Part 22
Sunday, 26th May, Newcastle Water, Sturt Plains. This morning we were visited by seven natives, tall, powerfully-made fellows. At first they seemed inclined for mischief, making all manner of gestures and shaking their boomerangs, waddies, etc. We made friendly signs to them, inviting them to come nearer; they gradually approached, and Kekwick and Lawrence got quite close to them; in a short time they appeared to be quite friendly. I felt alarmed for the safety of J. Woodforde (who had gone down the water in search of ducks, and in the direction from which they had come), and endeavoured to make them friends by giving them pieces of handkerchiefs, etc. During the time we were talking with them I heard the distant report of his gun; at the same time Thring and Masters returned from collecting the horses that were missing. I told them to remain until the natives were gone, as I wished to keep them as long as possible to give Woodforde a chance of coming up before they left us; shortly afterwards they went off apparently quite friendly. Sent Thring and Wall to round up the horses which were close at hand, and while they were doing so the natives again returned, running quite close up to the camp and setting fire to the grass. It was now evident they meant mischief. I think they must have seen or heard Woodforde, and have lit the grass in order to engage our attention from him. I felt very much inclined to fire upon them, but desisted, as I feared they would revenge themselves on him in their retreat. They did very little injury by their fire, which we succeeded in putting out. By signs I ordered them to be off, and after much bother they left us, setting fire to the grass as they went along. I now ordered Thring and Wall to go with all speed to protect Woodforde. In about twenty minutes he came into the camp. After leaving us they had attacked him, throwing several boomerangs and waddies at him; he had only one barrel of his gun loaded with shot; they all spread out and surrounded him, gradually approaching from all sides. One fellow got within five yards of him, and was in the act of aiming his boomerang at him. Seeing it was useless to withhold any longer, while the black was in the act of throwing he gave him the contents of his gun in his face, and made for the camp. In a short time Thring and Wall returned at full speed; they had passed where he was, and hearing the report of his gun, made for the place, overtook the blacks, gave chase and made them drop the powder-flask and ducks (which Woodforde had laid down before firing when they attacked him); knowing them to be his, they gave up the chase to look for him, but seeing nothing of him, and two of the natives supporting one apparently wounded, they returned to the camp, where they saw him all safe, relating his adventure, his shot-belt still missing. I sent Thring and him to look for it, and to bring up the missing horses which they had seen. Wind variable. Cloudy.
Monday, 27th May, Newcastle Water, Sturt Plains. Started at 8.10 a.m., course 335 degrees. At 10.20 changed to north; at 1.20 p.m. changed to 90 degrees; and at one mile found water; gave the horses some, and proceeded north-north-east; at 3.40 changed to 90 degrees to some gums: at one mile and a half camped. The gums turn out to be thick wood. I went north-north-west this morning, with the expectation of meeting with water, or rather a chain of ponds; at four miles, I could see nothing of them; and, as we were getting into a very thick scrub of lancewood, I changed to north; and at ten miles on that course, still seeing nothing of them, I changed to east; at one mile came upon them, found water, and followed them; their course now, 20 degrees; at one mile found another pond; in a short time, lost the bed of them in a thick wooded plain. Found a native path running nearly in my course; followed it, thinking it would lead me to some other water, but in a few miles it became invisible. I continued on the same course for nine miles, and found myself on Sturt Plains, with belts of thick wood and scrub; to the north, nothing visible but open plains; to north-east, apparently thick wood or scrub; to north-west and west, apparently scrubby sand hills. The ponds seem to drain this portion of the plains. Changed to east, to what seemed to be large gum-trees, thinking there might be a creek; arriving there, I found them to be stunted gums on the edge of the plain. There is no hope of succeeding in this quarter. Camped without water. Wind, east. Latitude, 17 degrees 12 minutes 30 seconds.
Tuesday, 28th May, Sturt Plains, North. Fourteen of the horses missing this morning before sunrise. From the highest tree nothing is to be seen from east to north and north-west but immense open grassy plains, without a tree on them; no hope of water. I must go back to the ponds and try again to the westward. Did not find the horses until 9.30 a.m., and started at 10. I observed very large flocks of pigeons coming in clouds from the plains in every direction towards the ponds. Some time afterwards we saw them coming back and flying away into the plains as far as the eye can reach, apparently to feed. Arrived at the water at 1.30 p.m. Wind, east-north-east.
Wednesday, 29th May, Chain of Ponds. Started at 7.20 a.m. with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, and nine horses, to follow a native track, which is leading to the westward. At 9.20 made the track; its course, west-north-west. At twenty-eight miles camped without water. The track led us into very thick wood and scrub, and at five miles became invisible. I still continued on the same bearing through the scrub. We have again met with the mulga--a little different from what we have seen before, growing very straight, from thirty to forty feet high, the bark stringy, the leaf much larger and thicker. Amongst it is the hedge-tree. We had seven miles of it very dense, when we again met with an open plain. At three miles entered another dense wood and scrub, like that passed through in the morning. To-day's journey has been over plains of grass, through forest and scrub, without water. In the last five miles we passed through a little spinifex, and the soil is becoming sandy. Wind, south.
Thursday, 30th May, Sturt Plains. As I can see no hope of water, I will leave Woodforde and Wall with the horses, take Thring with me, and proceed ten miles, to see if there will be a change in that distance. Went into a terrible thick wood and scrub for eleven miles and a half, without the least sign of a change--the scrub, in fact, becoming more dense; it is scarcely penetrable. I sent Thring up one of the tallest trees. Nothing to be seen but a fearfully dense wood and scrub all round. Again I am forced to retreat through want of water. The last five miles of the eleven the soil is becoming very sandy, with spinifex and a little grass. It is impossible to say in which way the country dips, for, in forty-five miles travelled over, we have not seen the least sign of a watershed, it is so level. Returned to where I left the others, followed our tracks back, and at eleven miles camped. Horses nearly done up with heavy travelling and the heat of the sun, which is excessive. It is very vexing and dispiriting to be forced back with only a little more than one hundred miles between Mr. Gregory's last camp on the Camfield and me. If I could have found water near the end of this journey, I think I could have forced the rest. It is very galling to be turned back after trying so many times. Wind, east.
Friday, 31st May, Sturt Plains. Not having sufficient tethers for all the horses, we had to short hobble two, and tie their heads to their hobbles; and, in the morning, they were gone. I suppose they must have broken their hobbles or fastenings; they will most likely make on to our outward tracks. I have sent Thring and Woodforde to follow them up, while Wall and I, with the other horses, proceed on our way to the camp. In two hours they made the tracks before us, and I then pushed on as hard as I could get the horses to go; being very anxious about the safety of the party--for, on the first day that I left them, at about seven miles, we passed fourteen or fifteen natives going in the direction of their camp; I also observed, this morning, that they had been running our tracks both backwards and forwards. At three o'clock we arrived, and found all safe; they have not been visited by them, although I observed the prints of their feet in our tracks, a short distance from the camp. It was as much as some of our horses could do to reach the camp. The day has been excessively hot; wind from north-north-east, with clouds. Latitude, 17 degrees 7 minutes.
Saturday, 1st June, Chain of Ponds. I must rest the horses to-day and to-morrow, for they look very miserable; our longitude is 133 degrees 40 minutes 45 seconds. Before leaving the Ponds I shall try once more to the westward--starting from a point three miles west of my first camp on them. To try from this, for the Gulf of Carpentaria, I believe to be hopeless, for the plain seems to be without end and without water. If I could see the least sign of a hill, or hope of finding water, I would try it; but there is none--if there is a passage it must be to the south of this. Wind variable, with clouds.
Sunday, 2nd June, Chain of Ponds. The day has again been very hot. Wind variable.
Monday, 3rd June, Chain of Ponds. Started back to the commencement of the Chain of Ponds, and camped. During the day the sky has been overcast with heavy clouds. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 4th June, Chain of Ponds. Last night one of the horses was drowned in going down to drink at the water hole. He went into a boggy place, got his hind foot fastened in his hobbles, from which he could not extricate himself, and was drowned before we could save him. This is another great loss, for he was a good pack-horse, and was one that I intended taking on my next trip to the westward. At about 8 p.m. it began to rain, and continued the whole night, coming from the east and east-south-east. It still continues without any sign of a break. The ground has become so soft that when walking we sink up to the ankle, and the horses can scarcely move in it. At sundown there is no appearance of a change. It has rained without intermission the whole of last night and to-day. I do not know what effect this will have on my further progress, for now it is impossible to travel. The horses in feeding are already sinking above their knees. Wind and rain from east and east-south-east.
Wednesday, 5th June, Chain of Ponds. There is a little sign of a break in the clouds this morning. The rain has continued the whole night. Ground very soft; it has become about the thickness of cream. The horses can scarcely get about to feed. Sundown: It has been showery all day; sky overcast; clouds and rain from same direction, south-east. In the afternoon some natives made their appearance at about six hundred yards' distance. As the rain had damped the cartridges I caused the rifles to be fired off in that direction; and, as the bullets struck the trees close to them they thought it best to retreat as fast as possible, yelling as they went.
Thursday, 6th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night it has been stormy, with showers of rain, and is still the same this morning. Sundown: Still stormy, with a few drops of rain. Wind, east.
Friday, 7th June, Chain of Ponds. During the night the rain ceased, and this morning is quite bright. Ground so soft that it is impossible to travel. Latitude, 17 degrees 35 minutes 25 seconds. Sent Thring some miles to the west, to see in what state the country is, if fit for us to proceed, and if he can see any water that I could move the party to, for I do not like this place. If more rain falls it will lock us in all together--neither do I like leaving the party with so many natives about. At one o'clock he returned. The ground was so heavy that he had to turn at five miles. He could see no water, but a number of native tracks going to and coming from the west. I shall be obliged to leave the party here, and on Monday try another trip to the west. If I find water I shall return and take them to it. The day has been clear, but at sundown it is again cloudy. Clouds from north-west. Wind from east.
Saturday, 8th June, Chain of Ponds. This morning it has again cleared off, and there is every appearance of fine weather. If it hold this way I shall be able to travel on Monday. Sundown: A few clouds. Wind, south-east.
Sunday, 9th June, Chain of Ponds. The day has again been fine. Wind, still south-east.
Monday, 10th June, Chain of Ponds. Started at 7.55 a.m., course 275 degrees, with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, nine horses, and fourteen days' provisions. The first five miles were over a grassy plain, with stunted gum and other trees. It was very soft, the horses sinking up to their knees. We met with a little rain water at three miles, where the soil became sandy; continued to be more so as we advanced, with lancewood and other scrubs growing upon it. At fourteen miles gained the top of a sand rise, which seems to be the termination of the sand hills that I turned back from on my west course south of this. From here the country seems to be a dense forest and scrub; no rising ground visible. Camped at 5 p.m., distance thirty-two miles. The whole journey from the sand hills has been through a dense forest of scrubs of all kinds--hedge-tree, gum, mulga, lancewood, etc. We have had great difficulty in forcing the horses through it so far; they are very tired. It is the thickest scrub I have yet been in. Ground very soft; heavy travelling, with the exception of the last five miles, where little rain seems to have fallen. I am afraid this will be another hopeless journey. I fully expected to have got water to-night from the recent rains, but there is not a drop. The country is such that the surface cannot retain it, were it to fall in much larger quantities. I shall try a little further on to-morrow. I had a hole dug, to see if any rain had fallen, and found that it had penetrated two feet below the surface, below which it is quite dry. Wind, east.
Tuesday, 11th June, Dense Forest and Scrub. Leaving Woodforde, Wall, and the pack-horses, I took Thring with me, and proceeded on the same course to see if I could get through the horrid forest and scrub, or meet with a change of country, or find some water. At two miles we came upon some grass again, which continued, and at another mile the forest became much more open and splendidly grassed, which again revived my sinking hopes; but alas, it only lasted about two miles, when we again entered the forest thicker than ever. At eleven miles it became so dense that it was nearly impenetrable. The horses would not face it; when forced, they made a rush through, tearing everything we had on, and wounding us severely by running against the dead timber (which was as sharp as a lancet) and through the branches. I saw that it was hopeless to force through any further. Not a drop of water have we seen, although the ground is quite moist--the horses sinking above the fetlock. The soil is red and sandy; the mulga from thirty to forty feet high and very straight; the bark has a stringy appearance. There is a great quantity of it lying dead on the ground, which causes travelling to become very difficult. I therefore returned to where I left Woodforde and Wall, and came back ten miles on yesterday's journey, and camped. This morning, about 5.30, we observed a comet bearing 110 degrees; length of tail, 10 degrees, and 10 degrees above the horizon. Wind, south-east.
Wednesday, 12th June, Western Dense Forest and Scrub. Proceeded to camp and found all well. This is the third long journey by which I have tried to make the Victoria in this latitude, but have been driven back every time by the same description of country and the want of water. There is not the least appearance of rising ground, or a change in the country--nothing but the same dismal, dreary forest throughout; it may in all probability continue to Mr. Gregory's last camp on the Camfield. My farthest point has been within a hundred miles of it. I would have proceeded further, but my horses are unable to do it; they look as if they had done a month's excessive work, from their feet being so dry, the forest so thick, and the want of water. Thus end my hopes of reaching the Victoria in this latitude, which is a very great disappointment. I should have dug wells if my party had been larger, and I had had the means of conveying water to those engaged in sinking the wells. I think I could accomplish it in that way; but by doing so, I should have to divide the party into three, (one sinking, one carrying water, and one at the camp), which would be too small a number where the natives appear to be so hostile. I have not the least doubt that water could be obtained at a moderate depth, near the end of my journeys, amongst the long thick timber, which seems to be the lowest part of the country. I had no idea of meeting with such an impediment as the plains and heavy scrub have proved to be. For a telegraphic communication I should think that three or four wells would overcome this difficulty and the want of water, and the forest could be penetrated by cutting a line through and burning it. In all probability there is water to be found nearer than this in the Camfield, Mr. Gregory's last camp, somewhere about its sources, which might be thirty miles nearer. Wind, south-east. Country drying up very fast.
Thursday, 13th June, Chain of Ponds. To-day I shall move the camp to the easternmost part of Newcastle Water, and now that rain has come from the east, I shall try if I can cross Sturt Plains, and endeavour to reach the Gulf of Carpentaria. My provisions are now getting very short. We are reduced to four pounds of flour and one pound of dried meat per man per week, which is beginning to show the effects of starvation upon some of them; but I can leave nothing untried where there is the least shadow of a chance of gaining the desired object. Started at 9.40 a.m. At three miles and a half passed our first camp of Newcastle Water. At eight miles and a half camped at the last water to the eastward. The ground is firmer than I expected, travelling good. The large part of the water is reduced two inches since 24th ultimo. The late rains seem to have no effect on it. Wind, south-east.
Friday, 14th June, East End of Newcastle Water. Started with Thring, Woodforde, and Wall, with one month's provisions and ten horses, at 7.45 a.m.; course, 60 degrees. At two miles crossed our former tracks, on the top of the sandy table land, and after leaving it we again got on the open plains, black alluvial soil, covered with grass, with deep holes and cracks into which the horses were continually falling on their noses, and running the risk of breaking our necks. These plains have swallowed up every drop of rain that has fallen. The extent of the plain is seven miles. We then entered a thick wooded country, of the same description as the western forest, being equally thick, if not thicker, and as difficult to penetrate. This continued for thirteen miles, when we met with another small plain about half a mile wide, but opening out wider to north-west and south. Not a drop of water have we seen since leaving Newcastle Water, a distance of about thirty miles, except a little rain water about three miles east of it. The plains are quite dry, scarcely showing that rain has fallen. Camped. The horses have had a hard day's work and are very tired. I wish I could have found water for them to-night. Latitude, 17 degrees 26 minutes 20 seconds. Wind, south-east.
Saturday 15th June, North-east Small Plains, Sturt Plains. Started at 7.30 a.m.; course, 60 degrees, through another ten miles of very thick forest, the thickest we have yet seen. At eleven miles came again upon the large open grassy plain, at the point where I turned on the 21st ultimo. I expected to have found some rain water here, this being the only place in all the plain I have seen that is likely to retain it. Sent Thring and Woodforde in different directions, while I proceeded in another, to see if we could find any, but not a drop could we see. It has been all swallowed up by the ground, which is again dry and dusty. It must take an immense quantity to saturate it, and leave any on the surface; and if that were to be the case, the country would become so soft it would be quite impassable. I am again forced to turn; it is quite hopeless to attempt it any farther. It would be sacrificing our horses, and, perhaps, our own lives, without the least prospect of attaining our end. If I could see rising ground, however small, or a change in the country to justify my risking everything, I would do so in a moment. I only wish there was. I have tried my horses to their utmost. Even my old horses that are inured to hardship are unable to be longer than three days without water, owing to the heat of the sun, the dryness of the feed, and the softness of the country. We saw a few cockatoos and pigeons. There might be water within a short distance, but none can we see or find; for on my course 20 degrees west of north I passed within two miles of Newcastle Water, where the main camp is now, but could not see it. It would require a long time to examine this country for water. There are so many clumps of trees, and strips of scrub on the plain, where water might be, that it would take upwards of twelve months to examine them all. At sundown camped fifteen miles from the main camp. Horses look very bad. It has been very heavy travelling, over rotten ground, and tearing through thick wood and scrub, which has skinned our legs from the knees to the ankles and caused no little pain. Wind, variable.
Sunday, 16th June, Sturt Plains East. Proceeded to the camp, where I found all well. No natives had been near them. This is very disheartening work. I shall proceed to the south, and try once more to round that horrid thick western forest; it is now my only hope; if that fail I shall have to return. I am doubtful of the water in Ashburton range, if no rain has fallen there; those hills are the last of the rising ground within range of vision, which ends in about latitude 17 degrees 14 minutes. From south-south-east round the compass to south-south-west nothing but dense forest and Sturt Plains. Wind, south-east.
Monday, 17th June, Newcastle Water East. Returned to the Lawson and camped. Little rain seemed to have fallen there. I kept a little to west of my former tracks to see the nature of the large open plain. It is completely matted with grass, having large deep holes and cracks, and is as dry as if no rain had fallen for months. Wind, south-east.
Tuesday, 18th June, Lawson Creek. Proceeded to Hunter Creek. Tracks of natives upon ours to Hawker Creek. Light winds, variable.
Wednesday, 19th June, Hawker Creek. Although the water holes in this creek are full from recent rains, the water is very hard, evidently showing it must come from a spring in the hills. Proceeded to the Hunter along the foot of the hills, and at nine miles crossed the large gum creek, where I watered the horses on my north course; this I have named Powell Creek, after J.W. Powell, Esquire, of Clare. At twenty miles crossed another gum creek, which I have named Gleeson Creek, after E.B. Gleeson, Esquire, J.P., of Clare. Camped on the Hunter. Between this and Hawker Creek we crossed eleven gum creeks with water in them. The country passed over is not so good, being close to the hills: it is scrubby, and generally covered with spinifex. Wind, south-east.
Thursday, 20th June, Hunter Creek. Three horses missing; could not be found until too late to reach the other water to-night. Wind, calm.