Burrundie is the last—or first, whichever you please—of the overland telegraph stations. Here there was hospitable entertainment at the hands of the station master; then on to the Howley Cottages, 100 miles from Palmerston. As the unpremeditated visit into the regions of Chinese no-saveedom had interfered with the day's progress, at the Howley Cottages I was made comfortable for the night.
My voucher book was now again constantly in use. I had tried hard when in at the Chinamen's mine to possess myself of a celestial's signature, as a curio, but had not succeeded. Was it possible that the book-fiend had been there too?
Next day, from the Howley, I made fairly good time, passed the Adelaide River (the half-way refreshment-house on the railway, 77 miles from Palmerston), and Rum Jungle (58 miles fromPalmerston) and got in as far as the 46 mile cottages, where on the warm invitation of the resident ganger, I camped until morning.
* * * *
From about Burrundie the cyclist is given the choice of occasional lengths of old pads (white clay soil mostly), alongside the railway line, and of the ballast or embankments, between or close by the rails. I chose a little of each.
Hilly country extends from Pine Creek to about the Adelaide River. The various rivers are thickly lined with screw palms and thickets of stout bamboos, and the country generally is substantially timbered.
The only white resident at Rum Jungle (a railway camp, on a small watercourse, tributary to the Finniss, where the jungle is remarkably dense; the prefix may be reminiscent of railway-construction days), said there was plenty of time yet to find alligators in the Darwin River, between the jungle and Palmerston, although the water was getting low. But why should I go hunting for them when I bore away hence as trophies, still preserved, two alligator teeth?
And, speaking of alligators, it has recently been printed—"there are no snakes in the Northern Territory." There are, in their proper season. You may see them even without drinking heavily. I cycled over two and left them behind, on a narrow pad by the eastern side of the railway line, within a few hours of leaving the Howley cottages.
The size of one was larger than I would care to say. It remained quite motionless after the bicycle had passed over it; so I dismounted and threw a stick to ascertain whether the docile-seeming reptile was alive. It was. First rising aloft its head swiftly to bite at the passing piece of timber, it then immediately turned and commenced wriggling towards myself. I never mounted a bicycle more quickly in my life, nor did a quarter mile in faster time.
The ganger at the 46 mile cottages and the guard of the passenger train running between Palmerston and Pine Creek, as well as the writer, have cause to know that in the matter of snakes, as of some few other things, the Northern Territory isn't Ireland.
From the 46th mile I kept entirely to the railway line (a blackfellow at one of the cottages dubbed the bicycle "kangaroo engine") and before midday I was within ten miles of Palmerston.
There was a fairly-good road, its surface covered with fine brown ironstone rubble, for the remainder of the distance. Very high trees and a profuse wealth of tropical vegetation lined the track; but "cyclone" was writ large and in unmistakable characters everywhere—in uprooted trees and other features.
At two and a half-miles from Palmerston are the railway workshops and several suburban dwelling houses.
* * * *
On arriving opposite the first of these buildings I dismounted to take off my hat and wipe a little of thedampness from my forehead; and a sentence picked up somewhere came back to mind. I looked fondly upon the bicycle which had served me so well, pressed gently one of its handles, and whispered:—
"Thanks, Diamond, 'Es ist vollbracht.'"
With a sigh of relief the pen is laid down and the scissors are picked up. The few next following paragraphs are fromThe Northern Territory Times:—
"Mr. Murif, the gentleman who undertook to ride across the continent on a bicycle, arrived in Palmerston on Friday afternoon, accompanied by several of the local cyclists, who picked him up at the 2½ mile. After riding round the town the party proceeded to the point below Fort Hill, where the overlander's bicycle was dipped in the sea, and the point christened 'Bicycle Point' in commemoration of the event.
"On Saturday evening Mr. Murif was entertained by the Athletic Club at a smoke social in the Town Hall. The Government Resident presided over a large gathering. Murif was heartily welcomed.
"He declared that he could have accomplished the trip in less time, but if good time was made nobody would follow him.He would like another man to try the journey.
"He was sorry, he said that he could not say as much as he would like in thanking the residents of the Territory for the kindness they had shown him since his arrival amongst them. He had also to thank the Athletic Association, who were treating him in a right royal manner, and also those gentlemen who had sokindly come out to meet him on Friday afternoon. In fact, ever since he had started upon his trip, that one word 'Thanks!' had ever been upon his tongue. He had had to say thanks for kindnesses received at the very commencement of his journey; all along the route he had had occasion to use the word, and now when his task was completed and all his troubles over, all that he could say, in return for the hearty welcome they had tendered him, was that one little word—thanks. Down south he had always heard much of the hospitality of Port Darwinites, but he had not the remotest idea of its munificence until he came among them."
* * * *
Again:—"When seen byThe Advertisercorrespondent on Saturday morning Murif was busy cleaning his machine after the sea bath. On being congratulated on his safe arrival he replied, 'Yes, both of us,' pointing to the bicycle, 'are safe and strong as ever.' The cycle, indeed, looked in perfect condition, the wheels running as true as when they left the workshop. Murif was well and in the pink of condition."
And among other things, in reply to an interviewer:—"I wish you would do me a favor. I want to thank all those whom I met on the road for the most hospitable manner in which they treated me. Never have I met a better class of men. I was treated like a prince whilsten route, and never once was I refused anything I asked. Information re the track ahead was readily tendered, and it was with regretthat I had to leave my new friends who had been so kind to me. I had heard that the Territorians were the essence of hospitality, and now I fully believe it."
* * * *
These Palmerstonians, who treated me so handsomely, are a laughter-loving and generously hospitable people.
The European residents, being very largely civil servants are as such prohibited from entering the field of politics. This disability hangs heavily on them, and is ruinously enervating and mischievous in its effects. Peacefully, contentedly, unprogressively as the calm and happy dead are they. Earnest consideration and study of the wants and welfare of the land in which they live are neglected and the action to which such grave study ever prompts men is wanting. Their lives are rounds of light gaieties and small pleasures. A picnic, dance, a sports day or a concert is ever an absorbing topic.
These are not right lives for white men, such as they are, to live; but the embargo forces them to live it. Nothing so retards a country's progress, nothing perhaps is so great a hindrance to the development of its resources, as a non-political feeling among the inhabitants. Here politics are taboo. The real business of life, the stirring cry of "Advance Australia!" is awfully lacking.
Remove the disability, take away the restraint, make an exception in favour of those civil servants who live so far up north in South Australia, unmuzzlethose who have it in them to speak, and the people of the Territory—the Territory itself—will soon be heard of. So long as they are not heard from, so long must the Territory continue as a heavy weight.
* * * *
Chinese, who are ready and willing to work night or day and seven days a week, have ousted Europeans from many branches of trade. Hairdressing, tailoring and bootmaking are all done by them or Japanese.
Paper kite flying seems to be those people's most favoured form of recreation. Of a breezy evening the main street of Chinatown, running parallel with and distant but a couple of hundred yards from Palmerston's principal street, is indicated by half a dozen or more kites rising up into or stationary in mid-air. The ends of the retaining strings are either fastened to shop verandah posts or proudly held by their yellow owners.
These kites, built on scientific principles, are made very large and of fantastic shapes. Hollow "musical" reeds are attached; and when kite flying is "on" the loud monotonous humming of these wind instruments pervades every nook and cranny in Palmerston.
Every visitor gets a crick in his neck from looking skywards.
* * * *
Many blacks hang about the town. The roads are unmetalled. The loose soil is dark brown, and consists of sand mixed with particles of friable ironstone. The three varieties of tracks which show prominentlyeverywhere are suggestive—a few of booted whites, many of sandalled Chinamen, and over and under all those of unshod natives.
* * * *
The thermometer does not register very high. But here there is a stuffy, suffocating, sweat-producing latent heat the whole year round, with very few weeks' cool to brace the enervated up.
One misses the heavenly blue of southern climes. The sky has ever in it a hazy dull metallic grey.
The town is on a table-land, and is well laid out. The drainage is good; hence malarial fever, once pretty prevalent, is now less common.
* * * *
The chefs are invariably Chinamen; this applies to most of the Northern Territory. Hence one hears the word "chow, chow" used commonly by the whites to denote meals or meal time—"Chow's ready," "come to chow," "There goes the Chow bell," and such like expressions.
A nobbler is disposed of with one indefinite "Chin, chin." Freely translated it means something between avotre santeand "another coffin nail."
And, over and above all, is a splendid, almost prodigal hospitality.
* * * *
One last look back over the journey and the track.
However it may have been with myself (whether I met with the adventures I had been hopefullylooking forward to and whether the exciting episodes or interesting incidents and objects came up to expectations or not) of this I still feel assured: For two or three good humoured cyclists, with whom considerations of time would be of but secondary importance who would start in the proper season (that is March or April), and who would need not to be niggardly in their expenditure, no more promising fields can there be in all the world for a cycle-trip, at once interesting and sufficiently adventurous, than along this same route—in the crossing of Australia from South to North.
Although anyone undertaking to do the journey in fast time will be called upon to endure privations and run grave risks of coming to grief, yet a person who had been once overland, or one of the telegraph station employees—a cyclist in short, who beforehand knew how the tracks ran and where exactly the watering places lay—should find the task neither very difficult nor demanding a great expenditure of days.
Now that the country and what to expect has become a little better known; now that it has been seen and spoken of from a cyclist's view, now that the wheelman may therefore prepare himself, it remains open for any down-town or up-country sprinter, with the three good things of which I have made previous mention, viz., good health, good luck and a good bicycle, to double up the writer's so called "feat" into very small compass indeed, and incontinently knock itout of sight into the obscuring depths of an oblivious cocked hat.
It was one of my objects to leave it so open. Nevertheless I will not take upon myself the responsibility of advising anyone to bother about having a try at the "record-smashing" business unless it be well worth his while to do so.
To be prepared counts for very much. The cyclist who is sure of his road can never imagine the weakening effect which uncertainties on that most vital point can produce. Such doubts evolve sickening, depressing, unhappy sensations which make themselves felt more acutely than do the mere bodily disablements associated with hunger and thirst.
I knew next to nothing of the country, and made it a point to make but very few enquiries about it before I travelled up to have a look. I knew nobody in it, and from the day of my leaving Adelaide to the day I arrived at Sydney, I met no one with whom I had been in any way previously acquainted.
* * * *
I have in no case named those with whom I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted on the track for the reason that had those names been written it would as frequently have devolved upon the writer to expatiate on matters by right concerning only the men themselves, and besides I but seldom indeed questioned anyone about his business.
I have no material, therefore, out of which to "work up" on the weakness of slight acquaintanceships,the usual traveller's series of semi-biographical impertinences, even were I so minded.
But the following-named gentlemen are well-known, and I feel especially grateful to them for they all in one way or another befriended me:—Mr. Mat Connor, Mr. Harry Gipp, Mr. James Cummins, the Messrs. Louis Brothers, Mr. Coulthead, Mr. Gunter, Mr. Heilbraun, Mr. Wallis, Mr. Campbell, and police officers Bennett and Kingston.
From what I have already written it will go without further emphasizing that to the ever-courteous and obliging assistants and officers in charge at the various inland telegraph stations I have cause to be and am grateful also.
* * * *
The only wheeled vehicles I knew, or now know of, as being in the country, besides the bicycle, after leaving Alice Springs, were those under cover at the Telegraph and Cattle Stations, and a buggy at the sheep camp, between Tennant's and Powell's Creeks.
There are no camels north of Alice Springs, except when a caravan travels from the latter place to Barrow's or Tennant's Creek with the yearly supplies.
* * * *
Yet, in this land where the bicycle is but imperfectly known one may pick up some bright knowledgeable notions in "improved bike" building. An "additional strengthener" suggestion came from a man who had been inspecting my mount as it stood against a wall with the interlocking gear closed, andthus of course kept perfectly straight. He said to me—"See how strong the back part of the machine is compared with the front," and his "notion," soon forthcoming, was that it would be an improvement if two more tubes were added: These to run, one at each side, from barrel bracket forward to the front fork extremities, back stay style.
As I had no desire to make enemies I admitted the front-fork-to-crank-shaft-bracket stay would undoubtedly be, as the inventive person remarked, "a strengthener." "But," said I hesitatingly, "As the most agile brains in all the world have been at work for the last ten years or so intent upon thinking out improvements in bicycle construction, I fear there must be some and (although to us perhaps unapparent) objection to the innovation."
At another place I had casually remarked upon the fact of the bicycle's handlebars having turned in the steering socket when I fell somewhere (thus, by the way, saving other, more vital parts, the sharp shock.) That this movement should have occurred appeared to a listener, as it will to many people, to indicate a grave fault, if not danger. "Why," he exclaimed suddenly, but after much cogitation, "to provide against that happening would be the simplest thing in the world"—by drilling a hole through the front tube where the maker's name and trade mark were (in my case, where they were not, because I had scratched both off) and then driving a strong pin in! I told him I didn't want the fault rectified.
It surprised me to find how extraordinarily anxious people were about punctures. It was "What would you do if you got a puncture?" until I came to hate the word. Very few had much thought of the consequences of a broken crank, fork, tube, shaft, or rim. But I believe nearly every one who hasn't a bicycle lives in constant terror of that dreadful bogy puncture.
I was made re-acquainted with descriptions of many of those wonderful leverage-chains, improved brakes, and puncture-proofing devices which work so emphatically well in print. One invention very much in favor was an inner-tubular arrangement—"quite a simple thing—made up of a hundred or so sections or distinct chambers, like an endless string of stumpy sausages." It was so obvious that when one sausage had lost all of its stuffing and collapsed, the other ninety-nine would yet remain for the utilisation of the wheelman!
Of such were the humors of the trip.
If the blacks I met with were not quite so wild-mannered as I could have feared or hoped for, it was through no fault of mine. Neither was it for me to rouse them up with a stick, or go hunting for some others less mild-mannered.
As I have said, if I heard of a white traveller anywhere, I did not try to dodge him. If one will but consider how I spent time and money in searching for a companion before starting (it was only because I was forced to, that I started alone), one may perhapsfind excuse for me when I confess to feeling rather glad whenever I met or heard of there being a white man on the track.
* * * *
And why was the journey made? As was said long ago, I wanted to dosomethingbefore I was put out of sight and mind. Had I merely wanted to dig out a few sovereigns for the pockets of cycle or cycle-part makers I should have adopted other methods. But I sincerely desired to do something for Australia, and it seemed to me that this would be the most effective means in my power of making the inlands better known, and of arousing some interest in our heritage in the north. Two or three knew of the desire; and no sooner was the task accomplished than on a day in June I wrote this letter to one of them:—
"Sir,—Now that the matter has passed very nearly out of my hands and risen beyond me, I wish to formally assure you ("formally," for hitherto I have spoken the words, as it may have appeared, but lightly) that everything I have done in connection with my recent bicycle trip has been mainly with a view to advertising the Northern Territory—a country which it is my hope to see, in the near future, looked upon and referred to no longer as a costly, cumbrous and unremunerative "White Elephant," but rather as a strong and healthy, though over-sleepy youth, whom, on awakening, something had aroused to manhood.
"I have allowed to slip by opportunities of making fair money (of which, sir, I thoroughly appreciatethe value) which I might have earned by accomplishing the journey in hard-to-be-improved on time; but I preferred this rather than do aught to defeat the end I primarily had in view.
"A declaration in public to that effect in the past would, perhaps, have savored of boastfulness or presumption; it may, indeed, perhaps so savor now. So certainly also, a few months ago, would any announcement of my intention to cycle alone across the continent. Hence my silence, lest my own ambitious purpose should be frustrated. That purpose is now being well worked out.
"It will make the Territory known: that, sir, you know, was the ground upon which I sought from you and the Hon. the —— the favor of those highly-prized signatures in my voucher book, which you both granted me. And that, as it was the ground on which I approached you, was the main prompting to do the thing I have done.
"I thank you once more for having obliged me, and remain, sir, your most obedient servant,
"JEROME J. MURIF."
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