The aboriginal Jackey Jackey.
Thisnative accompanied the expedition of Mr. Kennedy from Rockingham Bay to Cape York, in 1848, one of the most calamitous attempts at discovery on record, except perhaps Leichhardt’s.
The expedition was over-equipped with twenty-eight horses, three carts, 100 sheep, and ample supplies of all sorts—more like an expedition for settlement than a mere exploring party.
They landed at Rockingham Bay, thirteen in number. Jackey was a native of Patrick’s Plains, and proved himself intelligent, faithful, and trustworthy throughout this very disastrous expedition, in which all but two perished besides Jackey Jackey, who survived after he had faithfully led on the expedition, and, as we shall see by the sequel, watched over Kennedy’s dying moments.
After landing, they pursued their way through swamps and mangrove bush, through which they had to cut their way to make a passage for their sheep, &c. At length they had to abandon their carts and heavy luggage. Jackey Jackey always in the front, the natives proving hostile, they reached a native camp, quite a village, the gunyahs neatly built, of a conical form, about 5½ feet diameter, 6 feet high, substantial, to keep out the rain, with stone ovens for baking, &c., much superior to the usual huts, indicating a better class of natives, but not less ferocious.
The party were now reduced to killing their horses, lean and miserable as they were, seldom meeting any game or fish, and they were attacked by sickness, and the sheep fell away. Their situation became each day more critical, and it became necessary to appoint an advance party to try and reach Cape York. Thus they parted at Weymouth Bay, Kennedy and his party pushing on, leaving eight of their party there, a few of the horses and other stores to subsist on; the object being to reach Cape York, and there to meet a vessel in waiting, and so relieve them.
The party here were left under Mr. Carron, the botanist, to whom we are chiefly indebted for the sequel of this unfortunate expedition. Six of the men died, leaving Carron and another, who had been wounded, to be mercifully delivered when at the very extremities of existence. Such was their extremity that, the kangaroo dog being very weak, they killed him, and lived on him two days. The natives, they say, were a much finer race than they had yet seen.
Three more of the party were left behind at Pudding-pan Hill, they being unable to travel, while Jackey Jackey and Mr. Kennedy pressed forward until they came in sight of Port Albany, Kennedy stating to Jackey Jackey “A ship is there—you see that island there.” Thus close to deliverance, it was here Kennedy met his death. A party of natives surrounded them, and Kennedy was wounded by a spear in the back. Jackey pulled out the spear and fired at the blacks, wounding one of them. The blacks speared Kennedy in the leg and then in the right side; Jackey cut the spear out. The horses got speared also, and became unmanageable. “Mr. Kennedy became stupid through his wounds, and I carried him into the scrub. He said ‘Don’t carry me a good way.’ I asked him, ‘Are you well now?’ He replied, ‘I don’t care for the spear-wound in my leg, but for the wounds in my side and back; I am bad inside.’ I told him blackfellows always die when they are speared in the back. ‘Mr. Kennedy, are you going to leave me?’ He said, ‘Yes, my boy, I am going to leave you; you take my books to the captain, but not the big ones; the Governor will give you anything for them.’ Then I tied up the papers, and Mr. K. said, ‘Give me paper and I will write,’ but he fell back and died. I cried a good deal until I got well, that was about an hour, and then I buried him—covered him over with logs and grass, and my shirt and trousers. I then went on. Sometimes I had to walk in the water; then through scrub. Many spears were thrown at me. At length I reached Port Albany, where I was recognized by the captain of the waiting vessel.”
Having related, the death of poor Kennedy, the vessel was immediately got under weigh, and proceeded to where the three men had been left, but were unsuccessful in their search. Found a canoe with a cloak in it, and other cloaks of the natives; therefore concluded that the three unfortunate men had been murdered. They therefore sped their way to the relief of Mr. Carron and his party, Weymouth Bay, where they rescued Messrs. Carron and Goddard, the only survivors of that party. These two men were unable to move without assistance, and had despaired of relief. They had seen a vessel standing into the bay, and made signals, but she altered her course, and so all hope of rescue was given up. The discovery of these two men is well described. Jackey Jackey led the party. After landing he was very tired. At last he exclaimed, “I see camp.” Well done, Jackey. Suddenly he exclaimed, “I see two whitefellows sit down in camp.” When they came up to them they were two of the most pitiable beings possible. They were the only two left of the eight; six had perished. Jackey Jackey said, “You see the blackfellow there; you leave the tent and go to the vessel as fast as you can.” The captain went into the tent to try and remove some things, but Jackey Jackey said, “You leave him tent everything altogether; get the two whitefellows into the boat quickly.” They took, however, some important things, and then started in the boat. Carron’s legs were terribly swollen. The vessel then proceeded to Sydney.
The Government despatched Captain Simpson in the “Freak,” with Jackey Jackey as a guide, to recover the journals and papers of poor Kennedy. Search was made along the coast for the three men, but unavailingly. The pillaged camp was found, with books and everything scattered about. They found the remains of Walsh and Niblet, who were unburied; these they buried. They only found in the search along the coast a leather pistol-holster, marked 37. Jackey was confident that these three men had been murdered. The next object was to recover Kennedy’s journals and papers. In this Jackey Jackey displayed his usual intelligence. On their track he pointed out the place where he had left the saddle-bags, but these could not be found; but a sextant and horizon-glass were found. Jackey told the party to look out for broken spears, and shortly they found the place where Kennedy told Jackey not to carry him any farther; also the place where Jackey had washed his wounds, and where he had given Jackey his instructions about his papers. The sextant and some other scientific things were found. The party found the papers and diary, but not Kennedy’s grave. Poor Jackey was very quiet, and felt deeply through the day, and tears started from his eyes when searching for the remains, while his feelings against the natives were very bitter. The papers had been pulled out of the tree, probably by a rat, and were somewhat injured.
“I cannot close my extracts without mentioning the exemplary conduct of Jackey Jackey. I have always found him quiet, obliging, and very respectful. When on shore he was very attentive, and his mind fixed on one object. The sagacity and knowledge he displayed were astonishing. When he found the place we were in search of he was never flushed, but quiet and unobtrusive. He was much concerned at not being able to find the remains of his master, to whom he was sincerely attached.
J. B. Simpson,Master of the ‘Freak.’”
The melancholy condition to which Mr. Carron, the botanist, and Goddard were reduced, and their delivery, is well described by the survivor. “Six weeks,” he says, “had expired since Mr. Kennedy left us. Our shot was all but expended. This morning we ate the two pigeons and boiled the tea-leaves. Lap, the sheep-dog, remained our only companion, and him we determined to kill, however poor; but a native now advanced and gave me a piece of dirty paper. This was a note from Captain Dodson, then in the bay. Joy filled our minds, and I gave the native an answer, but he threw it away and joined the other natives, probably to murder us. Just then I saw Captain Dodson and Dr. Vallack and Jackey approaching, with a man named Barrett, who had been wounded a few days before. I was reduced almost to a skeleton; the elbow-bone of my right arm was through the skin; the bone of my hip also; my legs were swollen enormously; I was carried to the boat.”
He then describes the few things he saved. Here it was he heard of the tragic death of poor Kennedy. It would ill become me to add anything to the artless narrative of the faithful and true-hearted Jackey, who, having tended Kennedy’s last moments and closed his eyes, was perhaps the most interested bewailer of his unhappy fate. The character throughout of Jackey Jackey is one of fidelity, sympathy, and affectionate endurance, seldom equalled; while he must be regarded as not only the guide, but the untiring deliverer of the remnant of the party.
All I can learn of Jackey Jackey’s subsequent history is, that on his arrival in Sydney, the Government presented him with a brass plate and inscription, which I understand is now in the Museum. He returned to his tribe, Patrick’s Plains, where he died of consumption. Thus came to an early grave this noble-minded man, whom, for fidelity and affection under severe trials, few white men could excel.