Ned and Harry had kept the nautical instruments which they carried over the deserts of Northern Africa, and they amused themselves by taking daily observations and calculating the ship’s position. Sometimes they were wrong, and sometimes they were right, Ned naively remarking that “the wrongs didn’t count.” The first officer of the ship gave them some assistance in their nautical observations, and, altogether, they got along very well.
Our friends made the acquaintance of some of their fellow-passengers and found them very agreeable. The majority were residents of Australia or New Zealand, who had been on visits to England and were now returning home. The youths learned a great deal concerning the country whither they were bound, and the goodly portion of the information they received was of practical value tothem. They made copious notes of what they heard, and some of the information that they gleaned will appear later in these pages.
In due time they sighted the coast of Australia at its western extremity, known as Cape Leeuwin, but the sight was not especially picturesque, as the mountains around the cape are of no great height. After passing Cape Leeuwin, the steamer held her course steadily to the west, gradually leaving the shore out of sight. She was passing along the front of what is called the Great Australian Bight, an indentation in the land twelve hundred miles long, and bounded on the north by a region of desolation.
“It is a desolate coast,” said one of the passengers to Harry, “and is so destitute of water that no settlements have or can be made upon it. Mr. Eyre, who was afterwards governor of Jamaica, endeavored to explore that coast, and had a terrible time of it. He was an entire year making the journey of twelve hundred miles, and suffered the most terrible hardships.”
CHAPTER III.A LAND OF CONTRADICTIONS—TRANSPORTATION TO AUSTRALIA.
“How long is it since Mr. Eyre made this journey?” Harry asked.
“It was a good while ago,” the gentleman answered, “in the years 1839 and 1840. Mr. Eyre had explored a portion of the western shore of Spencer Gulf, and while doing so, determined to make the attempt to travel along the shore of the Great Australian Bight. One of the first difficulties that opposed him was the scarcity of fresh water. There were numerous gullies, showing that in times of rain there was plenty of water, but no rain had fallen for a long time and all these gullies were dry. A few springs were found, but these were generally brackish and the water was hardly drinkable.
“Mr. Eyre tried the experiment of sinking a cask in the ground, near the edge of the sea, in the hope of obtaining fresh water, but his experiments in this direction were not successful. By the time he had advanced two hundred miles, he had lost four of his horses. The reduction in the number of his pack animals made it impossible for him to carry sufficient provisions for his party, and he therefore sent back his only white companion and three of his men. Then he continued his journey with his overseer and three natives, one of the latter being his personal servant.
“In order to be sure of water, Mr. Eyre explored in advance of the party, and sometimes was gone four or five days before finding any. One by one the horses died of thirst, and the only way the men could keep alive was by gathering the dew, which fell at night, by means of sponges and rags.
“The natives complained at their hardships, and one night the two men took possession of the guns, killed the overseer, and ran away, leaving Mr. Eyre with only his native servant and a very small stock of provisions. They were then about midway on the journey; that is, they had still six hundred miles to travel to reach the settled parts of West Australia. The entire supply of provisions that they had was four gallons of water, forty pounds of flour, and a portion of a dead horse. They had to go nearly two hundred miles before finding any more water, and lived on horse-flesh, with occasional game and fish, and a little flour paste. Just as they were about to lie down and die in the desert they saw a sail in the distance.
“They built a fire on the beach as a signal, and, luckily for them, it was observed. The vessel came in quite near the land and sent a boat to their assistance. The ship proved to be an American whaler that was cruising about the Australian Bight in pursuit of whales, and the captain invited them to stay on board as long as they liked. They remained there two weeks, and were then put ashore at the same spot whence they had gone on board. The captain supplied them with all the provisions and water they could carry. Mr. Eyre was determined to complete his journey, if possible, and his faithful servant consented toremain with him. They struggled on for two or three weeks longer, when they reached the first of the settlements on King George’s Sound.”
“Has anybody else ever tried to make the same journey?” Harry asked.
“Not under the same circumstances,” was the reply. “I believe that a well-equipped exploring party was sent out some twelve or fifteen years ago, to travel along the coast and look for gold. Water and provisions were supplied every few days by a small steamer that kept near the shore and went in when signaled by the travelers. In this way, suffering from hunger and thirst was avoided and the animals of the expedition were well supplied with forage. The enterprise was not a successful one so far as the finding of gold was concerned, but I have little doubt that one of these days gold will be discovered there; and if it should be, some way will be found for softening the asperities of this desolate coast.”
“I have heard,” said Harry, “that a great part of Australia is destitute of water. Is that really the case?”
“Yes,” the gentleman answered; “you have been correctly informed. Australia, is a waterless country, or, at any rate, that is the case with a great part of it. The interior has never been fully explored for this reason, and there are thousands, I might say millions, of square miles of Australian country where no human foot has ever trod. Many attempts have been made to penetrate this desolate region, but all have resulted in failure.
“Water, as you know, is an absolute necessity for man and animals, and there is a limit to the amount which anexpedition can carry, just as there is a limit to the food that one may take on a journey. There are parts of Australia where rain seems never to fall, or, if it does, the intervals are so rare and irregular that no reliance can be placed on them. Explorers cannot stop to dig wells hundreds of feet in depth, and it is certain that no ordinary amount of digging will procure water. The atmosphere is dry, terribly dry, as all who have attempted to penetrate into the interior will tell you.
“Instruments, and cases made of the best seasoned wood—wood that has been dried for years and years—crack and split and go to pieces in the dry atmosphere of the interior of Australia. Leather becomes brittle, and cracks and breaks when the slightest pressure is put upon it. One exploring expedition was obliged to turn back in consequence of the drying up and cracking of the wood contained in its instruments and their cases. The evaporation from one’s skin is very rapid under such circumstances, and produces an agonizing thirst, which is no doubt intensified by the knowledge of the scarcity of water and the necessity of using the supply on hand with great care.”
“I have heard,” said Ned, “that Australia is a land of contradictions as compared with England and the United States. I read in a book somewhere that nearly everything in nature was the reverse of what it was in the countries I mentioned.”
“That is true,” said the gentleman with whom they were conversing, “and I will tell you several things to demonstrate the correctness of what you say. In the firstplace Australia is on the other side of the world from England and the United States, and that circumstance ought to prepare you for the other peculiarities. Most countries are fertile in their interior; but, as I have told you, the interior of Australia is a land of desolation, where neither man nor beast can live. I have been told that birds never fly in the interior of Australia; and certainly if I were a bird, I would not fly there nor anywhere near it.
“We have very few rivers, and none of them come from far in the interior. Most of them are low in summer or altogether dried up. There is only one river, the Murray, that can be relied upon to have any reasonable depth of water in it throughout the entire year. The other rivers dwindle almost to nothing, and, as I have said, entirely disappear. The greater part of the country is absolutely without trees, and the dense forests which you have in America are practically unknown. We have summer when you have winter, and we have night when you have day. When you are in your own country, and I am here, our feet are nearer together than our heads; that is to say, our feet are pressing the ground on opposite sides of the earth, and so we may be said to be standing upon each other.”
“That is so,” remarked Harry; “I was thinking of that this morning. I noticed also that the ship’s compass pointed to the south, and that the sun was traveling along the northern heavens. I observed, too, that the south wind was cold, and the north wind hot.”
“You are quite right,” said the gentleman; “and ifyou have been studying the barometer, you have found that it falls with the northerly wind and rises with the southerly one. When you travel over the country, you will find that the valleys are cool and the mountain tops warm. The bees have no sting, and many of the beautiful flowers have no smell. The leaves of the trees are nearly always perpendicular instead of horizontal, as in your country, and consequently one gets very little shade under an Australian tree.”
“I have heard,” said Ned, “that the trees shed their bark instead of their leaves. Is that really so?”
“It is so with most of the trees,” was the reply; “in fact, with nearly all of them. A few shed their leaves every year, and on many of the trees the leaves remain unchanged, while the bark is thrown off. One tree is called the stringy bark, on account of the ragged appearance of its covering at the time it is shed.
“In your part of the world,” the gentleman continued, “cherries grow with the stones inside; but here in Australia we have cherries with the stones on the outside. We have birds of beautiful plumage and very little song; the owls are quiet at night, and screech and hoot in the daytime, which certainly is not a characteristic of the English or American owl. The geological formation of the country is also peculiar, and the scientific men who have come here from England and America are a good deal puzzled at the state of affairs they find in Australia. Would it not surprise you to learn that we have coal in this country as white as chalk?”
“That is, indeed, a surprise,” one of the youths remarked.“I wonder if the conditions are continued so that your chalk is black.”
“The contrasts do not go quite so far as that,” said the gentleman, with a laugh, “as the chalk of Australia is as white as that of England. I don’t mean to say that all our coal is white, but only the coal of certain localities. It generally takes the stranger by surprise to see a grateful of white coal burning brightly, and throwing out smoke at the same time. I must tell you that this coal is bituminous, and not anthracite.”
“I hope,” said Ned, “that men’s heads do not grow out of their sides, or from their breasts, and that they do not walk topsy-turvy, with their feet in the air.”
“No, they are not as bad as that,” was the reply; “but you will see some queer things before you are through with Australia. Bear in mind that the country contains no antiquities of any kind; it is a new land in every sense, as it was first settled in 1788, and all these cities are of modern foundation and growth.”
Our young friends thanked the gentleman for the information he had given them, and said they would specially bear in mind the comparisons and contrasts which he had indicated in their brief conversation.
The first stopping place of the ship was at Adelaide, in South Australia, from which place she proceeded around the coast to Melbourne. Our friends decided to land at Adelaide, and go overland through that city wherever the railway would take them. They thought that by so doing they would be able to see a great deal more on their way to Melbourne than if they continued aboard the ship.
Harry had obtained a map of Australia on the day before their arrival at Adelaide. He was busily engaged in studying it.
“Just look a moment,” said Harry to Ned, as he spread the map out on one of the tables in the saloon; “here is another contradiction that our friend didn’t include. Look at it.”
“Well, what of it?” said Ned. “It is a map of Australia, is it not?”
“Yes, it is, and just look at the provinces or colonies of Australia. Here is West Australia, as its name indicates, at the western end of the great island or continent. Here are Queensland, New South Wales, and Victoria, and here is South Australia, where we are going to land. Adelaide is its capital.”
“Well, what of it?” queried Ned, with an expression of curiosity on his face.
“Why, don’t you see,” said Harry, in a tone of impatience, “that South Australia is not South Australia at all. Here is Victoria, which runs further south than this colony, and then you see South Australia runs clear across the continent to the northern side, and almost as far north as the extreme point of Queensland. They ought to change the name of it, or else divide it into two colonies, calling this one by its present name, and the other North Australia.”
Ned admitted the force of the argument, and then joined his cousin in studying the map. Strange to say, the middle section or unexplored region had a singular fascination for both the youths, and each confided to the other that he would like to undertake the exploration of that part of the continent. They wondered whether Dr. Whitney would entertain their proposal to do so, but finally concluded that the hardships would be too great, and they would say nothing about their aspirations.
"HARRY HAD OBTAINED A MAP OF AUSTRALIA."“HARRY HAD OBTAINED A MAP OF AUSTRALIA.”
In due time the steamer came to anchor at Port Adelaide. The harbor of the capital city is not on the sea, but seven miles away from it, on the banks of the small river Torrens. The railway connects the port with the city, and shortly after getting ashore our friends were seated in a train, which carried them quickly to the capital. One of the passengers told Ned that the port was formerly quite shallow and difficult to enter. The entrance at present is between two large shoals of sand, which are marked by lighthouses. A great deal of money has been expended in deepening and widening the harbor, so that it is now accessible for large ships.
A long pier extends into St. Vincent’s Gulf, the body of water on which the port stands, and this pier is quite popular as a promenade for the people living at the port, and also for those who come down from the city.
Harry observed that the dock and pier accommodations were excellent. There were immense sheds, and warehouses for the storage of grain, wool, and other products of the country while awaiting shipment, and equally extensive shelters for merchandise arriving at the port on its way to the city and to other parts of the colony. There were dry docks and repairing yards, and there were hospitals for sick sailors and others, together with the usual public buildings of a prosperous seaport. Immense quantities of wool and frozen meat are shipped from this portto England, and the trade of the colony with the mother country is said to be increasing every year.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when our friends landed, and in less than half an hour after landing they were in the city. One of their steamer acquaintances had directed them to a hotel, and, in fact, accompanied them to it, so that they had the advantage of his personal guidance and introduction. Harry made a memorandum in his notebook that they found the hotel quite a good one, certainly much better than the hotel where they stopped at Cape Town.
After settling themselves in the hotel the party went out for a stroll, but, in consequence of the heat, they were not long in turning their stroll into a drive. Here is what Ned says of their first day in Adelaide:—
“This city recalls Chicago more than any other place I can think of. It is on a level plain, with the exception of the portion to the north where the ground rises a little, and the streets are laid out at right angles, as though a chess-board had been taken as a model for the place. We have wondered why it was called Adelaide instead of Mary Ann, Betsy, or some other feminine name; Dr. Whitney has just told us that the city was laid out in 1837 and named in honor of the queen of King William IV., who was then the ruler of England.
“Having named the place in honor of the queen, the founders of the city felt that the next thing to do was to call the principal street after the king. Thus it happens that the great street, the one most built upon, and where the majority of the shops are concentrated, is King WilliamStreet. It is a broad avenue running from south to north, and divides the city almost equally. It is certainly a very handsome avenue, and we greatly enjoyed our drive upon it. Most of the public buildings, the town hall, post-office, government offices, and the like, are on King William Street, and they are very handsome structures.
“The people are very proud of these edifices, and well they may be, as they would be ornaments to any city ten times as old and large as Adelaide. The principal banks, newspaper offices, and business structures generally are also on King William Street, and to judge by the crowds of people that throng the sidewalks, one might conclude that the population was a busy one. One thing that attracted our attention was the great number of churches, which certainly gave us the impression that the population of Adelaide is decidedly religious, and also that its zeal in religion had led it to contribute freely to the erection of places of worship. Our driver pointed out the various churches and told us their denomination. Of course the Church of England was ahead of the others, as is expected to be the case in a British colony.”
“I learned afterwards,” said Ned, “that there were nearly one thousand churches and chapels in the colony of South Australia, together with nearly five hundred other buildings that are occasionally used for religious worship. All the churches are supported by voluntary contributions, there being no State aid to any of them. At the last census of the colony there were 76,000 adherents of the Church of England, 43,000 Roman Catholics, and 42,000 Methodists. Then came the Lutherans, with 20,000; Presbyterians,with 18,000; Baptists, with 14,000; and about 10,000 each of primitive Methodists, Congregationalists, and Bible Christians. There were several other denominations, but their numbers were insignificant. We looked for pagodas while driving along the street, but none of them were to be found, and we learned on inquiry that the number of Chinese and Moslems in South Australia was hardly worth mentioning. The colony has never been attractive to the Chinese, and few of them have endeavored to find homes there.
“We drove to the resident portion of the city and saw a goodly number of private houses of the better sort. A great deal of taste has been displayed in the construction of these houses, and we derived the impression that Adelaide was a decidedly prosperous city. The wheat-growing industry of South Australia is a very large one. Many of the great farmers have their residences in Adelaide and spend only a small portion of their time on their farms, leaving all details to their managers. A considerable amount of American farming machinery finds its way to South Australia, where it has attained a well-deserved popularity.”
While our friends were at breakfast the next morning, Harry suggested that if the others were willing, he would like to see one of the Australian prisons containing convicts that had been transported from England.
The doctor smiled,—just a faint smile,—while Ned laughed.
“Oh, you are all wrong, Harry,” said Ned. “They gave up that business long ago. I was under the sameimpression that you are, but learned better from one of our fellow-passengers. I meant to tell you about it.”
“Well, I will acknowledge my mistake,” said Harry. “We are all liable to make blunders, and that is one of them.”
“Quite true,” Dr. Whitney remarked. “Every visitor to a country that is strange to him makes a great many mistakes, and the frank thing is to acknowledge it.”
“The gentleman who corrected my blunder,” said Ned, “told me that an American visitor who was very fond of hunting landed once in Sydney, fresh from the United States. The hunting fever was strong in him, and before he was an hour on shore he asked the clerk of the hotel where he could go to shoot Sydney ducks. He had heard of them, and would like to bag a few brace.”
“What is the point of the joke?” said Harry; “I confess I cannot see it.”
“That is exactly what I said to my informant,” replied Ned, “and then he went on and told me that in former times Australian convicts were spoken of as Sydney ducks.”
“Oh! I see,” said Harry, “that is a very good joke when you come to know all about it. What did the clerk of the hotel say to the inquiring stranger?”
“I don’t know,” replied Ned, “but I presume he told him that Sydney ducks had gone out of fashion, and were not being shot any more. Probably he let the man down as gently as possible.”
“How did the convicts come to have the name of Sydney ducks?” Harry asked.
“I can’t tell you, I am sure,” said Ned, “you will have to ask the doctor about it.”
“The name came, no doubt,” said Dr. Whitney, “from the circumstance that the first convicts who were brought to Australia were landed at Sydney, and for a good many years Sydney was the principal depot of these involuntary emigrants. The adoption of Australia as the place for convict settlement was brought about by events in America, a statement which may surprise you.”
“It certainly is surprising,” Harry remarked. “How did it happen?”
“It came about in this way,” the doctor continued; “when America was subject to England, offenders of various kinds, whether political or criminal, were sent to the American colonies, principally to the Southern States and the West Indies, where they were chiefly employed in the cultivation of tobacco. The consumption of tobacco in England was very large, and the revenue derived from it was considerable. Consequently England was able to kill two birds with one stone; she got rid of her criminals, at the same time, and made a large profit on their work.
“When the American colonies revolted in 1775, and gained their independence eight years later, England found herself deprived of a place to which she could send her convicts, and she looked around for another. She tried the coast of Africa, and found it too unhealthy for her purpose. Captain Cook had recently visited Australia and given a glowing account of it, and the government officials thought that this new country would be an excellentone for criminals. Orders were given for sending out a fleet of ships for that purpose; and, accordingly, eleven vessels, carrying more than one thousand people, sailed for Portsmouth in the month of March, 1787, with orders to proceed to Australia.”
“If England had known what was to happen,” said Harry, “she need not have been at the trouble of sending her criminals so far away; she might have kept on with America with only slight interruptions. She is sending us her criminals and paupers at present, though she does not designate them properly when she ships them, and most of the continental nations are doing the same thing. We are trying to prevent it, but I don’t believe we succeed to a very great extent.”
“Did they send a thousand convicts to Australia in this first batch?” queried Ned.
“There were about one thousand people altogether,” said Dr. Whitney, “including 757 convicts, and among the convicts were 190 women and eighteen children. They had 160 soldiers to guard the prisoners, with a sufficient number of officers, and forty of the soldiers were accompanied by their wives. They had on the ships a goodly quantity of cattle, sheep, horses, pigs, and goats, and a large quantity of seeds from various parts of the world was sent out. It was not expected that the colony would be self-supporting for some time, and so it was arranged that supply ships laden with flour and other provisions should be sent from England at regular intervals. A year or two after the colony was founded one of these ships was wrecked on its way to Australia, and the colonistssuffered greatly for want of food. Among the supplies taken by each ship there was usually a fresh batch of convicts, and quite regularly convict ships were despatched from England to Australia.”
Ned remarked that he thought a convict ship would not be a pleasant craft to travel on. A good many people did not like crossing the Atlantic on cattle ships, but he thought the cattle ship would be far preferable to one laden with convicts.
“And so it is,” replied the doctor. “According to all accounts, the life on board a convict ship from England to Australia was terrible. Remember that in those days prisoners were treated with great harshness; they were not supposed to have any feelings and were never spoken to kindly, and in many instances an order was usually accompanied by a kick or a blow. During the voyage the prisoners were allowed on deck one hour or possibly two hours of each day, care being taken that only a small number would be there at any one time.
“For the rest of the twenty-four hours they were shut up in close, stifling pens or cages, generally with nothing but a little straw to sleep on, and they were fed with the coarsest and poorest food. Coffee and tea with hard bread formed their breakfast; dinner was the same, with sometimes the addition of a piece of heavily salted beef, so hard that it was no easy matter to cut it into mouthfuls. Supper was the same as breakfast, and this was kept up with hardly any variation.
“The slightest infraction of the rules was punished with the lash, but this did not deter the criminals from makingtrouble. Constantly the boatswain and his assistants were kept busy in performing the floggings that were ordered, and sometimes the cat-o’-nine-tails was in steady use from sunrise to sunset. The more severe his discipline, the more highly an officer was regarded by his superiors, and if he occasionally hanged a few men, it rather advanced than retarded his promotion. A good many died on the voyage from England to Australia, partly in consequence of their scanty fare and the great heat of the tropics; but, according to tradition, a very large proportion of the mortality was the result of brutal treatment and privations.
“The passengers on the convict ship,” said Harry, “seem to have been treated pretty much like those on slave ships.”
“You are not far wrong there,” the doctor replied; “the sufferings of convicts on their way to Australia were not altogether unlike those of the unhappy negroes that were formerly taken from the coast of Africa to North and South America. The convicts were not crowded quite as densely into the holds of the ships as the slaves were, and the mortality among them was not as great; still they were packed very thickly together, and were treated quite as cruelly as the slave dealers used to treat their human property. Occasionally it happened that the convicts formed a conspiracy and endeavored to take possession of the ship. In nearly every instance they were betrayed by one of their number, and when the time came for action they were so closely guarded that any resistance was useless. Then the conspirators were seized, and after a brief trial were condemned to be hung or shot, generally the former,as it saved ammunition and did not soil the decks of the ship with blood. When there was an actual mutiny the mutineers were shot down without mercy, and those who escaped the bullets were speedily disposed of by hanging at the yard-arms.”
“Terrible times those must have been,” remarked Ned; “the wonder is that anybody survived.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Harry; “but man has a tough constitution and can endure a great deal.”
CHAPTER IV.STRANGE ADVENTURES—AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINALS.
One of the youths asked how the convicts were employed after they came to Australia.
“At first,” said the doctor, “they were employed almost entirely on government works. A city was laid out, and of course it was necessary to grade the streets, build bridges, and do other things in connection with putting the place into shape. There were prisons, warehouses, wharves, and other buildings necessary to a convict establishment to be erected. Gardens and fields were to be laid out and planted, and altogether there was no lack of work to be performed. The prisoners were required to work under guard, and the worst of them were ornamented with ball and chain, like the occupants of many a prison in different parts of the world. They were treated just as rigorously as they had been on board the ships that brought them out. Their lodgings were somewhat more spacious, but by no stretch of fancy could they be called luxurious. The supply of food in the colony was not large, and the fare of the prisoners was scanty.
“Free emigration to Australia began a few years after the convict emigration, and most of the free emigrants came here with the view to employ the convicts under contracts with the government. They were principally men of capital, and the most of them established farms orfactories near Sydney and entered into agreements with the government to supply them with labor. Where they were close to the city, the convicts were sent out to their work in the morning and returned to prison at night; but where the distance from the city was considerable, other plans had to be followed. Sometimes soldiers were detailed to guard the convicts at their working places, and in others the employer himself supplied the guard. The convicts were also made to understand very clearly that if they ran away they would be caught and severely punished.
“I should think they would run away in spite of all these threats, especially where their sentences were for long terms,” Harry remarked.
“It was not so easy as it may seem for anybody to escape,” said the doctor. “A man could not stay around the colony more than a day or two, or a few days at the farthest, without being discovered, and when found he was sure to be severely flogged, put on bread and water, and shut up in a dark cell. If he escaped into the bush, he was pretty certain to starve to death unless found by the natives, in which case he was generally murdered. Many a convict ran away to the bush and was never heard of. Others remained there until starvation forced them to come in and give themselves up.”
“Did the free settlers increase as fast as the convicts?”
“Yes, they increased faster as the word went out through the British Islands that Australia offered great possibilities for emigrants. For twenty years the military and convicts were more numerous than the free settlers;but by the end of thirty years the latter were in the ascendency. In the year 1830, there were twenty-seven thousand convicts in the colony, and forty-nine thousand others.
“By ‘others’ I don’t mean other settlers, altogether, though I do mean free people. By that time a good many convicts had served out their sentences and become free. They were known as ‘emancipists,’ and consequently there were three kinds of people in the colony,—emancipists, convicts, and free settlers. The free settlers would not associate with the emancipists, and they in turn would not associate with the convicts. The free settlers wanted the emancipists to be deprived of all civil rights and kept practically in the same position as the convicts. The officers of the government used to take the side of the emancipists, and there were many bitter quarrels between them and the free settlers in consequence.”
Here the doctor paused for a moment, and then asked:—
“Did you ever read about the mutiny of theBounty?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Harry; “I read about it two or three years ago. The crew of the shipBountymutinied, and put the captain and others in an open boat to take care of themselves the best way they could. TheBountythen cruised about the Pacific for awhile, and finally went to Pitcairn’s Island, where the mutineers landed and destroyed the ship. Their fate was not known until nearly thirty years afterwards, when an American ship touched at the island, and found it peopled by the descendants of the mutineers, who had taken some women from Tahiti to become their wives. Only one of those concerned in themutiny was then alive. The captain and his companions in the open boat made a voyage of four thousand miles, enduring great hardships, and eventually reached the Dutch settlements in the island of Timor.”
“A very good account for a brief one,” said the doctor. “Do you remember the name of theBounty’scommander?”
“Yes,” replied Harry. “I believe it was Bligh; in fact, I am sure of it.”
“Well, that same Captain Bligh was one of the early governors of New South Wales, as the colony was then called. He caused the mutiny on theBountyby want of tact and by undue severity, and the same spirit that he showed on the deck of his ship caused a rebellion in New South Wales. Of course, the convicts had no influence or part in the rebellion, but the free settlers were very active in it, and so were a good many of the officers. Bligh caused himself to be thoroughly disliked by interfering with local trade, and also by his very intemperate talk concerning free settlers and emancipists. He was deposed and sent to England, while a temporary governor was installed in his place. To a certain extent he triumphed over his enemies, as the officers who had taken part in the rebellion were either reprimanded or dismissed. Governor Bligh came back with the authority to assume the position of governor for just one hour.”
“Not a very long term for a man to be governor,” Ned remarked.
“No, not by any means,” was the reply; “but there was a technical advantage in it which was very important. The governor did a great deal in that one hour. He removeda good many officers and appointed new ones in their places, and he made several changes in the administration of the colony which were more or less embarrassing to his successor.
“Governor Bligh was succeeded by Governor Macquarie. The quarrel between the free settlers and the emancipists continued during Macquarie’s administration. The governor took the side of the emancipists, and at one time there was a good prospect of another rebellion; but, happily, the new chief of the colony possessed more tact than his predecessor, and no rebellion was ever brought about. Governor Macquarie relaxed some of the severity with which the convicts had been treated, and this, together with his favoring the emancipists, gave him the title of the ‘Prisoners’ Friend.’
“As time went on, the number of free settlers in the colony increased, and so did the number of farms in the vicinity of Sydney. As I have already told you, the convicts were hired out to work on the farms. Of course a good many of them ran away, and then some of them got into the bush, where they remained for various periods, but the majority of them were caught and brought back within a few days. Dogs were used in pursuing them, and several kennels of dogs were kept at the prisons for the purpose of hunting out runaways. Some of the prisoners’ beliefs in regard to the country were very amusing. The idea got into the heads of many that, by traveling overland for a few days, they would reach China, and quite a number of them tried to do so. One man wandered for a month around the bush country, until finally,driven by hunger, he ventured to approach a house. There he saw a fellow-prisoner whom he knew, and asked him how long he had been in China. He was very much surprised on learning that he was not in China at all, but on a farm a few miles from Sydney. While he was talking with the friend two soldiers happened along and took him in charge, and then carried him back to the prison, where he received the customary punishment.
“In 1798 a good many Irishmen who had been concerned in the Irish rebellion of that year were transported to Australia. They saw in the mountains back of Sydney a close resemblance to the mountains of Connaught, in their native country, and fancied that if they could cross those mountains they would find themselves at home. Quite a number of them ran away in consequence, but were doomed to disappointment. One man on the voyage out to Australia had given a good deal of time to studying the motions of the ship’s compass, and he imagined that if he could only get something of the kind he would be all right and could safely guide himself through the forests of Australia. He watched his chance and stole a book on navigation. One leaf of the book had a picture of a mariner’s compass. He tore out this leaf, and, thus equipped, took the first opportunity of running away.
“Speaking of these Irish rebels reminds me of something I must tell you. They were convicted of treason, either for taking an active part in the rebellion or sympathizing with it, and for this crime they were sent as convicts to the other side of the world. No distinction was made between political and criminal offenders, and theman who had loved his country and tried to set her free treated with the same severity as the house breaker and highwayman.
“A great many men were sent to Australia for the crime of poaching. Many a man was condemned to seven, ten, and fifteen years’ exile at hard labor because he had taken a trout out of a brook, or snared a partridge. Offenses that in these times would only result in a fine were then punished with great severity, and a considerable number of the convicts sent to Australia in the first thirty years of the prevalence of the system were men whose offenses had really been very light. It was for this reason that Governor Macquarie and other high officials took the position that they did in favor of the emancipists. They contended that a man whose offense had been of a trivial sort, and who had shown himself to be honest and industrious, ought to receive a helping hand, instead of being placed under the ban.”
“I quite agree with them,” said Harry; “and I wonder that the free settlers were so severe against them.”
“But you must bear in mind,” the doctor answered, “that the term ‘convict’ is always odious, no matter under what circumstances it may have been obtained. It was not easy at all times for the free settlers to make a distinction among emancipists, and so they came to a quick conclusion by denouncing all. However, that state of society has all passed away; convicts, emancipists, and free settlers of the first quarter of this century are all dead and gone now, with, possibly, a few exceptions. Time has healed the breach, and this subject is very little talked of at the present day.”
“How about the descendants of the early colonists?” Ned inquired. “Do the sins of the fathers descend upon the children, or are they all forgotten?”
“As to that,” said the doctor, “I must give you a little explanation. It is not considered polite in Australia to ask a man born in the country who his father was, or how he happened to emigrate from England. That is a subject that is ignored in polite society, and, in fact, in society of all kinds. In political life, a man may abuse his opponent as much as he pleases in all ways, except that should he venture in the anger of debate to intimate that his opponent’s father came to Australia as an involuntary emigrant, he renders himself liable to heavy damages. I can tell you of a case in point.
“A prominent official in the government of Victoria is known to be the son of a man who was transported for catching a pheasant. It is an open secret; in fact, one could hardly say that it was a secret at all, as every man who has any knowledge of public life is well aware of it. Once while this man was running for office, his opponent, in a fierce debate before a public meeting, mentioned the circumstance, whereupon the other brought suit, and was awarded damages to the extent of fifty thousand dollars. It is probable that the unlucky defendant of the suit has been more careful in the use of his tongue ever since.
“One of the convicts that escaped,” continued the doctor, “had a most remarkable experience. He wandered off into the bush or forests, and kept traveling until the small amount of provisions he carried was exhausted. Then fortwo or three days he lived upon roots and leaves and on a bird that he killed with a club.
“One day, while he was dragging himself along, he came to a mound of earth, which had been freshly heaped up. Standing in this mound there was a stick, and to help himself along he took possession of the stick, which was like a long walking-cane. He observed, as he took possession of it, that it seemed to have been used before, but he proceeded on his way and thought no more about the matter.
“After dragging himself along for half a mile or more, he suddenly came upon a little encampment of native blacks or aborigines. They raised a shout as they saw him and made a rush in his direction, brandishing their spears and other weapons, and showing signs of hostility.
“The poor fellow thought his last hour had come, as he had heard that the blacks murdered every white man they came across. What was his surprise when they suddenly lowered their weapons and changed their demonstrations of hostility to those of respect! They gathered about him in the most friendly manner imaginable, and tried to talk with him, but he could not understand a word. They threw up a shelter for him larger than any other shelter in the encampment, and installed him there, and they treated him as though he were a princely ambassador. They brought him food, which he ate ravenously, and they continued to place their greatest delicacies before him until his appetite was fully satisfied.
“Well, he remained among them for years, and as he was a man of fair intelligence, he soon learned their language. It did not take him long to comprehend that hewas treated as the chief of the tribe, and had been regarded as such from the very beginning. And what do you suppose brought it about?”
“I’m sure I can’t tell,” said both of the youths in a breath.
“It came about in this way,” explained the doctor. “The Australian blacks believe, or, at any rate, many of the tribes do, that the white man is nothing more nor less than a resurrected black man. Those of them who speak English express it in these words: ‘Tumble down, black fellow; jump up, white fellow.’
“It so happened that the tribe which he joined had just buried its chief, and when they bury one of their dead they heap a mound of earth above the spot, and upon the top of the mound some implement or weapon belonging to the deceased. In this case they had stuck the old chief’s walking-staff in the top of the mound, and it was this very staff that the white man took from the mound where the chief was buried, to help him along on his way. When the blacks saw the man approaching they proceeded to kill him after their custom, but as he came near and they saw that he carried the staff of their chief, they at once concluded that the chief had come to life again in the shape of the white fellow. That is why they showed him so many honors and made him chief of their tribe. It was in their minds a clear case of ‘tumble down, black fellow; jump up, white fellow.’”
“I suppose he was quite contented to stay with them, and not return to Sydney and its punishments?” remarked one of the youths.
“Yes, indeed he was. For years rumors came to Sydney from time to time, that there was a white man living in one of the aboriginal tribes as their chief. Word was sent him several times by means of the blacks, giving the governor’s promise that he would not be molested if he would come to Sydney and tell his story, but he was suspicious, and for a long time refused to come. Finally an officer of the government went out, and with a great deal of difficulty succeeded in having an interview with him. He received the most solemn assurance that he would not be interfered with, and finally said that if a full pardon were sent to him, he would come. A full pardon was accordingly forwarded and he ventured to Sydney, where he received a good deal of attention. His story was taken down from his own lips, and afterward published in a book. After a few months he became dissatisfied with civilization and returned to his wanderings.”
“That is a curious idea of the blacks, that they become white after their death,” Ned remarked.
“Yes, it is curious,” said the doctor, “and they carry it out in forming attachments for the white people who employed them. At a station where quite a number of blacks were employed, one of the eldest of the women used to say to the foreman of the place: ‘You are my son, I your moder, and I take care of you. My big boy tumble down, you white boy tumble up. You my piccanniny.’ After a time the man got married and brought his wife to his home. The next day another woman of the tribe adopted and laid claim to her as her child. The two women became very fond of each other, and when, in the course oftime, the black woman died, the white one mourned exceedingly for her.”
“We will have an opportunity to see some of the aboriginals while we are in the country, and then we will learn more about them,” continued the doctor; “but of one thing let me remind you, do not speak of them as ‘natives.’ In Australia, the term ‘native’ is applied to a white person born in this country, while the real natives, as we ourselves would speak of them, are termed ‘blacks’ or ‘aborigines.’”
The youths promised to bear the advice in mind, and then Harry asked how the discontinuance of convict emigration was brought about.
“It was brought about,” the doctor replied, “through the hostility of the Australians themselves. They protested repeatedly against receiving convicts, and their protests were heeded to the extent that for awhile the emigration ceased; but one day a ship appeared in the harbor of Sydney with a fresh batch of convicts. Thereupon the local authorities took vigorous action, and refused to allow the convicts to be landed. The ship then went to Melbourne, with the same result. The people of Melbourne would not have the undesirable emigrants, and the captain was obliged to go around the southern coast to West Australia, where no opposition was made to the human cargo being put on shore. Convict emigration to New South Wales and Victoria ceased about 1840, and to Tasmania in 1853, but it was continued to West Australia until 1858. Since that time it has been entirely given up by the British government, and the class of people that used to be sent here is now taken care of in British prisons at home.
“The old idea about transportation of criminals was, that it rendered society at home better by removing the criminal class. In practise this theory was found to be a mistaken one. Thievery and similar crimes were found to be trades, and as fast as criminals were transported others came up to take their places, so that, practically, no matter how many criminals were sent away, their places were soon filled and the business went on as before. France began the practise about the middle of this century of transporting criminals to New Caledonia and other islands of the Pacific; she still keeps it up, but, according to accounts, there is no diminution of crime in France, nor is there likely to be.
“It is proper to say in this connection that there was a considerable party in Australia in favor of the transportation system, on account of the money the government expended here in consequence. This was particularly the case in Van Dieman’s Land, which is now called Tasmania. That island received a great number of convicts, and the government expended a very large amount of money for their support and for the construction of prison establishments. Many of the public works of Tasmania were built by the convicts. For example, they built an excellent road one hundred and twenty miles long, running across the island from Hobart to Launceston. It is said to be the finest wagon and carriage road in all the country, but is now comparatively little used, having been superseded by a railway.
“The ruins of a very extensive prison are still to be seen at Port Arthur, about thirteen miles from Hobart; itstands on a peninsula which is connected with the mainland by a very narrow neck. Across this neck of land there were chained a lot of savage dogs, so near each other that nobody could pass without being within reach of at least one of the dogs. The water all around the peninsula abounded in sharks, so that if a man attempted to swim across the bay he was liable to become the prey of one, or perhaps a dozen, of these sea wolves. And yet a good many men, first and last, managed to escape from Port Arthur and get into the bush.
“Generally the runaways were caught before being at large many days, and when brought back many of them were condemned to death. At one time the keeper who had charge of the prisons at Hobart complained to the authorities of the inadequate facilities for putting men to death by hanging. He said it was impossible to hang conveniently more than thirteen men at once, and as the hangman had been very busy of late, he thought that the facilities ought to be increased so that the work could be performed with greater expedition.”
Dr. Whitney reminded his young friends that it was time for them to start if they wished to employ the forenoon advantageously; accordingly, a carriage was called and the party went out for a drive. They proceeded in the direction of the lake, a pretty sheet of water in the northern part of Adelaide—about two miles long and in some places half a mile wide. The lake is an artificial one, and is formed by throwing a dam across the river Torrens and restraining the waters which come down in times of flood. For the greater part of the year theriver is little more than a dry bed of sand, and one of the inhabitants told Harry that sprinkling-carts were driven through the bed of the river every morning and evening to keep down the dust. The city is supplied with water from this river; it is taken from a stream several miles above Adelaide, and brought through heavy iron pipes.
Harry wished to know the population of the city, and was told that it was not far from sixty thousand. There is a considerable suburban population, and the man from whom Harry obtained his information said he thought there was fully another sixty thousand people living within a radius of ten miles from City Hall. He said the whole population of the colony of South Australia was not far from one hundred and thirty thousand including about five thousand aboriginals.
When the country was first settled it was thought that the aboriginals numbered twelve or fourteen thousand, but contact with civilization had reduced the figures very materially here, as in other parts of the world. Where white men and aboriginals have come in contact, the latter have suffered all over Australia; their relations have not changed in New Zealand and Tasmania, and this is especially the case in the last-named colony. Not a single aboriginal Tasmanian is now alive, the last one having died in 1876. When the island was first occupied by the English, the number of aboriginals was estimated at four or five thousand. The story goes that when the British landed there the natives made signs of peace, but the officer who was in charge of the landing thought the signals were hostile instead of friendly. He orderedthe soldiers to fire upon the blacks, and thus began a war which lasted for several years, and when it terminated only a few hundreds of the blacks remained alive. In 1854, there were only fifteen of them left, and the number gradually diminished, until the last one died as related.