The most successful explorers keep meticulous records of their stores—their diaries are peppered with calculations about what remains and how long it will last—but Burke did not have the patience for such detailed analysis. Even before the expedition left, he turned the management of the stores over to Hermann Beckler, who was appalled at the indiscriminate acquisition of so much equipment:
In every respect the preparations reflected the grandiose scale intended for the expedition, but, with the exception of our victuals, our requirements were ordered and purchased on a scale out of all proportion to our means of transport. We could not tell whether this or that article was necessary or superfluous…when I returned to the hotel where Mr Burke and I were staying, he was in the habit of saying: ‘What are we going to do with all this? How are we going to move it?’
It had been intended to convey the bulk of the stores by ship via Adelaide and the Darling River as far as Menindee. Royal Society member and steamboat pioneer Captain Francis Cadell offered to provide the service free of charge. This generous proposal would dispense with the need for wagons and save the horses and camels for the more arduous terrain further north.
But just forty-eight hours before the expedition was due to depart, Burke overturned the plan. He decided that transporting the supplies via Adelaide would give the South Australians an opportunity to interfere and delay proceedings. Also, Cadell had supported Warburton in the leadership battle and Burke didn’t want to entrust the stores to a staunch opponent. The alternative was to carry everything by wagon at vast expense. Beckler protested, yet Burke was adamant. He wanted full control and he was prepared to drag twenty tonnes of equipment along 750 kilometres of unmade roads to get it. Every day for the next fifty-seven days, the men of the Victorian Exploring Expedition had to live with Burke’s decision, which meant more work, more mud and less sleep.
After the first few chaotic days a routine began to emerge. Each morning the men woke at dawn to the sound of a Chinese gong echoing through the gum trees. They crawled from their clammy woollen bedrolls and stoked up the campfire. As smoke filled the air, tea was brewed and they breakfasted on hunks of damper filled with salt beef. If the horses and camels had been tethered or kept in paddocks the night before, little time was wasted catching them, but if they had been hobbled or let loose, it might require a walk of a few kilometres to recapture them before loading could begin.
As the rain dripped through the trees, the damp leather harnesses were stiff and slippery, and the buckles difficult to tighten. It took between two and three hours to organise the packs, then hoist them onto the horses and camels using a pulley system slung over a tree branch. Often it was 9.30 before the main party set off, with Burke and the horses up ahead, followed by Landells and his camels, and the wagons grinding along behind.
The party travelled for up to twelve hours a day, coaxing their animals along the rutted tracks and stopping only for lunch and the odd smoko. The men were exhausted by the time they reached camp but they still had a couple of hours work ahead, feeding and watering the animals, unloading the supplies and mending broken equipment. By nightfall the tents were pitched, the campfire was crackling, the stew was bubbling and loaves of fresh damper sat swelling in the camp ovens. The officers retired to their tents to write up their journals and the men sat in the flickering light, smoking and telling yarns.
After a week, the expedition had only covered 100 kilometres and was camped at the hamlet of Mia Mia. Since it was a Sunday and the wagons were still bogged some kilometres behind, Burke allowed a rare day of rest. Always anxious to avoid paperwork, he gave Becker the task of sorting out the expedition’s accounts. The artist spent the day crouched in his tent copying out receipts and fending off curious spectators.
For many small towns, the arrival of the expedition was the most exciting event in years. Settlers travelled from far and wide to inspect the glamorous cast of characters they had read so much about in the newspapers. One spectator reported:
As we approached the Mia Mia hotel, we saw a long line of strange looking animals squatted alongside a fence, with their legs doubled under them, and looking for all the world like so many immense fowls, trussed for cooking. Occasional peculiar snorts emitted by the animals had a strange effect on our horses, and though we had ridden them so hard already, they seemed quite disposed to turn round and rush home again.
The next day, as the explorers attempted to strike camp, an even larger crowd of ‘bedazzled spectators’ gathered to watch them set off towards Swan Hill. That day Hermann Beckler noticed for the first time that the countryside was changing:
There is nothing more interesting than this sharp frontier between the coastal land and the inland, continental regions. The alteration in the terrain, often quite sudden, shows such an extreme change in physiognomy that one might well believe one was no longer in the same country…In a word one now finds oneself in the inland, and however far one penetrates into the heart of the continent, the landscape of the coastal fringe is left behind forever.
The small farms gave way to the more ancient panorama of the Terrick-Terrick Plains. Becker was now in open country:
The effect when one sees extensive plains for the first time is somewhat very peculiar: the plain looks like a calm ocean with green water; the horizon appears to be much higher than the point the spectator stands on, the whole plain looks concave. On you go, miles and miles, a single tree, a belt of timber appeared at the horizon affected by the mirage; you reach that belt of small trees, a Wallaby, a kangerooh-rat disturbs for a moment the monotony, and a few steps further on you are again on the green calm ocean.
The expedition may have presented an impressive tableau as it marched across the plains, but tensions were already apparent. The dynamics of a successful outfit depend to a great extent on its leader. If the commander establishes a routine and a realistic set of responsibilities during the early stages, each member remains motivated while they learn about the party’s strengths and weaknesses. Cohesion and camaraderie follow, establishing a valuable reserve of goodwill for harsher times later on.
Nurturing this delicate process is difficult at the best of times and, in the case of Burke’s party, the Exploration Committee had already planted the seeds of dissension by giving Landells ‘special responsibility’ for his ‘ships of the desert’. Burke had little patience with either the camels or the scientists but provided they maintained a reasonable pace he was happy to ignore them as far as possible. He rode on ahead, leaving Landells, Wills, Beckler and Becker to travel on foot dragging their reluctant animals through the mud.
With the rain running down their shirts and little communication from their leader, morale sagged and feelings of resentment began to germinate. Burke aggravated the situation by retiring to the nearest pub or farmhouse in the evenings, instead of camping near his men. It was Landells and Ferguson who dealt with the everyday problems of loose horses, stray camels and overloaded wagons.
Landells was worried that Burke was in too much of a hurry. The camels had little time to graze and even at this early stage the heavy conditions were beginning to take their toll. Beckler confirmed his fears. ‘Within five days the camels began to show the effects of continual rain, the gradual change of feed and camping in the open. They developed catarrhs and diarrhoea and their faeces contained their hitherto customary feed, gram [an Indian fodder], in an undigested state.’
The problem was that Burke had so much to prove. The Melbourne newspapers had jeered at his lack of experience and as the expedition passed near Bendigo, the Advertiser increased his sense of insecurity by reserving its only complimentary remarks for the noble shape of his head. Landells was singled out as a real leader:
Mr Landells is a quiet unassuming man, who improves very much upon acquaintance. He is of course the most capable man of the party, from the extensive experience of travelling in India and his thorough acquaintance of the camels upon whom the success of the expedition greatly depends, and h
e seems to be the only man of the lot thoroughly at ease. A robust man with a large dark beard and black peaked California hat, and with the air of a leader about him, is pointed out to us as Mr Burke. He has a large well-shaped head, which is not unlike that of the lamented Leichhardt.
That night the town’s dignitaries threw a party for the explorers, and Burke took the opportunity to defend himself, hoping that ‘the public would be patient and allow them full and fair trial, for success could not be at once attained in such an enterprise’. He and Landells retired at ten o’clock but several of the men stayed on drinking to ‘make a night of it’. Packing the camels took a little longer the next morning.
So far the reception from settlers along the way had been friendly, although not everyone appreciated the camels’ tendency to scatter livestock and the wagons’ capacity to destroy the flooded roads. Word had spread that Burke was a man in a hurry with ‘money to burn’ so the locals retaliated by charging outrageously for fodder and accommodation en route. Costs began to escalate as goods became more expensive to the north of Bendigo. Suddenly the settlements began to thin out, leaving just a scattering of shepherds’ huts and a few Aboriginal camps. Hermann Beckler climbed a small hill to take in the surreal beauty of the natural landscape:
It was a magnificent panorama which affected the observer not by any delightful or varied detail, but by the horizontal areas of various gentle hues and unbroken, one could almost say mathematical, lines. At a distance of about six miles to the south-south-west lay an isolated cone of rock called The Pyramid; a well chosen name. On the other side of the Pyramid the country was divided horizontally by lines of trees and in the far distance lay Mount Korong, hardly distinguishable in the haze. To the north-west, the unbroken line of a distant horizon defeated the eye that tried to contain it. This expanse looked arid and burnt. Towards the horizon a sombre grey-blue colour covered most of the land. Closer to us, the yellow-brown earth was spotted with countless small, dark bushes and the remnant stumps of burnt grass-trees. Here, too, the plain was divided into horizontal strips by narrow lines of low scrub whose effect made the expanse look even greater. The play of sunlight and clouds produced wonderful effects on the wide plain; light and shadow alternated in quick succession as in a diorama. Miles of land were lit up, only to be cast into deepest shadow within a few seconds. Huge clouds sailed across the sky and their shadows rolled over the land like the tatters of a gigantic, torn veil.
The weather deteriorated again and Burke was forced to schedule another rest day after the entire expedition became saturated on a thirty-four-kilometre trek towards Mount Hope. The wagons got stuck and, on his way back to retrieve them, Charles Ferguson got lost, fell into a pit and knocked himself unconscious. It was several hours before he came to and managed to rejoin the expedition.
When the bedraggled party arrived close to dark at John Holloway’s station to the north of Pyramid Hill, Becker found to his relief that extensive preparations had been made for their arrival. ‘The comfort our inner and outer man experienced was very great, the hospitable roof protected each of us against the all night lasting torrents.’ Beckler helped to revive the animals and noted that ‘Landells gave the camels tidy doses of rum to warm them; the expedition members too partook and enjoyed the stimulant with rather more enthusiasm than the camels!’
The next day the scientists caught up on their journals while Burke entertained his hosts at the piano with a selection of love songs he had learned from Julia Matthews. That evening the god-fearing Holloways insisted on a small service to pray for the expedition’s safe return. Mrs Holloway presented Burke with some religious tracts and Wills seized the opportunity to return the compliment by ridding himself of his Bible.
Three days later, on 6 September, the party reached Swan Hill on the Murray River, 320 kilometres from Melbourne. Here Burke intended to rest for a couple of days and prepare for the next leg of the journey towards Menindee, but his composure was shaken when he arrived to find an urgent telegram waiting for him. It warned that a warrant was being sought for his arrest.
Eight
Ruinous Work
‘He who does not travel does not know the value of men.’
Moorish proverb
Nearly all Swan Hill’s 140 residents turned out to greet the explorers as they rode in triumph past the town’s twelve buildings. Burke’s euphoria was short-lived. He dismounted to find the telegram threatened him with imprisonment for a dishonoured personal cheque for £96. A bounced cheque was a serious matter. It could endanger Burke’s standing with the Royal Society and particularly with Sir William Stawell. In panic, he scribbled two letters to his friend Richard Nash, apologising and explaining that he had not expected ‘that infernal cheque’ to be presented for at least six months. Burke asked Nash to stand security for his debt (which he did), but since his letters would take several days to reach Melbourne he had no way of knowing if the matter had been resolved.
Swan Hill was not a happy town for explorers. Thomas Mitchell named it in temper after the birds kept him awake at night. Burke’s stay was plagued by indecision. He fretted about the cheque and worried that gossip about the expedition’s sluggish progress and soaring costs would find its way back to Melbourne. The wagons were still three days adrift, their drivers were demanding more pay by the hour and Burke was becoming more and more disorganised. Charles Ferguson remarked later:
He was kind and generous to a fault but let anything happen out of the routine he was confused, then excited until finally he would lose all control of his better judgement. Then again when he had made up his mind to do something he never considered the consequences. He had thorough discipline and no one dared to presume to contradict him.
The arrival of the Royal Society’s Georg Neumayer only increased Burke’s paranoia. The professor joined the explorers in Swan Hill as part of his survey of the earth’s magnetism. He intended to travel with the party towards Menindee, a small settlement by the Darling River.
During the next five days, Burke wrote four dispatches to the committee, each one more defensive than the last. Desperate to prove he was economising he announced that ‘any man in future joining the party will supply themselves with clothing at their own cost and any additional article of clothing requested by any member of the party will deducted from their pay’. The bestequipped expedition of its age was now asking its men to pay for their own trousers.
Nearly three weeks into the journey, Burke began to realise that his party was being crippled by the weight of its supplies. He pondered his dilemma. The committee was insisting that he get rid of the wagons as soon as possible but, having refused Cadell’s offer of river transport, how else was he to carry all his supplies to the proposed depot at Cooper Creek?
Having placed himself in an impossible situation, Burke needed to cover his back. He called his officers together to secure their support, then wrote to the committee justifying their ‘joint decision’ to retain the wagons as far as Menindee:
I am well aware that our baggage is cumbersome and that a time will I hope soon come when we shall be obliged to have the greater part of it behind us, but to do so now, before having established our Depot upon the Darling, where every article may be of the greatest service, would I think be a most dangerous injudicious proceeding.
If I had lost this opportunity of conveying the stores, it would have retarded the progress of the expedition and might prove fatal to it; it would be impossible for us to move them without assistance; within the next month or six weeks the road will be impracticable for drays for want of feed and water and will continue so in all probability for the next eight or ten months.
The idea of a depot on the Darling River was new. In suggesting it, Burke was deviating from his instructions to form the expedition’s base camp at Cooper Creek. So was the Darling camp an addition to the original plan or a replacement for it? Burke most likely realised that it would be as much as he could do to drag his entire outfit as far as Menindee.
After that, he would have to improvise.
While Burke scrambled to protect his reputation, the rest of the party enjoyed Swan Hill’s hospitality. The camels were the star attractions, especially amongst the local Aboriginal children. They seemed ‘intoxicated with joy and excitement’ at the sight of the ‘big emus with four legs’ and scampered about ‘with the delight of school children at their first circus’. The expedition had been travelling through the territories of Aboriginal people including the Boonwurrung, Yorta-Yorta, Taungurong, Wadi-Wadi and the Woiworung. Only Ludwig Becker paid them any attention. He noted down scraps of their languages, recorded their traditional songs and documented the local customs he saw along the way:
Several natives sat on the ground, among them was a couple of women whose faces were painted in such a manner as to give the head the appearance of a skull, when seen from a distance; round the eyes was drawn with white paint, a circle, an inch broad, and the hair of one woman tied up closely and covered with a piece of cloth, while the other lubra had her hair painted or rather smeared over with the same white colour, giving her head a still more skull-like appearance. I found that this mode of painting the faces is a habit met with as far as the Darling; it is a sign of mourning for relations…
The expedition’s last day in Swan Hill, 11 September, turned into something of a party. Picnics were laid out near the camp and the braver souls took rides on the camels. It was late afternoon before they made it to the Murray River pursued by a cheering crowd. That evening Beckler declared that their riverside campsite in the heart of Wemba-Wemba Aboriginal country was the most beautiful so far:
The Dig Tree Page 10