by Tim Flannery
Although perfectly illiterate, Mrs Thomson had made good use of her powers of observation, and evinced much shrewdness in her remarks upon various subjects connected with her residence among the blacks, joined to great willingness to communicate any information which she possessed…Several hundred words of the Kowrárega language, and a portion of its grammar, were also obtained from time to time, and most of these were subsequently verified. And, although she did not understand the language spoken at Cape York, yet, as some of the Gúdang people there knew the Kowrárega, through its medium I was usually able to make myself tolerably well understood, and thus obtain an explanation of some matters which had formerly puzzled me, and correct various errors into which I had fallen. It was well, too, that I took an early opportunity of procuring these words, for my informant afterwards forgot much of her lately acquired language, and her value as an authority on that subject gradually diminished.
Gi’om was evidently a great favourite with the blacks, and hardly a day passed on which she was not obliged to hold a levee in her cabin for the reception of friends from the shore, while other visitors, less favoured, were content to talk to her through the port. They occasionally brought presents of fish and turtle, but always expected an equivalent of some kind.
Her friend Boroto, the nature of the intimacy with whom was not at first understood, after in vain attempting by smooth words and fair promises to induce her to go back to live with him, left the ship in a rage, and we were not sorry to get rid of so impudent and troublesome a visitor as he had become. Previous to leaving, he had threatened that, should he or any of his friends ever catch his faithless spouse on shore, they would take off her head to carry back with them to Múralug; and so likely to be fulfilled did she consider this threat, being in perfect accordance with their customs, that she never afterwards ventured on shore at Cape York.
† Victoria: the settlement at Port Essington.
† Wommala: woomera.
† Silurus: a catfish.
† J. H. Browne was medical officer to the expedition. He had been left in charge of the depot when Sturt and his party advanced.
† Mr Stuart: The thirty-year-old John McDouall Stuart who accompanied Sturt on this expedition.
† Sturt is referring to Leichhardt’s expedition to Port Essington.
† Some months earlier James Poole, Sturt’s second-in-command, had died of scurvy.
† Mr Gill: this was S. T. Gill who was to earn fame for his drawings and lithographs of colonial Australia.
† Although Patrick White based his novel A Fringe of Leaves on the story of Eliza Fraser, it is Barbara Thomson who gave him his title.
GERARD KREFFT
They Are Very Good Eating, 1857
Gerard Krefft is one of the great unsung heroes of Australian biological exploration. He was appointed director of the Australian Museum but, following rumours that he was profiting from the sale of risqué postcards and problems with the museum trust, he was eventually dismissed. He refused to go quietly, however, and two bully-boys were employed to carry him out of his office—still in his director’s chair—and eject him unceremoniously into Sydney’s William Street.
Here we join him in happier times, on the Blandowski expedition to the junction of the Murray and Darling rivers in 1857. He is brought two landwang, as the local Aborigines knew the pig-footed bandicoot, Chaeropus occidentalis (now called Chaeropus ecaudatus). The species is today extinct and much of what we know about it comes from these notes. Unfortunately, Krefft was so hungry that he ate his precious specimens.
4 October 1857—After returning from a short excursion into the scrub, I fell in with a party of natives who had succeeded, at last, in securing a pair of the Chaeropus (male and female). They wanted all manner of things for them, from a pair of blankets to a cutty pipe; and as I was very anxious to sketch them from life I emptied my pockets there and then, and promised a grand entertainment for the night with plenty of damper and sugar and tea.
On arrival at the camp, the two animals were secured in a birdcage; and I was busy for several hours sketching my charges in different positions.
Gould’s figures of Chaeropus occidentalis are spiritless, being taken from dry skins.† I was in the habit of showing a copy of Sir Thomas Mitchell’s tail-less specimen to the natives, urging them to procure animals of that description; of course, they did not recognise it as a landwang and I was furnished in consequence with a large number of the common bandicoot (Perameles obesula) minus the tail, which, to please me, had been screwed clean out.††
About sundown, when I was about to secure my animals for the night, one of the nimblest made its escape, jumping clean through the wires of the cage.
At a quick pace it ran up one of the sandstone cliffs, followed by myself, all of the blackfellows, men, women and children, and their dogs.
Here was a splendid opportunity for observing the motions of the animal; and I availed myself of it. The Chaeropus progressed like a broken-down hack in a canter, apparently dragging the hindquarters after it; we kept in sight of the fugitive and, after a splendid run up and down the sandhills, our pointer, who had been let loose, brought it to bay in a saltbush.
A large tin case was fitted up for the habitation of these animals, and provided with coarse barley grass, upon which, as the natives informed me, they feed. Insects, particularly grasshoppers, were also put into the box, and though they were rather restless at first, and made vain attempts to jump out, they appeared snug enough in the morning, having constructed a completely covered nest with the grass and some dried leaves.
During the daytime, they always kept in their hiding-places and, when disturbed, quickly returned to them; but as soon as the sun was down they became lively, jumping about and scratching the bottom of the case in their attempts to regain liberty. I kept these animals upon lettuces, barley grass, bread, and some bulbous roots for six weeks, until the camp was broken up, when they were killed for the sake of their skins.
I think that about eight specimens of this species were secured during our stay; several of which proved to be females with good-sized young ones in the pouch, which is very deep and runs upwards, not like that of a kangaroo. All were provided with eight teats, and bore two young ones, only one pair of teats being drawn.
I may mention here that the Chaeropus drinks a good deal of water, but will neither touch meat nor attack or eat mice, as the other members of this family do.
Their dung, which I often examined when out hunting, was entirely composed of grass, very dry, about the size of a sheep’s trundles, but much longer, so that I believe that in a state of nature they feed principally upon vegetables. They are very good eating, and I am sorry to confess that my appetite more than once over-ruled my love for science.
† John Gould: the great animal illustrator.
†† Bandicoots often lose their tails. The original specimen of the pig-footed bandicoot had suffered such a loss.
JOHN MCDOUALL STUART
What He Imagined I Was, 1858–60
Stuart was an independent, even lonely man with a fierce pride. He had a reputation as a hard drinker but achieved great things. His lasting innovation was to eschew large overland expeditions in favour of exploration by small, mobile parties. Stuart’s great ambition was to cross the continent from south to north. We first meet him here at a rather comic moment in 1858 in the vicinity of Lake Torrens when he asks directions from a solitary Aboriginal hunter. Then we join him two years later at his celebrations upon reaching the geographic centre of Australia.
Thursday, 24th June [1858], Sandhills—At 8.30 we left on a course of 340°, commencing with about two miles of rather heavy sandhills. At eight miles these sandhills diminished, and the valleys between them became much wider—both sandhills and valleys being well covered with grass and saltbush, with courses of lime and ironstone cropping out and running east and west. At twelve miles changed our course to 79° to examine a gum creek (Yarraout), which we ran down f
or water, but did not obtain it before four miles, when we found a small hole of rainwater. This creek seems to be a hunting ground of the natives, as we saw a great many summer wurleys on its banks.†
They had evidently been here today, for a little above where we first struck the creek we saw some smoke, but on following it up we found they had gone; mostly likely they had seen us and run away. The latter part of our journey today was over a stony plain, bounded on the west by the stony tableland with the sandhills on the top. All this country seems to have been under water, and is mostly likely the bed of Lake Torrens, or Captain Sturt’s inland sea. In travelling over the plains, one is reminded of going over a rough, gravelly beach; the stones are all rounded and smooth. Distance today, thirty miles.
Friday, 25th June, Yarraout Gum Creek—Started at 9.40 from the point where we first struck the creek last night, bearing 20° for two miles, thence 61° for one mile to a high sandhill, thence 39° for one mile to a stony rise. My doubt of the blackfellow’s knowledge of the country is now confirmed; he seems to be quite lost and knows nothing of the country, except what he has heard other blacks relate; he is quite bewildered and points all round when I ask him the direction of Wingillpin. I have determined to push into the westward, keeping a little north of west. Bearing 292° for five miles, sandhills; thence 327° to a table-hill nine miles. Camped without water. Our route today has been through sandhills, with a few miles of stones and dry reedy swamp, all well grassed, but no water.
We came across some natives who kept a long distance off. I sent our black up to them to ask in which direction Wingillpin lay. They pointed to the course I was then steering, and said, ‘Five sleeps.’ They would not come near to us. About three-quarters of an hour afterwards I came suddenly upon another native who was hunting in the sandhills. My attention being engaged in keeping the bearing, I did not observe him until he moved, but I pulled up at once, lest he should run away, and called to him. What he imagined I was I do not know; but when he turned round and saw me I never beheld a finer picture of astonishment and fear. He was a fine muscular fellow, about six feet in height, and stood as if riveted to the spot, with his mouth wide open, and his eyes staring.
I sent our black forward to speak with him, but omitted to tell him to dismount. The terrified native remained motionless, allowing our black to ride within a few yards of him, when, in an instant, he threw down his waddies, and jumped up into a mulga bush as high as he could, one foot being about three feet from the ground, and the other about two feet higher, and kept waving us off with his hand as we advanced. I expected every moment to see the bush break with his weight. When close under the bush, I told our black to inquire if he were a Wingillpin native.
He was so frightened he could not utter a word, and trembled from head to foot. We then asked him where Wingillpin was. He mustered courage to let go one hand and, emphatically snapping his fingers in a north-west direction, again waved us off. I take this emphatic snapping of his fingers to mean a long distance. Probably this Wingillpin may be Cooper’s Creek. We then left him, and proceeded on our way through the sandhills…Distance today, twenty-four miles.
Sunday, 22nd April [1860], Small Gum Creek, under Mount Stuart, Centre of Australia—Today I find from my observations of the sun, 111° 00′ 30″, that I am now camped in the centre of Australia. I have marked a tree and planted the British flag there. There is a high mount about two miles and a half to the north-north-east. I wish it had been in the centre; but on it tomorrow I will raise a cone of stones, and plant the flag there, and name it Central Mount Stuart. We have been in search of permanent water today but cannot find any. I hope from the top of Central Mount Stuart to find something good to the north-west. Wind south. Examined a large creek; can find no surface water, but got some by scratching in the sand. It is a large creek divided into many channels, but they are all filled with sand; splendid grass all round this camp.
Monday, 23rd April, Centre—Took Kekwick and the flag, and went to the top of the mount, but found it to be much higher and more difficult of ascent than I anticipated. After a deal of labour, slips and knocks, we at last arrived on the top. It is quite as high as Mount Serle, if not higher. The view to the north is over a large plain of gums, mulga and spinifex, with watercourses running through it. The large gum creek that we crossed winds round this hill in a north-east direction; at about ten miles it is joined by another. After joining they take a course more north, and I lost sight of them in the far-distant plain. To the north-north-east is the termination of the hills; to the north-east, east and south-east are broken ranges, and to the north-north-west the ranges on the west side of the plain terminate. To the north-west are broken ranges; and to the west is a very high peak, between which and this place to the south-west are a number of isolated hills. Built a large cone of stones, in the centre of which I placed a pole with the British flag nailed to it. Near the top of the cone I placed a small bottle, in which there is a slip of paper, with our signatures to it, stating by whom it was raised. We then gave three hearty cheers for the flag, the emblem of civil and religious liberty, and may it be a sign to the natives that the dawn of liberty, civilisation, and Christianity is about to break upon them. We can see no water from the top.
† Wurley: Aboriginal shelter.
WILLIAM WILLS
My Pulse Is At Forty-Eight, 1861
William Wills’ father was heartbroken by the failure of his son to return from the tragically incompetent expedition in which he and Robert O’Hara Burke, together with John King and Charles Gray, became the first men to cross the continent from south to north. Two years after their deaths, Wills senior published a book stubbornly titled A Successful Exploration through the Interior of Australia. In it he lovingly describes the future explorer as a babe in arms, then as a growing young man whom he treated as his friend and equal. I wonder what it cost this very un-Victorian father to read these entries from his son’s diary? The young Wills reserved the last of his strength to write a farewell letter to his father.
Stranded at Cooper Creek after the depot party stationed there left for Menindie on the very day the explorers struggled back into camp, Wills describes the peculiar fate of one destined to die of starvation on a full stomach. Uncertainty still surrounds his condition: was it the nardoo or the greens he was eating that decided his fate? Gray was already dead; Burke and King had gone along the creek to find the Aborigines who were their only hope of survival. Back in Melbourne, Wills senior was desperately trying to raise the alarm to organise a rescue.
Monday, 3rd June 1861—Started at seven o’clock, and keeping on the south bank of the creek was rather encouraged at about three miles by the sound of numerous crows ahead; presently fancied I could see smoke, and was shortly afterwards set at my ease by hearing a cooee from Pitchery, who stood on the opposite bank, and directed me round the lower end of the waterhole, continually repeating his assurance of abundance of fish and bread. Having with some considerable difficulty managed to ascend the sandy path that led to the camp, I was conducted by the chief to a fire where a large pile of fish were just being cooked in the most approved style. These I imagined to be for the general consumption of the half-dozen natives gathered around, but it turned out that they had already had their breakfast. I was expected to dispose of this lot—a task which, to my own astonishment, I soon accomplished, keeping two or three blacks pretty steadily at work extracting the bones for me. The fish being disposed of, next came a supply of nardoo cake and water until I was so full as to be unable to eat any more; when Pitchery, allowing me a short time to recover myself, fetched a large bowl of the raw nardoo flour mixed to a thin paste, a most insinuating article, and one that they appear to esteem a great delicacy.† I was then invited to stop the night there, but this I declined, and proceeded on my way home.
Tuesday, 4th June 1861—Started for the blacks’ camp intending to test the practicability of living with them, and to see what I could learn as to their ways and manners.
/> Wednesday, 5th June 1861—Remained with the blacks. Light rain during the greater part of the night, and more or less throughout the day in showers. Wind blowing in squalls from south.
Thursday, 6th June 1861—Returned to our own camp: found that Mr Burke and King had been well supplied with fish by the blacks. Made preparation for shifting our camp nearer theirs on the morrow…
Friday, 7th June 1861—Started in the afternoon for the blacks’ camp with such things as we could take; found ourselves all very weak in spite of the abundant supply of fish that we have lately had. I, myself, could scarcely get along, although carrying the lightest swag, only about thirty pounds. Found that the blacks had decamped, so determined on proceeding tomorrow up to the next camp, near the nardoo field.
Saturday, 8th June 1861—With the greatest fatigue and difficulty we reached the nardoo camp. No blacks, greatly to our disappointment; took possession of their best mia-mia and rested for the remainder of the day.
Sunday, 9th June 1861—King and I proceeded to collect nardoo, leaving Mr Burke at home.
Monday, 10th June 1861—Mr Burke and King collecting nardoo; self at home too weak to go out; was fortunate enough to shoot a crow…
Tuesday, 11th June 1861—King out for nardoo; Mr Burke up the creek to look for the blacks.
Wednesday, 12th June 1861—King out collecting nardoo; Mr Burke and I at home pounding and cleaning. I still feel myself, if anything, weaker in the legs, although the nardoo appears to be more thoroughly digested.
Thursday, 13th June 1861—Last night the sky was pretty clear, and the air rather cold, but nearly calm, a few cir. st. hung about the NE horizon during the first part of the night. Mr Burke and King out for nardoo; self weaker than ever; scarcely able to go to the waterhole for water. Towards afternoon, cir. cum. and cir. st. begin to appear moving northward. Scarcely any wind all day.†