to examine, more at leisure, the face of the country around it, and to discover, if possible, some fixed point on which to move.
If the rivers of the interior had already exhausted themselves, what had we to expect from a creek whose diminished appearance where we left it made us apprehend its speedy termination, and whose banks we traversed under constant apprehension? In any other country I should have followed such a water course, in hopes of its ultimately leading to some reservoir; but here I could encourage no such favourable anticipation.
The only new object that struck our sight was a remarkable and distant hill of conical shape, bearing by compass S. 10 E. To the southward and westward, in the direction of D’Urban’s Group, a dense and apparently low brush extended; but to the N. and N.W., there was a regular alternation of wood and plain. I left Mr. Hume upon the hill, that he might the more readily notice any smoke made by the natives; and returned myself to the camp about one o’clock, to move the party to the swamp. Mr. Hume’s perseverance was of little avail. The region he had been overlooking was, to all appearance, uninhabited, nor did a single fire indicate that there was even a solitary wanderer upon its surface.
EXCURSION TO D’URBAN’S GROUP.
Our situation, at this time, was extremely embarrassing, and the only circumstance on which we had to congratulate ourselves was, the improved condition of our men; for several of the cattle and horses were in a sad plight. The weather had been so extremely oppressive, that we had found it impossible to keep them free from eruptions. I proposed to Mr. Hume, therefore, to give them a few days’ rest, and to make an excursion, with such of them as were serviceable, to D’Urban’s Group. We were both of us unwilling to return to the creek, but we foresaw that a blind reliance upon fortune, in our next movements, might involve us in inextricable difficulty.
On the other hand, there was a very great risk in delay. It was more than probable, from the continued drought, that our retreat would be cut off from the want of water, or that we should only be enabled to effect our retreat with loss of most of the animals. The hope, however, of our intersecting some stream, or of falling upon a better country, prevailed over other considerations; and the excursion was, consequently, determined upon.
DISTRESS FROM WANT OF WATER.
We left the camp on the 25th, accompanied by Hopkinson and the tinker; and, almost immediately after, entered an acacia scrub of the most sterile description, and one, through which it would have been impossible to have found a passage for the boat carriage. The soil was almost a pure sand, and the lower branches of the trees were decayed so generally as to give the whole an indescribable appearance of desolation. About mid-day, we crossed a light sandy plain, on which there were some dirty puddles of water. They were so shallow as to leave the backs of the frogs in them exposed, and they had, in consequence, been destroyed by solar heat, and were in a state of putrefaction. Our horses refused to drink, but it was evident that some natives must have partaken of this sickening beverage only a few hours before our arrival. Indeed, it was clear that a wandering family must have slept near this spot, as we observed a fresh made gunneah (or native hut), and their foot-prints were so fresh along the line we were pursuing, that we momentarily expected to have overtaken them. It was late in the evening when we got out of this brush into better and more open ground, where, in ordinary seasons we should, no doubt, have found abundance of water. But we now searched in vain for it, and were contented to be enabled to give our wearied animals better food than they had tasted for many days, the forest grass, though in tufts, being abundant.
We brought up for the night at the edge of a scrub, having travelled from thirty-two to thirty-five miles, judging the distance from the mountains still to be about twelve.
BEARINGS FROM OXLEY’S TABLE LAND.
In the morning we started at an early hour, and immediately entered the brush, beneath which we had slept; pursuing a westerly course through it. After a short ride, we found ourselves upon a plain, that was crowded with flocks of cockatoos. Here we got a supply of water, such as it was–so mixed with slime as to hang in strings between the fingers; and, after a hasty breakfast, we proceeded on our journey, mostly through a barren sandy scrub that was a perfect burrow from the number of wombats in it, to within a mile of the hill group, where the country appeared like one continuous meadow to the very base of them. I never saw anything like the luxuriance of the grass on this tract of country, waving as it did higher than our horses’ middles as we rode through it. We ascended the S.W. face of the mountain to an elevation of at least 800 feet above the level of the plain, and had some difficulty in scaling the masses of rock that opposed themselves to our progress. But on gaining the summit, we were amply repaid for our trouble. The view extended far and wide, but we were again disappointed in the main object that had induced us to undertake the journey. I took the following bearings by compass. Oxley’s Table Land bore N. 40 E. distant forty-five miles; small and distant hill due E.; conical peak seen from Oxley’s Table Land S. 60 E., very distant; long ridge of high land, S.E., distant thirty-five miles; high land, S. 30 E., distant thirty miles; long range, S. 25 W.
To the westward, as a medium point, the horizon was unbroken, and the eye wandered over an apparently endless succession of wood and plain. A brighter green than usual marked the course of the mountain torrents in several places, but there was no glittering light among the trees, no smoke to betray a water hole, or to tell that a single inhabitant was traversing the extensive region we were overlooking. We were obliged to return to the plain on which we had breakfasted, and to sleep upon it.
D’URBAN’S GROUP.
D’Urban’s Group is of compact sandstone formation. Its extreme length is from E.S.E. to W.N.W., and cannot be more than from seven to nine miles, whilst its breadth is from two to four. The central space forms a large basin, in which there are stunted pines and eucalyptus scrub, amid huge fragments of rocks. It rises like an island from the midst of the ocean, and as I looked upon it from the plains below, I could without any great stretch of the imagination, picture to myself that it really was such. Bold and precipitous, it only wanted the sea to lave its base; and I cannot but think that such must at no very remote period have been the case, and that the immense flat we had been traversing, is of comparatively recent formation.
We reached the camp on the 28th of the month, by nearly the same route; and were happy to find that, after the few days’ rest they had enjoyed, there was a considerable improvement in the animals.
Our experience of the nature of the country to the southward, and the westward, was such as to deter us from risking anything, by taking such a direction as was most agreeable to our views. Nothing remained to us but to follow the creek, or to retreat; and as we could only be induced to adopt the last measure when every other expedient should have failed, we determined on pursuing our original plan, of tracing New Year’s Creek as far as practicable.
DESCRIPTION OF OXLEY’S TABLE LAND.
Oxley’s Table Land is situated in lat. 29 degrees 57 minutes 30 seconds, and in E. long. 145 degrees 43 minutes 30 seconds, the mean variation being 6.32 easterly. It consists of two hills that appear to have been rent asunder by some convulsion of nature, since the passage between them is narrow and their inner faces are equally perpendicular. The hill which I have named after the late Surveyor-general, is steep on all sides; but the other gradually declines from the south, and at length loses itself in a large plain that extends to the north. It is from four to five miles in length, and is picturesque in appearance, and lightly wooded. A few cypresses were growing on Oxley’s Table Land; but it had, otherwise, very little timber upon its summit. Both hills are of sandstone formation, and there are some hollows upon the last that deserve particular notice. They have the appearance of having been formed by eddies of water, being deeper in the centre than at any other part, and contain fragments and slabs of sandstone of various size and breadth, without a particle of soil or of sand between them. It is to be observed that the edges of these slabs, which were perfect parallelograms, were unbroken, and that they were as clean as if they had only just been turned out of the hand of the mason. We counted thirteen of these hollows in one spot about twenty-five feet in diameter, but they are without doubt of periodical formation, since a single hollow was observed lower than the summit of the hill upon its south extremity, that had evidently long been exposed to the action of the atmosphere, and had a general coating of moss over it.
CONTINUE THE JOURNEY; DOWN NEW YEAR’S CREEK.
We left Oxley’s Table Land on the morning of the 31st of January, pursuing a northern course through the brush and across a large plain, moving parallel to the smaller hill, and keeping it upon our left. The soil upon this plain differed in character from that on the plains to the eastward, and was much freer from sand. We stopped to dine at a spot, whence Oxley’s Table Land bore by compass, S. by W., distant about twelve miles. Continuing our journey, at 2 p.m. we cleared the plain, and entered a tract covered with the polygonum junceum, on a soil evidently the deposit of floods. Box-trees were thinly scattered over it, and among the polygonum, the crested pigeons were numerous. These general appearances, together with a dip of country to the N.N.W., made us conclude that we were approaching the creek, and we accordingly intersected it on a N.N.E. course, at about three miles’ distance from where we had dined. It had, however, undergone so complete a change, and had increased so much in size and in the height of its banks, that we were at a loss to recognise it. Still, with all these favourable symptoms, there was not a drop of water in it. But small shells lay in heaps in its bed, or were abundantly scattered over it; and we remarked that they differed from those on the plains of the Macquarie. A circumstance that surprised us much, was the re-appearance of the flooded-gum upon its banks, and that too of a large size. We had not seen any to the westward of the marshes, and we were, consequently, led to indulge in more sanguine expectation as to our ultimate success than we had ever ventured to do before.
The party crossed to the right bank of the creek, and then moved in a westerly direction along it in search of water. A brush extended to our right, and some broken stony ground, rather elevated, was visible, to which Mr. Hume rode; nor did he join me again until after I had halted the party for the night.
DISTRESSED FOR WATER.
My search for water had been unsuccessful, and the sun had set, when I came upon a broad part of the creek that appeared very favourable for an encampment, as it was encompassed by high banks, and would afford the men a greater facility of watching the cattle, that I knew would stray away if they could.
My anxiety for them led me to wander down the bed of the creek, when, to my joy, I found a pond of water within a hundred yards of the tents. It is impossible for me to describe the relief I felt at this success, or the gladness it spread among the men. Mr. Hume joined me at dusk, and informed me that he had made a circuit, and had struck upon the creek about three miles below us but that, in tracing it up, he had not found a drop of water until he came to the pond near which we had so providentially encamped. On the following morning, we held a westerly course over an open country for about eight miles and a half. The prevailing timber appeared to be a species of eucalypti, with rough bark, of small size, and evidently languishing from the want of moisture. The soil over which we travelled was far from bad, but there was a total absence of water upon it. At 6 p.m. Oxley’s Table Land was distant from us about fifteen miles, bearing S. 20 E. by compass.
We had not touched upon the creek from the time we left it in the morning, having wandered from it in a northerly direction, along a native path that we intersected, and that seemed to have been recently trodden, since footsteps were fresh upon it. At sunset, we crossed a broad dry creek that puzzled us extremely, and were shortly afterwards obliged to stop for the night upon a plain beyond it. We had, during the afternoon, bent down to the S.W. in hopes that we should again have struck upon New Year’s Creek; and, under an impression that we could not be far from it, Mr. Hume and I walked across the plain, to ascertain if it was sufficiently near to be of any service to us. We came upon a creek, but could not decide whether it was the one for which we had been searching, or another.
Its bed was so perfectly even that it was impossible to say to what point it flowed, more especially as all remains of debris had mouldered away. It was, however, extremely broad, and evidently, at times, held a furious torrent. In the centre of it, at one of the angles, we discovered a pole erected, and at first thought, from the manner in which it was propped up, that some unfortunate European must have placed it there as a mark to tell of his wanderings, but we afterwards concluded that it might be some superstitious rite of the natives, in consequence of the untowardness of the season, as it seemed almost inconceivable that an European could have wandered to such a distance from the located districts in safety.
REACH A LARGE RIVER.
The creek had flooded-gum growing upon its banks, and, on places apparently subject to flood, a number of tall straight saplings were observed by us. We returned to the camp, after a vain search for water, and were really at a loss what direction next to pursue. The men kept the cattle pretty well together, and, as we were not delayed by any preparations for breakfast, they were saddled and loaded at an early hour. The circumstance of there having been natives in the neighbourhood, of whom we had seen so few traces of late, assured me that water was at hand, but in what direction it was impossible to guess. As the path we had observed was leading northerly, we took up that course, and had not proceeded more than a mile upon it, when we suddenly found ourselves on the banks of a noble river. Such it might in truth be called, where water was scarcely to be found. The party drew up upon a bank that was from forty to forty-five feet above the level of the stream. The channel of the river was front seventy to eighty yards broad, and enclosed an unbroken sheet of water, evidently very deep, and literally covered with pelicans and other wild fowl. Our surprise and delight may better be imagined than described. Our difficulties seemed to be at an end, for here was a river that promised to reward all our exertions, and which appeared every moment to increase in importance to our imagination. Coming from the N.E., and flowing to the S.W., it had a capacity of channel that proved that we were as far from its source as from its termination. The paths of the natives on either side of it were like well trodden roads; and the trees that overhung it were of beautiful and gigantic growth.
DISAPPOINTMENT ON FINDING THE RIVER SALT.
Its banks were too precipitous to allow of our watering the cattle, but the men eagerly descended to quench their thirst, which a powerful sun had contributed to increase; nor shall I ever forget the cry of amazement that followed their doing so, or the looks of terror and disappointment with which they called out to inform me that the water was so salt as to be unfit to drink! This was, indeed, too true: on tasting it, I found it extremely nauseous, and strongly impregnated with salt, being apparently a mixture of sea and fresh water. Whence this arose, whether from local causes, or from a communication with some inland sea, I knew not, but the discovery was certainly a blow for which I was not prepared. Our hopes were annihilated at the moment of their apparent realization. The cup of joy was dashed out of our hands before we had time to raise it to our lips. Notwithstanding this disappointment, we proceeded down the river, and halted at about five miles, being influenced by the goodness of the feed to provide for the cattle as well as circumstances would permit. They would not drink of the river water, but stood covered in it for many hours, having their noses alone exposed above the stream. Their condition gave me great uneasiness. It was evident they could not long hold out under their excessive thirst, and unless we should procure some fresh water, it would impossible for us to continue our journey. On a closer examination, the river appeared to me much below its ordinary level, and its current was scarcely perceptible. We placed sticks to ascertain if there was a rise or fall of tide, but could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion, although there was undoubtedly a current in it. Yet, as I stood upon its banks at sunset, when not a breath of air existed to break the stillness of the waters below me, and saw their surface kept in constant agitation by the leaping of fish, I doubted whether the river could supply itself so abundantly, and the rather imagined, that it owed such abundance, which the pelicans seemed to indicate was constant, to some mediterranean sea or other. Where, however, were the human inhabitants of this distant and singular region? The signs of a numerous population were around us, but we had not seen even a solitary wanderer. The water of the river was not, by any means, so salt as that of the ocean, but its taste was precisely similar. Could it be that its unnatural state had driven its inhabitants from its banks?
One would have imagined that our perplexities would have been sufficient for one day, but ere night closed, they increased upon us, although our anxiety, with regard to the cattle, was happily removed. Mr. Hume with his usual perseverance, walked out when the camp was formed; and, at a little distance from it, ascended a ridge of pure sand, crowned with cypresses. From this, he descended to the westward, and, at length, struck upon the river, where a reef of rocks creased its channel, and formed a dry passage from one side to the other; but the bend, which the river must have taken, appeared to him so singular, that he doubted whether it was the same beside which we had been travelling during the day. Curiosity led him to cross it, when he found a small pond of fresh water on a tongue of land, and, immediately afterwards, returned to acquaint me with the welcome tidings. It was too late to move, but we had, at least, the prospect of a comfortable breakfast in the morning.
JUNCTION OF NEW YEAR’S CREEK.
In consequence of the doubts that hung upon Mr. Hume’s mind, as to the course of the river, we arranged that the animals should precede us to the fresh water; and that we should keep close in upon the stream, to ascertain that point. After traversing a deep bight, we arrived nearly as soon as the party, at the appointed rendezvous. The rocks composing the channel of the river at the crossing place, were of indurated clay. In the course of an hour, the animals appearing quite refreshed, we proceeded on our journey, and at about four miles crossed New Year’s Creek, at its junction with the salt river. We passed several parts of the main channel that were perfectly dry, and were altogether at a loss to account for the current we undoubtedly had observed in the river when we first came upon it. At midday D’Urban’s Group bore S. 65 E. distant about 32 miles. We made a little westing in the afternoon. The river continued to maintain its character and appearance, its lofty banks, and its long still reaches: while, however, the blue-gum trees upon its banks were of magnificent size, the soil had but little vegetation upon it, although an alluvial deposit.
We passed over vast spaces covered with the polygonum junceum, that bore all the appearance of the flooded tracks in the neighbourhood of the marshes, and on which the travelling was equally distressing to the animals. Indeed, it had been sufficiently evident to us that the waters of this river were not always confined to its channel, capacious as it was, but that they inundated a belt of barren land, that varied in width from a quarter of a mile to a mile, when they were checked by an outer embankment that prevented them from spreading generally over the country, and upon the neighbouring plains. At our halting place, the cattle drank sparingly of the water, but it acted as a violent purgative both on them and the men who partook of it.
NATIVE VILLAGE.
On the 5th, the river led us to the southward and westward. Early in the day, we passed a group of seventy huts, capable of holding from twelve to fifteen men each. They appeared to be permanent habitations, and all of them fronted the same point of the compass. In searching amongst them we observed two beautifully made nets, of about ninety yards in length. The one had much larger meshes than the other, and was, most probably, intended to take kangaroos; but the other was evidently a fishing net.
In one hut, the floor of which was swept with particular care, a number of white balls, as of pulverised shells or lime, had been deposited–the use of which we could not divine. A trench was formed round the hut to prevent the rain from running under it, and the whole was arranged with more than ordinary attention.
TERROR OF THE NATIVES.
We had not proceeded very far when we came suddenly upon the tribe to which this village, as it might be called, belonged.
In breaking through some brush to an open space that was bounded on one side by the river, we observed three or four natives, seated on a bank at a considerable distance from us; and directly in the line on which we were moving. The nature of the ground so completely favoured our approach, that they did not become aware of it until we were within a few yards of them, and had ascended a little ridge, which, as we afterwards discovered, ended in an abrupt precipice upon the river, not more than thirty yards to our right. The crack of the drayman’s whip was the first thing that aroused their attention. They gazed upon us for a moment, and then started up and assumed an attitude of horror and amazement; their terror apparently increasing upon them. We stood perfectly immovable, until at length they gave a fearful yell, and darted out of sight.
THEY FIRE THE BUSH.
Their cry brought about a dozen more natives from the river, whom we had not before observed, but who now ran after their comrades with surprising activity, and without once venturing to look behind them. As our position was a good one, we determined to remain upon it, until we should ascertain the number and disposition of the natives. We had not been long stationary, when we heard a crackling noise in the distance, and it soon became evident that the bush had been fired. It was, however, impossible that we could receive any injury on the narrow ridge upon which we stood, so that we waited very patiently to see the end of this affair.
REMARKS ON THE NATIVES; DISEASE AMONG THEM.
In a short time the fire approached pretty near to us, and dense columns of smoke rose into the air over our heads. One of the natives, who had been on the bank, now came out of the bush, exactly from the spot into which he had retreated. He advanced a few paces towards us, and bending his body so that his hands rested on his knees, he fixed his gaze upon us for some time; but, seeing that we remained immovable, he began to throw himself into the most extravagant attitudes, shaking his foot from time to time. When he found that all his violence had no effect, he turned his rear to us in a most laughable manner, and absolutely groaned in spirit when he found that this last insult failed of success.
He stood perplexed and not knowing what next to do, which gave Mr. Hume an opportunity to call out to him, and with considerable address he at length got the savage to approach close up to him; Mr. Hume himself having advanced a short distance from the animals in the first instance. As soon as I thought the savage had sufficiently recovered from his alarm, I went up to him with a tomahawk, the use of which he immediately guessed. We now observed that the natives who had fled from the river, had been employed in setting a net. They had placed it in a semicircle, with either end to the shore, and rude pieces of wood were attached to it to keep the upper