by Tim Flannery
† Sir William Stawell: chairman of the Exploration Fund Committee.
ALFRED HOWITT
Our Black Friends, 1861
It was a search party led by Alfred Howitt, explorer, magistrate, geologist and ethnographer, which finally located John King. Howitt enjoyed the company of Aborigines and was intrigued by their culture. They in turn esteemed and trusted him. If Howitt had led the great expedition in place of the bellicose Burke, how different would have been the outcome.
September 15th—…I crossed at a neck of sand, and at a little distance again came on the track of a camel going up the creek; at the same time I found a native, who began to gesticulate in a very excited manner, and to point down the creek, bawling out, ‘Gow, gow!’ as loud as he could. When I went towards him he ran away, and finding it impossible to get him to come to me I turned back to follow a camel track, and to look after my party. The track was visible in sandy places, and was evidently the same I had seen for the last two days. I also found horse traces in places, but very old.
Crossing the creek, I cut our track and rode after the party. In doing so I came upon three pounds of tobacco, which had lain where I saw it for some time. This, together with a knife-handle, fresh horse tracks and the camel track going eastward, puzzled me extremely, and led me into a hundred conjectures. At the lower end of the large reach of water before mentioned, I met Sandy and Frank looking for me, with the intelligence that King, the only survivor of Mr Burke’s party, had been found.
A little further on I found the party halted, and immediately went across to the blacks’ wurleys, where I found King sitting in a hut which the natives had made for him. He presented a melancholy appearance—wasted to a shadow, and hardly to be distinguished as a civilised being but by the remnants of clothes upon him. He seemed exceedingly weak, and I found it occasionally difficult to follow what he said. The natives were all gathered round, seated on the ground, looking with a most gratified and delighted expression…
September 18th—Left camp this morning with Messrs Brahe, Welsh, Wheeler and King to perform a melancholy duty, which has weighed on my mind ever since we have encamped here, and which I have only put off until King should be well enough to accompany us. We proceeded down the creek for seven miles, crossing a branch running to the southward, and followed a native track leading to that part of the creek where Mr Burke, Mr Wills and King encamped after their unsuccessful attempt to reach Mount Hopeless and the northern settlements of South Australia, and where poor Wills died.
We found the two gunyahs situated on a sandbank between two waterholes and about a mile from the flat where they procured nardoo seed, on which they managed to exist so long. Poor Wills’s remains we found lying in the wurley in which he died, and where King, after his return from seeking for the natives, had buried him with sand and rushes. We carefully collected the remains and interred them where they lay; and, not having a prayer-book, I read chap, xv of 1 Cor., that we might at least feel a melancholy satisfaction in having shown the last respect to his remains. We heaped sand over the grave, and laid branches upon it, that the natives might understand by their own tokens not to disturb the last repose of a fellow-being. I cut the following inscription on a tree close by, to mark the spot:
The fieldbooks, a notebook belonging to Mr Burke, various small articles lying about, of no value in themselves but now invested with a deep interest from the circumstances connected with them, and some of the nardoo seed on which they had subsisted, with the small wooden trough in which it had been cleaned, I have now in my possession…
September 21st—binding that it would not be prudent for King to go out for two or three days, I could no longer defer making a search for the spot where Mr Burke died, and with such directions as King could give I went up to the creek this morning with Messrs Brahe, Welsh, Wheeler and Aitkin. We searched the creek upwards for eight miles, and at length, strange to say, found the remains of Mr Burke lying among tall plants under a clump of box-trees, within two hundred yards of our last camp, and not thirty paces from our track. It was still more extraordinary that three or four of the party and the two black boys had been close to the spot without noticing it.
The bones were entire, with the exception of the hands and feet; and the body had been removed from the spot where it first lay, and where the natives had placed branches over it, to about five paces’ distance. I found the revolver which Mr Burke held in his hand when he expired partly covered with leaves and earth, and corroded with rust. It was loaded and capped. We dug a grave close to the spot, and interred the remains wrapped in the Union Jack—the most fitting covering in which the bones of a brave but unfortunate man could take their last rest. On a box-tree, at the head of the grave, the following inscription is cut in a similar manner to the above:
September 23rd—Went down the creek today in search of the natives…I could not think of leaving without showing them that we could appreciate and reward the kindness they had shown to Burke’s party and particularly to King…Passed the first feeder of Strzelecki’s Creek, going to the southward, and at a large reach of water below found the natives camped.
They made a great commotion when we rode up, but seemed very friendly. I unpacked my blanket, and took out specimens of the things I intended giving them—a tomahawk, a knife, beads, a looking-glass, comb and flour and sugar. The tomahawk was the great object of attraction, after that the knife, but I think the looking-glass surprised them most. On seeing their faces reflected, some seemed dazzled, others opened their eyes like saucers and made a rattling noise with their tongues expressive of wonder. We had quite a friendly palaver, and my watch amused them immensely. I made them understand that they were to bring the whole tribe up next morning to our camp to receive their presents, and we parted the best of friends.
September 24th—This morning, about ten o’clock, our black friends appeared in a long procession, men, women and children or, as they here also call them, piccaninnies; and at a mile distance they commenced bawling at the top of their voices as usual. When collected all together on a little flat, just below our camp, they must have numbered between thirty and forty, and the uproar was deafening. With the aid of King, I at last got them all seated before me and distributed the presents—tomahawks, knives, necklaces, looking-glasses, combs—amongst them. I think no people were ever so happy before, and it was very interesting to see how they pointed out one or another whom they thought might be overlooked. The piccaninnies were brought forward by their parents to have red ribbon tied round their dirty little heads. An old woman, Carrawaw, who had been particularly kind to King, was loaded with things.
I then divided fifty pounds of sugar between them, each one taking his share in a Union-Jack pocket-handkerchief, which they were very proud of. The sugar soon found its way into their mouths; the flour, fifty pounds of which I gave them, they at once called ‘whitefellow nardoo’, and explained that they understood that these things were given to them for having fed King. Some old clothes were then put on some of the men and women, and the affair ended in several of our party and several of the blackfellows having an impromptu ‘corroboree’, to the intense delight of the natives, and I must say, very much to our amusement.
They left, making signs expressive of friendship, carrying their presents with them. The men all wore a net girdle; and of the women some wore one of leaves, others of feathers. I feel confident that we have left the best impression behind us, and that the ‘whitefellows’, as they have already learned to call us, will be looked on henceforth as friends, and that, in case of emergency, anyone will receive the kindest treatment at their hands.
W. P. AULD
Where Are You Going?, 1862
Although Burke and Wills had beaten him to the Gulf, Stuart remained determined to make the trek for himself. Pat Auld was twenty-one, working in the South Australian survey office, when he joined Sturt’s expedition on 24 October 1861. He recalled that:
At about four o’clock Stephen King call
ed on me at the office to say goodbye.
‘Where are you going?’ I enquired.
‘Out with Stuart.’
‘Stuart! Where’s he going?’
‘To the Victoria River.’
‘Oh, I’ll go too.’
‘I wish you could, old boy; but we start tomorrow, everything is fixed up.’
‘Oh, I’ll go.’
And so Auld set out to cross the continent from south to north. Here we find him, thirty years later, recalling his golden days. His reminiscences have the flavour of the beery hotels, salons and dining rooms of colonial Adelaide, but they still sparkle with a freshness that dust, starvation and sheer exhaustion sometimes stripped from accounts written on the spot.
On 25 June we struck the Roper, a splendid navigable river. The difficulty now was not too little water, but too much. How were we to get over? Several natives were seen on the banks, and we rode steadily up to them. We tried our best to make them understand that we wanted to get to the other side of the river, and for them to tell us how best to do it. They could not understand us. I know not what they thought of us, for we made all sorts of gestures. We had some fun over the matter, though, with the natives, for one member of the party fancied he could make them understand, and so said, ‘Hold on a minute: let me talk to them…Look here, old man; how can we get over there?’
The native immediately replied in the same manner, pointing: ‘Look here, old man, how can we get over there?’
‘You old fool, don’t repeat what I say, but show us where we can get across.’
The moment he stopped speaking our listener in fair imitation said, ‘You-old-fool-don’t-repeat-what-I-say-but-show-us-where-we-can-get-across.’
The natives are wonderful mimics.
They were astonished at our horses, and when one of the party dismounted they appeared thunderstruck. We could not get them to go near the heads of the horses. They pointed to the teeth, but they would go quite close to the heels. Stuart finding that no information could be got from the blacks filled his pipe and struck a match. The moment the lucifer struck the blacks gave a yell and cleared out. We found the banks of the river lined with cabbage trees, bamboos and shrubs. We were in latitude 14° 5′ Next day we returned to the last camp.
On 27 June we succeeded in crossing the river by a ford. The country here is really splendid. One of the horses got into the river and we tried to get him out, but the rope broke and the horse was seen to be drowned. It being dark we cut his throat to save his life, and left him till morning. Next day we cut up the horse and dried the meat. This food supply made all hands happy, for we had three meals that day—meals, too, of freshly killed meat with native cucumbers as a relish. We thought that horse meat surpassed anything we had ever eaten.
The country we now passed over was splendid soil, well grassed, though with some rough stony hills. Frew picked up a small turtle alive, and this greatly improved the flavour of our breakfast soup. We ascended some very rough stony hills, and got on to the top of sandy tableland, thick with stringybark pines and the fan palm. Some of these were over fifteen feet high. There was also grass—very coarse, mixed with spinifex. When we had gone about twelve or thirteen miles on the tableland we were suddenly stopped. We found ourselves on the edge of a precipice two or three hundred feet. The scenery was simply grand. Underneath us was a creek thickly wooded with palm trees, which were as straight as an arrow and fifty feet high. Then there was stringybark with dense foliage and a range of hills lay to the north-west. We had much difficulty in finding a place to descend, but at last we succeeded.
The top of the tableland, Stuart stated, ‘is a layer of magnetic ironstone which attracted my compass 20°. Underneath is a layer of red sandstone which is very soft, and crumbles away with the action of the atmosphere. In the valley is growing an immense crop of grass.’
Our difficulty now was not want of water, but how to get across the numerous creeks we met with and the stony hills, and the work told severely on the horses. On 28 July Stuart and I were up nearly all night taking observations, and found the latitude 13° 22′ 30″. We started next morning at seven-thirty with the feeling that we should see the Indian Ocean about eleven o’clock. We crossed a plain, and then entered a dense scrub with a complete network of vines. We had to use our tomahawks to cut the interlacing branches. Thring was in the lead making a way for Stuart, when he exultantly cried out, ‘The sea, the sea!’ This put fresh energy into us, and in the rush amongst the thick scrub Kekwick was nearly hanged, rehearsing the fate of Absolom. Having got through this belt of scrub—about a quarter of a mile—we were delighted at seeing the Indian Ocean.
Every man and every horse stood on the beach. Stuart dismounted, lit his pipe—he always lit his pipe when he did anything—took his boots off, and washed his feet in the sea. The beach was very uninteresting—it was simply blue mud, too soft to travel on, over which were scattered a few shells, some of which were collected. We then returned to the plain, and King cut JMDS on a large tree, of which during recent years a photograph has been taken by Inspector Foelsche. We proceeded on a course for a mile and a half, and camped on the banks of a small creek named by Stuart Charles Greek, after the eldest son of John Chambers (latitude 12° 13′ 10″).
Next day we started with the intention of making the head of the Adelaide River. But it took us over two hours’ hard work to get the horses over this creek. Stuart, knowing that we would meet with more boggy places, made for the coast, two miles from our last camp—course north-west. A fringe of mangroves ran along the beach. We chopped down trees and left one in the centre, which we stripped of its branches. We fixed the Union Jack on it, cut in the bark ‘Dig one foot south’, dug a hole and buried an airtight tin case with a paper with the following notice:
‘South Australian Great Northern Exploring Expedition. The exploring party, under the command of John McDouall Stuart, arrived at this spot on 25 July 1862, having crossed the entire continent of Australia, from the Southern to the Indian Ocean, passing through the centre. They left the City of Adelaide 25 October 1861, and the most northern station of the colony on 21 January 1862. To commemorate this happy event they have raised this flag bearing his name. All well God save the Queen.’
GEORG NEUMAYER
Storm on Kosciusko, 1862
The exploration of the Australian Alps seems inextricably linked with Germans and Poles: Lhotsky, Strzelecki, Neumayer and von Guérard. Georg Balthasar von Neumayer was a German-born scientist with a passion for terrestrial magnetism, hydrography and meteorology. He came to Australia in the 1850s, established an observatory in Melbourne and set about conducting a magnetic survey of Victoria. His account of his visit to the summit of Mt Kosciusko in the late spring of 1862, in the company of the artist Eugène von Guérard, provides a terrifying example of Australia’s fickle alpine weather. Von Guérard went on to paint one of his most memorable works from the view he obtained on that dramatic November day.
It was a day which Edward Brinkmann, assistant to Neumayer, would certainly never have forgotten. In the storm that blew across the mountain he became separated from the party and was given up for dead. Neumayer continued on with his magnetic survey and three weeks later the expedition, having travelled hundreds of kilometres, was near Albury.
Thick fog in the valley on the morning of the 18th but sky clear. Preparing everything for the ascent of Mt Kosciusko. Left three horses at Groggan’s and took only Tommy with me packed with all the blankets and rations. Crossed the creek till it led us to a bluff commanding a fine view towards Mts Hope, Haystack and Pilot. Descended a steep incline towards the valley of the Leather Jacket Creek (3184) where we arrived at 10.30 a.m.; temp, of the creek 56.7°; that of the air 84.5°† Left the place and ascended the steep banks of the creek under much difficulty although the horse behaved admirably. Continued ascending till we arrived at the region of dead timber (4663). The weather was quite calm, but the sky very threatening.
About this time all o
f our party except myself felt very ill so that we were obliged to stop here for some time and take some brandy and water, which enabled them better to resist the effects of heat and fatigue. Crossed an extensive flat at 1.46 p.m., then after a continual ascent came to the upper limit of dwarf timber (6254) (Eucalyptus), and resolved to pitch our tents. The aneroid ceased to indicate the pressure of air since the last 1000 feet, the little compensation weight being fixed by the case of the instrument.
We arrived at this spot at 5 p.m.; it must be mentioned, however, that the ascent would not have taken all this time had we been able to keep up a proper pace, for with the exception of the crossing of the Leather Jacket the ascent of Mt Kosciusko from the Victorian side is an easy one when compared with that of some of the equally high mountains in other parts of the world; but, throughout, our progress was retarded partly by the necessity of clearing a path, and the illness of the men. The vegetation near the camping place reminds one very much of that of the Alps except that the strange look of the dwarf gum trees introduces rather a new feature.
Inspected the instruments and found to my great satisfaction that none of them had received any serious injury from the unavoidable knocking about during the ascent. The temp. of the boiling point 200.27°; 9 p.m., few drops of rain but calm and overcast. An immense number of Bogong moths about the camp. By 10 p.m. a strong breeze rose from the north, which continued in puffs nearly throughout the night. The flapping of the tent although very annoying did not seriously interfere with our sound rest.
November 19th at 5 a.m. threatening weather, the wind veering rather more to the west; bar 23.960″, temp 54.9°. This place commands a fine view of the Manroo Plains and Thredbo River. Packed some of the magnetic instruments on Tommy and left our camp at 7 a.m. and after crossing some extensive snowfields arrived at what I named the Pinnacle Hill (7038) at 8 a.m. Resolved to make some observations on terrestrial magnetism and placed the theodolite on a hill, composed of granite boulders; the weather, however, becoming unsettled and the wind being still strong from the north, I deferred these observations until my return.