In those days men had not yet mastered the idea that the physical formation of Australia was not to be worked out on the same lines as that of other countries; they looked vainly for a river with a wide and noble opening, and none being found on the surveyed coast, conjecture placed it far away in a few leagues of unexplored shore line on the north-west. The constancy with which the southern coast had been examined, precluded all idea from men's minds that the entrance to this long sought river was there. No, it must be yet undiscovered to the westward. Wentworth says:—
"If the sanguine hopes to which the discovery of this river (the Macquarie) has given birth, should be realised, and it should be found to empty itself into the ocean on the north-west coast, which is the only part of this vast island that has not been accurately surveyed, in what mighty conceptions of the future greatness and power of this colony, may we not reasonably indulge? The nearest distance from the point at which Mr. Oxley left off, to any part of the western coast, is very little short of two thousand miles. If this river, therefore, be already of the size of the Hawkesbury at Windsor, which is not less than two hundred and fifty yards in breadth, and of sufficient depth to float a seventy-four gun ship, it is not difficult to imagine what must be its magnitude at its confluence with the ocean: before it can arrive at which it has to traverse a country nearly two thousand miles in extent. If it possess the usual sinuosities of rivers, its course to the sea cannot be less than from five to six thousand miles, and the endless accession of tributary streams which it must receive in its passage through so great an extent of country will without doubt enable it to vie in point of magnitude with any river in the world."
It may, therefore, well be imagined that it was in a most sanguine spirit that Oxley undertook his second journey.
As before, a party had been sent ahead to build boats, and get everything in readiness, and, on the 6th June, 1818, he started on his second expedition into the interior. He had with him, as next in command, the indefatigable Evans, Dr. Harris, who volunteered, Charles Frazer, botanist, and twelve men, eighteen horses, two boats, and provisions for twenty-four weeks.
On the 23rd of the month, having reached a distance of nearly 125 miles from the depôt in Wellington Valley, without the travellers experiencing more obstruction than might have been expected, two men, Thomas Thatcher and John Hall, were sent back to Bathurst with a report to Governor Macquarie, as had been previously arranged.
No sooner had the two parties separated, one with high hopes of their future success, the others bearing back tidings of these confident hopes, than doubt and distrust entered the mind of the leader. In his journal, written not twenty-four hours after the departure of his messengers, he says:—
"For four or five miles there was no material change in the general appearance of the country from what it had been on the preceding days, but for the fast six miles the land was very considerably lower, interspersed with plains clear of timber, and dry. On the banks it was still lower, and in many parts it was evident that the river floods swept over them, though this did not appear to be universally the case. . . . These unfavourable appearances threw a damp upon our hopes, and we feared that our anticipations had been too sanguine."
In his after report to the Governor, forwarded by Mr. Evans to Newcastle, he writes:—
"My letter, dated the 22nd June last, will have made your Excellency acquainted with the sanguine hopes I entertained from the appearance of the river, that its termination would be either in interior waters or coastwise. When I wrote that letter to your Excellency, I certainly did not anticipate the possibility that a very few days farther travelling would lead us to its termination as an accessible river."
So short-lived were the hopes he had entertained.
On the 30th June, after, for many days, finding the country becoming flatter and more liable to floods, Oxley found himself almost hemmed in by water, and had to return with the whole party to a safer encampment, where a consultation was held. It was decided to send the horses and baggage back to Mount Harris, a small elevation some fifteen miles higher up the river, whilst Oxley himself, with four volunteers and the large boat, proceeded down the river, taking with them a month's provisions. During his absence, Mr. Evans was to proceed to the north-east some sixty miles, and return upon a more northerly course, this being the direction the party intended taking if the river failed them.
Let us see how Oxley fared.
"July 2. I proceeded down the river, during one of the wettest and most stormy days we had yet experienced. About twenty miles from where I set out, there was, properly speaking, no country; the river overflowing its banks, and dividing into streams, which I found had no permanent separation from the main branch, but united themselves to it on a multitude of points. We went seven or eight miles farther, when we stopped for the night, upon a space of ground scarcely large enough to enable us to kindle a fire. The principal stream ran with great rapidity and its banks and neighbourhood as far as we could see, were covered with wood, inclosing us within a margin or bank, vast spaces of country clear of timber were under water, and covered with the common reed, which grew to the height of six or seven feet above the surface. The course and distance by the river was estimated to be from twenty-seven to thirty miles, on a north-west line.
"July 3rd. Towards the morning the storm abated, and at daylight we proceeded on our voyage. The main bed of the river was much contracted, but very deep, the waters spreading to a depth of a foot or eighteen inches over the banks, but all running on the same point of bearing. We met with considerable interruption from fallen timber, which in places nearly choked up the channel. After going about twenty miles we lost the land and trees: the channel of the river, which lay through reeds, and was from one to three feet deep, ran northerly. This continued for three or four miles further, when although there had been no previous change in the breadth, depth, and rapidity of the stream for several miles, and I was sanguine in my expectations of soon entering the long sought for Australian sea, it all at once eluded our further search by spreading on every point from northwest to northeast, amongst the ocean of reeds that surrounded us still running with the same rapidity as before. There was no channel whatever amongst these reeds, and the depth varied from five to three feet. This astonishing change (for I cannot call it a termination of the river), of course, left me no alternative but to endeavour to return to some spot on which we could effect a landing before dark. I estimated that on this day we had gone about twenty-four miles, on nearly the same point of bearing as yesterday. To assert positively that we were on the margin of the lake or sea into which this great body of water is discharged might reasonably be deemed a conclusion which has nothing but conjecture for its basis; but if an opinion may be permitted to be hazarded from actual appearances, mine is decidedly in favour of our being in the vicinity of an inland sea or lake, most probably a shoal one, and gradually filling up by immense depositions from the higher lands, left by the waters which flow into it. It is most singular that the high lands on this continent seem to be confined to the sea coast or not to extend to any distance from it."
Satisfied that to the westward nothing more could be done in the way of exploration, Oxley returned to Mount Harris, where a temporary depôt was formed. Mr. Evans immediately started on a trip to the north-east; he was absent ten days, during which time he discovered the Castlereagh River.
The weather had set in wet and stormy, the rivers kept rising and falling, and the level country was soft and boggy, excessively tiring to their jaded horses; moreover, in consequence of the boats being now left behind, the packs were greatly increased in weight.
On the 20th July, the whole of the party bade adieu to the Macquarie, which they had once trusted to so fondly, and commenced their journey to the eastern coast, making in the first place for Arbuthnot's Range. Before leaving, a bottle was buried on Mount Harris, containing a written scheme of their proposed route and intentions, with some silver coin.
On July 27th, they reached the bank of the Castlereagh, after a hard struggle through the bogs and swamps. The river was flooded, and must have risen almost directly after Mr. Evans crossed it on his homeward route. It was not until the 2nd of August that the waters fell sufficiently to allow them to cross. Still steering for the range, their course lay across shaking quagmires, or wading through miles of water; constantly having to unload and reload the unfortunate horses, who could scarcely get through the bog without their packs. Before reaching the range, the party camped at the small hill, previously ascended by Mr. Evans. Here they found the compass strangely affected: on placing it on a rock the card flew round with extreme velocity, and then suddenly settled at opposite points, the north point becoming the south. A short distance from the base of the hill the needle regained its proper position. This hill received the name of Loadstone Hill.
Crossing Arbuthnot Range round the northern base of Mount Exmouth, the explorers, although still terribly harassed by the boggy state of the country, found themselves in splendid pastoral land. Hills, dales, and plains of the richest description lay before them, and from the elevations the view presented was of the most varied kind; this tract of country was called by Oxley Liverpool Plains. On Mount Tetley, and many of the hills about, the same variations of the compass were observed as had formerly been noticed on Loadstone Hill. Through this beautiful district the party now had a less arduous journey than before, and their horses were able to regain some of their lost strength.
On the 2nd of September, they crossed a river which they named the Peel River, and here one of their number narrowly escaped drowning. Still pushing eastward, and continuing to travel through beautiful grazing country Oxley was suddenly stopped by a deep glen running across his track:—
"This tremendous ravine runs near north and south, its breadth at the bottom does not apparently exceed one hundred or two hundred feet, whilst the separation of the outer edges is from two to three miles. I am certain that in perpendicular depth it exceeds three thousand feet. The slopes from the edges were so steep and covered with loose stones that any attempt to descend even on foot was impracticable. From either side of this abyss, smaller ravines of similar character diverged, the distance between which seldom exceeded half-a-mile. Down them trickled small rills of water, derived from the range on which we were. We could not, however, discern which way the water in the main valley ran, as the bottom was concealed by a thicket of vines and creeping plants."
This barrier turned them to the south, and afterwards to the west again; on the way, they met with a grand fall one hundred and fifty feet in height, which they named Becket's Cataract. At the head of the glen they found another fall which they estimated at two hundred and thirty feet in height; crossing above this cataract, which was called Bathurst's Fall, the eastern course was once more resumed, and tempests and storms found them wandering amongst the deep ravines and gloomy forests of the coast range, seeking for a descent to the lower lands.
On the 23rd of September, Oxley, accompanied by Evans, ascended a mountain to try and discover a practicable route, and from there caught sight of the sea.
"Bilboa's ecstasy at the first sight of the South Sea could not have been greater than ours when, on gaining the summit of this mountain, we beheld Old Ocean at our feet: it inspired us with new life: every difficulty vanished, and in imagination we were already home."
Now commenced the final descent, and a perilous one it was:—
"How the horses descended I scarcely know; and the bare recollection of the imminent dangers which they escaped makes me tremble. At one period of the descent I would willingly have compromised for a loss of one third of them to ensure the safety of the remainder. It is to the exertions and steadiness of the men, under Providence, that their safety must be ascribed. The thick tufts of grass and the loose soil also gave them a surer footing, of which the men skilfully availed themselves."
They were now on a river running direct to the sea, which was named the Hastings River, and which the party followed down with more or less trouble until they reached a port at the mouth of it, which the explorer, after the fashion of the day, immediately dubbed Port Macquarie. It is an unfortunate thing for New South Wales that such an absence of originality with regard to naming newly discovered places was displayed by the travellers of that time.
On the 12th of October, the wanderers made a final start for home, commencing a toilsome march along the coast south. Stopped and interrupted for a time by many inlets and creeks, they at last came upon a boat buried in the sand, which had belonged to a Hawkesbury vessel, lost some time before; this boat they carried with them as far as Port Stephens, where they arrived on the 1st of November, using it to facilitate the passage of the salt water arms. During the latter part of this wearisome journey, they were much harassed by unprovoked attacks by the natives, and one of the men, William Black, was dangerously wounded, being speared through the back and in the lower part of the body.
Oxley had thus, after innumerable hardships and dangers, brought his party, with the exception of the wounded man, back in safety to the settlements. True he had not fulfilled the mission he was dispatched on, but he had discovered large tracts of valuable land fit for settlement; he had crossed the formidable coast range far away to the north, and established the fact that communication between his newly discovered port and the interior was practicable. Oxley's expeditions were both well equipped and well carried out, he also had the assistance of able and zealous coadjutors, each or any of them being capable of assuming the leadership in case of misfortune. His travels may be said to inaugurate the series of brilliant exploits in the field of exploration that we are about to enter on.
In 1819, Messrs. Oxley and Meehan, accompanied by young Hume, made a short excursion to Jarvis Bay, Oxley returning by sea, his companions overland.
The era of the pioneer squatter had now commenced henceforth exploration and pastoral enterprise went hand in hand. North and south of the new town of Bathurst, the advance of the flocks and herds went on; Oxley's report may have somewhat checked a westerly migration, but the stay in that direction was not doomed to last long. Northward, to and beyond the Cugeegong River and the fertile valley of the Upper Hunter, southward, towards the mysterious Morumbidgee, which was now reported as having been found by the settlers, pressed the pioneers. It is not known who was the first discoverer of this river. Hume, in company with Throsby, must have been close to it during their various excursions, and in 1821 Hume discovered Yass Plains, almost on its bank. It was, however, destined to be the future highway to the undiscovered land of the west.
In 1822 Messrs. Lawson and Scott attempted to reach Liverpool Plains, Oxley's great discovery, from Bathurst; they were, however, unable to penetrate the range that formed the southern boundary of the Plains, and returned, having discovered a new river at the foot of the range, which they named the Goulburn.
In 1823, Oxley, Cunningham, and Currie were all in the field in different directions.
On the 22nd of May, Captain Mark John Currie, R.N., accompanied by Brigade-Major Ovens, and having with them Joseph Wild, a notable bushman, started on an exploratory trip south of Lake George. On the 1st of June, they came to the Morumbidgee, as it was then called, and followed up the bank of it, looking for a crossing. The day before they had caught sight of a high range of mountains to the southward, partially snow-topped. In their progress along the river they came to fine open downs and plains, which, with the singularly bad taste, which still, unfortunately, holds sway, Currie immediately named after the then Governor, "Brisbane Downs;" although but a short time before they had learnt from the aborigines the native name of Monaroo. Fortunately, in this instance, Monaroo has been preserved, and Brisbane Downs forgotten.
On the 6th June they crossed the river, and found the open country still stretching south, bounded to the west by the snowy mountains they had formerly seen, and to the east by a range that they took to be the coast range. Their provisions being limited, they turned back, and reached Throsby's farm of Bong-Bong on the 14th of the same month.
Cunningham, meantime, during the months of April, May, and June, was busily engaged in the country north of Bathurst. He had two purposes in view—his pursuit as a botanist, and the discovery of a pass through the northern range on to Liverpool Plains, which Lieutenant Lawson had been unable to find. On reaching the range he searched vainly to the eastward for any valley that would enable him to pierce the barrier, and had to retrace his steps and seek more to the west. Here he came upon a pass, which he called Pandora's Pass, [See Appendix.] and which he found to be practicable as a stock route to the plains. He returned to Bathurst on the 27th of June.
In October, Oxley started from Sydney on a very different kind of expedition to those lately undertaken by him. His mission now was to examine the inlets of Port Curtis, Moreton Bay, and Port Bowen, with a view to forming penal establishments there. On the 21st of October, therefore, 1823, he left in the colonial cutter MERMAID, accompanied by Messrs. Stirling and Uniacke. At Port Macquarie, Oxley had the pleasure of seeing the settlement that had so rapidly sprung up on his recommendation of the suitability of the port. Further on, they discovered and named the Tweed River. On the 6th November, the MERMAID anchored in Port Curtis. Here the party remained for some time, and found and christened the Boyne River. Oxley's report was unfavourable.
"Having," he says, "viewed and examined with the most anxious attention every point that afforded the least promise of being eligible for the site of a settlement, I respectfully submit it as my opinion, that Port Curtis and its vicinity do not afford such a site; and I do not think that any convict establishment could be formed there that would return either from the natural productions of the country, or as arising from agricultural labour, any portion of the great expense which would necessarily attend its first formation."
As it was too late in the season to examine Port Bowen, the MERMAID went south, entered Moreton Bay, and anchored off the river that Flinders had christened Pumice Stone River, heading from the Glass House Peaks. Here a singular adventure occurred:—
"Scarcely was the anchor let go," writes Mr. Uniacke, "when we perceived a number of natives, at the distance of about a mile, advancing rapidly towards the vessel; and on looking at them with the glass from the masthead, I observed one who appeared much larger than the rest, and of a lighter colour, being a light copper, while all the others were black."
This light-coloured native turned out to be a white man, one Thomas Pamphlet. In company with three others he had left Sydney in an open boat, to bring cedar from the Five Islands, but, being driven out to sea by a gale, they had suffered terrible hardships, being (so he stated) at one time twenty-one days without water, during which time one man had died of thirst. Finally they were wrecked on Moreton Island, and had lived with the blacks ever since—a period of seven months. Pamphlet informed them that his two companions were named Finnegan and Parsons, and that they had started to make for Sydney, overland, but, after going some fifty miles, he (Pamphlet) returned, and shortly afterwards was joined by Finnigan, who had quarrelled with Parsons. The latter was never heard of.
Next day Finnegan turned up, and both he and Pamphlet, agreeing that at the south end of the bay there was a large river. Messrs. Oxley and Stirling started the following morning in the whale boat to look for it; taking Finnegan with them. They found the river, and pulled up it about fifty miles, being greatly satisfied with the discovery. Not being provided for a longer trip, Oxley turned back at a point he named Termination Hill, which he ascended and from which he obtained a fine view of the further course of the river. Still haunted by his inland lake theory, and as usual drawing erroneous deductions, he writes:—
"The nature of the country, and a consideration of all the circumstances connected with the appearance of the river, justify me in entertaining a strong belief that the sources of the river will not be found in mountainous country, but rather that it flows from some lake, which will prove to be the receptacle of those interior streams crossed by me during an expedition of discovery in 1818."
This river Oxley named the Brisbane, and taking with them the two rescued men, the MERMAID set sail for Sydney, where the party arrived on December 13th. With regard to the shipwrecked men, it may be here mentioned that their conviction at the time they were found was, that they were to the south of Sydney, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Jarvis Bay.
Oxley's work and his life too were now almost at a close. He died at Kirkham, his private residence, near Sydney, on the 25th of May, 1828. He had been essentially a successful explorer, for although he had not in every case attained the issue aimed at, he had always brought his men back in safety, and had opened up vast tracts of new country. [See Appendix.]
The journey made by Messrs. Hume and Hovell across to Port Phillip has a character of its own, being the first successful trip undertaken from shore to shore, from the eastern to the southern coast. The expedition originated from a somewhat wild idea that entered the head of that unpopular governor Sir Thomas Brisbane.
Surveyor-General Oxley, not having determined the question as to whether any large rivers entered the sea between Cape Otway and Spencer's Gulf, excepting to his own satisfaction, Sir Thomas Brisbane bit upon the scheme of landing a party of prisoners near Wilson's Promontory, and inducing them, by the offer of a free pardon and a land grant, to find their way to Sydney overland; and that they should have a better chance of eventually turning up, it was recommended that an experienced bushman should be put in charge of them. The flattering, if somewhat dangerous, offer of this position was made to Mr. Hume, who, on consideration, declined it; he, however, offered to conduct a party from Lake George, then the outermost station, or nearly so, to Western Port, if the Government provided necessary assistance. The Government accepted h is offer, but forgot to provide the assistance. This caused much delay and vexation, and Mr. Hovell, offering to join the party and find half the necessary men and cattle, the Government agreed to do something in the matter. This something amounted to six pack-saddles and gear, one tent of Parramatta cloth, two tarpaulins, a suit of slop clothes each for the men, two skeleton charts for tracing their journey, a few bush utensils, and the following promise: a cash payment for the hire of the cattle should any important discovery be made. This money was refused on the return of the party, and Mr. Hume states that he had even much difficulty in obtaining tickets-of-leave for the men, and an order to select 1,200 acres of land for himself. Mr. Hovell was a retired shipmaster, who had been for some time settled in Australia. Each of the leaders brought with them three men, so that the strength of the expedition was eight men in all. They had with them two carts, five bullocks, and three horses.
On October 14th, 1824, the party left Lake George. On reaching the Murrumbidgee they found it flooded, and after waiting three days, and the river continuing the same, an attempt was made to cross, and by means of the body of a cart rigged up as a punt with a tarpaulin, they succeeded.
On the south side of the river they found the country broken, and somewhat difficult to make good progress through, but it was all well grassed and adapted to grazing purposes. Here, as might have been anticipated, they soon had to leave their carts behind, and pack their cattle for the remainder of their journey. Following the Murrumbidgee, after a short distance they left it for a south-west course, which still led them through hills and valleys rich with good grass and running water.
On November 8th, they were destined to enjoy a sight never before witnessed by white men in Australia. Ascending a range, in order to get a view of the country ahead of them, they suddenly came in front of snowcapped mountains. There, under the brilliant sun of an Australian summer's day, rose lofty peaks that might have found a fitting home in some far polar clime, covered as they were for nearly one-fourth of their height with glistening snow.
Skirting this range, which was called the Australian Alps, the travellers, after eight days wandering through the spurs of the lofty mountains they had just seen, came on a fine flowing river, which Mr. Hume named after his father the "Hume," destined to be afterwards called the Murray when visited lower down.
Failing to find a ford, a makeshift boat was constructed by the aid of the useful tarpaulin, and the passage of the Hume safely accomplished. Still passing through good available country watered by fine flowing streams, on the 24th they crossed the Ovens River, and on the 3rd of December they came to another river, which they called the Hovell (now the Goulburn), and on the 16th of the same month reached the sea shore, near where Geelong now stands. Two days afterwards they commenced their return, and on the 18th January arrived at Lake George.
This exploration had a great and lasting bearing on the extension of Australian settlement. A few years after one of the highest authorities then in the colony had deemed the western interior, beyond a certain limit, unfitted for human habitation; and expressed his opinion that the monotonous flats over which he vainly looked for any rise, extended almost to the sea coast—snow-clad mountains, feeding innumerable streams, were discovered to the south of his track.
The successful and arduous expedition led by the young native-born explorer, had the twofold effect of exposing Oxley's fallacies, and teaching a lesson of caution to future explorers not to indulge hastily in general condemnation. This lesson, however, has not been heeded; the history of Australian exploration being a history of conclusions drawn one year, to be falsified the next. Hume's journey to Port Phillip at once added to the British-Colonial Empire millions of acres of arable land watered by never-failing rivers, with a climate calculated to foster the growth of almost any species of fruit or grain.
It is a pity that in concluding the review of an expedition, fraught with so much benefit to the colony, and carried out with so much courage, hardihood, and facility of resource, that it cannot also be said, and marked with the same cheerful spirit that pervaded those of Oxley's, but unfortunately, the evil feeling of jealously that would arise from the presence of two leaders, showed plainly throughout in petty and undignified squabbles, which, in after days, led to paper warfare between the two explorers. It is painful, if amusing, to read of the disagreement as to their course in very sight of the lately discovered Australian Alps, and how, on agreeing to separate and divide the outfit, it was proposed to cut the tent in half, and the only frying-pan was broken by both parties pulling at it.
Thomas Boyd, the only survivor of the party in 1883, who was then eighty-six years old, was the first white man to cross the Murray, which he did, swimming it with a line in his mouth. In the year named he signed a document, giving the credit of taking the party through in safety to Hume. Boyd himself was one of the most active members of the expedition, and always to the front when there was any work to be done.
The training that Hume received in this, and his former journey, admirably qualified him to become the companion of Sturt in his first expedition when he discovered the other great artery of the Murray system, the Darling. The young explorer was thus singularly fortunate in having his name connected with the discovery of two of the most important rivers in Australia. In the trip just narrated he and his companion, Hovell, had arrested the hasty conclusion that was being formed as to the aridity of the interior. The result of their expedition held out high hopes for any future explorer, and the report they brought in was afterwards fully confirmed by Major Mitchell.
Settlement of Moreton Bay—Cunningham in the field again—His discoveries of the Gwydir, Dumaresque, and Condamine Rivers—The Darling Downs, and Cunningham's Gap through the range to Moreton Bay—Description of the Gap—Cunningham's death—Captain Sturt—His first expedition to follow down the Macquarie—Failure of the river—Efforts of Sturt and Hume to trace the channel—Discovery of New Year's Creek (the Bogan)—Come suddenly on the Darling—Dismay at finding the water salt—Retreat to Mount Harris—Meet the relief party—Renewed attempt down the Castlereagh River—Trace it to the Darling—Find the water in that river still salt—Return—Second expedition to follow the Morumbidgee—Favourable anticipations—Launch of the boats and separation of the party—Unexpected junction with the Murray—Threatened hostilities with the natives—Averted in a most singular manner—Junction of large river from the North—Sturt's conviction that it is the Darling—Continuation of the voyage—Final arrival at Lake Alexandrina—Return voyage—Starvation and fatigue— Constant labour at the oars and stubborn courage of the men—Utter exhaustion—Two men push forward to the relief party and return with succour.
In 1824, in consequence of the favourable report of Surveyor Oxley, a penal settlement was formed at Moreton Bay, but it was speedily removed to a better site on the Brisbane River, where the capital of Queensland now stands. The natives bestowed upon the abandoned settlement the name of "Umpie Bong," [Literally, dead houses] which name is still preserved as Humpybong.
In 1825 Major Lockyer made a long boat excursion up the Brisbane River, and the stream being somewhat swollen by floods, he was able to penetrate, according to his own account, nearly one hundred and fifty miles.
He was much taken with the promising nature of the country, both on the Brisbane and its tributary, the Bremer, and great hopes, happily fulfilled, were entertained of the success of the new settlement. During this year Mr. Cunningham had undertaken another journey to Liverpool Plains. Threading the pass he had formerly discovered and named Pandora's Pass, he crossed the plains, and ascended and examined the table land to the north, returning to Bathurst.
In 1827 this explorer, whose industry never flagged, started on the most eventful trip he ever made, destined to considerably affect the immediate progress of the new colony established at Moreton Bay. On the 30th of April he left Segenhoe Station, on the Upper Hunter, and on crossing Oxley's 1818 track to Port Macquarie, at once entered on the unexplored northern region. On the 19th May, after traversing a good deal of unpromising country, a fertile valley was entered, which led the travellers on to the banks of the Gwydir River, one of Cunningham's most important discoveries. He next found and named the Dumaresque River, and finally emerged on the beautiful plateau, thenceforth known as the Darling Downs, where the Condamine River received its name, after the Governor's aide-de-camp. Cunningham's description of this tract of pastoral country is very glowing:—
"Deep ponds, supported by streams from the highlands immediately to the eastward, extend along their central lower flats. The lower grounds thus permanently watered present flats which furnish an almost inexhaustible range of cattle pasture at all seasons of the year; the grass and herbage generally exhibiting in the depth of winter an extreme luxuriance of growth. From these central grounds rise downs of a rich black and dry soil, and very ample surface; and as they furnish abundance of grass and are conveniently watered, yet perfectly beyond the reach of those floods which take place on the flats in a season of rain, they constitute a sound and valuable sheep pasture."
Here Cunningham halted for some time, with the view of ascertaining the practicability of a passage across the range to Moreton Bay.
In exploring the mountains immediately above the tents of the encampment, a remarkably excavated part of the main range was discovered, which appeared likely to prove available as a pass. Upon examination, the gap was found to be rugged and broken, partially blocked with fallen masses of rocks, and overgrown by scrub and jungle. Beyond these impediments, which could soon be removed, the gap now known as Cunningham's Gap was apparently available as affording a descent to the lower coast lands. Relinquishing any further attempts for the present, either through the mountains or to the western interior, Cunningham returned to the Hunter, crossing and re-crossing his outward track. He was absent oil this expedition thirteen weeks.
The following year the discoverer of the Darling Downs, accompanied by his old companion, Charles Frazer, Colonial Botanist, proceeded by sea to Moreton Bay with the intention of starting from the settlement and connecting with his camp on the Darling Downs by way of Cunningham's Gap. In this attempt he was also accompanied by the Commandant, Captain Logan. The party followed up the Logan River, and partly ascended Mount Lindsay, a lofty and remarkable mountain on the Dividing Range. They were, however, unsuccessful in finding the Gap on this occasion. Cunningham, however, immediately started from Limestone Station on the Bremer, now the town of Ipswich, and this time was quite successful. On the 24th Of August he writes:—
"About one o'clock we passed a mile to the southward of our last position, and, entering a valley, we pitched our tents within three miles of the gap we now suspected to be the Pass of last year's journey.
"It being early in the afternoon, I sent one of my people (who, having been one of my party on that long tour, knew well the features of the country lying to the westward of the Dividing Range) to trace a series of forest ridges, which appeared to lead directly up to the foot of the hollow-back of the range.
"To my utmost gratification he returned at dusk, having traced the ridge about two and a-half miles to the foot of the Dividing Range, whence he ascended into the Pass and, from a grassy head immediately above it, beheld the extensive country lying west of the Main Range. He recognised Darling and Canning Downs, patches of Peel's Plains, and several remarkable points of the forest hills on that side, fully identifying this hollow-back with the pass discovered last year at the head of Miller's Valley, notwithstanding its very different appearance when viewed from the eastern country."
The next day, accompanied by one man, Cunningham ascended the pass that bears his name. Following the ridges, they arrived in about two and three-quarter miles to the foot of the Gap.
"Immediately the summit of the pass appeared broad before us, bounded on each side by most stupendous heads, towering at least two thousand feet above it.
"Here the difficulties of the Pass commenced. We had now penetrated to the actual foot of the Pass without the smallest difficulty, it now remained to ascend by a steep slope to the level of its entrance. This slope is occupied by a very close wood, in which red cedar, sassafras, palms, and other ornamental inter-tropical trees are frequent. Through this shaded wood lye penetrated, climbing up a steep bank of a very rich loose earth, in which large fragments of a very compact rock are embedded. At length we gained the foot of a wall of bare rock, which we found stretching from the southward of the Pass.
"This face of naked rock we perceived (by tracing its course northerly) gradually to fall to the common level, so that, without the smallest difficulty, and to my utmost surprise, we found ourselves in the highest part of the Pass, having fully ascertained the extent of the difficult part, from the entrance into the wood to this point, not to exceed four hundred yards."
In this comparatively easy manner was the main range crossed, and access at once obtained from the coastal districts to the rich inland slope—a startling result when compared with the years of labour and baffled hope wasted on the Blue Mountains before victory was won.
In the following year (1829) Cunningham went on his last expedition, to the source of the Brisbane River, and this work concluded ten years of constant and unceasing labour in the cause of exploration. He died in Sydney ten years afterwards, on the 27th of June, leaving behind an undying name, both as a botanist and ardent explorer. During his own travels, and whilst sailing with Captain King, he had seen more of the continent than any man then living.
Captain Charles Sturt, of the 39th Regiment! What visions are conjured up when this name comes on the scene! Cracked and gaping plains, desolate, desert and abandoned of life, scorched beneath a lurid sun of burning fire, waterless, hopeless, relentless, and accursed: that is the picture he draws of the great interior. He had followed up Oxley's footsteps and exposed the fallacies into which that explorer had fallen, and erred just as egregiously himself. True, like Oxley, he was the sport of the seasons. Oxley had followed the rivers down when, year after year, the regular rainfall had made them navigable for his boats, and had finally lost them in oceans of reeds. Sturt came when the land was smitten with drought, and the rivers had dwindled down to the tiniest trickle.
"In the creeks weeds had grown and withered, and grown again and young saplings were now rising in their beds, nourished by the moisture that still remained; but the large forest trees were drooping and many were dead. The emus, with outstretched necks, gasping for breath, searched the channels of the rivers for water, in vain; and the native dog, so thin that he could hardly walk, seemed to implore some merciful hand to dispatch him."
Such was Sturt's description of the state of the country.
In 1828, the year that witnessed his first expedition, no rain had fallen for two years, and it seemed as though it would never fall again. The thoughts of the colonists turned to that shallow ocean of reeds to the westward wherein Oxley had lost the Macquarie, and it was thought that now would be the time to verify its existence or find out what lay beyond. Captain Sturt was appointed to take command, and with him went Hamilton Hume, who had so successfully crossed to Port Phillip. The party consisted, besides, of two soldiers and eight prisoners of the crown, two of whom were to return with dispatches. They had with them eight riding and seven pack horses, two draught and eight pack bullocks. They had also with them a small boat rigged up on a wheeled carriage.
It would be uninteresting to follow the party over the already known ground to Mount Harris where Oxley had camped in 1818; this place Sturt and his men reached on the 20th December, 1828.
"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 the neighbourhood even a few hours. 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 casks, and a few tent pegs were scattered. Mr. Oxley had selected a place at some distance from the river on account of its then swollen state. I looked upon it from the same ground and could not discern the waters in the channel, so much had they fallen below their ordinary level. On the summit of the great 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 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 turned instinctively 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."
Satisfied, after consultation with his companion Hume, that there was no obstacle to their onward march, they left their position, intending, as Sturt says, "to close with the marshes."
The night of the first day found them camped amongst the reeds, which they came upon sooner than they expected, and the next day they halted for the purpose of preparing the dispatches for the Governor. On the morning of the 26th, the journey was resumed, the two messengers leaving for Bathurst, the rest proceeding onward until checked by finding themselves in the great body of the marsh, which spread in boundless extent around them.
"It was evidently," says the leader, "lower than the ground on which we stood; we had, therefore, a complete view of the whole expanse, and there was a dreariness and desolation pervading the scene which strengthened as we gazed upon it."
Under the circumstances, an advance with the main body of the party was considered unwise, and it was determined to launch the boat, and try and follow the course of the river, whilst a simultaneous attempt was made to penetrate the reed bed to the north. Accordingly Sturt, with two men, started in the boat, and Hume and two more struck north.
Sturt's boating expedition came very quickly to a close. In the afternoon of the day he started:—
" . . . the channel which had promised so well, without any change in its breadth or depth, ceased altogether, and while we were yet lost in astonishment at so abrupt a termination of it the boat grounded."
All search was fruitless, and mysteriously and completely baffled as Oxley had been, so was his successor, and there was nothing for it but to return to camp.
Hume had been more successful. He reported finding a serpentine sheet of water to the northward, which he did not doubt was the channel of the river. He had pushed on, but was checked by another of the seemingly inevitable marshes.
On the 28th the camp was shifted to this lagoon, and the boat was launched once more; without result. The new-found channel was soon lost in reeds and shallows. Forced to halt again, Hume went to the north-east to scout, and Sturt went north-west, each accompanied, as before, by two men. They left the camp on the last day of the year.
After sunset on the first day, Sturt struck a creek of considerable size leading northerly, having good water in its bed. The next day, after passing through alternate plain and brush for eighteen miles, a second creek was found, inferior to the first both in size and the quality of the water; it too ran northerly. Crossing this creek, after a short halt, they travelled through stony ridges and open forest, and at night camped on the edge of a waterless plain, after a hot and thirsty ride; here one of the men, noticing the flight of a pigeon, found a small puddle of rain water that just sufficed them. Next day, the country steadily improving in appearance, they made west by south for an isolated mountain with perpendicular sides, from the top of which Sturt trusted to see something hopeful ahead. He was disappointed, the country was monotonous and level, and no sign of a river could be seen. They camped that night at a small swamp, and next morning Sturt turned back, like Oxley, coming to the conclusion that:—
"Yet upon the whole, the space I traversed is unlikely to become the haunt of civilised man, or will become so in isolated spots, as a chain of connection to a more fertile country; if such a country exist to the westward."
Hume had not returned when the party reached the main camp on the 5th of January; the next day he made his appearance. He reported having travelled, on various courses, about thirty miles N.N.W. over an indifferent country. He had anticipated meeting with the Castlereagh, but had been forced to conclude that that river had taken a more northerly course than Mr. Oxley had supposed. He went westward, and across fine far-stretching plains, but saw no sign of the Macquarie River having re-formed, crossing nothing but small 'reeks or chains of ponds.
Most of the men, including Hume, complaining of sickness, he camp was shifted four miles to the north, on to a chain of ponds reported by Hume. This creek they followed down, when it disappointed them by disappearing in the marsh. Without water, they continued skirting the low country until fatigue compelled them to stop, when, by digging shallow wells in the reeds, they obtained a small supply. From here they made their way by a different route to the hill that had terminated Sturt's late trip, and which he had christened Oxley's Tableland. Here they rested a few days, and Sturt and Hume, with two men, made another excursion westward, but without result.
Their only resource now was to make north to a creek that they had followed down on their way to Oxley's tableland, and see where it would lead them.
On the 31st January they came upon this creek, which was called by them New Year's Creek, now the Bogan, and the next day they suddenly found themselves on the brink of a noble river:—
"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 from 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 imaginations. 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 trodden roads, and the trees that overhung it were of beautiful and gigantic growth.
"The banks were too precipitous to 'allow of our watering the cattle, but the men descended eagerly 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. . . Our hopes were annihilated at the moment of their apparent realisation. The cup of joy was dashed out of our hands before we had time to raise it to our lips."
Finding fresh feed lower down the river, the party halted for the benefit of the cattle, who, unable to drink the water, soaked their bodies in it. Meantime, although the tracks of the natives were abundant, they looked in vain for any of them. Fortunately, that night Hume found a pond of fresh water, and the party were refreshed once more. The phenomena of the salt river was puzzling to Sturt, though too familiar now to excite wonder; the long continued drought having lowered the river so that the brine springs in the banks preponderated over the fresh water, was of course the explanation, and it is a common characteristic of inland watercourses. The size of the river and the saltness of its water, however, partly convinced Sturt that he was near its confluence with an inland sea; so for six days they moved slowly down the river, finding, however, no change in its formation, until the discovery of saline springs in the bank convinced the leader that the saltness was of local origin.
Leaving the party encamped at a small pool of fresh water, Sturt and Hume pushed ahead to look for more, but without success. Before leaving they were startled, one afternoon, by a loud report like a distant cannon, for which they could in noway account, as the sky was clear and without a cloud. [These strange reports have since been frequently heard, often at the same moment, at places more than a hundred miles apart. The cause is generally ascribed to atmospheric disturbances.]
The advance was now checked, no fresh water could be found on ahead, and their animals were weak and exhausted. Sturt christened the river the Darling, and gave the order to retreat.
As they again approached Mount Harris on the Macquarie, where they expected to find a relief party with fresh supplies, fears began to be entertained regarding the safety of those who might be awaiting them at the depôt. The reed beds were in flames in all parts, and the few natives they met displayed a guilty timidity, and one was observed with a jacket in his possession. Their fears were, however, fortunately vain, the natives had made one attempt to surprise the camp, but it had been frustrated, and the relief party had now been some three weeks awaiting the return of the explorers.
Sturt rested for some days, during which time Hume made a short western trip.. to the south of the marsh land. He reported that for thirty miles the country was superior to anything they had yet seen, and exceedingly well watered; beyond that distance the plains and brush of the remote interior again resumed their sway.
On the 7th March the party struck camp and made for the Castlereagh, the relief going back to Bathurst. On the 10th they reached the Castlereagh, and found it apparently without a drop of water in its bed. From here downwards the old harassing hunt for water commenced once more, and as they descended the river they were further puzzled by the intricate windings of its course and the number of channels that intersected the depressed country they were travelling through. On the 29th they again struck the Darling, ninety miles above the spot where they had discovered it:
"This singular river still preserved its character so strikingly that it was impossible not to have recognised it in a moment. The same steep banks and lofty timber, the same deep reaches, alive with fish, were here visible as when we left it. A hope naturally arose to our minds, that if it was unchanged in other respects, it might have lost the saltness that rendered its waters unfit for use; but in this we were disappointed-even its waters continued the same."
Fortunately the adventurers were not this time in such unhappy straits for water as before, so that the disappointment was less intense. Knowing what they might expect if they followed the Darling down south, the party at once halted. It was evident that to the east and north-east, the rigorous drought had put its mark on the land, from the fact that large bodies of natives driven in from that direction were congregated round the few permanent waters left. A reconnoitring expedition across the Darling to the N.W. was accordingly determined on, to see if any advance into the interior was possible, and after a camp had been formed Sturt and Hume started on the quest. No encouragement to proceed resulted. By four p.m. they found themselves on a plain that stretched far away and bounded the horizon.
"It was dismally brown, a few trees only served to mark the distance. Up one of the highest I sent Hopkins on, who reported that he could not see the end of it, and that all around looked blank and desolate. It is a singular fact that during the whole day we had not seen a drop of water or a blade of grass.
"To have stopped where we were would, therefore, have been impossible; to have advanced would probably have been ruin. Had there been one favourable circumstance to have encouraged me with the hope of success I would have proceeded. Had we picked up a stone, as indicating our approach to high land, I would have gone on; or had there been a break in the country, or even a change in the vegetation; but we had left all traces of the natives behind us, and this seemed a desert they never entered—that not even a bird inhabited. I could not encourage a hope of success, and therefore gave up the point, not from want of means, but a conviction of the inutility of any further efforts. If there is any blame to be attached to the measure it is I who am in fault; but none who had not like me traversed the interior at such a season would believe the state of the country over which I had wandered. During the short interval I had been out, I had seen rivers cease to flow before me and sheets of water disappear, and had it not been for a merciful Providence should, ere reaching the Darling, have been overwhelmed by misfortune.
"I am giving no false picture of the reality. So long had the drought continued that the vegetable kingdom was almost annihilated, and minor vegetation had disappeared."
Once more the order to retreat from the inhospitable Darling was given, and the weary march home recommenced. On their way they traced and followed a defined channel, or depression, formerly crossed by Hume, and ascertained it to be the outflow of the Macquarie Marshes. On the 7th of April, 1829, they reached Mount Harris.
The mystery of the Macquarie was now, to a certain extent, cleared up, but there still remained another riddle to solve in the course and outlet of the Darling. Sturt, the discoverer of this river, was destined to find the answer to this problem as well.
We have now traced the gradual extension of exploration to the westward, and seen a river system growing up, as it were, piece by piece, as the result of these expeditions; it may, therefore, be as well to continue to follow up Captain Sturt's expeditions, and note how the Murray and its tributary streams were gradually elaborated, before touching upon events at this time occurring afar on the south-west coast of the continent.
The desire to ascertain the course of the Darling naturally became a subject of great interest so soon as the result of Captain Sturt's expedition was known; and the Macquarie and Lachlan rivers having failed to afford a means of reaching the interior, it was determined to try the Morumbidgee. The fact that this river derived its supply from the highest known mountains, and was independent, to a large extent, of the periodical rainfall, was a great inducement to hope for success.
Almost exactly a year after he had started on his journey down the Macquarie, Captain Sturt left Sydney, on his Morumbidgee expedition, on the 3rd of November, 1829.
Hume, was not, on this occasion, able to accompany the party, his own affairs on his farm needing his attention; doubtless in spirit he was often with them, and it would have been but fitting had the discoverer of the Murray or Hume, been one of the party to first trace its downward course. In Hume's place went George M'Leay, the son of the then Colonial Secretary, Alexander M'Leay; with them also went Harris, Hopkinson, and Fraser, members of the Macquarie expedition,
To our modern eyes the appearance of the troop that marched out ofSydney, early that summer morning, would have looked strange indeed.
"At a quarter before seven the party filed through the turnpike gate, and thus commenced its journey with the greatest regularity. I have the scene even at this distance of time, vividly impressed upon my mind, and I have no doubt the kind friend who was with me on the occasion bears it as strongly on his recollection. My servant Harris, who had shared my wanderings, and had continued in my service for eighteen years, led the advance with his companion Hopkinson; nearly abreast of them the eccentric Frazer stalked along, wholly lost in thought. The two former had laid aside their military habits, and had substituted the broad-brimmed hat, and the bushman's dress in their place, but it was impossible to guess how Frazer intended to protect himself from the heat or damp, so little were his habiliments suited for the occasion. He had his gun over his shoulder, and his double shot belt as full as it could be of shot, although there was not a chance of his expending a grain during the day. Some dogs Mr. Maxwell had kindly sent me followed close at his heels, as if they knew his interest in them, and they really seemed as if they were aware that they were about to exchange their late confinement for the freedom of the woods. The whole of these formed a kind of advanced guard. At some distance in the rear the drays moved slowly along, on one of which rode the black boy; Robert Harris, whom I had appointed to superintend the animals generally, kept his place near the horses, and the heavy Clayton, my carpenter, brought up the rear."
It will be needless to follow the progress of the party through the settled districts that now extended to the banks of the Morumbidgee: on the 27th, we find them preparing to start from Mr. Whaby's station, the last outpost of civilization. From thence they followed the river down, maintaining constant and friendly intercourse with the natives on the banks. For some time they passed through rich available country, and at one point they made a slight excursion to the north to connect with Oxley's most southerly limit; although they did not actually verify it, Sturt was of the opinion that they were within at least twenty miles of the range seen by Oxley. Still following the river they now found its course leading them amongst the plains and flat country with which they were so well acquainted, and naturally travelled in the constant dread of the stream conducting them to the lame and impotent conclusions of the Macquarie and Lachlan.
Sturt now was constantly haunted with the thought of once more finding himself baffled and perplexed in some vast region of flooded country, without a defined system of channels. Every time he looked at the river he imagined that it had fallen off in appearance, feeling certain that the flooded spaces over which he was travelling would soon be succeeded by a country overgrown with reeds. The flats of polygonum stretched away to the N.W., and to the S., and the soil itself bore testimony to its flooded origin. Some natives here met with spoke of the COLARE, a name which Sturt had beard before, and which he took to mean the Lachlan, from the direction in which the blacks pointed. These men indicated that they were but one day's journey from it. Sturt and M'Leay, therefore, rode to the north to examine the country; they found a creek of considerable size, and from its appearance and the nature of the surrounding flats, deemed it to be a similar channel from the Lachlan marshes to the Morumbidgee, as the one Sturt and Hume had formerly noticed to the north, leading from the great marsh of the Macquarie to the Darling. In point of fact they actually crossed the Lachlan, and went some distance beyond it, passing close to Oxley's lowest camp, as the natives afterwards testified to Major Mitchell.
The extract from the Major's journal bearing on the subject runs thus:—
"The natives further informed me that three men on horseback, who had canoes (boats) on the Murrumbidgee, had visited the Lachlan thereabouts since, and that after crossing it, and going a little way beyond, they had returned."
Sturt mentioned seeing the fires of the natives during this trip, but he did not see them, although it was evident that they had a good look at him.
On the 26th of December, it seemed that their gloomiest hopes were to be realised. Traversing plains like those described before, Sturt says:—
"The wheels of the drays sank up to their axle-trees, and the horses above their fetlocks at every step. The fields of polygonum spread on every side of us, like a dark sea, and the only green object within range of our vision was the river line of trees. In several instances the force of both teams was put to one dray, to extricate it from the bed into which it had sunk, and the labour was considerably increased from the nature of the weather. The wind was blowing as if through a furnace, from the N.N.E., and the dust was flying in clouds, so as to render it almost suffocating to remain exposed to it. This was the only occasion upon which we felt the hot winds in the interior. We were, about noon, endeavouring to gain a point of a wood at which I expected to come upon the river again, but it was impossible for the teams to reach it without assistance. I therefore sent M'Leay forward with orders to unload the pack animals as soon as he should make the river, and send them back to help the teams. He had scarcely been separated from me twenty minutes, when one of the men came galloping back to inform me that no river was to be found—that the country beyond the woods was covered with reeds as far as the eye could reach, and that Mr. M'Leay had sent him back for instructions. This intelligence stunned me for a moment or two, and I am sure its effect upon the men was very great. They had unexpectedly arrived at a part of the interior similar to one they held in dread, and conjured up a thousand difficulties and privations. I desired the man to recall Mr. M'Leay; and, after gaining the wood, moved outside of it at right angles to my former course, and reached the river, after a day of severe toil and exposure at half-past five. The country, indeed, bore every resemblance to that around the marshes of the Macquarie, but I was too weary to make any further effort; indeed it was too late for one to undertake anything until the morning."
The following day, accompanied by his friend, Sturt proceeded to examine the river. He found it still running strong, without any sign of diminution in its flow, but the reedy flats were so dense and thick that no passage for the teams was practicable. At noon the leader halted, and announced his intention of returning to camp. He had come to the determination to construct the whaleboat he had with him in sections, to send the teams back, and, with six men and Mr. M'Leay, to start down the river, and follow it wherever it went; whether ever to return again or not was for the future to determine.
Clayton, the carpenter, was at once set to work upon the boat, or boats, for a tree was felled, a sawpit rigged up, and a small boat half the size of the whaleboat built. Everybody worked hard, and in seven days the boats were afloat, moored alongside a temporary wharf, ready for loading. Six men were then chosen to form the crew, who were about to undertake one of the most eventful and important voyages in Australia's history. They were Clayton, the carpenter, Mulholland and Macnamee, the three soldiers, Harris, Hopkinson and Fraser, the leader, and M'Leay—eight in all. The remainder of the party, under Robert Harris, were to remain stationary one week, in case of accident, then to proceed to Goulburn Plains and await instructions from Sydney.
On the 7th of January, 1830, the voyagers started, towing the smaller boat, the men all in high spirits at the wide prospect of adventure before them.
Going with the stream they made rapid progress, using only two oars, but the first day did not suffice to carry them clear of the reeds, in fact, at night when they landed to camp, they could scarcely find room to pitch their tents. On the second day, an accident happened to the skiff they were towing; she struck on a log, and immediately sank with all the valuable cargo she carried. Two days were spent in recovering the things, as the boat had gone down in twelve feet of water, and during the time they were so employed, the blacks robbed the camp of many articles.
Once more on the move, they found the river still winding its way through a flat expanse of reeds, and threatening to end as the other rivers had done. On the afternoon of the next day a change for the better took place; the reeds on both sides of the river terminated, and the country became more elevated, and bore the appearance of open forest pasture land; a tributary creek of considerable size joined the river from the S.E., and the spirits of the voyagers rose again. More tributaries now came in from the south-east, and the dangers of navigation increased, the river being full of snags and fallen timber, and the utmost care had to be used to keep the boat clear. On the second day of this distressing work, they were destined to meet with a surprise.
"About one we again started. The men looked anxiously ahead, for the singular change in the river had impressed on them the idea that we were approaching its termination, or near some adventure. On a sudden the river took a general southern direction, but, in its tortuous course, swept round to every point of the compass with the greatest irregularity. We were carried at a fearful rate down its gloomy and contracted banks, and in such a moment of excitement, had little time to pay attention to the country through which we were passing. It was, however, observed that chalybeate springs were numerous close to the water's edge. At three p.m., Hopkinson called out that we were approaching a junction, and in less than a minute afterwards we were hurried into a broad and noble river.
"It is impossible to describe the effect of so instantaneous a change upon us. The boats were allowed to drift along at pleasure, and such was the force with which we had been shot out of the Morumbidgee, that we were carried nearly to the bank opposite its embouchure, whilst we continued to gaze in silent astonishment on the capacious channel we had entered; and when we looked for that by which we had been led into it, we could hardly believe that the insignificant gap that presented itself to us was indeed the termination of the beautiful and noble stream whose course we had thus successfully followed."
Sturt had now succeeded beyond his hopes—his bold adventure had been rewarded even sooner than he could have expected. He felt assured that at last he floated on the stream destined to bear him to the sea. The key to the river system of the south-east portion of the continent was in his grasp, and all former fallacies and fanciful theories were answered for good. The voyage down the Murray, as this river was named, after Sir George Murray, then the bead of the Colonial Department, now continued free from some of the difficulties that had beset them in the Morumbidgee. The natives again made their appearance, and were constantly seen every day, some betraying great timidity, others appearing more curious than frightened. Four of these natives accompanied them for two days, during which time the explorers narrowly suffered wreck in a rapid in the river.
They now approached the confluence of the Darling, although of course they were not then able to verify the supposition that it was their old friend, and at this point one of the most singular adventures ever narrated in the intercourse with native tribes happened.
The wind was fair, and with the sail set, the boat was making rapid way when, at the termination of a long reach, they observed a line of magnificent trees, of green and dense foliage. A large number of blacks were here assembled, and apparently with no friendly intentions, armed, painted, and shouting defiance. Anxious to avert hostilities, Sturt steered straight for them, thinking to make friends; but when almost too close to avoid a meeting, he could see that the matter was serious. The blacks had their spears poised for throwing, and their women were behind with a fresh supply. The sail was lowered and the helm put about, and the boat passed down the stream, the natives running along the bank, keeping pace with them, shouting and attempting to take aim.
To add to their danger the river shoaled rapidly, and a sandspit appeared ahead, projecting nearly two thirds of the way across the channel, and on this spit the blacks now gathered with tremendous uproar, evidently determined to make an assault on the boat as she ran the gauntlet through the narrow passage. Amongst the four blacks who had accompanied them for two days was one of superior personal strength and stature. These men had left the camp of the whites the night before, and it was believing in their presence in the crowd before them that led Sturt to disregard the hostile demonstrations.
A battle now seemed inevitable. Arms were distributed to the crew, and orders given how to act when the emergency arose.
We will let Sturt tell his own story:—
"The men assured me they would follow my instructions, and thus prepared, having already lowered the sail, we drifted onwards with the current. As we neared the sand-bank, I stood up and made signs to the natives to desist, but without success. I took up my gun, therefore, and cocking it, had already brought it down to a level; a few seconds more would have closed the life of the nearest savage. The distance was too trifling for me to doubt the fatal effects of the discharge; for I was determined to take deadly aim, in hopes that the fall of one man might save the lives of many. But at the very moment when my hand was on the trigger, and my eye was along the barrel, my purpose was checked by M'Leay, who called to me that another party of blacks had made their appearance upon the left bank of the river. Turning round, I observed four men at the top of their speed. The foremost of them, as soon as he got ahead of the boat, threw himself from a considerable height into the water. He struggled across the channel to the sandbank, and in an incredibly short space of time stood in front of the savage, against whom my aim had been directed. Seizing him by the throat, he pushed him backwards, and forcing all who were in the water upon the bank, he trod its margin with a vehemence and an agitation that were exceedingly striking. At one moment pointing to the boat, at another shaking his clenched hand in the faces of the most forward, and stamping with passion on the sand; his voice, that was at first distinct, was lost in hoarse murmurs. Two of the four natives remained on the left bank of the river, the third followed his leader (who proved to be the remarkable savage I have previously noticed) to the scene of action. The reader will imagine our feelings on this occasion; it is impossible to describe them. We were so wholly lost in interest at the scene that was passing, that the boat was allowed to drift at pleasure.