by Tim Flannery
We ascended these cliffs near the wooden houses, which proved to be some deserted sheds of the whalers. One shot was heard as we drew near them, and another on our ascending the rocks. I then became somewhat apprehensive that the parties might either be, or suppose us to be, bushrangers, and to prevent if possible some such awkward mistake I ordered a man to fire a gun and the bugle to be sounded; but on reaching the higher ground we discovered not only a beaten path, but the track of two carts, and while we were following the latter a man came towards us from the face of the cliffs. He informed me in answer to my questions that the vessel at anchor was the Elizabeth of Launceston; and that just round the point there was a considerable farming establishment belonging to Messrs Henty, who were then at the house.
It then occurred to me that I might there procure a small additional supply of provisions, especially of flour, as my men were on very reduced rations. I, therefore, approached the house and was kindly received and entertained by the Messrs Henty, who as I learnt had been established there during upwards of two years. It was very obvious indeed from the magnitude and extent of the buildings, and the substantial fencing erected, that both time and labour had been expended in their construction. A good garden stocked with abundance of vegetables already smiled on Portland Bay; the soil was very rich on the overhanging cliffs, and the potatoes and turnips produced there surpassed in magnitude and quality any I had ever seen elsewhere.
I learnt that the bay was much resorted to by vessels engaged in the whale fishery, and that upwards of 700 tons of oil had been shipped that season. I was likewise informed that only a few days before my arrival five vessels lay at anchor together in that bay, and that a communication was regularly kept up with Van Diemen’s Land by means of vessels from Launceston. Messrs Henty were importing sheep and cattle as fast as vessels could be found to bring them over, and the numerous whalers touching at or fishing on the coast were found to be good customers for farm produce and whatever else could be spared from the establishment…
August 30—I was accommodated with a small supply of flour by Messrs Henty, who having been themselves on short allowance were awaiting the arrival of a vessel then due two weeks. They also supplied us with as many vegetables as the men could carry away on their horses. Just as I was about to leave the place, a whale was announced, and instantly three boats well manned were seen cutting through the water, a harpooneer standing up at the stern of each with oar in hand, and assisting the rowers by a forward movement at each stroke.
It was not the least interesting scene in these my Australian travels, thus to witness from a verandah on a beautiful afternoon at Portland Bay the humours of the whale fishery, and all those wondrous perils of harpooneers and whale boats, of which I had delighted to read as scenes of ‘the stormy north’. The object of the present pursuit was a ‘hunchback’ and, being likely to occupy the boats for some time, I proceeded homewards. I understood it frequently happened that several parties of fishermen, left by different whaling vessels, would engage in the pursuit of the same whale, and that in the struggle for possession the whale would occasionally escape from them all and run ashore, in which case it is of little value to whalers, as the removal, etc, would be too tedious, and they in such cases carry away part of the head matter only.
The natives never approach these whalers, nor had they ever shown themselves to the white people of Portland Bay; but as they have taken to eat the castaway whales it is their custom to send up a column of smoke when a whale appears in the bay, and the fishers understand the signal. This affords an instance of the sagacity of the natives, for they must have reflected that, by thus giving timely notice, a greater number will become competitors for the whale, and that consequently there will be a better chance of the whale running ashore, in which case a share must fall finally to them. The fishers whom I saw were fine able fellows; and with their large ships and courageous struggles with the whales they must seem terrible men of the sea to the natives. The neat trim of their boats, set up on stanchions on the beach, looked well, with oars and in perfect readiness to dash at a moment’s notice into the ‘angry surge’. Upon the whole, what with the perils they undergo and their incessant labour in boiling the oil, these men do not earn too cheaply the profits derived from that kind of speculation. I saw on the shore the wreck of a fine boat which had been cut in two by a single stroke of the tail of a whale.
† It wasn’t taro she was digging, but the root of the yam daisy.
† Wándo River: now the Wannon River.
JOHN GRAHAM
That Abject Captive Lady, 1836
The idea of a white woman living among the Aborigines provoked a powerful reaction in colonial Australia. She was a recurrent myth on the frontier, and searches for her were used more than once as an excuse for the massacre of Aborigines. There were, however, several actual instances of European women living with Aborigines. Perhaps the most famous is Eliza Fraser, whose story inspired Sidney Nolan to paint, and Patrick White to write A Fringe of Leaves. Shipwrecked with her husband on Swain Reef near present-day Rockhampton in May 1836, Fraser was lucky to survive. She was heavily pregnant and gave birth in a longboat to a baby who died. Eventually she fell in with the Kabi people on Fraser Island. The Aborigines believed that she was Mamba, a woman who had died some time previously, and that she had lost both colour and language during her time in the grave. Her husband was speared to death, but she lived with her captors until rescued, three months later, in August 1836.
This breathlessly idiomatic account is the verbal testimony of a convict, John Graham, who lived with the Aborigines for years before returning to Moreton Bay. He was known to them as Moilow, one of their clan who had returned from the dead. He was fluent in the Kabi language, and in his account of his expedition to rescue Eliza Fraser we gain a rare insight into what the Aborigines were thinking as they met the Europeans. Graham’s account is addressed to Captain Foster Fyans, commandant at Moreton Bay.
Your Honour, to whom I here refer the difficulties I had to surmount, the horrors of death which to me seemed sure, and even prophesied by my comrades who were praying for my safety, vowed to have revenge for my blood, expecting to see me no more—I was determined to brave the worst of fates or finish a miserable existence to rescue that abject captive lady.
Though solicited by that gentleman Mr Otter to accompany me with all the arms he had, it was of no avail, for had we been able to assail them she must have fallen a sacrifice to their spears or be carried by hundreds further through the mountains. I must act on other plans though doomed to face hundreds of savages, amongst whom were the very men but a few days before I fired at. I depended on a tribe whose former friendship I had experienced, several of whom acknowledged me their father, or spirit thereof.
There were several resolutions of detaining hostages and sending word, to see if they would give her up. This would have caused lives on both sides, and certainly would have proved fatal to her and also shown a coward in me, I alone knowing where she was. I think it a pleasure in giving your Honour an account of this transaction and every minute detail, showing I was determined, or die the worst of deaths, or fulfil my promise.
Lieutenant Otter wishing to accompany me to whom I refer, and spoke these words: ‘Sir, I am but one, my life I do not care for, it being of little use to me. If I do not return in two days then take hostages and revenge for my blood.’ The sentiments of his mind were seen by me in not being a co-partner; he must risk his life and follow me. He took me to his tent giving me a glass of rum and water. I here gave him directions of the route. He was to follow me on the following morning by the mark of the broad arrow which I was to leave for his instruction, and to sit where it was, stop till I should come next day if living.
I strove much to get two of those blacks to come with me. I brought them to the tents, showed two blankets, two tomahawks and two axes to induce them to come. They told me their hearts failed them, they would be killed. I recollect telling Mr Otter at the ti
me what they said when, taking a roasted bream and a small piece of bread, I took my departure, my comrades saying they would revenge my fate, expecting no more to see me. I soon crossed the hills and was out of sight on Tuesday at eleven o’clock August the 16th.
Lest my bread should be took from me, expecting to meet several natives, I eat it. I had trousers on, and continued my route making the mark as I went along. Drawing near sundown I thought of my supper, having none, nor time to look for any. Your Honour can here read ideas of my mind, and think the arm of God alone strengthened and assisted me in this virtuous act of humanity. Proceeding on, I found a snake seven feet long which showed me providence was assisting and protecting me. On getting back I retired to a gully, made a fire and roasted my snake which I hung up for morning. Of all my life this was the most disturbed night I ever spent, too tedious to mention here. The dawn of day called me forth, after taking God for my guide, and my breakfast which his mercies sent me.
I descended from my gully twenty-five miles from the tents and continued my route, making the mark. On coming where I was to turn, I put a stop with those words, ‘Stop. Here you will find fresh water at the rock.’ This was thirty miles in all. I saw no blacks ascending the hills and crossing the forest ground. About four miles you descend into a boggy ground or swamp ankle-deep for a mile, after which a lake about thirty miles in circumference, four miles where I crossed it, knee-deep at low water, after which a freshwater river.
Being about to swim across, a black man and his wife appeared in their canoe. Being horror-struck at my appearance and thinking I had more confederates, they were making away saying they would bring plenty of men. I standing on the brink of the river telling them I was alone, and showing two fish hooks, the woman induced him to return. Their approach was timid, and asking me what he would get, I tore the leg of my trousers off and gave it to him. The hooks for her. After inquiring the different tribes that were there, and particularly after my own kindred, and what part of the field they were in, I made enquiry after my wife [the woman who said I was her husband’s spirit and died in 1827], if she had strayed amongst them.
They told me there was a female spirit, but a man by the name of Mothervane claimed her as his wife’s sister. As they had heard of the skirmages we had, which I left to the stupid spirits that were along with me, as I came to do no harm but take my wife down to the beach and there live on my ground as I had done before. Promising him my trousers, and her as many hooks as she could carry, if she would go and tell the men, especially my friends, not to be cross as I came to live amongst them and make axes and fish hooks at Thaying (my ground), and I would show Mothervane that spirit was Mamba, whose sons was there visiting. Murrow Dooling and Caravanty—two young men who always claimed me as their father’s spirit, who had a great connection in several tribes.
The woman said they were there and dispatched to tell them, while the man and I hurried on, telling me he would assist me.
On coming in sight of the camp, I watched the woman going to the south side where I supposed my friends were. I made there. She was telling them I was making onward but, surrounded by numbers, I was forced to stand. Black and savage as they were, no horror struck me as the sight of that unhappy lady, who caught my eye as it wandered round their huts.
Could I then have armed myself with vengeance would I have been detained from giving the cannibal race any account of my demands? Courage flushed to me and I feared no fate. Hearing the sound of Mamba, which the woman had told she was, and my sons amongst the crowd, to whom I said: ‘Is your eyes blind, don’t you know your mother?’ upon whose neck I fell, fancying to cry. My father-in-law jumped to his knife, saying, ‘No crying, go and take her.’ (This man’s name is Mootemu.)
Upwards of400 blacks had seized their spears when Mothervane came forward, to whom I said, ‘Do you claim a spirit? And she my wife. She can’t speak to tell having lost her speech, and I who have got sense do tell the truth and here are her two sons and father,’ pointing to the people above-named.
A dead silence was here and all eyes were on me whilst I told them how she was along with me in a canoe after turtle, and being cast away she swam amongst the north men, who gave her nothing to eat. She being a stranger could not tell who were her friends, having lost her tongue, and if Mothervane would [be] cross I would call a challenge. Here throwing off my trousers, to make fresh friends, I impeached them with being stupid in not knowing her.
All the coast blacks here stood on my side, and said I always told the truth. Saying, ‘Give her,’ ‘She is his,’ being now satisfied that she was Mamba. As they wanted me to go along with them into the mountains as their friends had heard of that spirit and their hearts would be glad at seeing her.
I here said, ‘You see she is near dead with hunger, let your friends wait till she is recovered and then I will go a season to the mountains.’
Mothervane said it was a pity to let that spirit go, but here Mootemu said, ‘They are two ghosts and no men has any right to separate them. Moilow* has good sense and knows how to live as well as us, he must have his wife.’
The father of the child to whom I gave the skirt coming forward, telling him what I had done for his girl, and where I left her with a full belly, not as my wife was, starving among them. He said in an angry voice, ‘You people hear that, he is coming with good fingers and why be cross?’
They began to retire to their respective huts, and a black man sitting opposite her hut, and again I seen the face of a Christian woman, and a black man sitting opposite her hut with a spear in his hand as a sentinel. On looking I recognised him to be a nephew of mine who has four wives, by name Dapen (left-handed man)—and coming to me said, ‘Come uncle, I was watching my aunt, that the mountain blacks should not come near, whilst you were talking. I fear none. I’ll give her to you.’
On approaching to the hut, could I believe—I lost my sense of surprise and joy, and a sense of gratitude to the most of those savages who stood my friend. With a heartfelt sorrow for her then before me, I sunk to the ground. When roused by the voice of Dapen saying, ‘The sun is going round uncle, you have far to go.’
Roused to a sense of my situation I rose, reached my hand, saying, ‘Come with me. God has made me your deliverer.’
Fortitude was what I now called from heaven to assist me in seeing a woman survive in the most distressed state than can be painted, and one but a few months rolled in the affluence of plenty, doomed to subsist on the husks of the earth, and forced to bear the wood on them sunburnt shoulders where the tender skin hung in scales, ordered to hop on lacerated feet to fetch them water, and for what reward? The entrails of a snake or that of a fish, the body being devoured in her absence, caused to come forth as a show in their mock fights and sports. What but heaven could have prolonged a life of such misery for a deliverance? Or what could have given a fortitude but a patience which Job never experienced?
This lady rising and taking my hand, I proceeded through a camp of some hundreds of blacks. On the most judicious plan I asked four of those men to come with me to Nemberthan. Taking my leave of my friends, Mootemu wanted me to take some bungwal (a root), which I refused. Having come to the canoes, two were brought—three in each we crossed the lake. On her head was a south-wester, the smell of paint kept the blacks from taking it. Around her loins were part of the legs and waistband of a pair of trousers, which covered part of her thighs, wound round with vines twentyfold as well for delicacy as the preservation of her marriage and earrings which she concealed under the vines, and the only articles that were saved from those savage hands.
In ascending the forest ground I caused the blacks to follow my example which they did to the rocks, where arriving I saw that relief was come. Leaving the lady at the waterhole telling her to remain a few minutes, I took the blacks with me to the beach where was Lieutenant Otter, who came to meet me in such haste that almost frightened the blacks, enquiring where she was. I told him all was right, asking him for some clothes for her,
at which he clasped his hands and thanked his God, going to his bag.
I seated the blacks along with corporals McGuire and Campbell of the 4th Regiment and Nathaniel Mitchell who came with Mr Otter, to whom I went and got a boat cloak and some other articles of dress and returned to prepare the lady for his reception, and for the first time them vines were pulled off which the hands of her dear and much lamented husband had put on.
I beg leave to omit several distressing incidents in regard to this surprising unhappy lady whose history of woes is unparalleled as also in passing any encomiums in behalf of myself through the many acts I was destined to fulfil under the providence of God.
Your Honour best can judge the situation of her mind, being about to enter into society, and the distress which attended this meeting when, assisting her forth, I gave her hand to that gentleman Mr Otter about one o’clock on Wednesday the 17th of August.
GEORGE GREY
A Horrid Dream, 1838
Sir George Grey: now there was a man destined for greatness. One day he would be governor of South Australia, then of New Zealand, then of D the Cape. But here we see a younger George Grey at the beginning of his career: an English officer of twenty-five who disliked military life, still wet behind the ears, attempting to explore the Prince Regent River region in the Kimberley—some of the most difficult terrain in Australia.
The thing that I love most about Grey is that, despite incidents like the one related here, he had a gift for getting on with the Aborigines. He learned their language and understood them, and he never saw them as second-class. Later, he was to sum up the cause of their lack of progress in white society in one word: prejudice.