Part 11

It was a grandly impressive spectacle. But there were other considerations than the spectacular. I looked, a little uneasily, for an unlighted opening along the fast advancing line; and seeing such a gap between two trees where there was little else but sand, I hurried over--walking--and so passed through.

A dozen steps in I stopped to look behind. The flames had already closed in!

In front, far on as I could see, the stems or branches of dry standing trees were burning; and on the ink-black ground were smouldering heaps of tindery bush, or still-blazing fallen limbs. Thick strewn everywhere were the hot, and quickly blackening ashes of that tall grass which had been waving majestically in each breath of wind a few short moments since.

Shouldering the bicycle I walked cautiously to where the pad showed still a narrow streak, yet offering a clear, narrow running space. As I walked--I speak without exaggeration--I now and again heard sweat drops, hiss and fizzle, as they fell on a burning log or some little grass-root heap.

* * * *

For five miles at a stretch this fresh-burnt ground continued. Tress stood out like torches all the way; and on the pad were many live coals of fallen timber. I dare not hurry, and often had to dismount and lift the bicycle over, because if my tyres blazed up I hadn't water to spare with which to put the Ixionic fire out. Nevertheless I did that five miles scorching.

* * * *

Out of the fire and into a frying-pan of hot sand ten miles long and unridable. Towards the end of the ten miles so many large boulders and long flat slabs of granite cropped up in the track that there was a danger of getting dizzy from rounding them; and these senseless outcroppings at the last became so numerous that a bye-track made a seven mile detour towards the Katherine. At that beautiful river I arrived, after a hard days "graft" at sundown. 214 miles from Palmerston.

A hotel at last. Those "terrors" of the Overland which were to bring certain destruction had been left behind.

The buildings consist of the hotel and store, telegraph and police stations. They are on the south side of the river, which to the westward joins the Daly.

The sloping banks of the Katherine rise 80 or more feet from the gravelly bed, and are thickly timbered with giant trees of many varieties. Here and in the country round about are, as well as thickets, jungles and beauty spots innumerable, the stately paperbark and Leichhardt pine, Pandanus palms, white cedar, woollybutt, bloodwood, ironwood, banyan, and other trees; and splendid couch and buffalo grasses.

When in flood the stream is about a quarter of a mile wide. Boats are kept at both the hotel and the telegraph station. Alligators are known to exist in several places, in deep holes and long reaches, but only a small species of crocodile is often seen about the crossing place. A fine specimen of one of these latter was on view at the hotel.

* * * *

It was at this telegraph station that I received a message from a fabulously wealthy company of cycle-part makers. My journey, as I have said, was practically at an end. Those "perils" that were so great that failure was, I was told, certain, had been surmounted. Yet, only now, seated at a hotel, I read a curt and, as it seemed to me, impertinent and "catchy" telegram, endeavoring, as I took it, to ferret out of me--unwealthy me--a most valuable advertisement _gratis_. Up to this moment, when success had been practically achieved, nothing had been heard from that quarter. I regarded it as mean, and answered accordingly.

The company took further action then; but, in view of later developments, it would be meanness on my part now to speak further of a matter which would not deserve mention at all but that it has been made to some extent public property. Only this further: _my answer to the telegram has never yet been published_!

Without any promise of recompense I gladly did all I could for another firm whose manager had treated me civilly, and who did not wait until danger had been passed before identifying itself with the fortunes of the trip.

* * * *

At the Katherine, where only one night was spent, I refitted myself with wearables from the stock of the widely known hotel and storekeeper; had a swim in the river; then tied boots and other things on Diamond, shouldered the lot and walked across.

The country is flat for ten or twelve miles. Travelling only middling--rather soft. But before the morning was far gone, rough hills were entered and they continued most of the way to Pine Creek (68 miles).

* * * *

It was hazardous to hurry the bicycle over those rocky hills, but Diamond stood the rough experience more than manfully, and jumped the miniature precipices encountered on the down-hill sides without ever loosening a spoke.

At one time, in the very early part of the journey, I favored the notion of entering Palmerston, with the bicycle in a fearfully battered condition--a revolving bundle of splints and copper wires. But how could I? And I found myself proudly exhibiting it everywhere, and finally in a Palmerston shop window as being "better than new."

In my mind, now, was the fixed idea that nothing could break that machine. I knew I couldn't. And it had been called on to undergo some rough usage. Towards the end, such confidence had I come to repose in its excellence, in its unbreakableness, that on hearing sticks and things rattle among the spokes I used only to laugh, say "Sool it, Diamond!" and let them fight the battle out.

* * * *

The hilly country alternates with stretches of sand, blue-grass, swamps, and rough patches of white clay or pug, with here and there a stunted gum. I find at this stage this memorandum written for myself--"Horrid, swampy, inexpressibly bleak and unattractive, miserably stunted timber--a result, p'raps, of centuries of bush fires. A 68 mile-span unfit for anything--except those strips close by the creeks and watercourses." These latter were the redeeming features. The water in some was deep, notably in the Driffield, Fergusson, Edith and Cullen Creeks, which are rivers for a month or two in the rainy season.

In one of them--the Edith, I think--a little way down from one, nearly waist-deep crossing, was an inviting reach of calm, deep water, with many picturesque pandanus palms and woolly butts caressing it; and as a family of aboriginals--two old men, many picaninnies and some females--were bathing by the roadway. To this I wheeled the bicycle.

The bottom was gravelly, and in the deepest place there was only four feet or so of water. The stream, or rather hole, was narrow; and while paddling about in it the thought struck me that it would be just as well to cross now and here as to cross at any other time and place. And, besides, an opportunity for experimenting presented itself.

To bundle up the clothes and the few odds and ends I had with me was the work of but a couple of minutes; those things I was able to walk across with. On returning I laid the bicycle on its side close by the water's edge, made fast the interlocking gear, and fastened securely to its handlebars one end of the strong string I always had carried. To the free end of the string I attached a stone. This I threw to the opposite bank and swam over after it.

I would have swam that stream though my knees had got the gravelrash in the transaction!

Laying hold now of the string I pulled gently on the bicycle until it moved; then pulled it quickly whilst in the water; and so landed it where I was standing. Undoing the string I allowed my silently weeping comrade to remain out in the sun, where its doleful tears quick turned into smiling rainbows while I resumed my clothes. Then gave it five minutes attention.

This wetting, I might here remark, did no more harm to the bicycle than a smart shower of rain would have done, but at Palmerston, where I totally immersed it in the sea, I found the salt water quickly formed rust on the various nickeled parts around the nuts and where the spokes entered the rim and perhaps within the tubes themselves for aught I know, as there, alas! monetary considerations forced me to part with it.

* * * *

I caught some fish in the waterholes, along the track. They bite at dough or flesh of any sort; or the first one captured will do as bait for catching more with.

From the Hayward Creek up to Daly Waters (230 miles), the fish are small, averaging about 8 inches; but higher up, as at the Elsey, and in more lasting holes to east and west, much larger ones are to be had. Some will rise to a fly; others take meat. The best bait one can use is a section of widgery (or "witchery," a grub three or four inches in length, found at the roots of gum trees, and tasting, when slightly roasted, not unlike a hen's egg.)

A packing or any other needle, heated to take the temper out, and bent into shape, makes a sufficiently good hook. But I had been provided with the regulation pattern steel article by a trooper, at one of the telegraph stations.

* * * *

At the Little Cullen Creek, seven miles from the Palmerston railway terminus, a genuine diamond has been found within the last couple of years; and several small heaps of tailings near the crossing place were accounted for by a native who told me "whitefellow bin on track of nudder one; but no catch im."

On from the Cullen are groups of shallow holes, now half tilled in, where alluvial gold has been sought; and various reefing properties, notably the Cosmopolitan, came into view on nearing Pine Creek.

Pine Creek (where I spent but a night) is not itself a large place, but it is the centre of an extensive gold-mining district. On one side of the main street is the railway station yard; on the other a first-class hotel, a store, blacksmith's, wheelwright's, and butcher's shops, besides several more business and dwelling houses. Most of the Asiatics connected with the mines, occupy a portion of the town away back from the main street.

Owing to the surrounding wooded hills and neighbouring gum creek the general aspect of the place is prepossessing.

Of the Wandi goldfields, about 30 miles to the east, it is said that several valuable properties exist there. But the climate is trying, and properties in the district need to be very valuable indeed before Europeans will infuse energy into their developement.

* * * *

This line from Pine Creek to Palmerston is spoken of as "the northern section of the Transcontinental." I do not pose as one who can say with authority whether it is advisable or not to complete the railway through the continent. That is not my "line" at any rate. Nevertheless I have formed opinions. Without any concessions at all from a leave-granting government, with barely the permission given them to construct a railway, and with even a squaring donation to the exchequer of a million pounds or so, a band of reasonably, business-like, experienced, company-promoters, I'm very sure, could make large fortunes in English or French money out of the undertaking--for themselves.

* * * *

I had expected to find a well-beaten track, perhaps a macadamised road from Pine Creek to Palmerston. But--a road where there was already a railway! What for?

On to Union Town. There is a store here, kept by a welcoming European. So far 10 miles of good, although hilly road.

At the store I was advised to look out for tracks leading off to the Chinamen's mines, of which there were several, away back in the hills from the railway. This advice I conscientiously acted on--"looked out" and followed one for miles until I came to the mine and the Chinaman. But in among the hills there was only "no savee," and a noisy quartz crushing plant; so I retraced my wandering wheelmarks, kept close to the railway line, and arrived at Burrundie (124 miles from Palmerston) sometime in the afternoon.

Burrundie is the last--or first, whichever you please--of the overland telegraph stations. Here there was hospitable entertainment at the hands of the station master; then on to the Howley Cottages, 100 miles from Palmerston. As the unpremeditated visit into the regions of Chinese no-saveedom had interfered with the day's progress, at the Howley Cottages I was made comfortable for the night.

My voucher book was now again constantly in use. I had tried hard when in at the Chinamen's mine to possess myself of a celestial's signature, as a curio, but had not succeeded. Was it possible that the book-fiend had been there too?

Next day, from the Howley, I made fairly good time, passed the Adelaide River (the half-way refreshment-house on the railway, 77 miles from Palmerston), and Rum Jungle (58 miles from Palmerston) and got in as far as the 46 mile cottages, where on the warm invitation of the resident ganger, I camped until morning.

* * * *

From about Burrundie the cyclist is given the choice of occasional lengths of old pads (white clay soil mostly), alongside the railway line, and of the ballast or embankments, between or close by the rails. I chose a little of each.

Hilly country extends from Pine Creek to about the Adelaide River. The various rivers are thickly lined with screw palms and thickets of stout bamboos, and the country generally is substantially timbered.

The only white resident at Rum Jungle (a railway camp, on a small watercourse, tributary to the Finniss, where the jungle is remarkably dense; the prefix may be reminiscent of railway-construction days), said there was plenty of time yet to find alligators in the Darwin River, between the jungle and Palmerston, although the water was getting low. But why should I go hunting for them when I bore away hence as trophies, still preserved, two alligator teeth?

And, speaking of alligators, it has recently been printed--"there are no snakes in the Northern Territory." There are, in their proper season. You may see them even without drinking heavily. I cycled over two and left them behind, on a narrow pad by the eastern side of the railway line, within a few hours of leaving the Howley cottages.

The size of one was larger than I would care to say. It remained quite motionless after the bicycle had passed over it; so I dismounted and threw a stick to ascertain whether the docile-seeming reptile was alive. It was. First rising aloft its head swiftly to bite at the passing piece of timber, it then immediately turned and commenced wriggling towards myself. I never mounted a bicycle more quickly in my life, nor did a quarter mile in faster time.

The ganger at the 46 mile cottages and the guard of the passenger train running between Palmerston and Pine Creek, as well as the writer, have cause to know that in the matter of snakes, as of some few other things, the Northern Territory isn't Ireland.

From the 46th mile I kept entirely to the railway line (a blackfellow at one of the cottages dubbed the bicycle "kangaroo engine") and before midday I was within ten miles of Palmerston.

There was a fairly-good road, its surface covered with fine brown ironstone rubble, for the remainder of the distance. Very high trees and a profuse wealth of tropical vegetation lined the track; but "cyclone" was writ large and in unmistakable characters everywhere--in uprooted trees and other features.

At two and a half-miles from Palmerston are the railway workshops and several suburban dwelling houses.

* * * *

On arriving opposite the first of these buildings I dismounted to take off my hat and wipe a little of the dampness from my forehead; and a sentence picked up somewhere came back to mind. I looked fondly upon the bicycle which had served me so well, pressed gently one of its handles, and whispered:--

"Thanks, Diamond, '_Es ist vollbracht._'"

With a sigh of relief the pen is laid down and the scissors are picked up. The few next following paragraphs are from _The Northern Territory Times_:--

"Mr. Murif, the gentleman who undertook to ride across the continent on a bicycle, arrived in Palmerston on Friday afternoon, accompanied by several of the local cyclists, who picked him up at the 2½ mile. After riding round the town the party proceeded to the point below Fort Hill, where the overlander's bicycle was dipped in the sea, and the point christened 'Bicycle Point' in commemoration of the event.

"On Saturday evening Mr. Murif was entertained by the Athletic Club at a smoke social in the Town Hall. The Government Resident presided over a large gathering. Murif was heartily welcomed.

"_He declared that he could have accomplished the trip in less time, but if good time was made nobody would follow him._ He would like another man to try the journey.

"He was sorry, he said that he could not say as much as he would like in thanking the residents of the Territory for the kindness they had shown him since his arrival amongst them. He had also to thank the Athletic Association, who were treating him in a right royal manner, and also those gentlemen who had so kindly come out to meet him on Friday afternoon. In fact, ever since he had started upon his trip, that one word 'Thanks!' had ever been upon his tongue. He had had to say thanks for kindnesses received at the very commencement of his journey; all along the route he had had occasion to use the word, and now when his task was completed and all his troubles over, all that he could say, in return for the hearty welcome they had tendered him, was that one little word--thanks. Down south he had always heard much of the hospitality of Port Darwinites, but he had not the remotest idea of its munificence until he came among them."

* * * *

Again:--"When seen by _The Advertiser_ correspondent on Saturday morning Murif was busy cleaning his machine after the sea bath. On being congratulated on his safe arrival he replied, 'Yes, both of us,' pointing to the bicycle, 'are safe and strong as ever.' The cycle, indeed, looked in perfect condition, the wheels running as true as when they left the workshop. Murif was well and in the pink of condition."

And among other things, in reply to an interviewer:--"I wish you would do me a favor. I want to thank all those whom I met on the road for the most hospitable manner in which they treated me. Never have I met a better class of men. I was treated like a prince whilst _en route_, and never once was I refused anything I asked. Information re the track ahead was readily tendered, and it was with regret that I had to leave my new friends who had been so kind to me. I had heard that the Territorians were the essence of hospitality, and now I fully believe it."

* * * *

These Palmerstonians, who treated me so handsomely, are a laughter-loving and generously hospitable people.

The European residents, being very largely civil servants are as such prohibited from entering the field of politics. This disability hangs heavily on them, and is ruinously enervating and mischievous in its effects. Peacefully, contentedly, unprogressively as the calm and happy dead are they. Earnest consideration and study of the wants and welfare of the land in which they live are neglected and the action to which such grave study ever prompts men is wanting. Their lives are rounds of light gaieties and small pleasures. A picnic, dance, a sports day or a concert is ever an absorbing topic.

These are not right lives for white men, such as they are, to live; but the embargo forces them to live it. Nothing so retards a country's progress, nothing perhaps is so great a hindrance to the development of its resources, as a non-political feeling among the inhabitants. Here politics are taboo. The real business of life, the stirring cry of "Advance Australia!" is awfully lacking.

Remove the disability, take away the restraint, make an exception in favour of those civil servants who live so far up north in South Australia, unmuzzle those who have it in them to speak, and the people of the Territory--the Territory itself--will soon be heard of. So long as they are not heard from, so long must the Territory continue as a heavy weight.

* * * *

Chinese, who are ready and willing to work night or day and seven days a week, have ousted Europeans from many branches of trade. Hairdressing, tailoring and bootmaking are all done by them or Japanese.

Paper kite flying seems to be those people's most favoured form of recreation. Of a breezy evening the main street of Chinatown, running parallel with and distant but a couple of hundred yards from Palmerston's principal street, is indicated by half a dozen or more kites rising up into or stationary in mid-air. The ends of the retaining strings are either fastened to shop verandah posts or proudly held by their yellow owners.

These kites, built on scientific principles, are made very large and of fantastic shapes. Hollow "musical" reeds are attached; and when kite flying is "on" the loud monotonous humming of these wind instruments pervades every nook and cranny in Palmerston.

Every visitor gets a crick in his neck from looking skywards.

* * * *

Many blacks hang about the town. The roads are unmetalled. The loose soil is dark brown, and consists of sand mixed with particles of friable ironstone. The three varieties of tracks which show prominently everywhere are suggestive--a few of booted whites, many of sandalled Chinamen, and over and under all those of unshod natives.

* * * *

The thermometer does not register very high. But here there is a stuffy, suffocating, sweat-producing latent heat the whole year round, with very few weeks' cool to brace the enervated up.

One misses the heavenly blue of southern climes. The sky has ever in it a hazy dull metallic grey.

The town is on a table-land, and is well laid out. The drainage is good; hence malarial fever, once pretty prevalent, is now less common.

* * * *

The chefs are invariably Chinamen; this applies to most of the Northern Territory. Hence one hears the word "chow, chow" used commonly by the whites to denote meals or meal time--"Chow's ready," "come to chow," "There goes the Chow bell," and such like expressions.

A nobbler is disposed of with one indefinite "Chin, chin." Freely translated it means something between a _votre sante_ and "another coffin nail."

And, over and above all, is a splendid, almost prodigal hospitality.

* * * *

One last look back over the journey and the track.

However it may have been with myself (whether I met with the adventures I had been hopefully looking forward to and whether the exciting episodes or interesting incidents and objects came up to expectations or not) of this I still feel assured: For two or three good humoured cyclists, with whom considerations of time would be of but secondary importance who would start in the proper season (that is March or April), and who would need not to be niggardly in their expenditure, no more promising fields can there be in all the world for a cycle-trip, at once interesting and sufficiently adventurous, than along this same route--in the crossing of Australia from South to North.

Although anyone undertaking to do the journey in fast time will be called upon to endure privations and run grave risks of coming to grief, yet a person who had been once overland, or one of the telegraph station employees--a cyclist in short, who beforehand knew how the tracks ran and where exactly the watering places lay--should find the task neither very difficult nor demanding a great expenditure of days.