by Tim Flannery
Wednesday, April 13th, 1791. We did not set out this morning until past seven o’clock, when we continued to trace the creek. The country which we passed through yesterday was good and desirable to what was now presented to us. It was in general high and universally rocky. ‘Toiling our uncouth way’, we mounted a hill, and surveyed the contiguous country. To the northward and eastward, the ground was still higher than that we were upon; but in a south-west direction we saw about four miles. The view consisted of nothing but trees growing on precipices; not an acre of it could be cultivated. Saw a tree on fire here, and several other vestiges of the natives. To comprehend the reasons which induce an Indian to perform many of the offices of life is difficult; to pronounce that which could lead him to wander amidst these dreary wilds baffles penetration.
About two o’clock we reached the head of the creek, passed it and scrambled with infinite toil and difficulty to the top of a neighbouring mountain, whence we saw the adjacent country in almost every direction, for many miles. I record with regret that this extended view presented not a single gleam of change which could encourage hope or stimulate industry to attempt its culture. We had, however, the satisfaction to discover plainly the object of our pursuit, Richmond Hill, distant about eight miles, in a contrary direction from what we had been proceeding upon. It was readily known to those who had been up the Hawkesbury in the boats, by a remarkable cleft or notch which distinguishes it. It was now determined that we should go back to the head of the creek and pass the night there; and in the morning cut across the country to that part of the river which we had first hit upon yesterday, and thence to trace upward, or to the left. But before I descend, I must not forget to relate that to this pile of desolation on which, like the fallen angel on the top of Niphates, we stood contemplating our nether Eden, His Excellency was pleased to give the name of Tench’s Prospect Mount
Our fatigue today had been excessive; but our two sable companions seemed rather enlivened than exhausted by it. We had not sooner halted and given them something to eat than they began to play ten thousand tricks and gambols. They imitated the leaping of the kangaroo; sang, danced, poised the spear and met in mock encounter. But their principal source of merriment was again derived from our misfortunes, in tumbling amidst nettles and sliding down precipices, which they mimicked with inimitable drollery. They had become, however, very urgent in their inquiries about the time of our return, and we pacified them as well as we could by saying it would be soon, but avoided naming how many days.
Their method of testifying dislike to any place is singular: they point to the spot they are upon, and all around it, crying weèree, weèree (bad), and immediately after mention the name of any other place to which they are attached (Rose Hill or Sydney, for instance), adding to it, budyeree, budyeree (good). Nor was their preference in the present case the result of caprice, for they assigned very substantial reasons for such predilection. ‘At Rose Hill,’ said they, ‘are potatoes, cabbages, pumpkins, turnips, fish and wine; here are nothing but rocks and water.’ These comparisons constantly ended with the question of ‘Where’s Rose Hill? Where?’ on which they would throw up their hands and utter a sound to denote distance, which it is impossible to convey an idea of upon paper.
Thursday, April 14th, 1791. We started early and reached the river in about two hours and a half. The intermediate country, except for the last half mile, was a continued bed of stones, which were in some places so thick and close together that they looked like a pavement formed by art. When we got off the stones, we came upon the coarse river sand beforementioned.
Here we began to trace upward. We had not proceeded far when we saw several canoes on the river. Our natives made us immediately lie down among the reeds, while they gave their countrymen the signal of approach. After much calling, finding that they did not come, we continued our progress until it was again interrupted by a creek, over which we threw a tree and passed upon it. While this was doing, a native, from his canoe, entered into conversation with us, and immediately after paddled to us with a frankness and confidence which surprised everyone. He was a man of middle age, with an open cheerful countenance, marked with the smallpox, and distinguished by a nose of uncommon magnitude and dignity.† He seemed to be neither astonished or terrified at our appearance and number. Two stone hatchets and two spears he took from his canoe, and presented to the governor, who in return for his courteous generosity, gave him two of our hatchets and some bread, which was new to him, for he knew not its use, but kept looking at it, until Colbee showed him what to do, when he ate it without hesitation.
We pursued our course and, to accommodate us, our new acquaintance pointed out a path and walked at the head of us. A canoe, also with a man and a boy in it, kept gently paddling up abreast of us. We halted for the night at our usual hour, on the bank of the river. Immediately that we had stopped, our friend (who had already told us his name) Gombeèree introduced the man and the boy from the canoe to us. The former was named Yèllomundee, the latter Dèeimba. The ease with which these people behaved among strangers was as conspicuous as unexpected. They seated themselves at our fire, partook of our biscuit and pork, drank from our canteens, and heard our guns going off around them without betraying any symptom of fear, distrust or surprise. On the opposite bank of the river they had left their wives and several children, with whom they frequently discoursed; and we observed that these last manifested neither suspicion or uneasiness of our designs towards their friends.
Having refreshed ourselves, we found leisure to enter into conversation with them. It could not be expected that they should differ materially from the tribes with whom we were acquainted. The same manners and pursuits, the same amusements, the same levity and fickleness, undoubtedly characterised them. What we were able to learn from them was that they depend but little on fish, as the river yields only mullets, and that their principal support is derived from small animals which they kill, and some roots (a species of wild yam chiefly) which they dig out of the earth. If we rightly understood them, each man possesses two wives. Whence can arise this superabundance of females?
Neither of the men had suffered the extraction of a front tooth. We were eager to know whether or not this custom obtained among them. But neither Colbee nor Boladeree would put the question for us; and, on the contrary, showed every desire to waive the subject. The uneasiness which they testified, whenever we renewed it, rather served to confirm a suspicion which we had long entertained, that this is a mark of subjection imposed by the tribe of Cameragal (who are certainly the most powerful community in the country) on the weaker tribes around them.†
Whether the women cut off a joint of one of the little fingers, like those on the sea coast, we had no opportunity of observing. These are petty remarks. But one variety struck us more forcibly. Although our natives and the strangers conversed on a par and understood each other perfectly, yet they spoke different dialects of the same language; many of the most common and necessary words used in life bearing no similitude, and others being slightly difference.
English
Name on the sea coast
Name at the Hawkesbury
The Moon
Yèn-ee-da
Con-dò-en
The Ear
Goo-reè
Bèn-na
The Forehead
Nùl-lo
Nar-ràn
The Belly
Bar-an ‘g
Bin‘-dee
The Navel
Mùn-ee-ro
Boom-bon’g
The Buttocks
Boong
Bay-leè
The Neck
Gàl-ang
Gan-gà
The Thigh
Tàr-a
Dàr-a
The Hair
Deè-war-a
Kee-war-a
That these diversities arise from want of intercourse with the people on the coast can hardly be imagined, as the distance inland is but thirty-eight miles; and
from Rose Hill not more than twenty, where the dialect of the sea coast is spoken. It deserves notice that all the different terms seemed to be familiar to both parties, though each in speaking preferred its own.*
Stretched out at ease before our fire, all sides continued to chat and entertain each other. Gombeèree showed us the mark of a wound which he had received in his side from a spear. It was large, appeared to have passed to a considerable depth, and must certainly have been attended with imminent danger. By whom it had been inflicted, and on what occasion, he explained to Colbee; and afterwards (as we understood) he entered into a detail of the wars and, as effects lead to causes, probably of the gallantries of the district, for the word which signifies a woman was often repeated. Colbee, in return for his communication, informed him who we were; of our numbers at Sydney and Rose Hill, of the stores we possessed and, above all, of the good things which were to be found among us, enumerating potatoes, cabbages, turnips, pumpkins and many other names which were perfectly unintelligible to the person who heard them, but which he nevertheless listened to with profound attention.
Perhaps the relation given by Gombeèree, of the cure of his wound, now gave rise to the following superstitious ceremony. While they were talking, Colbee turned suddenly round and asked for some water. I gave him a cupful, which he presented with great seriousness to Yèllomundee, as I supposed to drink. This last indeed took the cup and filled his mouth with water but, instead of swallowing it, threw his head into Colbee’s bosom, spit the water upon him and, immediately after, began to suck strongly at his breast, just below the nipple. I concluded that the man was sick; and called to the governor to observe the strange place which he had chosen to exonerate his stomach.
The silent attention observed by the other natives, however, soon convinced us that something more than merely the accommodation of Yèllomundee was intended. The ceremony was again performed; and, after having sucked the part for a considerable time, the operator pretended to receive something in his mouth, which was drawn from the breast. With this he retired a few paces, put his hand to his lips and threw into the river a stone, which I had observed him to pick up slyly and secrete. When he returned to the fireside, Colbee assured us that he had received signal benefit from the operation; and that this second Machaon had extracted from his breast two splinters of a spear by which he had been formerly wounded.† We examined the part, but it was smooth and whole, so that to the force of imagination alone must be imputed both the wound and its cure. Colbee himself seemed nevertheless firmly persuaded that he had received relief, and assured us that Yèllomundee was a cáradyee, or ‘doctor of renown’. And Boladeree added that not only he but all the rest of his tribe were cáradyee of especial note and skill.
The doctors remained with us all night, sleeping before the fire in the fullness of good faith and security. The little boy slept in his father’s arms, and we observed that, whenever the man was inclined to shift his position, he first put over the child, with great care, and then turned round to him.
Friday, April 15th, 1791. The return of light aroused us to the repetition of toil. Our friends breakfasted with us, and previous to starting Gombeeree gave a specimen of their manner of climbing trees in quest of animals. He asked for a hatchet and one of ours was offered to him, but he preferred one of their own making. With this tool he cut a small notch in the tree he intended to climb, about two feet and a half above the ground, in which he fixed the great toe of his left foot, and sprung upwards, at the same time embracing the tree with his left arm. In an instant he had cut a second notch for his right toe on the other side of the tree, into which he sprung, and thus, alternately cutting on each side, he mounted to the height of twenty feet in nearly as short a space as if he had ascended by a ladder, although the bark of the tree was quite smooth and slippery and the trunk four feet in diameter and perfectly straight. To us it was a matter of astonishment, but to him it was sport; for while employed thus he kept talking to those below and laughing immoderately. He descended with as much ease and agility as he had raised himself. Even our natives allowed that he was a capital performer, against whom they dared not enter the lists; for as they subsist chiefly by fishing they are less expert at climbing on the coast than those who daily practise it.
Soon after they bade us adieu, in unabated friendship and good humour. Colbee and Boladeree parted from them with a slight nod of the head, the usual salutation of the country; and we shook them by the hand, which they returned lustily.
JOHN PRICE
Whom-Batts and Cullawines, 1798
From the very beginning, the Irish convicts were the most troublesome, for many were freedom fighters who considered themselves political prisoners. They had no idea how Port Jackson stood in relation to the world, so constantly broke out, hoping to walk to China or to find some fanciful European settlement which was rumoured to exist in Australia.
Governor Hunter suffered constant thefts and irritation from such breakouts. In an effort to stem them and, as he said, ‘save worthless lives’, Hunter sent a few of the more persistent questers on an expedition to illustrate the nature of the country beyond the bounds of settlement. They were led by John Wilson, known as the wild white man by the colonists, and called Bunboe by his Aboriginal friends. Wilson was a convict who, after serving his time, left European society and joined the Aborigines.
Records of the travels were kept by John Price, Hunter’s servant. They are important because they contain the first recorded account of the lyre bird (shot on what was to become Australia Day), and mention of a mysterious animal, the cullawine, later identified as the koala. Here we join the party on its way to the Wollondilly River.
January 24th, 1798—Course, SSW. Left Mount Hunter for about twelve miles, till we fell in with the Nepean River, where the rocks run so steep it was with great difficulty we crossed them; the rest of the ground run very scrubby. We saw nothing strange except a few rock kangaroos with long black brush tails, and two pheasants which we could not get a shot at. Distance, eighteen miles.
January 25th—Course, SSW. The country runs very open; good black soil. We saw a great many kangaroos and emus, and we fell in with a party of natives which gave a very good account of the place we were in search of, that there was a great deal of corn and potatoes and that the people were very friendly.
We hearkened to their advice; we altered our course according to their directions. One of them promised that he would take us to a party of natives which had been there; but he not coming according to his promise, we proceeded on our journey as he had directed us. In the course of this day we found a great deal of salt. Distance, six miles.
January 26th—Course, WSW. The ground run very rocky and brushy, so that we could scarce pass. We crossed one small river, the banks of which were so rocky and steep that we could scarce pass it. We saw no signs of any natives about it, but we saw several sorts of dung of different animals, one of which Wilson called a whom-batt, which is an animal about twenty inches high, with short legs and a thick body forwards, with a large head, round ears and very small eyes; is very fat, and has much the appearance of a badger.
There is another animal which the natives call a cullawine, which much resembles the stoths in America. Here I shot a bird about the size of a pheasant, but the tail of it very much resembles a peacock, with two large long feathers, which are white, orange, and lead colour, and black at the ends; its body betwixt a brown and green; brown under his neck and black upon his head; black legs and very long claws. Distance, sixteen miles…
January 28th—Course, WSW. The land runs much the same, the timber thin, with a good many stringybark trees; and a little further we saw a number of meadows and 100 acres of land without a tree upon it. Here we saw a party of natives. Wilson run and caught one of them, a girl, thinking to learn something from them, but her language was so different from that one which we had with us that we could not understand her. We kept her all night, but she cried and fretted so much that the next morn
ing we gave her a tomahawk and sent her to the rest of the natives, which were covered with large skins which reached down to their heels…
January 29th—Course, WSW. We steered our course for about four miles, but the country did not turn out to our expectation…We altered our course to the north for about twelve miles…We here saw in the creeks many pheasants and rock kangaroos, likewise dung of animals as large as horse-dung, but could not see any of them. We had nothing to eat for two days but one rat about the size of a small kitten. I myself was very sick, and wished myself at home again; the other man was sick like me, for he had hurt his leg and was not able to walk. Wilson was well and hearty. Distance, twenty-four miles.
January 30th—Course, WSW. The country still rocky and scrubby. We fell in with the head of a river very near as large as the Hawkesbury River, which seemed to run from NW to SE. The banks were so steep we could not get down them. The other side seemed open, but the banks very steep. Wilson proposed making a canoe; but the other man and myself were so faint and tired, having nothing to eat but two small birds each, we were afraid to venture on the other side of the river for fear we should not be able to procure anything to subsist on; likewise our shoes was gone and our feet were very much bruised with the rocks, so that we asked Wilson to return. Distance, sixteen miles…
February 2nd—Course, ENE…In the latter part of the day, after we had got over the first ridge of mountains, we fell in with a vast number of kangaroos. Here we were fortunate again, for Wilson killed one of them, which was a great refreshment to us.
The next morning, about sunrise, I myself heard two guns fire, which sounded to the SE. I was not certain that it was a gun until Wilson said, ‘Do you hear that gun fire?’ I said I did. I then took up my gun and fired again, but we could get no answer, although we fired five different times.